by Sam Subity
“YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
Everyone stopped running around and screaming for a minute and turned toward the noise.
It was Grimsby.
He hoisted the bucket of Ping-Pong balls over his head and gave another primal yell. Then he charged toward the pool and everything went into slow motion. Framed in the white glow of an overhead light. Skinny legs and loafered feet churning. A determined snarl fixed on his face. He blew right past the “NO RUNNING” sign without even flinching. It was a charge worthy of the greatest Viking heroes of old.
Then, just as quickly, it all started to fall apart. As he neared the water’s edge, one of his loafers flew off. He stumbled. Tried to catch himself but slipped and fell forward. Together Grimsby and the bucket slammed against the tile floor. A hundred Ping-Pong balls exploded out of the bucket and bounced into the pool to a staccato of plip-plip-plip-plip.
Silence. Nothing happened for a minute. Then, with a slurping noise, the balls started to disappear from the pool’s surface like they’d been vacuumed underwater. The room was quiet as everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen. After what seemed like an eon, Grimsby rose on all fours and crawled closer to the pool, peeking over the edge to see what was going on.
Just then the water erupted in a geyser as the creature blasted upward, buoyed by the feast of Ping-Pong balls it had eaten. I felt my insides turn to water as a giant, glowing yellow eye rose above the pool’s surface. But in the next instant, the monster exploded. Pool water and particles of wet, slimy goo flew everywhere, knocking me flat on my back and covering me with filth.
As I lay there stunned, the silence was broken by the sound of someone spitting and gagging. To one side of me lay Gwynn, wiping guts out of her eyes. By the pool Chase was on all fours, coughing and trembling but apparently unharmed. Then I spotted Grimsby at the pool’s edge, completely covered in slime from head to toe. I didn’t know if it was the sight of him, or relief after the fight for our lives, but I started giggling uncontrollably, finally letting go a full-belly laugh.
“What was that … you were saying earlier … about octopus sushi?” I said between gasps of laughter.
Grimsby looked down at himself covered in slime, and then his shoulders started heaving in laughter too. He held up a surviving Ping-Pong ball and said, “That’s a spicy meatball!”
We both burst into more laughter, but suddenly Grimsby’s laugh turned to a strangled gagging noise. I looked to see what was wrong. He was staring back at me with his mouth open in surprise.
“What is it?” I said, quickly looking down at myself, thinking maybe I’d sustained a terrible injury I hadn’t noticed yet.
“The journal … look!”
He pointed past me, and I whirled around to see what he was looking at.
Not far away on the floor, apparently jostled out of my backpack in the fight with the sea monster, the journal we’d found in the library lay partly covered with sea monster guts. But there was something strange about it. It almost seemed to be … glowing.
I cautiously crawled toward it and wiped the muck off the cover. That’s when I saw what it was.
“The water rune,” gasped Gwynn, who had silently come up beside me. “It’s like it’s on fire!”
As we watched in wonder, the rune grew brighter and brighter, soon turning white-hot before emitting a brief flash of light and then subsiding to a deep blue color while the other two runes remained a dull gray.
“What do you think it means?” I said.
“You said it’s the Norse rune for water, right?” said Grimsby as he joined us. “You don’t think …” He trailed off as he turned to survey the puddles of pool water that were now everywhere.
“That we just conquered some sort of water test?” I finished for him.
“Then what about the other two?” Gwynn said, still wringing water out of her hair. “Tree … and death? What do those mean?”
Before anyone could answer, the sound of squeaking wheels cut through my thoughts, and the school janitor entered through a door on the opposite side of the room, pushing his familiar garbage can–and–mop bucket combo. He looked from the piles of sea monster guts to his little mop and frowned, evidently wishing he had a much bigger mop. I cringed, feeling bad about being involved in two messy cleanups in the same number of days, even though neither one was one hundred percent my fault.
But it seemed like a perfect metaphor for the mess my life had become in just a few short days. And it was sure going to take an epic mop to clean it all up.
Not able to focus in class, I spent the rest of the afternoon hiding out in the library, trying to answer all the questions spinning through my brain.
First, there was the sea monster. That was nuts. I mean, come on. Sea. Monster. For real?
Then there was the journal. Was it some sort of magical map? And if so, to what? To finding the svefnthorn and helping my dad? That would be amazing. And that’s what Granny V had suggested. But whoa: from a murderous dark Valkyrie who’d just tried to steal my soul? That made me wonder, even if it led us to the sleep thorn, what was the catch?
And finally, who was the mystery person who’d left the journal for me in the first place? Four years ago. My mom? Did she somehow know she was in trouble and leave me a trail to follow in case something happened to her? I was so torn, because I wanted that too.
When the bell rang to signal the end of the school day and I’d made exactly zero progress, I was ready to pull my hair out. So I decided it was probably a good time to give my brain a rest and go back to spend some time with my dad.
Bare trees threw long black stripes across Vale’s campus as I trudged through the snow, headed toward the hospital. Snow was the worst. I already despised the stuff. I kicked a clump of it in frustration, sending icy white fragments exploding in every direction.
“Abby!”
I looked around, spotting Gwynn and Grimsby jogging toward me. I stopped, waiting for them to catch up.
“Where have you been?” Gwynn said as they came nearer.
Grimsby stopped by a large oak tree and leaned in to study it closely, looking it up and down. He moved to the next tree and stuck his face right up to it, squinting his eyes and rapping on it with his knuckles.
“Hiding,” I said, turning toward Gwynn. “Mostly. Trying to figure out what any of this means.”
“Find anything?” she said.
“Not really, but …” I looked past her at Grimsby, who was actually sniffing a tree. “Okay, what’s up with you and the trees already?”
He turned toward me and said innocently, “Oh, nothing, just a little research of my own.”
Gwynn laughed. “That’s what we were trying to find you about. The second rune—you know, Eihwaz? I did some more digging and found out it’s often used not to represent just any tree, but the tree.” When she saw I wasn’t following, she added, “You know, Yggdrasil?”
I looked at her like she was nuts. “Wait. The mythical tree from Norse mythology that connects the nine worlds? That’s what you think we have to find? As in, right here somewhere on Vale’s campus?”
She nodded. “Well—”
“We don’t even know for sure what the runes are. Clues? Guideposts leading us to … what? A cure for my dad? A greenhouse that doesn’t exist anymore? Or maybe even our own deaths? Or …” I stopped, realizing my voice had been steadily rising as all my frustration boiled over to the point that I was almost shouting.
Gwynn bit her lip, looking a little hurt. “Sure, well, when you put it like that …” She shrugged, turning up her palms. “But remember, for the first rune we had to fight a sea monster in the school’s swimming pool. And do you really think it was a coincidence that the water rune changed after we, well—”
“Blew up the sea monster?” Grimsby finished helpfully.
I pressed my fist against my forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump all over your theory.”
“That’s okay,” said Gwynn. “You’re dealing wi
th a lot right now. I get it.”
I smiled. “So then how does that explain why Grimsby’s going around sniffing trees?”
“Oh, that.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s because Yggdrasil is supposed to be an ash tree.” She raised her voice a little louder to be sure he heard. “Which I keep telling him doesn’t mean it smells like ashes.”
“Abby!” a voice called behind me.
I turned and saw Doc striding across the lawn toward us. Apparently everyone was looking for me. He’d exchanged his gray cloak from yesterday for khakis, rubber boots, and a maroon hoodie with “VALE KNATTLEIKR” printed across the front.
“I’ve been trying to find you,” he said, stopping in front of us. “First, to apologize for the way we dumped all that news on you yesterday.”
I dropped my gaze to the ground. “Thanks. I’ve sort of been hiding.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’m sure this has all been really hard on you. And I know people say this all the time, but if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Really.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to say that I’d be okay, but instead what came out was: “Actually, you can. I’m tired of all this. Tired of feeling like I’m in the dark all the time. Tired of no one knowing how to help my dad. Even tired of having to thoroughly dry my hair every morning so it doesn’t freeze to my skull on the way to school. In the past week, I’ve been attacked, shot at, and humiliated by the Viking governing council. So what I really need is for someone to stop treating me like a little kid and tell me what’s really happening.” I stopped, my eyes wide in surprise that those words had simply poured out of me.
Doc’s eyebrows had steadily risen as my tirade continued, and now he stood speechless in front of me, evidently as surprised as me. For a few seconds we just stared at each other.
Then he looked away and cleared his throat before saying slowly, “Given the circumstances … I think that’s fair.” He nodded once as if making a decision, then turned back to me. “It’s time you knew more about your Viking heritage. Come with me. I need to show you something.”
“Right behind you,” Grimsby said, moving to follow our teacher as he turned to go.
“Ah, Mr. Grimsby …” Doc said, looking back over his shoulder.
Grimsby stopped in midstep. “Oh. You meant just Abby. Roger that. We’ll be, um, right here. Well, probably not right here, but …” He waved his hands in circles. “Around. You know, somewhere on Vale’s campus. Like—”
Gwynn slugged him on the shoulder to get him to stop talking and then waved at me. “See you later.”
I laughed. “Bye, guys.”
Fifteen minutes later, Doc led me into a field house that sprawled low across the back half of the campus. Everything at Vale seemed to come in only one size: enormous. And this building was no exception.
“Is this your first visit to the longhouse?” Doc said.
I nodded. “As in Viking longhouses?” I knew from my studies that in early Scandinavian society, Vikings had constructed enormous longhouses that were the centers of community life.
“Precisely,” Doc said.
Inside were thousands of alternating maroon and gold plastic chairs arranged in concentric rings around a glass-enclosed playing field. Dozens of divisional, regional, and state championship pennants going back over a century hung from the rafters overhead. I absorbed it all in a sort of daze while still processing Gwynn’s idea that we had to somehow find Yggdrasil. That seemed impossible. My brain sought desperately for any other way we could help my dad but so far was coming up empty. If a team of scientists couldn’t help him, then what could I hope to do?
We turned down a long hallway, and Doc gestured to a door that said “Coach Ruel” on it. “Let’s talk in my office.”
I entered a small but neat office. The door clicked shut behind me, and Doc slid into a large leather chair behind the desk.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to a pair of wooden chairs in front of the desk. The backs of the chairs were inlaid with intricate carvings of what looked like depictions of Norse myths. In one scene Thor stood with his hammer, Mjölnir, raised high above his head.
“I do a little wood carving when I have the time,” Doc said, noticing my inspection.
Wow, I thought, he made these? I looked around at the trophies and medals crammed onto every flat surface around the room. “Pretty impressive.”
Following my gaze, he said, “Indeed, knattleikr has a long and rich legacy here at Vale.” He leaned forward a little and interlaced his fingers on the desk blotter. “But for now I’d like to focus on another legacy. Yours.” I turned to him. I wasn’t sure what legacy he was referring to. My humongous failure resulting in my dad’s coma? Or the disbandment of the Aesir and everything I’d spent my life working toward? “Yeah, some legacy so far,” I said, and shook my head in frustration.
“Well, as you will undoubtedly discover as you grow older, things aren’t always what they seem. But let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” He steepled his hands in front of his mouth and frowned down at his desk, considering where to start. “You’re of course familiar with the major Norse gods, such as Odin and Thor?”
I nodded.
“Although we call them gods, they weren’t actually gods as we use the term today. Rather, they were part of an ancient race of superhumans. Stronger. Faster. But still mortal. In fact, they were the very first Aesir.”
I leaned back in my chair, frowning. “So … Beowulf didn’t start the Aesir order?”
Doc shook his head. “No, he only endowed them with the specific commission to protect the human race from Grendels. The Old Norse name for the Aesir translates roughly to ‘shadow warriors’ because Grendels were associated with shadows and darkness. The Vikings coalesced as a warrior class around these shadow warriors, who at their peak numbered in the hundreds. That number has waxed and waned over the centuries commensurate with the need to protect humankind.”
“Sooo …” I said, drawing out the word as my brain struggled to keep up. “Then where did Grendels come from? And why didn’t my mom ever mention any of this?”
“Normally this knowledge is reserved for when a Viking is initiated as a warrior. But under the circumstances, I thought it important that you learn it a bit early. Now, to answer your first question, you’re familiar with the story of Loki, I assume?”
“Sure. He was the brother of Thor, right?”
“That’s right. The two had another brother named Balder who was known as ‘the most beautiful and beloved one.’ Everywhere Loki went, it was always Balder, Balder, Balder. Everyone despised and avoided Loki. But they’d throw big parties in honor of Balder’s beauty. It was during one such party that went on for many days that Loki finally had enough. His jealousy boiled over … and he killed his own brother.”
Doc peered at me through his large glasses. “Does that remind you of anything?”
I thought about it for a minute, then made the connection. “The partying, the outsider driven to murder—it sounds a lot like the story of Beowulf.”
“Exactly. Loki’s punishment was to be cast out and subjected to a serpent’s venom that hideously deformed him, transforming him into the very first Grendel. The story of Beowulf is just the most recent in an ancient cycle pitting the fractured halves of the human family tree against each other. Light against dark. Brother against brother.” He paused and reached out with one finger to spin a small globe resting on the corner of his desk. “With the very fate of the world in the balance.”
As I watched the globe spin, it seemed to match the swirl of thoughts in my head. It occurred to me for the first time that I’d never thought about what Grendels really were or where they came from. Or why it was so important that the entire Aesir order was formed to stop them. “This is … a lot to take in,” I said.
“It always is, when you see your own life set against the sprawl of human history. Realizing that since the dawn of tim
e, the Vikings have been the final bulwark against a darkness that seeks to overcome and destroy humanity. And the Aesir have the most important role of all. Because Grendels are the direct descendants of Loki himself and masters of dark legions of trolls, goblins, giants, and many other nightmarish creatures. If the Aesir were to fail in their task of stopping them …” He paused, considering the right words. “Well, simply put, it would mean the end of humanity as we know it. The earth would be overrun by the armies of eternal night.”
As we sat staring at each other wordlessly, the air seemed almost charged, like the seconds before a lightning strike. Suddenly I realized I’d been holding my breath. I looked away and ran a hand nervously through my hair. “But that hasn’t happened yet … right?”
Doc blinked and shook his head as if emerging from a dream. “No.” He shuffled some papers absently on his desk. “No, it hasn’t. After the time of Beowulf, the cycle went dormant.”
“Because Grendels were finally defeated, you mean.” The back of my neck prickled as I remembered the argument with Unferth. “But I really did see a Grendel. You believe me, right?”
Instead of answering directly, Doc smiled and said, “I think I told you that I knew your mother in her time here at Vale? We were actually good friends. But we had heated arguments on the subject of Grendels. She was firm in her conviction that the danger was still very real, even after all these years. I’m afraid I disagreed with her, and now I regret that I didn’t do more to defend her against detractors who claimed her obsession bordered on mania toward the … end. It wasn’t until more recently that I started thinking she may have been right.”
I perked up at this. “Why do you say that?”
He got up and walked over to the door, opening it briefly to look outside, then making sure it was firmly shut before turning back to me. “Because a few years ago, we started losing contact with your fellow Aesir. One by one, all over the world, communications were going dark. The rest of the Grey Council didn’t think anything of it. But when I looked into it myself, there seemed to be a pattern emerging. A pattern that led me to one unavoidable conclusion: Someone—or something—was systematically wiping them out.”