The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  “You’re wrong. Sam has the power. I don’t know how, but he does,” she said, slumping down in her seat, her legs weak. “If he aligns himself with Catriona, he will help her undo Odin’s magic and return Orkney to earth. I saw it when I drank from Mimir’s well.”

  The king was thoughtful. “A millennia ago, your world and ours were one, you know. We magic folk had existed on earth since the dawn of time. But Catriona was filled with hatred toward mankind, a way to punish Odin, I suppose, for killing her father. She and her cronies used their magic in evil ways, burning cities to the ground, creating poxes, terrorizing entire countries in her mindless need to punish humans. Odin had no choice but to take action. Magic had almost destroyed the world once with the red sun curse. Catriona seemed bent on destroying it again. She had to be stopped. And so Odin arranged for her to be trapped in stone for eternity. But Odin no longer believed magic and mankind could safely coexist, so he brought these islands from earth into the Ninth Realm and created this place, this refuge for magic. You see, child, Odin would never allow Orkney to be returned to earth. Mankind is safely under his care.”

  “What if Odin’s not here? What if something happens to him?”

  There were audible gasps at that. Einolach’s eyes narrowed to flint. “Like what?”

  Keely bit down on her tongue. Vor’s words to Leo that one of their own would be taken only painted Sam in a worse light. She changed tactics. “Look, if Odin has it under control, then why did he bring us here? What is he afraid of?”

  The king didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and passed his staff side to side. As the crystal at the end began to glow, a light spread out, filtering like a hazy cloud over the heads of every member assembled. Keely felt the prickle on her scalp. Then she heard strange whispers, like the other’s thoughts were being drawn into the cloud. The air grew thick with it.

  Dangerous.

  Preposterous.

  Impossible.

  Every cell in her body tingled with that strange new feeling she had, like her nerves were hypersensitive. There was plenty of scoffing, but there was also fear underlying the thoughts. As the king drew on the collective thinking of the Eifalian court, he raised both hands, moving them like a conductor before an orchestra. A hum vibrated the air as the whispers swelled into a loud buzz like a swarm of bees. Keely felt herself swept up in it, as if her mind was adrift in the same current.

  Then King Einolach stood abruptly, and the buzzing was cut off. He waved his staff over the group. “I have collected the auras. I will sleep on it. In the morning, you will have my decision.” He left with a swish of his robes, followed by an entou-rage of Eifalian council members and attendants.

  When the atrium had cleared, Gael bowed slightly at them. “I believe my father will take your counsel to the elders and seek their wisdom. We have not crossed the border between Torf-Einnar and the Vanirian kingdom of Rakim in many generations. Both sides took a blood oath to remain apart. If it is broken, there will be war. My father must be sure it is the right path.”

  Galatin bowed stiffly in return. “Soon he won’t have a choice. The witches will be on his doorstep, and he will be at war, regardless. We appreciate your hospitality and assistance, Gael, but we must head north, with or without your approval.”

  The Eifalian gripped Galatin’s arm. “You think you can face those savages alone and survive? If this girl is truly chosen, then it is our duty to see she is protected. You think two soldiers alone can do that against the Vanir?”

  Galatin’s jaw clenched. “I do not intend to fail, nor will I disobey my orders.” The soldier nodded curtly and left the room. Rifkin slid Keely a nervous glance before scuttling after Galatin.

  Keely was left with Mavery and Gael.

  “You must be tired from your journey,” Gael said calmly, sweeping his arm forward. A thousand tiny trillywigs lit up. “If you follow this path, you will find your way back to your chambers.”

  On impulse, Keely leaned forward and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Gael. Please speak to your father. I know he listens to you.”

  He held her away from him. “Your hair,” he said hesitantly. “When did it turn that color?”

  Keely raised a hand self-consciously to her tufts. “After I sacrificed it at Mimir’s well.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more, but all he said was, “Curious.” Then he bade them goodnight.

  Mavery slipped her hand in Keely’s, and together they walked down the path of delicate lights. Everything on this island appeared fairy-light and whimsical. The sconces on the wall were shaped like conical snails the size of oranges. Whorls of pink, yellow, and green rose to a familiar sharp point. So that’s what Theo had put on her seat. When she reached for one, it glowed amber and vibrated under her touch.

  “Those are phoralites,” Mavery explained. “They’re much prettier than trillywigs.” She chattered on about life at the palace as they walked down the path to Keely’s quarters.

  A voice hissed from a tree branch overhead. “You could have ratted me out.”

  Keely knew it was Theo without looking up. “I don’t rat out my friends,” she said.

  “I’m no friend.” He dropped down from the tree and landed like a cat blocking their path, his white hair shining in the dim light. “And I wish the witches would just blast your friend to pieces.”

  Exasperated, Keely folded her arms, studying him curiously. “What did Sam ever do to you?”

  Theo’s lip trembled. He suddenly looked like he wanted to cry. Keely took a step forward. “Are you all right?”

  But Theo backed away, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and without another word, he ran off.

  Mavery grabbed Keely’s arm and hurried her forward. “Told you, he’s just a spoiled royal brat.”

  Keely hesitated, wanting to go after him. The boy seemed upset, but right now she had bigger problems on her mind. She let Mavery drag her to their small dormer. A phoralite glowed next to the bed, casting a golden light. Two nightgowns had been laid out. The air was chilly, so they quickly changed and slid under the covers. Keely waved her hand over the glowing snail, and its shell dimmed and went dark.

  “Mavery, why does Theo hate us so much?” She stared up at the ceiling, seeing his sharp face. “And don’t tell me he’s just a spoiled brat.”

  Mavery plucked at the sheets. “It’s no big deal. It’s just the red sun, you know, it hurt a lot of people.”

  Keely rolled on her side. “Did it hurt Theo?”

  “No, not Theo exactly.”

  “Then who?”

  Mavery sighed. “His mom, okay? When the sun was at its worst and food ran out, she left Ter Glen to help the people in the outer villages. But she didn’t make it back alive.”

  Keely didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She knew exactly how Theo felt. That horrible hollow feeling. Waking up every morning those first few months and, for just a second, forgetting your mother was gone. Then remembering and feeling the loss all over again. “No wonder he hates us,” she whispered. She was Sam’s friend, which made her Theo’s enemy.

  “Yup,” the witchling murmured, but her eyes were already closing.

  Keely stayed awake for a long while, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Theo and his blue eyes. She thought of her dad and how worried he must be. She hadn’t even been able to leave him a note. What would he think? That she had been kidnapped? That she had run off and left him?

  She must have fallen asleep, because she awoke to a scraping sound. Her eyes flew open. Moonlight glinted off Rifkin’s bald head. The jovial soldier had a crazy look to his eyes. Something glinted in his hands. Was that a knife? Keely was about to scream when Mavery popped up next to her.

  “What’s going on?”

  Rifkin whipped his hands back, and whatever he held disappeared. “Time to go.”

  “I’m coming,” Mavery said, eagerly throwing back the covers and hopping to her feet. “So don’t even think of stopping me b
ecause I’ll just follow you.”

  Keely didn’t know what was worse, bringing the witchling and putting her in danger, or leaving her behind, knowing full well she would follow them and maybe put herself in worse danger. She shook her head in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Galatin’s not going to like it,” Rifkin grumbled.

  “I’ll deal with Galatin,” Keely said. “Wait outside.” For the moment, she wanted Rifkin as far away as possible.

  Rifkin harrumphed and stepped outside while the girls quickly threw on their clothes.

  As she dressed, Keely’s mind spun. Had she just imagined that look in Rifkin’s eyes? He was normally so jovial and easy-going, but in that moment . . . it was like he had wanted her dead. She wrapped the heavy green cloak around her shoulders and pulled on the fur-lined gloves. A small bag for laundry hung on a hook. She took it down and pried the phoralite off the wall. The bottom of it was soft. Keely ran her finger over the tiny cilia that allowed it to stick to the wall. It glowed under her touch. She tucked it in the sack, and then on a whim, she added the soul crystal that sat on the dresser.

  They snicked the door quietly behind them and tiptoed down the corridor. The light was dim. The sun had not yet risen. Trillywigs lit up along the path.

  They followed Rifkin through a side entrance that led into a narrow alley. A servants’ area, less elegant by far than the rest of the palace. Galatin awaited them at the stables with horses ready, saddlebags bulging with supplies, and a pile of thick furs lashed to the back.

  “Why are we leaving so early?” Keely asked, shivering in the frigid air as Mavery let out a wide yawn.

  Galatin didn’t meet her eyes as he answered. “I overheard Gael speaking with his father. Einolach is going to forbid us to head north. What’s she doing here?” he nodded curtly at Mavery.

  “Mavery’s coming. No point leaving her behind, she’ll just follow us.” Something was off. Her newly heightened senses told her Galatin was lying. He was nervous, and a pulse was beating in his neck. “Are you sure he’s going to forbid us? Gael seemed like he wanted to help.”

  Galatin snapped at her, clearly annoyed. “Look, we go now. Are you up to it or not?”

  She was. But unless she was mistaken, one of her escorts had tried to kill her, and the other was lying. How was she supposed to know who to trust? “I am, but—”

  Galatin cut her off. “No buts. We ride. Now.”

  Rifkin jumped up on his horse and held out his hand. Keely hesitated, but he gripped her wrist roughly and pulled her up. Galatin lifted Mavery behind him. Without another word, they clattered down the cobblestone alley.

  When they came to the city gate, Galatin dismounted and spoke quietly to the guard on duty. They seemed to know each other. Galatin passed the guard a small satchel. A moment later, the gate was opened, and they left the city walls behind as the sun was just cresting over the spires.

  “Was that a friend of his?” Keely asked Rifkin.

  “Galatin met him at a pub last night. They came to an arrangement.” He winked at Keely over his shoulder. “A small bag of gold, and he looks the other way.”

  Something about this whole situation troubled Keely. Maybe it was the thought that Rifkin had wanted to kill her, or Galatin’s sudden urge to leave without a word to anyone. She exchanged a glance with Mavery, but the witchling just shrugged.

  The sun began to rise, melting the frost on the ground and bringing a slight warmth to the chilly air. They left the main track and took a rutted overgrown trail that led into a thick forest of ancient pine trees. Rifkin’s head was bare, as if the cold didn’t bother him, though particles of ice clung to his beard. Ahead of them, the Skoll Mountains rose menacingly, capped in snow and an ominous layer of gray clouds. The Cave of Shadows might as well be on another planet it was so far away. The enormity of Keely’s journey hit her like a ton of wet beach sand.

  Think positive, Keely told herself, eyeing the steep grade ahead of them. Maybe this would work out. Maybe she would get to Ymir and she could plead her case. Make him see reason. Then an image of the eight-legged beast that guarded Ymir’s cave flashed before her.

  Or maybe this beast, Audhumla, would eat her head for breakfast.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leo’s blood boiled. Not because the sun beat down on his head. No, it was three days of being ignored by that arrogant Falcory kid that had about pushed him over the edge. Jey led the way, hardly speaking to Rego or Tiber, back straight as a ruler, his eyes firmly pinned on the horizon.

  Leo made the mistake the first day of trying to be friendly, riding up alongside Jey and asking him what it was like being Falcory, wondering how it compared to his own experience as Umatilla. Jey’s answer had been curt. “Being Falcory is a supreme honor. I will make a great chief someday.” In fact, whenever Jey did speak, he began just about every sentence with, “When I am chief . . .” as if he had never had a moment’s doubt in his life. Apparently, Jey’s father hadn’t drilled into Jey’s head, like Leo’s father had, that the most important trait a chief had was humbleness.

  The final insult had come this morning. Jey had gone hunting with his javelin before sunrise, without inviting Leo, and returned to dump a limp pheasant on Leo’s lap, ordering him to clean it. Leo had been about to throw the bird in Jey’s face when Tiber had stepped in, quietly taking it and plucking it clean.

  Tiber was like that. Large as a barn, but humble as a church mouse. He never complained and was always eager to pitch in. Jey could learn a thing or two from the Orkadian, if he ever noticed anyone but himself.

  If Jey wanted to be ignored, Leo would ignore him. Once he led them to Ilyawit Peak, Jey could take a long hike off a short cliff as far as Leo was concerned. According to Rego, the Falcory lived on the far western shores of Garamond. The towering pine trees around Skara Brae thinned out to scattered brush and the sharp smell of juniper. Sand and rock replaced the loamy soil of the forest, and the temperature rose steeply. For the first time, Leo felt at home in Orkney. It reminded him of the Umatilla lands back home. Open. Free. He could breathe out here.

  Water was scarce, so they preserved every drop, keeping the horses fresh and limiting their own intake. The sand beneath them was soft, making it slow going. The air cooled as the sun settled low on the horizon, casting a pale orange glow. In the distance, a jagged red peak impaled the sky.

  “Is that where we’re headed?” Leo asked.

  Rego grunted, bouncing along on his pony next to him. “Aye. The boy says that there’s Ilyawit Peak.” His eyes slid over to study Leo. “This Sacrifice business leaves a bad taste. You sure you’re up for this?”

  Leo shrugged. “Back home, everyone expects great things from me because I’m the son of a chief. It always makes me want to do the opposite. But here, no one expects me to succeed. And now I want to prove them wrong. Is that weird?” His words had a bitter ring to them, and Rego’s eyebrows arched up.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a load on your mind. I’ve got a set of ears and nothing to fill them with if you care to share.”

  Words exploded out of Leo. “My father has my whole life mapped out for me. He’s never once asked me if it’s what I want to do. He’s given his whole life to serving our people, and he expects me to do the same. Some days I want to run away as far as possible.”

  Rego was silent. His lips puckered and relaxed as if he were chewing the words over. Finally, he said, “If honor is such a burden, why are you riding toward certain death just to help your friends? Sounds to me you’re a lot more like your father than you let on.”

  Before Leo could absorb the truth of his words, Tiber pulled his horse up.

  “What in Odin’s creation is that?” The brawny soldier pointed into the distance.

  A dark mushrooming cloud clung to the horizon. The cloud was a turbulent mass of dust that sent stinging sand across the desert.

  “Haboob!” Leo shouted over the growing rumble of wind and churning sand. Haboobs w
ere sudden sandstorms that ripped across the plains around the Umatilla wastelands. He had been caught in the open once and had been nearly flayed alive. The distant red hills blurred and then disappeared entirely in a furious brown cloud. Leo slid off the horse. Rego grunted at the cloud and then angled his round girth off his pony, sliding to the ground, joined by Tiber.

  Jey turned his horse around, leaping down to confront Leo. “It’s just a sandstorm,” he snapped. “It will pass.”

  “No. It’s much worse. Look,” Leo said curtly, holding his hands over his brow to block the swirling sand. The sky had grown ominously dark. The roiling cloud of sand was bigger than any storm he had ever experienced. “We have to let the horses go.”

  “We need them,” Jey argued, but Leo slapped the horses on the rear.

  “They’ll find their own shelter. We need to take cover.”

  “You’re not in charge!” Jey said, his face reddening as he jumped in front of the horses.

  Leo was about to flatten him, but Rego stepped in.

  “No time for squabbles, boys. The storm is almost on us. I say let the horses go and make our way to shelter.”

  No sooner had he spoke when the burgeoning cloud lengthened out into the shape of a giant worm, growing longer and thicker by the second. Sudden dread made Leo’s heart skip in his chest as a swirling black hole opened at the head, a giant, sightless mouth. Sand spiraled up off the desert floor into the maw like it was a Hoover vacuum. Small rocks flew up, then shrubs and mesquite trees swallowed up into the void.

  And it was headed their way.

  “Take cover!” Rego shouted. Tiber whooped at the horses, sending them scattering.

  Leo spied a small mound of boulders. With any luck they were large enough to protect them. He ran, Tiber and Rego on his heels. Jey hesitated a moment longer, as if transfixed by the storm, and then the Falcory boy was after them, quickly overtaking them and leading the way to cover. The edge of the sand-storm reached them before they had made it ten steps, swirling sand in their eyes and blasting them with hot air. Leo could barely make out the mound of boulders. Behind them one of the horses squealed in panic. He looked up and saw it flying through the air, helplessly sucked into the giant black hole.