The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  “If I do, they’ll boot me out of the city and strip me of my title. No, I must see this through.”

  “Then you’ll need your squire.” Howie pasted his trademark grin in place to hide the fact his knees were knocking against each other with fear.

  Teren cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re up for it? There are all sorts of dangers out on the road. Witches. Sneevils . . .”

  Howie shrugged. “Eh, sneevils are just overgrown pigs with bad teeth. Maybe we can barbecue one for supper.”

  A fierce look of respect came into Teren’s eyes. He gripped Howie tightly by the shoulder. “I’ve watched how hard you have worked and trained. Never complaining. It would be an honor to have you ride alongside me. This will be your first test as Orkney’s Protector.”

  For once, Teren’s lips didn’t twitch when he used Howie’s title. Howie considered that progress. Half an hour later, he lugged their two satchels to the courtyard, where a company of men were assembled. More than a dozen of Orkney’s finest were suited up in their Orkadian uniform, including the redheaded Heppner, who would accompany them. They carried their swords, and each man had a powerful crossbow strapped to his back with an ample supply of the iron bolts with razor-sharp tips. If it was a trap, Teren obviously planned to be able to fight back.

  Lord Drabic arrived, complaining loudly about everything, insisting he could not survive without a wagon full of fancy rugs, several barrels of wine, and two mealy-faced servants to attend to him. Teren gave in and strapped the extra items onto the roof of his carriage.

  When they were finally ready, Teren mounted his horse. “You’re in charge now, Speria,” he said, leaning down to clasp the wiry soldier’s hand. “Protect my city while I’m gone.”

  “Yeah,” Heppner smirked from his horse, “have fun babysitting that lot.”

  For once, Speria’s dark eyebrows didn’t waggle with humor. The soldier looked gloomy as he bade them farewell. “Worry about keeping yourselves in one piece. The city walls will hold off any army those witches bring for weeks.”

  “Let us hope you are right,” Teren said grimly.

  Just then, a familiar voice rang out. “Howie! Where are you going?”

  Howie turned. “Selina. Hey, I’m just, you know, heading out on a top-secret mission with the captain. You’ll take care of Lingas for me, won’t you?”

  She nodded and flung her arms around his neck. “Be careful.”

  Howie felt himself flush to the roots of his hair as she kissed him on the cheek, and then she turned and ran into the crowd.

  “Someone’s got a fan,” Speria teased as he boosted Howie up to his horse.

  Howie tried to look the part of confident hero as he picked up the reins, shaking them firmly. “Okay, giddy up. Hit it. Let’s get this show on the road.” The stubborn animal just stomped one foot, not moving.

  Heppner rode by, swatting the horse on the rear, and it took off, nearly unseating Howie as it loped out the gates. Howie clutched the saddle horn, praying he didn’t fall off and send the crowd into gales of laughter.

  They clattered over the bridge and turned south. The horses’ hooves clipped sharply over the stony road. Howie rode between Teren and Heppner. He turned in his saddle to give the city one last look.

  “Think we’ll ever make it back here?” he asked.

  Teren kept his eyes straight ahead. “It’s not too late for you to turn around.”

  Howie snorted. “And miss out on all the fun? You heard Beo. There might be monster men ahead. Yippee-ki-yay.”

  Teren didn’t have to know Howie was completely and utterly terrified at the idea of meeting a monster man in person.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Keely stood in a field of snow. The air was still and quiet around her. Nothing moved. The world was gray and barren, devoid of all living things. She didn’t know how she had gotten here. Where were the others? Galatin? Mavery? Even that lout Rifkin? She opened her mouth to call for them, but nothing came out. You’re dreaming, she said to herself. Before she could pinch herself awake, Keely heard a familiar voice calling for help.

  It was Sam. He was in trouble. She tried to move in the direction of his voice, but a strange paralysis gripped her.

  Then he was there, running across the field of snow toward her. Chased by a swarm of wolves nipping at his heels, their haunting howls breaking the silence. Shun Kara wolves, Keely realized with a sinking dread. Witches’ pets.

  “Help me, Keely!” Sam cried, glancing frantically over his shoulder at the approaching pack. “Make them stop!”

  Keely tried to run, but it was as if the snow were cement. She could only watch helplessly as the wolves brought Sam down right in front of her. Sam was screaming, begging her to help him. Her helplessness was agonizing. Then the pack of wolves transformed into a black cloud, swirling around Sam and swallowing him up.

  The screaming stopped, and Sam went silent. Keely waited, feeling her heart thunder in her chest.

  Then the cloud evaporated, and Sam stood before her alone, head bowed. His clothes were torn, and his arms scratched and bloody. When he raised his head, fear curdled her blood. His eyes glowed yellow, glaring at her with a venomous hatred. “You let them do this to me. This is your fault,” he said, and then he shot a hand out to grab her neck, choking her with a ferocious grip.

  With a scream Keely awoke, grabbing at her throat, breathing rapidly. Sam was changing. She could feel it in her bones. The dream had been a warning. They were running out of time to find the Moon Pearl.

  The campfire was dead, buried under several inches of fresh snow. It covered the ground, making the world a single color, as if an artist had dipped a paintbrush and plastered every tree and rock with splashes of crystal white.

  Oh, and it was cold.

  Bone-splintering cold.

  Keely pushed back the furs and rubbed her eyes. Every muscle in her body ached after days on the back of a horse and sleeping on the hard ground night after night. She couldn’t decide which she missed more at that moment, hot showers or a mattress. Mavery snored in a ball next to her. Rifkin was nowhere in sight. He had been nothing but friendly toward her since they’d left Ter Glenn, but she couldn’t erase the sight of him hovering over her with that crazy look in his eyes. Galatin was already loading their horses. He gave her a sharp look but said nothing. She couldn’t read him. He seemed loyal to their mission, but she was pretty sure he had lied about his reasons for rushing them out of Ter Glenn in the dead of night. They were nearing the top of the pass that would lead them to Rakim. Keely shivered, realizing they were about to enter into an even more treacherous stage then they were in now.

  The sun was a leaden disc, hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Gripped with a sense of urgency, Keely nudged Mavery awake. The girl was buried in the bottom of the furs.

  “Come on, Mav, time to go.”

  Mavery groaned and then popped her head up. “It’s too cold,” she said, before sliding back under the fur.

  Keely ripped the furs off, glaring down at her. “Maybe you should have stayed back in Skara Brae.”

  Mavery grinned up at her. “Then you’d be here all alone with no friends.”

  Keely shook her head, but she couldn’t help smiling. The imp had an endearing way of getting under her skin.

  Mavery stomped her feet into her boots and ran her hands over the cold remains of the fire.

  “Can you get it started?” Keely asked, shivering as a sharp wind blew across the camp.

  The girl looked slyly up at her. “Only if you say, ‘Mavery, I can’t do it without you.’”

  A sudden rush of tears made Keely drop her head. “I don’t think I can do it at all.”

  “Aw, I was only kidding. What’s wrong?”

  “I had a dream. About Sam. He’s in trouble, Mavery. He needs us, and we’re running out of time.”

  The girl put her hand on Keely’s. “Then we’d better get moving,” she said calmly. “But first I need some breakfast.�
�� She clapped her hands and shoved them into the cold ashes. A spurt of flame erupted, singeing Mavery’s hair and sending her falling back on her behind.

  “Nice job,” Keely praised, warming her hands over the crackling flames. She threw in another log. The fire cut through the icy air, making it easier to breathe.

  Mavery stretched like a cat next to her. “What’s to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Same thing as yesterday. Mashed oats with a side of stale bread. I’ll try to hunt us a rabbit later.” Keely’s skill with the bow had advanced greatly since she’d been practicing. She had managed to keep them fed with a fresh supply of meat. Keely scooped some snow into their pot and waited for it to melt before adding the last handful of oats. She threw in a pinch of salt and some sugar from the precious little supplies they had left. It was runny, but Keely ladled a bowl for each of them. Rifkin returned with an armful of firewood and a ready smile.

  “Well, good morning, little ones. I see you’ve served up a fine breakfast.” He took his dish and spooned it in greedily.

  Galatin ate silently, picking at the thin gruel. “We’re near the summit,” he announced. “Then we’ll be in Vanir territory. They’ll be no more fires after this.”

  They had climbed high above Ter Glenn. As cold and difficult as it was, the woods held their own beauty. Bushy-tailed squirrels with thick silver coats ran up and down the trees, chattering at them like they were intruders. Gray-feathered birds flew sharply through the trees, sending out trilling calls to each other. The birds had a black stripe across their face, like a mask. They were small and sang a lilting chorus. As one dive-bombed her head, Keely ducked.

  “What kind of bird is that?” she asked.

  “That’s a Northern shrike, child,” Rifkin answered.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Rifkin laughed. “Not so beautiful when they pluck your eye from your head and eat it for breakfast.”

  She watched the shrike dive-bomb the forest floor and come up with a squealing rodent in its beak. Jeez, was everything in Orkney dangerous? Even the most beautiful things seemed to have a dark side to them.

  Keely ventured a question that had been on her mind. “How are we going to find the Cave of Shadows? Is Rakim very big?”

  “I’m going to lead us there,” Rifkin boasted. “I know the secret to finding it.”

  “Tell us,” Galatin said sharply.

  “Now why would I do that?” Rifkin’s eyes glinted greedily. “You might decide to cut me out of the deal. Just take my word, I’ve stood outside it, but I lacked the particulars to get inside.”

  Keely frowned. “Particulars? Do you need a key?”

  Rifkin bellowed with laughter. “No, child you need to have the blood of an Eifalian. They’re the sacred guardians of Ymir’s cave.”

  Keely blanched. “But none of us are Eifalian. How are we going to get in?” She could just imagine fighting through blizzards and snow to stand outside the Cave of Shadows, only to be denied entrance.

  But Rifkin seemed nonplussed. “Oh, you’ll get us in, little mouse. You’ve got a bit of Eifalian in you.”

  She bristled at Rifkin’s diminutive nickname for her but focused on his words. “I don’t have Eifalian blood. I’m not even from this place.”

  Galatin interjected, pointing at her head. “Your hair tells me different. King Einolach even noticed. Rifkin’s right. You’ve got a drop of it somehow.”

  Keely’s hand rubbed across her palm where Mimir had poked her. Had the old coot given her what she needed to succeed?

  An animal howled through the trees. Galatin stood up to listen. Mavery turned to look worriedly at Keely. Her nose was red with cold. A sharp wind blew a flurry of snow across the trail. Clouds had rolled in, blotting out the weak sun. Fat snowflakes began to fall.

  “Maybe we should go?” Keely said. She slipped her head through her bow and tucked the quiver of arrows over her shoulder.

  “For once I agree with the child,” Galatin said. “Chosen One, you ride with me today.”

  They quickly mounted up and began their climb. There were no trails, only towering silver ash trees that whispered as their branches shimmered in the stiff breeze. Shrikes whistled and trilled as they darted in and out of the trees. A layer of crusty snow covered the ground. The only noise was the crunch of hooves as the horses broke through the rime.

  Galatin spoke softly over his shoulder. “I know you didn’t approve of my decision to leave without Gael’s help. You should know, I lied about hearing the king forbid our passage.”

  Keely stilled, listening.

  Galatin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I had my reasons. If the king had read our auras again, he would have learned I—”

  But Galatin stopped mid-sentence, cocking his head sharply to the side. The chattering birds had gone silent, as if a switch had been thrown. Their horse snorted, its nostrils flaring as if it smelled something foul.

  Out of nowhere, a rock pelted Keely on the back. She yelped in pain as another glanced off her temple. Mavery and Rifkin were also under attack from a volley of stones.

  Their horse reared up as a rag-covered, misshapen creature launched itself at them, rolling in a ball and landing on two feet. It was squat and short. Its face was mottled with warts and scars. The creature’s hair was grizzled and gray, standing up in wiry tufts. One snaggletooth hung over its bottom lip. From the shape of it, Keely guessed female.

  “Troll hags!” Galatin shouted, drawing his sword. “Don’t let them get the horses.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Galatin slashed at the creature, but it dove to the side. It had yellowed nails longer than Keely’s pinkie, disgustingly green mottled skin, and hands that dragged on the snow. It hurled another rock at Keely’s head. Galatin kicked the horse and charged the troll, trying to run her down. Keely pulled her bow to her hand, nocked an arrow, and let it fly, but her arrow went wide as the troll nimbly rolled between the horse’s legs. The horse let out a scream and then dropped to its knees. Keely desperately held on to Galatin but lost her grip as he went flying over the horse’s head.

  As Keely tumbled, she glimpsed the troll underneath the horse. It had used a rudimentary stone dagger and stabbed it deep in the animal’s belly. It grinned at her, revealing crooked black teeth. The horse tried to stand, but it staggered and then rolled over on its side, pinning Keely underneath.

  She desperately pushed on it, feeling the weight crushing her. The troll leaped on top of the horse, scrambling over it to get to her. Keely could smell a fetid odor like rotting cheese. The troll made horrible grunting noises like a wild beast. Galatin lay nearby, unmoving. She called out for help, but Mavery and Rifkin were surrounded by a pack of trolls. Rifkin slashed his sword, impaling one, while Mavery shot bursts of green witch-fire at the others.

  Keely’s attacker’s black eyes narrowed in glee upon seeing the girl pinned and helpless. The troll raised the knife over its head to kill her, but a loud thunk made Keely blink. An arrow buried itself dead center in the troll’s chest. With a look of surprise, the wretched little hag toppled backward onto the ground.

  Skinny arms grabbed Keely from behind and pulled her out from under the dead horse. She caught sight of white hair and then a blur of motion as another arrow was fired. It caught one of the troll hags in the shoulder. The awful creature screeched, and her remaining allies stopped attacking to see who the shooter was.

  Keely finally got a proper look. Her eyes grew wide in shock.

  It was Theo. Looking dashing in leather leggings, wrapped in furs, the irritating boy who had disliked her on sight now loomed above her like a pint-sized warrior. Matching leather straps bound the fur tightly to Theo’s arms. His gloves went up to his fingertips. He carried a longbow and nocked another arrow. With steely precision, he let the feathered arrow fly. The second troll was hit square in the chest, knocked down with a squealing grunt.

  The remaining troll hags scrabbled away into the woods on all fours as Theo kept
up an onslaught of arrows. Rifkin chased after them with his sword, shouting curses at them.

  “You saved me,” Keely said, stepping forward to embrace him. “But what are you doing so far from home?”

  He looked at her with earnest eyes. “I came to take you back with me. Eifalians cannot enter Rakim. You mustn’t break the treaty!”

  “But I’m not Eifalian,” she said, “I’m from Midgard.”

  A frown crossed his forehead. “I don’t understand how, but you are. I can feel it. So can my uncle. And the Vanir won’t care what the truth is; you look Eifalian.”

  “I can’t go back. Sam needs me to do this.”

  Color slashed his cheeks as anger rippled through him. “I command you as heir to the Eifalian kingdom to return with me.”

  “Theo, I’m sorry—”

  But he backed away from her, ashen faced. “Then war will begin. And it will be all your fault.” He turned and ran through the trees down the hillside.

  “Theo, wait!” Keely cried, but behind her Mavery let out a cry.

  “Keely, Galatin’s hurt!” The girl was bent over their leader, who lay still as a corpse.

  Rifkin emerged from a copse of trees, limping and cursing. “I’ll go find our other horse. You tend to Galatin,” he called to Keely.

  Keely joined Mavery and rolled the soldier over. She gasped at the deep gash on his temple and quickly pressed a clump of frozen snow to it while Mavery got a fire going. The girl boiled some snow, adding precious meat to make a broth. Rifkin returned with the other horse, tying it off to a tree before joining them at the fire.

  They were silent, all three staring at the unconscious figure.

  Keely ladled broth into a cup and spooned some into Galatin’s lips.

  “Galatin, can you hear me?” she asked.

  There was no answer from him.

  They kept the fire going and waited for Galatin to wake up. The troll hags must have left the area because the birds resumed their calling. Mavery sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the flames. She was scared. Keely could see it in her eyes. Rifkin sat with his arms folded, whistling to himself like he wasn’t worried, but the lines around his eyes were deep.