by Angus Watson
She didn’t mind being called Freydis the Annoying. They could call her whatever they wanted; she was still a goddess and they weren’t.
When she judged people would think she was old enough, she started speaking for Ottar. She didn’t make it up to begin with. She said what he wanted to say. Then she realised that she could improve Ottar’s standing in the tribe by having him predict the future.
Freydis went into the woods, careful to avoid Finnbogi the Boggy (who spend a lot of time out there in the woods alone) and asked her mother for help. The Forest Goddess told Freydis that she’d be able to see the future if she tried. Freydis, her mother had explained, wasn’t a particularly powerful goddess, but the minor powers she did have could be very effective if used cleverly.
It wasn’t as easy as her mother had made it sound, but Freydis had been able to see some things coming. She told the others that Ottar had predicted the tornado, the beaching of the sturgeon and a few other events.
People had begun to respect Ottar the Moaner, even love him, and that had made Freydis happy.
The Warlock Queen raised her knife. Paloma Pronghorn closed her eyes. When she opened them, the Warlock Queen was walking around the table, chanting.
“How long is this going to take?” asked Finn.
“Are we keeping you from something?” Sassa snapped.
“No. I want it to be over.”
“Can’t we do anything, Wulf?”
“We can honour Ottar for the rest of our lives,” he replied.
“Sofi?” Sassa tried.
Sofi didn’t answer.
“Sofi?”
Paloma looked at the captain of the Owsla. She was shaking her head, face wet with tears.
For a long time, all went well in Hardwork for Ottar and therefore for Freydis, but then it had all gone very wrong. Before the unusual weather began in Hardwork, Freydis’s mother told her what the Warlock Queen was doing in The Meadows, west of west. The Forest Goddess told her how the Warlock Queen could be stopped and asked Freydis to do it.
Freydis couldn’t tell the Hardworkers without revealing what she was and spoiling Ottar in their eyes. She tried to persuade them subtly. She’d thought for a while that Wulf the Fat and a few of the others were going to help her, but in the end they’d been too happy where they were to leave.
Then she saw that Calnians were coming to kill them all, so she made up Ottar’s prophecy. Save yourselves by going west of west to The Meadows. They didn’t listen, of course.
Freydis hadn’t wanted them to die, not all of them.
She’d wanted most of them to die because most of them were lazy and useless. She was concerned only for Ottar and they were not nice to him. She would have killed some of them herself, if she’d been able. But she was only a forest goddess, and not even a major forest goddess. She could only do so much.
She hadn’t wanted Uncle Poppo Whitetooth to die, and she had wanted Garth Anvilchin and a few of the others who’d survived to be killed, but that couldn’t be helped.
Sofi let herself cry freely. The brave boy deserved her grief. She made her decision. If the Warlock Queen let them walk away–which Sofi thought unlikely–she wouldn’t kill the Wootah.
Through her tears she watched the Warlock Queen walk around the table. She stopped and raised her knife.
“Dink?” Ottar said. “Tirsty.”
“I’ll get you a drink soon,” said the Warlock Queen, “if you lie there quietly for now.”
“’Kay.” Ottar lay back down.
The queen resumed her pacing, presumably put back a little in her chanting by the boy’s request for a drink. Sofi thought about charging when her back was turned, but as soon as she thought it the Warlock Queen looked up and fixed her with an iron gaze.
Sofi Tornado stood and cried. It was all she could do.
The Calnians came and killed nearly everyone and the survivors set off. Freydis found Yoki Choppa’s open mind in Calnia, and communicated with him, pretending to be Ottar. The warlock already knew about The Meadows. Freydis told him how Ottar was vital to defeating the force there. Their plan to unite the Owsla and the Wootah began before the Owsla left Calnia.
Freydis managed to communicate with Erik and send him ahead of them, then called him back when she realised that they needed him.
She didn’t actually kill any of the Hardworkers who’d survived the Calnian massacre herself, but not through lack of trying. She set the bear on Hrolf the Painter because he was slowing them down (and he was nasty), and the fish on Frossa the Deep Minded because she was so horrid, but Sassa Lipchewer had finished off Hrolf the Painter–much to Freydis’s delight–and Sofi Tornado had finally killed Frossa the Deep Minded after the fish had failed.
Freydis had nothing to do with Astrid killing Fisk the Fish, nor Sadzi Wolf killing Gurd Girlchaser, nor Sassa Lipchewer killing Garth Anvilchin. She was glad they’d all died, though. All the Hardworkers who’d died between Hardwork and the Water Mother had deserved it.
Then, west of the Water Mother, the wrong people had started dying. She would have saved Bjarni Chickenhead, Morningstar, Luby Zephyr, Gunnhild Kristlover, Nether Barr, Yoki Choppa and of course Eric the Angry if she could have done.
So chances were she wouldn’t be able to beat the Warlock Queen. But she wasn’t going to let her kill Ottar without trying.
Paloma watched the Warlock Queen pacing and chanting. She hugged Freydis, feeling sick.
“Put me down in a moment, please, Paloma Pronghorn,” whispered the girl. “Then, when I say now, run as fast as you can, get my brother and keep going until you’re on the wall on the other side. Then stay there and watch. Whatever happens, whatever you see, stay there with Ottar and keep him clear. If we all get killed, please run away with Ottar and keep running and look after him for ever.”
Paloma put Freydis down and nodded even though she didn’t have the slightest clue what was about to happen, or why she was obeying a six-year-old girl.
Wulf, Sassa, Chogolisa and Sitsi were staring at the Warlock Queen and Ottar. Keef lay still. Finn was out cold at Paloma’s feet. She moved a little to the right so he wouldn’t be in the way when she started her run.
She wouldn’t be much faster than Keef’s hurled axe and she had a lot more ground to cover. But if Freydis thought it should be done, she’d do it. She loved that little girl. And she trusted her.
The black clouds rotated above, ever larger, spinning around the top of the tornado. There was something strange about them. The clouds around a tornado usually looked part of it, as if the tornado was an extension of them. These clouds looked like they were closing in on the tornado, full of violence.
The queen stopped chanting and raised her long golden knife.
“Now,” said Freydis.
Paloma sprinted.
The Warlock Queen turned and raised a hand.
Here we go, thought Paloma.
But the queen was distracted by something above and Paloma ran on. She jumped, somersaulted over the stone table, grabbed Ottar on the way, landed on her feet on the other side and sprinted. She felt the lightning slam into the Warlock Queen half a heartbeat later. She ran on, leapt to the top of the wall with Ottar in her arms and turned.
The stone table was smashed, the coffin obliterated and burning. A small, smoking skull was rolling across the stone. Ten paces away lay the figure of a woman. Nearby, a golden helmet rattled around on the rock in a sad circle.
Freydis? thought Paloma.
Freydis stood on the far side of the basin, looking like nothing more than a six-year-old girl. Wulf, Sassa, Sofi, Sitsi and Chogolisa stared at her. Finn was back on all fours, shaking his head.
“Well, Ottar,” said Paloma to the wide-eyed boy in her arms, “I guess that explains a couple—”
The Warlock Queen’s arms moved.
Oh, bollocks.
She climbed up onto one knee.
“Can you do it again, Freydis?!” Paloma shouted.
The girl
shook her head.
The Warlock Queen stood. She raised a hand and a nearby boulder lifted off the ground. She flicked her hand and the boulder flew at Freydis. Freydis froze. Chogolisa dived and got two hands to the flying boulder, changing its course so it missed Freydis by a hare’s whisker.
Sofi, Wulf and Chogolisa charged the queen. Sassa and Sitsi raised their bows and loosed.
Whatever happens, stay there with Ottar, Freydis had asked her. The girl had just called a lightning bolt to strike the thousand-year-dead Warlock Queen. Chances were she knew what she was talking about. Paloma stayed put.
The queen flicked a hand. Sofi, Wulf and Chogolisa were sent flying to lie dazed against the black wall.
Sassa and Sitsi’s arrows flew upwards, into the tornado. The women shot a couple more each, but the Warlock Queen kept flicking their arrows up into the heavens as she walked towards Freydis. Then they were out of arrows.
Sassa fell into a sitting position and her head slumped. It was understandable. She had had her throat slashed not long before.
Sitsi stood, clearly not sure what to do.
Freydis waited, nose poked pertly at the approaching goddess.
Finn lay on the ground a couple of paces from Freydis, hands on his head, shaking.
The goddess raised her knife.
Freydis ran.
The Warlock Queen chased her.
Freydis, trained by Paloma, was a lot faster than anyone would have thought. Paloma actually smiled to see the speed at which she pelted away from the goddess. But, all too soon the goddess caught the girl, grabbed her by the hair and lifted her into the air.
Stay where you are Paloma, said Freydis’s voice in her mind. Whatever happens, please save Ottar.
Freydis didn’t struggle. She hung as if she was already dead. The Warlock Queen raised her knife to strike. Paloma tensed to run and try to save her, but Freydis had been clear. Her duty was to rescue Ottar. She would run with the boy as soon as the Warlock Queen killed Freydis.
I’ve failed, thought Freydis.
She’d used all her power on that one bolt of lightning. She wouldn’t be able to do anything like that again for a couple of moons. Even if she could, it clearly wasn’t enough.
Freydis had really hoped the lightning would kill the evil hag, or at least knock her down for long enough for Sofi to brain her with her hand axe. With hindsight, she should have asked Paloma to attack after the lightning struck. But that would have meant leaving Ottar to be killed by the lightning. Given a choice, Freydis would have let everyone else in the world die to keep Ottar alive. Unfortunately, it now looked like Ottar was going to die along with everyone else.
The Warlock Queen did not look happy that Freydis had blown the corpse of her child to smithereens. What mother would?
Then Freydis saw something flying towards them.
“Wait,” said Freydis. “There’s something you need to know.”
The Warlock Queen stayed her knife and held Freydis up by the hair with one hand so their faces were level.
Paloma ducked as something whooshed over her head.
A giant, winged snake zipped across the black yard at head height and grabbed the Warlock Queen’s head in its jaws without slowing. It shot up sped out over The Meadows, then turned in a tight arc and soared towards the tornado with the queen dangling from its mouth.
The Warlock Queen still had Freydis held by the hair.
Movement caught Paloma’s eye. Sitsi had saved an arrow! She loosed, the arrow zipped upward and skewered the Warlock Queen’s forearm.
Freydis fell.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Paloma told Ottar as she set him down. She ran across the black pyramid top, leapt and caught the falling girl.
She landed and rolled with Freydis hopefully protected in her arms. She finished up on her knees, holding Freydis at arm’s length.
“Thank you, Paloma Pronghorn,” said Freydis.
“You are a very special little girl.”
“I’m not really a girl. And don’t be too happy yet. It will take more than a little trip with her head inside a giant snake’s mouth to kill the Warlock Queen.”
They both looked up.
Paloma could just make out the flying snake and little figure in its jaws, high above them in the middle of the tornado. The clouds all around were really going crazy now. Faster than she knew clouds could move, faster even that she could run, great masses of black cloud zoomed in from all sides of The Meadows.
“Everyone look away!” screamed Freydis. “Close your eyes!”
Moments later there was a light so blinding that Paloma could see it even through her eyelids, followed by an explosion that knocked her flat.
She braced for more, but nothing came. Eventually, ears ringing, half blinded, Paloma looked up.
The sky above was blue and empty, as if the tornado, the storm clouds, the giant flying snake and the Warlock Queen had never existed.
“Freydis,” Sassa asked, “was that you?”
“It wasn’t. Can you go and get Ottar, please, Paloma Pronghorn?”
The boy was still sitting on the wall on the far side of the square, swinging his legs.
“He’ll be okay for a moment. Is the Warlock Queen dead?”
“Yes.”
“Was it you?”
“No. I did make the first bolt of lightning, but that didn’t work. I don’t know why the sky exploded.”
“You defeated the Warlock Queen, Freydis.” Paloma wasn’t far off weeping with pride.
“But I didn’t. She was going to kill me. Whoever persuaded that monster to grab her by the head and fly up into the tornado defeated her and saved me.”
Paloma looked around.
Finn the Deep was climbing to his feet. He smiled sheepishly.
Chapter 12
End of the Tornado
“Ook,” said Ottar, pointing behind Paloma as she leapt up to join him on the wall.
Paloma looked.
A cross-shaped monster with dozens of gigantic human-like heads hanging from one arm reared skywards. It wobbled then toppled, the heads screaming in rage or possibly terror. Maybe both.
Apart from that, things were pretty quiet in The Meadows. The monsters that weren’t dead were flopping about uselessly on their last legs–or flippers, tentacles, sucker feet and so on.
Paloma smiled.
It looked an awful lot like their quest was done.
She ran back with Ottar to the others.
They were all bent over Keef, apart from Freydis who was sitting on the ground, smiling to herself.
Paloma put Ottar down next to his sister and went over to console Sitsi.
She didn’t need to.
“It takes more than an axe to the chest,” rasped Keef, “to kill the Berserker.”
“No talking, you idiot,” said Sitsi.
“He’s a tough fucker,” said Paloma.
“Yes. He should live.”
“Good. The monsters in The Meadows are dying,” she reported. “Everyone else okay?”
Sassa, Sitsi, Wulf, Finn and Chogolisa nodded. Sofi shook her head.
“Sofi?” asked Paloma.
“Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just… I’m fine.”
Paloma had never seen Sofi like this. It was almost a relief when, as soon as Sofi stopped talking, The Pyramid started rumbling and shaking and gave Sofi something to do.
“Finn, see if your rabbit is still alive,” the Owsla captain commanded. “If not, find something else to carry us out of The Meadows. We’ll get everyone up the wall first, then Chogolisa carry Keef, Wulf take Ottar, I’ll take Freydis. Paloma, once we’re up the wall is there a clear route down The Pyramid?”
“There is. It’s the same as it was before, just with the top lopped off.”
“Good. Help others up the wall, then make sure the route is clear.”
“Rabbit’s alive and on its way,” said Finn.
“Let’s go.”
Finn the Deep climbed
the wall–well, Chogolisa pretty much hurled him up the wall–then he helped the others.
For ten miles in every direction gigantic monsters were dying. But Finn couldn’t stop staring at Freydis.
While the Owsla were lifting Keef up the wall, he turned to her.
“Um, Freydis.”
“Yup, Finn the Deep?”
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You know.”
“She can tell you later,” said Sofi, looking up from where she was laying Keef on the stone.
Chogolisa leapt, gripped the top of the wall and clambered up. She stooped to pick up Keef.
“Let’s go,” said Sofi. “Hold my hand, Freydis.”
They headed down the black slope. It was steep but so grippy that they could hop down it carefully.
Finn followed behind Sofi.
“I need to know some things, Freydis,” said Sofi.
“I’ll tell you whatever I can.” The girl’s voice sounded the same to Finn, yet completely different. It was high and girly but it had a weight–a power.
“What are you?” Sofi asked.
“I am a forest goddess.”
Of course you are, thought Finn.
Sofi nodded as if her expectations had been confirmed. “Did you know you were taking Ottar to his death?”
“I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.”
“But you were happy to risk him?”
“I wasn’t happy to do it. But I didn’t know any other way to save the world. I knew the Warlock Queen would want him and would let him–and me–get close.”
“Why did she want him?”
“It didn’t have to be him, but he was very right for her. He is the same age as her son was.”
“I could have got you a boy that age,” said Sofi, as if they were talking about a new shirt. Finn shivered.
“Yes,” Freydis sighed. “And I would have liked that to save Ottar, but the way Ottar’s mind is… it would have been easier for the Warlock Queen to make him her son.”