The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  “Now, now,” Emenor said, his bald pate sweaty and shiny in the candlelight as he waved his pale hands. “We can’t go around killing Robert Barconian’s only son.”

  The room quieted, as if Emenor had dropped a bomb.

  “Since when do Balfins support Barconians?” Gael said in the stillness, steepling his long fingers together.

  “Emenor speaks the truth,” Lord Orrin said, stepping forward and placing a hand on the dour-faced Balfin’s shoulder. “The boy is too valuable to kill.”

  The room was eerily silent. The knife still pressed into Sam’s skin. He didn’t move, not even to breathe.

  “Enough,” Drabic said, waving Geb away irritably with his wine goblet.

  The Falcory savage released him. Sam sank down in his chair, feeling his anger grow. He had tried to be nice, but they seemed to think he was on the wrong side. Sam hated those witches as much as these guys did for killing his father—more so if they laid even a finger on Keely or Howie.

  Drabic continued, “I say he goes to Asgard. If we don’t find a way to break the curse, it won’t matter whose side he is on.”

  “Then the Falcory will escort him,” Beo said, his black eyes fierce. “We will make sure he doesn’t stray.”

  “And the Eifalians will come along as well,” Gael stated.

  What riled Sam was that he seemed to have no say in this. He felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. His eyes slid over to Orrin’s and caught his satisfied sneer. The High Regent had been right. They didn’t care one penny about his friends.

  Rego picked up Sam by the collar and dragged him out of his seat. “Come on, lad. Let’s leave it to them to fuss over who’s going to ride with you.”

  “That was fun,” Sam grumbled, as Rego pushed him along darkened hallways. “They act like I’m the bad guy here.”

  “Not out here, lad. The walls have ears.” The dwarf seemed to have a sixth sense about which corridor to take. Finally, Rego placed his palm on a rough wooden door and pushed it open. Sam stumbled inside and turned on Rego as he shut the door.

  “I thought you said I was safe here.” His neck still stung from Geb’s sharp blade.

  The dwarf shrugged, levering himself up on the window ledge so he could look through the shutters out into the courtyard. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  Sam’s temperature spiked at the feeble apology. “That Falcory was about to skin me alive!”

  “They need you more than they fear you.” Rego kept his eyes on the courtyard. “You’re safe enough.”

  Sam paced the room, unable to sit still. “What about Howie and Keely? I can’t just leave them with Endera and her pack of witches. Someone has to rescue them.”

  Rego sighed. “I’m sorry about your friends, Sam. Really, I am. But there’s no time to go after them. The sun worsens every day. The High Council is right to send you to Asgard. You are our only hope of survival.”

  “I don’t want the job!” Sam shouted. “Find someone else.”

  “There is no one else!” Rego shouted back. “If you don’t find a way to end this, Orkney will perish.”

  “Well, that’s not fair,” Sam said, kicking a chair. “I just want to get my friends and go home.”

  There was silence. And then Rego dropped a bombshell. “There is no going home.”

  Sam’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, no going home?”

  Rego rubbed his whiskers before answering. “I ordered Chief Pate-wa to destroy the stonefire from the other side.”

  “You mean I’m never going home?”

  Rego shook his head and resumed his study of the courtyard. “Once the witches discovered it, we couldn’t risk their using it again and causing mischief and mayhem.”

  Never going home meant never playing video games again. Never eating at Chuggies. His friends would be stuck here. And what about his mom? A familiar flush of rage came over him, sending tingles through him as if his skin were on fire.

  Sam flipped over the table, sending the bowl of fruit rolling across the room. “You had no right to ruin my life,” he raged. “This is all your fault!”

  “My fault?” Rego turned from the window and crossed his arms. “I’m not the one who got my friends involved. That was all you, lad. And I didn’t put you in the middle of this; that was your parents’ doing. A Son of Odin marrying a witch.” He let out a snort of disgust. “Anyone with half a brain could have predicted that would turn out for the worst. But your parents didn’t care; they let their hearts rule their heads, when they should have been thinking about the consequences.”

  The dwarf was right. Sam unclenched his fists as the mist slowly receded. “I’m sorry.” He took several deep breaths as he picked up the table. “It’s just, my friends are counting on me to rescue them. Please help me, Rego, and then I’ll go on your stupid quest.”

  The dwarf shook his head. “The red sun is spreading its poison. Soon, it won’t be just the crops that die; it’ll be the animals and the people.”

  “How long before that happens?”

  “Don’t know. But every day you delay, things get worse.”

  “So there could be time to rescue them. Come on, Rego.”

  “What’s more important to you, Sam? Saving your friends or saving this realm?”

  “What’s the point in saving Orkney if I lose my best friends?” he shouted, glaring at Rego across the room.

  The dwarf didn’t flinch. “If you don’t save Orkney, the red sun will kill us all, your friends included.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Leo lay on his back, staring up at the stars, waiting for his heart to slow down. His father had tried to stop him from coming through the stonefire, but in the end, Leo had convinced him that it was his duty. And duty is everything to the Umatilla chief, he thought with a trace of bitterness.

  It wasn’t easy being the son of the chief. Leo’s life had been mapped out for him since the day he was born. Stay on the reservation. Become a great leader. Bear a son or daughter to carry on the tradition. Sacrifice any personal dreams for the good of his people. It had been drilled into Leo since he was old enough to walk.

  Traveling to Orkney was Leo’s one chance to escape, to do something more with his life and not let his father down. A smile crossed his face as the realization sunk in that he had done it. Crossed over to another realm. If Leo hadn’t seen Endera turn that lizard into a monster, he would still be stuck back in Pilot Rock, training to take his father’s place. Instead, he was here, in a realm of the gods, on a quest to save his friend.

  He held his arm up, tracing the twisting scar that ran from his elbow to his wrist. Although he didn’t know it yet, Sam had been there for Leo when he had needed it most. Now it was up to Leo to return the favor.

  The stonefire lay in pieces. His father had destroyed the portal once Leo was safely through. As much as Leo wanted to escape the burdens of his heritage, the thought of never going home again gave him a sharp pang of regret. He would miss his mother’s warm smile and his younger sister’s annoying habit of braiding his hair.

  A twig snapped at the edge of the clearing. Sitting up, Leo searched the shadows. The moon was only half full, but it was easy to make out shapes. Was that someone lurking behind a tree?

  Leo got to his feet. He had brought along his prized bow and a quiver full of arrows, which he had wrapped in deerskin to protect them from the flames. Unwrapping the bow, he notched an arrow.

  “Come out,” he called. “I know you’re there.”

  “Brave warrior, do not be afraid.” A woman emerged from the shadows. Her hair was as pale as the white gown she wore.

  Leo lowered his bow. “Who are you?”

  “I am Vor, a friend to you and to the one you seek.” She stepped into the clearing, and Leo bit back a gasp. Her eyes were white and sightless.

  “You know where I can find Sam?”

  She nodded. “But you must not stop him from undergoing his journey. There will be a time when he needs you. Then yo
u must be ready.”

  Leo believed her. There was something about her that was otherworldly, but he felt no malice in her. “How will I know where to find him?”

  “There is a road that runs along the coast. Follow it south three days, until you reach a large fishing village. Travel by night. The days are cursed by the rays of a powerful sun. Stay out of sight until you are called.”

  Leo hesitated. “I can’t just stand by and do nothing. What if you’re wrong? What if Sam needs my help sooner?” He itched to take action, to jump in with both feet to help defeat whatever demon Sam faced.

  But Vor turned away from him toward the darkness of the woods. “Then all will be lost, brave one. Your help won’t matter. Sam must learn to choose the right path on his own.”

  She began to shimmer, dissolving into pinpoints of light. Like fireflies, they floated away through the trees.

  Leo waited to see if she would return; then he picked up his bow and the few things he had brought and began jogging along the trail. The moon would be his guide. He would take Vor’s advice and wait for Sam’s signal.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam lay awake in his big four-poster bed, listening to Rego snoring a few feet away. The dwarf was curled up on a rug next to the bed. Sam’s mind swirled, thinking about Howie and Keely. If something happened to them, he would spend the rest of his life feeling guilty. There was time, he told himself, time to make a side trip to rescue his friends and still get to Asgard to ask Odin for the cure for that cursed sun. Keely knew a lot about Odin. She would be a big help, and Howie, he could keep Sam from losing his cool. All Sam had to do was get out of Skara Brae and find them.

  A hand covered his mouth. Sam opened his eyes to see the High Regent himself, Lord Orrin, standing over him, one bony finger to his lips.

  Sam’s first thought was that he should wake Rego. Sam would sooner trust a rattlesnake than this Orrin. But he was torn. His only shot at rescuing his friends was to go along with this slimy manipulator.

  The bed creaked as he stood. They both froze. Rego snorted once, rolled over, and began to snore again.

  Sam’s boots and a cloak were next to the bed, as well as the knife he had brought with him. Sam picked up his things and, still barefoot, followed Orrin to a covering on the wall. Orrin pulled it aside to reveal a small door.

  Beyond the door was a narrow corridor lit by a single candle on a shelf. Orrin picked it up, and they made their way silently to another door. He tapped once.

  It opened. Sam wasn’t surprised to see Emenor. The Balfin’s round face was locked in its perpetual scowl.

  “Quickly, boy, get dressed,” he ordered.

  Sam clumsily put on his boots and slipped the cloak over his shoulders.

  Emenor’s face glowed in the candlelight. He held out a folded piece of parchment. “This is a map of Balfour Island. It will guide you safely through the swamps and bogs that surround it to here”—he stabbed a gray X—“the Tarkana fortress. Don’t lose it, boy. If you stray off course, you will surely die.”

  Sam studied the map, trying to make sense of the marks. “I’m not sure I understand . . . ,” he began, but shouts sounded in the hallway.

  Rego had awoken and alerted the guards.

  Orrin gave Sam a shove. “Get him out of here, now,” he said to Emenor. “I’ll delay them as best I can.”

  The Balfin hauled Sam into the secret passage and pushed him farther along the corridor, until it ended in a solid stone wall. Sam groaned. They were trapped.

  Emenor looked at Sam impatiently. “Open it,” he demanded.

  Sam put his hand on the cold stone. “How?” The wall was made of granite blocks. He didn’t see a door or any secret opening.

  The Balfin shook him roughly. “Use your magic, boy.”

  Confused, Sam stepped away. “I don’t have any magic. You’ve got the wrong kid.”

  Emenor’s face grew dark as he planted both hands on Sam’s chest and shook him. “You are the son of a witch. You have all the magic you need inside—all you have to do is open the door in your mind.”

  The sound of voices in the corridor grew louder. They were running out of time. Pretty soon the entire city would be awake and looking for Sam.

  With a disgusted sigh, Emenor released him and hurriedly unbuttoned the top of his robe, revealing a heavy black medallion dangling on a silver chain. The medallion was made of polished black flint and carved with intricate symbols Sam didn’t recognize.

  “This is precious magic. Using it will drain its powers,” he sniped. Then he passed the medallion in front of the stone and whispered, “Fein kinter, terminus.” At his words, the flint emitted a streak of light that bounced off the wall and bathed them in an emerald glow. The stone began to shimmer, changing substance until it simply faded away.

  “How did you do that?” Sam asked in awe, waving his hand where the wall had been. The night sky glittered with stars. His breath fogged in the cold air.

  Emenor slipped the medallion back inside his robe, buttoning up the collar. “Balfins receive trinkets from the witches. It’s weak magic, but it comes in handy. Part of our arrangement for sheltering them.”

  He pushed Sam forward until the boy teetered on the corridor’s edge. The ground was two stories below.

  “Get to the stables across the courtyard. There’s a horse waiting. Follow the back alley to the main road, and head for the gate.” Then Emenor gave him a shove. Sam fell, arms flailing, expecting to splat on the paving stones. Instead, he landed in a cart filled with hay that had been parked below.

  Spitting out bits of straw, he peered over the side of the cart. As Emenor had promised, the stables were just across the courtyard. The problem was, two guards stood at the bottom of the steps, watching the area. They were craning their heads at the cart, looking to see what had caused the noise.

  He needed a distraction to reach the stables. Emenor had promised Sam had all the magic necessary inside him, but if that was true, how did Sam turn it on?

  The guards drew closer. Any second now, they would see him and he would be sent back to Rego.

  The pouch holding his dad’s stone hung heavily around his neck. He could throw it at them, Sam thought in desperation. He fingered it, feeling it warm at his touch. The guards were mere steps away.

  The stone had belonged to Odin and had once possessed great power. Maybe it still did. What did he have to lose?

  Standing up, Sam took the pouch from around his neck and started swinging it, figuring he looked crazy enough to startle them. But, strangely, as he swung it, a wind picked up and began to blow, scattering the hay. He swung it harder. On a whim, Sam tried out the words Emenor had just used, whispering, “Fein kinter.”

  Something kicked Sam in the chest, like he had just been hit with a fast pitch. Immediately, the wind blew harder. A tingling feeling came over him, and the meaning of the words clicked in his brain.

  Fein kinter. I call on my magic.

  Cool. Odin’s potent stone was working, but it was unleashing something inside him, opening the door to something Sam had never known existed.

  Closing his eyes, Sam let words flow through him from a base of knowledge he could access with ease. He imagined what he wanted, and then words spilled into his head. “Fein kinter ventimus,” he whispered, and a sudden wind roared in his ears, picking up speed and spinning like a tornado, knocking the men off their feet and sending them tumbling head over heels across the courtyard.

  He stopped, stunned by what had happened. The men lay in a heap on the ground, dazed and groaning. Lights began to blaze from the windows overhead. Sam needed to get moving. He tucked the stone back inside his shirt and ran across the courtyard to the stables.

  Inside, a horse waited, saddled up and tied to the wall, just as Orrin had promised. He untied it and put his foot in the stirrup, when a voice rang out.

  “Where’s my pie?”

  Mavery stood blocking his horse, arms crossed. Sam could hear shouts from the ent
rance to the Great Hall.

  “Not now, Mavery,” he hissed.

  “I could scream, you know. I want my pie.”

  Stepping back down from the horse, Sam was tempted to stuff her mouth with hay, but he tried reason instead. “I don’t have your pie. Please get out of my way.”

  She opened her mouth to scream, and Sam had no choice. He grabbed her, muffling her with his hand. “Would you knock it off?” Their faces were an inch apart. He felt her eyes looking through him, their black depths staring into his own, and something else—a recognition. In that moment, they both knew they were the same. Misfits. Outcasts. Magic-born.

  Sam relaxed his grip. “I need to go. Give me a break. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Take me with you.”

  His first instinct was to say no. She would just slow him down, but he humored her. “Give me one reason.”

  “I’ll give you five.” She held one grimy hand up, ticking off her answers. “I’m smarter than you. I know my way around. You don’t know anything about this place. And I can get you out of the city.”

  “That’s only four,” he countered.

  “I know about magic,” she whispered.

  Sam wavered. After that little scene in the secret passage, it was obvious that he was clueless about magic, in spite of what he had just done. And she was right: he had no idea where he was going. “Fine, you can come with me.” He could always ditch her later, although secretly he was glad for the company.

  Lifting Mavery up onto the back of the horse, Sam pulled himself onto the saddle and gave the horse a solid kick in the ribs. It lurched forward, and they slipped out through a back gate and trotted down a side street. The narrow cobblestone alley was deserted. Sinuous clouds crisscrossed the waning moon like snakes loose in the sky. It was well past midnight. They probably only had a few hours before the sun rose, and then they would be easily spotted.

  “Turn here,” Mavery said at the first intersection. Sam followed her directions through serpentine alleys until they had moved far from the center of the city. The path became narrower and filthier. It stank of sewage and rotting garbage.