Gods of the North

by Lucy Coats

  “You can rest tonight,” Demon said. “But first thing tomorrow, we have a performance to plan!”

  Demon lay awake under his spider-silk blanket. He and Bion had started in on scrubbing every inch of the Stables before they went to bed. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to shut down. Magnificent and memorable was what Zeus had demanded. But how was he going to make sure his aerial display was both?

  “Maybe gold paint,” he muttered. “Or streamers …”

  “Whaa … ?” murmured Bion sleepily from the next-door pallet.

  “Never mind,” Demon whispered. Eventually, he dozed off, but his dreams were full of wings and fire.

  The next morning, he set Bion to boiling up a small pot of peppermint leaves and honey for Sky Pearl’s sweeties, and a much huger pot of eucalyptus leaves, lemons, and pine needles.

  “We have to make the poo chute smell nice,” he said. “This should do it.” He wasn’t sure that the hundred-armed monsters at the bottom of the poo chute were going to appreciate the nice smell much, but they’d just have to put up with it.

  When he arrived at the paddock, the winged horses were in an excited huddle of wings and hooves.

  “Look, De-he-he-mon!” Keith whinnied. Whirling around, he and Sky Pearl set off at a canter, one swerving left and the other right, with half the herd following each of them. They soared into the air and began a complicated series of loop-the-loops and spirals high in the sky. Then they came together behind Keith in a big V and swooped down low over Demon’s head, so that he was nearly knocked over by the breeze of their wings.

  He clapped.

  “Amazing!” he yelled. But it was still not quite marvelous or memorable enough. How could he make the display good enough that Zeus wouldn’t spike him with a lightning bolt? Suddenly he remembered his dreams of the night before. Wings … and fire.

  “Keep practicing!” he called. “I’ve got an idea.” And he started to run up the mountain toward Hephaestus’s forge.

  The forge was buzzing with activity. Golden automatons were running about everywhere, and the place was full of heat and sparkle. Piles of purple and orange fire-jewels lay everywhere, along with rubies and pearls and all manner of other gemstones. Hephaestus hunched over a delicate piece of jewelry, alternately teasing out strands of gold with a tiny pair of tongs and tapping them with a small silver hammer.

  “Can I borrow the Colchian Dragon, please?” Demon shouted.

  “Take him with pleasure!” Hephaestus said, not looking up. “We’re all tripping over him. You’d be doing me a favor. I’ve got to make enough jewelry for all the goddesses, as well as gifts for all our visitors.” He wiped a sweaty hand over his forehead and started tapping again.

  “What do you need me for?” asked the dragon, snatching up a last mouthful of charcoal. His bright purple tail made a slithery sound on the rocks.

  “You’ll see,” said Demon. He crossed his fingers as he spoke, though, because there was a big danger that it could all go horribly wrong.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE SHIP OF CLOUDS

  “Like this, but a lot bigger.” Demon sketched a large circle in the air with his hand. “Do you think you can do it?”

  The Colchian Dragon blinked lazily and let out a tiny charcoaly belch.

  “What happens if I get scared and, you know …” It nodded toward its back end. When Demon had first met it, it had been the fartiest creature ever, and had nearly blown Olympus to smithereens.

  “You won’t,” said Demon firmly. “And anyway, I thought the charcoal-and-peppermint diet fixed all that.”

  “Oh, well,” said the dragon. “I’ll give it a go.” It drew in a deep breath and turned its muzzle to the sky. Then, very gently, it puffed out. With a little pop, a perfect ring of fire floated into the air, widening as it went, then another and another.

  Demon punched a fist into the air. “YES! Now, Keith, let’s see if you and the herd can fly through the rings.”

  A few days (and a couple of nearly singed wingtips) later, the dragon and Keith’s team of fliers had put together a display that even Demon thought was magnificent and marvelous enough for the gods. He’d persuaded one of the nymphs to make some flower-petal-and-silver-ribbon streamers for him, and he and Bion were going to braid them into all the horses’ manes and tails just before the performance. Zeus had sent over the running order—the winged horses were to close the show, and he’d also sent over strict instructions about what they were to do at the very end. Demon just hoped it would work.

  Meanwhile, all the beasts in the Stables had been shampooed and polished and brushed till they shone, though the giant scorpion had objected rather violently and tried to sting Doris the Hydra to death. Not a speck of dust or dirt remained. Every instrument in the hospital shed gleamed, and every bandage was snowy white. Even the poo chute sparkled, though the hundred-armed monsters were not at all happy with their new poo-plus-eucalyptus-drain-cleanser diet.

  Demon looked around.

  “I think we’re ready,” he said to Bion and the griffin. As he spoke, a large fluffy white cloud sailed across the sky.

  “Oh no,” said Bion. “I hope it isn’t going to rain.”

  “That’s no rain cloud, Faun Boy,” said the griffin. “Look!” It pointed with a claw.

  Demon’s mouth fell open in a silent O of wonder, and he began to run. It seemed that all the other inhabitants of Olympus had the same idea, and soon a large chattering crowd had gathered.

  Under the cloud, a huge sailing ship was gliding down toward Olympus, long and sleek, with round shields lining its sides. In a series of rainbow flashes, all the Olympian gods appeared, just as the ship slid gracefully to a halt.

  It brought with it an icy breeze filled with the scent of cold, wild places—and also a slight smell of goat. A golden gangplank slid out of the side, and a tall, fierce-looking god strode down it, his long hair and beard floating around his face like tangled white thistledown. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and had a leather patch over his right eye. On each of his shoulders perched an enormous black raven. Beside him was an equally tall, snow-pale goddess wearing a crown of diamond icicles. Behind them came a huge golden-haired god carrying a gigantic silver hammer, and then nine other gods and goddesses, including a tall, shifty-eyed figure right at the back, with a pointy beard and a silver helmet with large ram’s horns attached to it. Demon couldn’t see him very well. The figure seemed to slip in and out of view, blurring and changing shape, so that suddenly he was a proud mare, then a leaping salmon, and then a tiny bright green fly that buzzed off out of sight.

  As soon as they had disembarked, the raven god turned to the cloud ship and snapped his fingers. All at once, the ship began to fold itself up, smaller and smaller until it lay at his feet, no bigger than a handkerchief. Demon’s mouth dropped open as the god picked it up and put it in a pocket, but there was no time to wonder.

  As Zeus and Hera stepped forward to greet the gods of the North, Apollo struck a chord on his silver lyre, and roses rained down out of the sky, making a sweet-smelling path before them.

  “Greetings, Odin and all you gods of Asgard,” Zeus boomed, and out of nowhere he produced a huge golden cup brimming with Dionysus’s special red party drink. “Let us drink to friendship and harmony, then let us feast.”

  From among the crowd of nymphs, fauns, cherubs, and other beings, Demon watched anxiously. What if the Asgardians didn’t like Dionysus’s brew? What if they spat it out and then there was a war between the gods? The whole world might be frazzled to a frizzle. But all scary thoughts went right out of his head when Odin took the cup and drained it in one gulp.

  “Good stuff,” he said, clapping Zeus familiarly on the back. “Now, where’s that feast you mentioned, Thunder Maker? I’m starving.”

  It was the most magnificent spread Demon had ever seen, with laden tables scattered all around the beautiful garden that lay outside the palaces of the gods. Hestia and her kitchen helpers had outdone them
selves, especially in the dessert department. Demon, however, was too nervous about the forthcoming performance to do more than nibble on a couple of his favorite honey cakes.

  The gods were seated at the high table, a marvelous creation of snowy marble inlaid with ebony and gold olive branches. Every god and goddess had a different-looking chair, each covered with living symbols. Hera’s was covered in blinking peacock-feather eyes, and Zeus’s sizzled with tiny lightning bolts. Demon noticed that Odin’s was covered with soaring ravens, but the two birds that had arrived with him were nowhere to be seen. He wondered for a moment where they’d gone, but just then the toasts started. It was nearly time.

  “Come on, Bion,” he whispered.

  They both crept away from the feast and ran to the Stables. Keith, Sky Pearl, and the rest were in a high state of excitement as the sparkling flower streamers were attached.

  “You look magnificent,” said Demon. “Now, where’s that dragon? Is he in position?” Running outside, he checked on the mountainside. Yes, there was a splash of purple above, and above that, high in the blue sky, two black dots circled.

  Demon frowned. Were those Odin’s ravens? He hoped they wouldn’t get in the way.

  “Come on,” he said. “Time to go. Wait for Zeus’s sky signal—and remember, no pooing on anyone’s head!”

  Heart beating faster than a running deer’s, he went back to the feast. Catching Zeus’s eye, he nodded. The horses were ready.

  “We have a little surprise to welcome you, our honored godly guests,” the king of the Olympian gods boomed. “So sit back and enjoy the show.” With that, Hermes lifted a golden trumpet to his lips and blew one high note. First the nymphs danced, then the dryads performed a ballet with their trees, which twined about them like living partners. Hades had brought his skeleton guard with him, and they had a mock battle with some of Ares’s soldiers, which ended with rather too many severed bony limbs for Demon’s liking. Hades had also brought Demon’s friend Orpheus with him. The misty musician played his ghostly lyre so beautifully that it made everyone weep. Flocks of kingfishers zipped through the air like tiny blue jewels. The tears were soon turned to laughter, though, when the cherubs and fauns did a funny little skit, imitating all the Olympians. Demon didn’t know how they dared. Then Zeus held up his hand for silence.

  “And now for our grand finale,” he said. With that, he took a lightning bolt from his eagle, twirled it, and flung it upward, where it burst, turning the sky to incandescent whiteness.

  The little winged horses took to the air in pairs, forming a huge circle above the feasting gods. Then they went into their routine. They flew so fast that the streamers looked like living rainbows, weaving patterns of loops and curls that looked like intricate writing across the white sky. Then the fire hoops appeared in the air, and the gods and goddesses whooped and cheered as the horses flew through and in and out of them. The final hoop floated down toward the feast, getting bigger and bigger, straightening out into a rope of fire.Demon crossed his fingers and toes and everything else crossable. If this last bit didn’t work …

  The horses formed into pairs again, and with one last loop-the-loop, Sky Pearl and Keith arrowed low toward the fire rope, which they grabbed in their mouths. Flying even lower over the high table, they dropped the fire rope right over the gods and goddesses, where it burst in a shower of popping golden stars. And when the stars had cleared, each goddess was wearing a fabulous bracelet of sparkling jewels, and each god a spectacular armband.

  “Magnificent!” shouted Odin, banging on the table with one enormous fist as the horses soared away back to the Stables. “The best yet!” And all the other Asgardians and Olympians agreed.

  After receiving a congratulatory clap on the back from his dad, Pan, and an approving nod from Zeus, Demon headed up to Hephaestus’s forge to thank the Colchian Dragon for his help. He then went back to the Stables to make sure Keith and his herd had extra ambrosia and hay, and to give them big pats. Later, after one last inspection of the Stables, he crept into bed and, snuggling down under his spider-silk blanket, he drifted off to the sound of Bion’s little whiffling snores. As he slid into sleep, a shiny black feather floated down from the rafters above, and two shadows swooped down over him. But Demon was too tired to notice.

  CHAPTER 4

  AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY

  “Incoming,” hissed the griffin, peering outside. “Incoming gods.”

  Demon and Bion had been up since before Eos threw back her pink dawn curtains, giving everything and everyone a final polish.

  “Right, everyone,” Demon said to all the beasts. “Best behavior, all of you. And, Doris, remember not to drool on the visitors.” With that, he and Bion ran to the doors and flung them wide open, standing at attention with the griffin between them. It had somehow persuaded Hephaestus to make it a golden collar and claw shields, and was wearing them proudly.

  Zeus was striding toward them, with Odin beside him, ravens on his shoulders, and two other Asgardians trailing behind.

  “Blimey, Pan’s scrawny kid,” said the griffin out of the side of its beak. “It’s the two big chiefs and the pretty ones. Better watch your manners.”

  Demon was watching his manners so hard that his knees wobbled. He didn’t even slap at the annoying bright green fly that was buzzing around his ear, for fear of being misunderstood.

  “Well, Stable Master?” said the king of the Olympian gods. “Are you ready for us?”

  “Yes, Your Thundery Tremendousness, we are,” he said, bowing low. The griffin beside him tried to execute a sort of curtsy but got tangled in its own legs and fell over. Embarrassed, it sat down and began to preen its wing feathers.

  “Sorry about that, Your Marvelousnesses,” Demon said, blushing. It was not a good start. “Come right this way.” But then he stopped. Odin was holding up a hand. Tiny snowflakes fell from his fingers, melting as they hit the ground.

  “Just one moment, Thunder Maker.” Suddenly his one green eye seemed to pierce Demon’s skin, sucking out all his secrets, and then his ravens took off, gliding toward Demon on silent wings. As they swooped down, they plucked a tuft of hair from each side of his head, then soared off back to their master. Landing on his shoulders again, they cawed quietly into his ears. Demon began to shake like a leaf in a high wind. Had he done something wrong? Was this the beginning of being slowly torn to death by raven pecks? But then Zeus was speaking.

  “Is something the matter with my Stable Master, One-Eye?” he said, a slight edge to his voice.

  Odin slung an arm over Zeus’s shoulder. “Not a thing, old boy,” he said. “In fact, he’s the reason we’re really here. We need to borrow him.”

  If Demon’s mouth had fallen open any farther, it would have hit his toes.

  “M-m-me, Your Serene Snowiness?” he stammered. “But why?”

  “Yes, why do you need MY Stable Master?” said Zeus, his bushy eyebrows giving off little sparks of lightning. “Don’t you have one of your own?”

  “Well, we’ve got a little problem we hope he can fix,” Odin said. “But I’ll let the twins explain.”

  A god and a goddess stepped forward. They were both so incredibly golden that Demon could hardly look at them without being dazzled.

  “I am Freya. What is your name, young Stable Master?” the goddess asked. She wore a cloak of shining bronze falcon feathers, and her voice was as soft as a summer breeze.

  “P-Pandemonius,” he stuttered. “Your Gorgeous Goldenosity.” Freya smiled, and her teeth were as white as pearls. Demon tried hard not to fall over.

  “Oh, I LIKE him, Frey!” she said to her brother. “None of you ever call me nice names.”

  “Never mind that,” said the equally beautiful god. “Pandemonius, is it true that you’ve had some success in healing incurable immortal beasts?”

  Demon blushed. “Well, I s-suppose so,” he said modestly. “Kind of. I, er … I haven’t had many failures so far.”

  “How about pigs?”
>
  “N-no,” Demon said slowly. “I haven’t dealt with one of those yet.”

  “Here’s the thing,” said Frey. “My old boar, Goldbristle, is losing his light. I drive along in the sky, and he just gets dimmer and dimmer.”

  “He’s simply not shining properly anymore,” said Freya. “Everything’s all dark and horrid now in Asgard. And that means the plants are dying. None of the new crops I’ve planted have grown at all, and poor Idunn’s apple trees are positively drooping.”

  “The long and short of it,” Odin interrupted, “is that your friend Pegasus was talking to my horse, Sleipnir, and telling him how you’d helped heal his wounds. So I sent my ravens, Thought and Memory, to check up on you, and it seems you’ve got quite the reputation among the creatures of the world. The phoenix was particularly complimentary, they tell me. So there it is. Will you come back to Asgard with us and see if you can find out what’s wrong with Goldbristle? None of our healers have a clue what’s up with the old chap.”

  He cleared his throat and turned to Zeus. “That’s if you don’t mind, of course, Thunder Maker,” he said, narrowing that one green eye.

  Zeus stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That depends,” he said, “on the state in which we find these Stables, and the beasts within. I wouldn’t want to lend you a Stable Master whose charges weren’t up to snuff.”

  With that, he strode past Demon, whose heart had just somersaulted into his throat and was doing a little fear dance on his tonsils. He shuddered, and followed the four gods in, trailed by a nervous-looking Bion. I might as well know the worst right away, he thought, as the griffin disappeared. He didn’t blame it.

  Zeus and his companions poked into everything. Luckily, all the beasts behaved, though Amaltheia did try to scold Zeus for not visiting her, and the little winged horses were given special ear scratches and praise.

  “What are those scars?” Freya asked, pointing to Doris’s nine necks.