The Crooked Mask

by Rachel Burge

  The cheers of the crowd intensify. Oskar unhooks the rope and the performers troop down in single file. When they get to the bottom of the slope, a crewmember hands them a flaming firebrand and they go through a gap in the fence.

  The ringmaster’s voice booms through the speakers. ‘At Ragnarok, all chains will be loosened. The monstrous wolf Fenrir will escape his shackles and Loki will be free of his bonds. Jormungand, the giant serpent that dwells at the bottom of the ocean, will rise from the depths, spilling the seas over the earth. The convulsions will shake Naglfar – a ship made of the fingernails and toenails of the dead – from its moorings in the underworld. It will sail over the flooded earth bringing an army of the dead to the fight, helmed by Loki himself!’

  The man who plays Loki turns right and jogs over to the Viking ship, and cheers and whoops go up from the crowd. Following him are men and women in antlers. Odin and most of the gods turn left and assemble opposite, along with the Valkyries, dwarves and elves.

  A member of the crew sees me. He signals for me to leave but I shake my head and point at my costume. ‘I’m part of the show!’ He strides over and takes my arm. ‘Then you need to come down the walkway. Sorry, it’s for safety.’ I glance around for Karl and Stig, but there’s no sign of them. ‘No, you don’t understand. I have to stay here!’

  He leads me to the walkway and I glance back and see the ringmaster waving his arms, an anxious look on his face. He calls down to a member of the crew, who shouts into her walkie-talkie. The ringmaster gestures towards the field and then I see it too. A scuffle has broken out amidst the masked performers. Thor shoves one actor and punches another.

  The man escorts me through the rope and onto the path, and suddenly I’m four or five people away from the front of the spectators. Even if I see Ulva, I’m not going to be able to grab her. I scan the faces in the procession and spot her wolf mask. ‘Ulva! Ulva!’ I wave but she doesn’t see me. A man hands her a flaming torch and she strides towards the Viking ship.

  Once all the performers have entered, the crew beckon the public down. The crowd surges in behind me, everyone keen to get a good view. I squeeze past a woman then push past a man, elbowing my way forward. ‘Sorry, I need to get through!’ The gap in the fence is now closed. I throw my leg up and clumsily jump over, then run towards the Viking ship. Smoke stings my eyes and I wipe my face. A member of the crew shouts at me but I keep running.

  Eventually I catch up with Ulva and grab her shoulder. She spins around and the mask wrinkles into a snarl. She growls and I step back. Whatever stares out from her eyes, it’s not human.

  26

  SMOKE AND CHAOS

  U

  lva shoves me and I stumble and fall to the ground, shocked by her strength. She tugs off the mask, her chest heaving, and stares down at me. Her eyes blaze with hate but there’s a flicker of something else there too: a girl who’s alone and desperately afraid.

  ‘Please, I want to help you. I know you killed Nina but it wasn’t your fault.’

  She turns to leave and I push myself to my feet and charge at her. I snatch the wolf’s head with one hand and grab her cloak with the other and a jolt of energy surges through me. My eyes roll back and green mist fills my mind, and then I see a man. He has his back to me and is standing before a crowd of people without eyes. He sweeps his hand through the air in front of him, bathing them in green light, and suddenly I realise what I’m seeing. The faces aren’t people. They’re masks! The man is clutching the head of a wolf, and the creature howls as if it’s coming to life.

  I saw the same image when I touched Loki’s sleeve in the psychic tent. He did something to the masks in the costume trailer; he brought them to life somehow. And whatever he did, he gave extra to the wolf Fenrir. Why choose that mask? And then I realise. In one of the performances, the ringmaster told how Loki fathered three monstrous children who were foretold to bring about the end of the world. It’s Fenrir that devours Odin. The wolf is the most dangerous being, the ultimate force of destruction.

  Ulva snatches the mask from me and runs for the Viking ship. I’m following her when the Valkyries yell a war cry. They stand in a semicircle, their long hair blowing wildly. The ones at the front spin burning shields, sending sparks shooting into the sky, while those at the back pound drums, their powerful arms moving in unison.

  The ringmaster’s voice shouts out, ‘Heimdall, the watchman of the gods, blows the Gjallarhorn, signalling the battle has commenced, and the fire giant Surt begins the destruction!’ A horn blares and loud battle music plays from the speakers, complete with clanging swords and trampling hooves. The crowd cheers as the enormous glowing red giant stalks across the field. He wears a mask painted to look like flames, and carries a flaming sword. The ringmaster adds, ‘It is Surt who razes the world and turns it to fire!’

  The Valkyries pound twice on their drums then lift their arms. At their signal, the dwarves run forward, holding long black poles ablaze with fire at either end. The drumming starts again and the dwarves spin the poles low to the ground while their partners jump over them, flames flickering around their ankles.

  I look for Ulva but she’s vanished into a wall of smoke and chaos. I whirl around and then bite my lip, tasting blood. I have to find her. I need to make her confess if I’m going to win the wager. If I fail, Loki will destroy the circus and everyone here – including me. A gust of wind blows embers into my face and I wipe my eyes then blink in disbelief. Horned figures are rising from the smog, the sky behind them blood red from the artificial glow of the giant. I gasp with recognition – it’s a scene from one of Mum’s drawings.

  The ringmaster continues, ‘Despite the Norns foretelling their doom, the gods bravely go into battle. Spinning his mighty spear, Gungnir, above his head, Odin charges at the monstrous wolf Fenrir!’ Two men run at me, carrying a huge papier-mâché wolf-head. I jump back and they bend and weave, making the wolf leap.

  Coughing on the smoke, I push my way further into the crowd of antlered performers. A man with long straw hair stomps across my path. He wears dirty sackcloth, a loose bag of hessian on his head with holes ripped out for eyes and a mouth. Someone jolts me and I lurch forward. A figure with a skull covering its face pushes me back.

  I take a deep breath, determined to steady my nerves. Ulva must be here somewhere. I search the gloom and a shadowy arm tries to grab me. I spin around, my heart pounding, as more hands reach for me. The dead are forming in the smoke. I rush out of the melee, gasping and coughing.

  Bang. Bang.

  The Valkyries beat their drums as a trio of elves dances forward. They whirl hoops of fire around their bodies, gyrating faster and faster until the flames blur into a single stream of light. A woman’s grey face looms out from the smoke, her mouth twisted in a scream. An arm on the ground tries to clutch my ankle. The dead are all around me.

  I race for the floodlight at the entrance to the field, not caring that I’m running through the middle of the show. Members of the public hold up their phones, their faces lit by the glow of screens. A loud whoosh sounds behind me and I glance back and see flames burst from the wolf’s mouth. Cheers go up and another stream of fire gushes into the night sky. Ash catches in the back of my throat and I spit out the taste.

  Stig is at the front of the crowd, waving his arms and yelling. I see the tiny white-haired figure of Karl next to him and cry out with relief. I run and clamber over the fence and Stig pulls me to him. The ringmaster’s voice blares out above us and I gesture towards the walkway. We need to get to somewhere we can talk.

  We fight our way through the crowd and onto the walkway, and Karl turns on me. ‘What is this nonsense about Ulva killing Nina? According to Ruth, you were accusing Stig just now.’ He shakes the carrier bag like I have some explaining to do.

  I glance at Stig and give him a pained, apologetic look, then lick my lips and swallow. ‘It’s true. Ulva did do up Nina’s harness when she was training that day, but she didn’t fasten it properly. They arg
ued and Ulva pushed her. Afterwards, she hid the harness so it looked like Nina was training without one. She didn’t want people to think she’d fastened it wrong on purpose. Ulva didn’t mean to do it. It was the mask.’

  Karl’s eyebrows jump in surprise. ‘The mask?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I told you that Loki is at the circus. He did something to the masks in the costume trailer; he brought them to life somehow.’

  Karl chuckles and I feel the blood drain from my face. Disbelief hardens to dismay. He’s the one person I was sure would believe me; I don’t understand. The old circus manager looks at Stig and back to me. ‘Very amusing, but I don’t have time for this.’

  ‘But you know there’s something bad at the circus. You agreed that the performers have been acting differently, that their personalities have changed.’ Karl laughs to himself but I refuse to give up. ‘When did it start? People changing, I mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when things went wrong . . . the day the owners started making changes!’

  He starts to walk away and I grab his arm. ‘When you did the myth of Baldur, that was the first time the circus had performed one of the Trickster’s stories in, what, ninety years?’ He doesn’t say anything and I continue. ‘After the fire that nearly destroyed the place, your father decided to never perform his stories again.’ Karl shrugs and I think back to what Loki said in the hall of mirrors. So when the circus finally performed one of my myths . . . Well, let’s just say I got a little excited.

  ‘After Loki caused the death of Nina, Odin came up with the wager to make him leave, knowing that a game would appeal to his twisted sense of fun.’

  Karl sighs impatiently and I talk quickly. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but the Trickster is real. He hates being kept out – that’s why he lost his temper when he wasn’t allowed into the hall of the gods. Excluding him from the circus made him angry. When you finally did one of his stories he got revenge by enchanting the masks.’

  Stig steps forward. He glances at me with concern, but there’s not a trace of doubt in his eyes. ‘You have to listen to her, Karl. Martha knows about these things. If she says it’s true, you need to believe her.’

  Karl scoffs. ‘Then you two are well matched, both as crazy as each other.’ He stuffs the carrier bag into the large pocket of his duffle coat and walks away.

  ‘Loki is going to destroy the circus. You have to listen to me!’ When he doesn’t stop, I shout, ‘What about the runes in the trees?’

  He turns around and flaps his arm. ‘I did that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I hoped it would make them cancel tonight’s show.’

  I stare at him, not wanting to believe it. ‘But how? There were hundreds of them.’

  ‘I carved the trees on the trail last, the rest I did in the night. There weren’t hundreds. People see what they want to see.’

  ‘But you told me –’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if my little prank has put ideas in your head. There is something bad at the circus, and it’s Oskar!’

  I grab Karl’s arm and he frowns at me, but I don’t let go. I hold his sleeve and clear my mind, letting the material show me what it wants. Stig must realise what I’m doing as he tries to distract him. ‘We don’t want Oskar to ruin things either. Maybe there’s something we can do to help?’ Karl looks at him confused and then stares down at my hand on his arm.

  His jacket speaks of guilt, but this time the material shows me something else. He doesn’t feel bad because he introduced one of Loki’s stories. He’s not superstitious, he just hates change. He can’t forgive himself for agreeing to the owners’ demands to update the routines. In the end they brought in new management anyway. Karl couldn’t argue; after all, he was in charge when Nina had the accident. Everyone told him to retire, but to what? He had nowhere to go. So he stayed and grew bitter.

  Karl pulls away from me and limps back down to the field. He’s given his entire life to the circus. The myths are more than just stories to him – they’re his childhood memories, his life’s work. He can’t bear to stand by while some upstart ruins everything. He’d rather see the place shut down. Karl carved Loki’s name on the trees, he invited chaos by trying to make them call off the show. He wanted to make the circus lose money, hoping the owners would hand its management back to him.

  ‘Ruth was right, his superstitious thing was an act,’ I say. Stig looks confused and I go on, ‘He wanted people to think doing myths with Loki would bring bad luck, but he didn’t believe any of it.’

  ‘What about his book? Did he make it all up?’ asks Stig.

  ‘Karl doesn’t believe in the gods in the way his father did, but he was happy for people to think something terrible would happen if they didn’t stick to the routines they’ve always done. He knows circus people can be superstitious. It suited him to repeat his dad’s warnings, but really he just didn’t want Oskar to change things.’

  Stig shakes his head as if he can’t believe it. ‘Karl took the harness, so maybe he’s gone to speak to Ulva. Should I go and find her?’ he asks. I shrug, not knowing if it would help. I hoped that if I confronted Ulva with the evidence, she would confess. But Karl is so closed-minded, I don’t see how I’m ever going to convince him.

  A dark shape is standing further along the path, half hidden in the shadow of a tent. I peer closer and see the outline of a person. The walkway is empty, so how did I not see them before?

  The jester steps forward and my heart jumps to my throat. I cover my mouth and point, but Stig only frowns. ‘I don’t see anything. What is it? What’s there?’ he asks.

  The jester taps his foot and the bells on his shoe jingle.

  Stig’s voice is taut with fear. ‘Is it Nina? Why can’t I see her?’

  I shake my head, unable to look away. There’s something sickening about the slow way the jester smiles, and then I see what he’s grinning at.

  Sandrine ambles around the corner in her bird mask, whistling to herself. The long feathers bounce as she walks, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She makes her way towards the psychic tent and then stops abruptly. I wait for her to turn around but she doesn’t. She walks backwards, taking long stiff strides, never once turning her head or looking over her shoulder.

  Stig tugs my arm and whispers, ‘What’s she doing? Martha?’

  I swallow hard, a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘I don’t know.’

  27

  THE WHOLE PLACE IS BURNING

  C

  rack-crack-crack. Sandrine’s body convulses and then goes rigid. She rises into the air, her toes barely touching the ground, and slowly rotates. Her chin rests on her chest, her long hair hanging down as she glides forward, her boots bumping and dragging along the walkway. She halts a few metres before us, and somewhere behind me Stig makes a whimpering sound.

  Sandrine’s head snaps up, revealing the long feathers of her mask. Her eyes dart in every direction, her breathing fast and shallow, her chest fluttering like a panicked bird. I look towards the jester but he’s gone. My blood pounds in my ears as I turn and check around me, and then a gruff voice whispers from behind, ‘Such a pretty falcon. Rather too fond of preening herself though; a bit like her owner.’

  I spin around and grab Stig’s arm. He glances in every direction, unable to see Loki, his face pale with fright.

  The jester chuckles. ‘And where is Freya? In the back of a tent with a gang of dwarves, I shouldn’t wonder. I may not bring out the best in people, but you can be sure they always show their true colours when I’m around.’

  Loki might have a problem with Freya, but why pick on Sandrine just because she plays the goddess’s falcon? I don’t know what he’s going to do, but the cruel sound of his laughter sends a jolt of fear through me.

  I take a deep breath, determined to stay calm. If I’m going to help Sandrine I need to think. In the hall of mirrors, Loki said something about how he exposes the gods for what they really are. He thinks he’s justified in riling them
up because only then do they reveal their true nature. That must be what he did to the masks – imbued them with the qualities of the gods and creatures they portray to amplify people’s personalities, to bring out the worst in them. Sandrine is excitable and a little vain perhaps, but nothing that deserves punishment.

  ‘Please! Whatever you think of her, she’s only human. Let her go!’

  The jester snorts. ‘Come now, a beautiful bird should preen itself.’

  Sandrine’s neck strains to one side, exposing her white throat. She sees me and tries to speak but all that comes from her mouth is a pitiful squawk. Her eyes flash with panic and then glow pale behind the mask like she’s possessed. I watch in horror as her right arm jerks up and her hand makes a claw shape. She drags her fingers down her face and blood gushes from her cheek. Her other hand does the same, long black nails ripping her skin.

  She scrabbles at herself faster and faster and a stream of blood drips onto the frosty walkway, forming a puddle beneath her feet. She claws her head and clumps of hair and scalp drop to the ground. She’s tearing herself to shreds.

  I rush forward but an invisible force holds me back.

  Her talon-tipped fingers reach into the holes of her mask and Sandrine jerks and twitches her head, trying to pull away. Her hands keep moving, jabbing again and again.

  ‘Please! Stop this!’ I scream.

  The joker laughs and Sandrine’s body thuds to the ground.

  Another moment later Ruth appears in the doorway of the psychic tent and races towards us. ‘What happened? Is that Sandrine? Martha, what is it?’

  I step back and shake my head. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop her. I tried.’

  ‘Stop her from what?’ Ruth runs past me and throws herself on her knees. ‘My God, her face!’ She turns and shrieks, ‘Help! Someone get help! Please!’