Underworlds #4: The Ice Dragon
Page 6
“Up the eleven rivers — to home!” Jon yelled.
My heart was in my throat. I held on to Dana as if my life depended on it, and she held on to Sydney and Jon. The Runsons clung to Baldur and screamed the whole way back. We flew from river to river, up into our own world. Pinewood Bluffs still smoked and smoldered. But our journey wasn’t over. We slid through the black rocks as easily as the first time, and Asgard was in view now, its fields peaceful, its shore teeming with heroes.
“There it is!” cried Mrs. Runson, clutching her husband tight. “I can’t believe we’re actually seeing it.”
As the ship approached, Odin and Thor came running to the shore. The ship docked and we set foot on solid ground. The huge field of gods and heroes gave out a thunderous cheer that seemed to last forever.
“I live!” said Baldur, and Odin, Thor, and the Valkyries all embraced him.
“My son is alive!” Odin boomed. “Children, you have my eternal allegiance. The bells of doom shall not ring today. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow will come!”
“Owen, look,” Dana whispered, pointing out a hooded figure dressed in black racing across the rainbow bridge toward us.
“The stranger,” I said.
The man ran up the hill directly to us. He wasn’t large, not built like a god, though I knew he was half-god. Breathing hard, he pulled back his hood with slender fingers to reveal a sad but kind face, a mop of brown hair, and a garland of sharp-edged leaves banding his forehead.
Hades, as large as he was, bowed before the thin man. “And it comes full circle.”
“Allow me, Owen Brown,” said the man. “I believe what you are holding belongs to me. I am Orpheus.”
I knew it.
The Runsons gasped. Dana clutched my arm. Jon’s and Sydney’s jaws fell open. My knees buckled under me. Luckily, Baldur was there to hold me up.
I bowed and held out the lyre. “Orpheus, I’m sorry. I had to … sort of … chop it in half.”
Surprisingly, Orpheus smiled when he took the pieces of the lyre into his hands. “You’ll have to do a lot more damage to stop this thing.” With a quick flash of his fingers, he restored the lyre to its original shape, playing all seven strings brightly as if they were brand-new. “You play it well. We all thank you.”
Odin nodded slowly. “An instrument of great magic,” he said. “And perhaps, having it back again, Orpheus, you can do something to stop the Fires of Midgard?”
“My pleasure,” said Orpheus, looking up at the great god. “But maybe we can do this … together?”
So together, Orpheus and Odin wafted the last clouds of battle away, and we could see all the way beyond the Sea of Asgard to our own world, where snow was falling heavily.
“Snow!” said Odin, happier than we’d seen him yet.
“Snow on snow on snow will drown the Midgard fires!” added Orpheus.
After saying our good-byes, Kingu, Ullikummi, and his armies left as they had come. Anubis and his canine warriors departed after a long, low bow. So did Hades and his heroes, who turned toward the distant hills and marched away. Orpheus waved once to us, then marched along with his countrymen, playing triumphant songs.
“Midgard will rebuild,” said Thor, beaming down at us. “We shall watch you. Your services will never be forgotten.”
Odin thanked us last of all. “You children — you heroes — have staved off our final day, now that he is vanquished.” He gestured to Valhalla, where Loki lay imprisoned in his poisonous cell. “Tomorrow will come, after all. Thank you … forever!”
The journey home was the same as the journey to Asgard, on the Valkyries’ flying horses, and it was just as fast. The snowflakes fell like gentle rain until the fires in Pinewood Bluffs finally went out. The destruction was shocking, but not as bad as I had feared.
Pinewood Bluffs was calm when the Valkyries landed on the front lawn of the Runsons’ house.
“So, will you still be our lunch ladies?” Sydney asked.
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Lillian. “The pay is good, we get free meals, and Odin wants us to stay near. Your school being so close to the Underworlds has its advantages. You never know. Anything could happen.”
“And probably will,” said Miss Marge flatly.
I didn’t know whether to feel good about that, or terrified. It was like wondering what Monday’s chef’s surprise would be.
Once inside, Dr. and Mrs. Runson called our parents and learned that they were driving back, after having evacuated from town. They were overjoyed to hear that we were all safe. The Runsons invited us to stay at their house until our parents returned.
It was all over. The world didn’t end, and that was pretty much the best thing ever.
Really, it was.
But standing there, looking over the town, thinking back over the whole thing, I felt a little … empty. Maybe it was the letdown at the end of the adventure. An adventure that, as dangerous and unbelievable as it had been, was pretty thrilling.
After everything, I was just Owen Brown again.
Student at Pinewood Bluffs Elementary.
Friend of Jon, Sydney, and Dana.
Brother of Mags.
We got the furnace going, and Mrs. Runson set up a fire in the fireplace. It would be hours before our folks were back, so Mrs. and Dr. Runson went into the kitchen to rustle up something for dinner.
Dana, Jon, Sydney, and I sat on the couch, watching the snow pile up outside the windows. It was a little early in the season for snow, but because it helped put out the fires, no one was complaining. Also, Orpheus and Odin’s snow must have had a magical element of forgetfulness, because nobody was yelling about monsters or men in silver armor. They’d probably just chalked the fires up to a dry spell and wind. That was fine with me. No one needed to know that the world had nearly ended.
Life was mostly normal again. Or as normal as it would ever be, with an entrance to the Underworlds under our school.
“Do you think we’ll have classes tomorrow?” I asked, peering out at the snow.
“I hope so,” said Sydney. “After the last few days, I wouldn’t mind a nice, boring quiz or two. Besides, remember what Odin said? Tomorrow will come, after all.”
Jon nodded. “Hey, tomorrow is Monday. I wonder what the lunch ladies have planned for the chef’s surprise!”
That’s when we pummeled Jon with pillows.
Anubis (Egyptian Mythology): the jackal-headed god responsible for mummification and the afterlife
Asgard (Norse Mythology): home of the Norse gods and the court of Odin
Baldur (Norse Mythology): Norse god and son of Odin
Fenrir (Norse Mythology): a giant, fire-breathing red wolf
Hades (Greek Mythology): the ruler of the Greek Underworld
Hela (Norse Mythology): daughter of Loki and goddess of the Norse Underworld
Kingu (Babylonian Mythology): a famous Babylonian warrior who rebelled against Marduk and was cursed with the body of a scorpion
Loki (Norse Mythology): a trickster god
Lyre of Orpheus (Greek Mythology): a stringed instrument that charms people, animals, and objects into doing things for Orpheus
Midgard (Norse Mythology): a name for the world of humans
Niflheim (Norse Mythology): the Underworld of Norse myth
Orpheus (Greek Mythology): a musician who traveled to the Underworld to bring his wife back from the dead
Ragnarok (Norse Mythology): the twilight of the gods and the end of Norse divinity
Runes (Norse Mythology): old, powerful stones with magic symbols carved on them
Thor (Norse Mythology): a hammer-wielding god and son of Odin, often associated with thunder
Valhalla (Norse Mythology): the large, majestic hall of the gods located in Asgard and ruled over by Odin
Valkyries (Norse Mythology): women who work for Odin and choose who lives and dies in battle
PHOTO BY DOLORES ABBOTT
TONY ABBOTT is the author of more than ninety b
ooks for young readers, including the popular The Secrets of Droon series; Kringle; Firegirl, which won SCBWI’s 2006 Golden Kite Award; The Postcard, winner of the 2009 Edgar Award for best juvenile mystery; and The Haunting of Derek Stone series.
Tony Abbott was born in Ohio and lives with his wife and two daughters in Connecticut. For more information about Tony, visit www.tonyabbottbooks.com
Text copyright © 2012 by Robert T. Abbott
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Scholastic Inc.
Cover art by Antonio Javier Caparo
Design by Tim Hall
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First printing, December 2012
e-ISBN 978-0-545-47009-4
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