The Legends of Orkney

by Alane Adams

  Leo’s heart sank. It was like peering through a looking glass. He could see the first chamber where Endera had shoved him in. Only now he was on the other side. A figure jostled Leo, and he looked around, suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone. Around him, the newly demised moved closer, reaching for him. They were in various stages of decay, gray skin slowly melting away. Leo took a step back. Was he one of them now? Dead?

  Fear made his heart kick in his chest, and with that reminder, hope returned.

  I’m alive.

  Leo backed away, searching for an exit. The room was circular, with tunnels leading in every direction. He chose one at random and ran.

  The dead chased after him. He brushed off their grasping hands, striking at them when they got too close. They fell easily but got back up, continuing their pursuit as if he had something they wanted.

  His legs tired, and his muscles burned, but he managed to keep ahead of his followers. Finally, when the sounds of pursuit had faded, he paused to rest. He put his hand on the wall to catch his breath, only to feel a hairy scalp under his palm.

  He reared back, seeing a gray decaying face under a mat of stringy hair. The flesh was rotting away, but there was still a semblance of a nose and high cheeks. The lower lip and chin were gone, revealing jawbone. The eyes flew open, a brilliant green that reminded him of that witch Ariane’s.

  “Where is my body?” the head screeched, eyes flickering left and right.

  Realizing the thing had no limbs to attack him with, Leo stepped closer. “Who are you?”

  “I am Nestra, one of the great Volgrim witches!” Her eyes bored into him, commanding him with the same arrogance he had seen in Ariane and Catriona. “Save me, boy, and I will grant your every desire.” A worm crawled out of one nostril and made its way up her rotting cheek.

  Leo backed away as four more worms burst out of the mud and began their trek across her face. More worms emerged from her matted hair, wriggling into her ears. Revolted, Leo fled as she screeched after him in fury. He kept running until her screeches faded away. He came to a fork and chose the right tunnel.

  And ran smack into a half dozen of the living corpses. They spied him and began shuffling toward him, making excited moans. Leo spun and retreated back to the fork and headed down the other tunnel. It was steeper than the others. There was less and less light with every step, and the air felt even more cold and empty. The sound of his heartbeat, the one constant that told him he was alive, grew fainter. It grew harder to breathe in the thin air.

  After traveling only a dozen yards, Leo’s lungs burned, and he had no choice. He had to stop. As he dragged deadened air into his failing lungs, a whisper drifted to his ears, like a ghost was calling him.

  “Psst, you there. If you want to live, come inside.”

  Leo turned his head to find the source.

  There. A dim hole in the wall. An opening, down low. He staggered to it and crouched, peering inside. It was a cavern with light. Maybe air.

  “Come closer. Don’t be shy,” came the voice. “No one will bother you in here.”

  The sound of shuffling footsteps came down the tunnel. The army of dead were on his trail. Leo made his decision. He crawled through the hole into the cavern.

  Leo stood up, straining to see in the faint light. In the center, a man stood chained to a large rock. He was shirtless, wearing only a rough pair of ragged pants that went to his thick calves. His hair was bushy and long. Glittering eyes sparked with curiosity, searching Leo up and down like the boy was an apparition. Heavy chains wrapped around his ankles, around his wrists, around his waist, even around his neck. All strung through bolts sunk into the stone walls.

  Thankfully, the air felt lighter in here. Leo could actually breathe. He began to feel strength flow back into him. He was safe. For now.

  The man flashed a mischievous grin at Leo. “I must say, it’s been an eon since I saw something so precious as another living creature.” His eyes had a glint to them as if he found being locked up down here entertaining. He wasn’t very tall, but he had wiry biceps that flexed as he pulled on his chains.

  “Why are you chained here?” Leo asked, stepping back when the man swung his arms close.

  “Don’t be afraid. It’s not like I can break free.” He rattled his chains loud enough to wake the dead. “Believe me, if I could, I would have broken out of here ten centuries ago.”

  Leo sat down, crossing his legs, and closed his eyes. He needed to meditate. To think about what to do. How was he going to escape this underworld prison?

  “You got anything that can break these?” the man asked hopefully, pulling on his chains.

  “No,” Leo answered, keeping his eyes closed.

  “What did you do to end up here?”

  Leo concentrated on feeling his heartbeat. It grew steadier as he centered his energy. He needed to find a path that led upward. Maybe this odd person could help him. He would play along. He opened his eyes to study the man. “I trusted a witch,” he answered.

  The man laughed harshly. “A very bad idea.”

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Let me free, and I’ll tell you.” The voice was coaxing, but underneath, it was hard, cold. Evil.

  Warning tremors ran up Leo’s spine. The man was dangerous. A predator. It felt like he was locked in the same cage as a lion. One that hadn’t been fed. “Tell me who you are, or I’ll walk out of here,” he said firmly.

  The man’s bushy eyebrows rose in a plea. “Don’t rush off. My manners are just rusty. Can’t blame a fellow; it has been centuries since I entertained. Name’s Loki. My dear friend Odin banished me here a long time ago. Then I think he forgot about me.” The man picked at his nails while he said it, like it was no big deal.

  A chill ran through Leo. “You’re Loki? The Loki?”

  “In the flesh.” His grin just grew wider. “So you’ve heard of me.”

  Now Leo knew why Keely had warned him so strongly about what he was up against. He might not have read as many mythology books as Keely, but every kid in the world had heard of Loki, God of Mischief, enemy of good. “Why did Odin put you here?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I deserved it.” Loki laughed, winking at Leo. “I might have killed Odin’s son Baldur by accident. His Almighty was not pleased. Baldur was always his favorite.”

  Leo struggled to his feet. He was better off taking his chances with the dead than staying in the same place as this prince of evil. “I have to go,” he said, stepping backward toward the entrance.

  Loki’s eyes narrowed into mean slits as he read Leo’s intent. “If you walk out of this room, the dead will overwhelm you in minutes and drain every precious ounce of life out of you. There will be nothing left of you but a lost soul. Is that what you want?”

  Leo hesitated. “No. But I can’t stay here.”

  “I can help you escape. Break these chains.” He rattled them at Leo.

  “No.” Leo’s decision was firm. Releasing Loki was a bad idea.

  “Find a rock and smash them. The links have rusted. Do it,” Loki urged.

  Leo stepped back further. “My father says, you shouldn’t make a bad thing worse.”

  Loki dropped his chin to his chest as if he were disappointed in Leo. “Fine, you’re right. We should both just give up. As a matter of fact, I’ll call the army of the dead for you.” He began to yodel loudly.

  “Stop it!” Leo turned to listen at the door for the sound of the dead returning. In that moment, he hated himself. He didn’t want to die. He would do anything to keep hope alive, even if it meant helping Loki escape. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Loki shrugged. “You can’t be sure, but I give you my word. You cut me loose, and I’ll show you the way home.”

  Leo hesitated. Loki would probably leave him behind the first chance he got, but Leo couldn’t think of any other options.

  “And you’re sure that you know the way out.”

  The man tapped his head. “Got it r
ight here, chief.”

  Leo shook his head, thinking this was a very bad idea, but he began to search for a bludgeoning rock. He found one about the size of a football. He checked the links in Loki’s chain. The God of Mischief was right. The chain was heavily rusted in parts. Leo bashed on the chain with the rock. The clang didn’t seem to draw any attention. Loki had been rattling his chains for years. He bashed them again and again until, with a spray of sparks, one of the links finally broke. The chains fell away in a pool of steel. Loki stepped forward, looking shocked at his freedom. Then he grinned an evil grin.

  “There’s something I should tell you,” he said, flexing his arms.

  “What’s that?” Leo rested his hands on his thighs, out of breath.

  “You were right. It was a very bad idea to trust me,” Loki drawled, grinning from ear to ear.

  Dread bloomed like the sour taste of bile. Leo dropped into a fighting stance, but Loki acted first, punching Leo once in the stomach. It felt like the kick of a mule. Leo dropped to his knees, fighting to breathe. “Stop,” he gasped. “Take me with you, or I’ll die here.”

  Loki chuckled. “I’m the God of Mischief, not good deeds.” Then he lifted the rock Leo had used to free him and let it drop on Leo’s head.

  The impact knocked Leo facedown. Dazed and stunned, he managed to roll onto his back. He was dizzy, seeing double. His head throbbed, but his body felt numb. He couldn’t move his limbs. All he could do was stare up at the ceiling. It extended much higher than he had realized. A narrow shaft went up hundreds of feet. He squinted, trying to focus. Was that a blue circle?

  For one crazy moment, Leo thought he saw a raven. Or was it two of them? They flew up the shaft, spiraling higher and higher until they disappeared into the blue circle.

  His eyelids drooped as the dizziness grew. Leo fought to stay awake. He wanted to sleep, but if he did, he knew he would never wake up. Not this time. The blue circle fascinated him. What was it? He raised a hand, wishing he could touch it. As he did, a white butterfly landed on the tip of his finger. It fluttered its wings at him, delicately balanced.

  Get up.

  The voice clanged like a fire bell in his head.

  Get up. Climb.

  And then the butterfly fluttered off, heading upward for that blue circle.

  Leo forced a smile. He wasn’t going to die here. Not today, anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Howie held clumsily onto the reins, holding on for dear life as Teren drove them like a madman back to Skara Brae. Their surviving group was pitifully small. Besides Teren and Heppner, there were two badly shaken Orkadian soldiers and Sam’s mom. Lady Abigail, as she was called. She was a lot different than the mom who used to burn their grilled cheese sandwiches. This Abigail rode like she was born on a horse, a taut and steely look to her face as she repeatedly questioned Teren about the events of the past few months and the fate of her son.

  Howie told her he hadn’t seen his bud since returning. Abigail asked him questions about his arrival in Orkney, raising her eyebrows at how Odin had flushed them back, and she didn’t laugh a bit when he told her about his Chosen role.

  When the gray walls of the medieval fortress came into view, Howie nearly wept with relief, not just because it meant he had survived his first real test as Protector, but also because if he didn’t get off the back of a horse, his butt was going to break in half. A slender dark-haired figure jumped up and down in the ramparts, waving a white handkerchief excitedly at him.

  Abigail rode up next to him. “It seems you have a fan,” she said warmly.

  “Yeah, me and Selina, we’re tight.” Howie glanced over at Sam’s mom. Now that he knew she was a witch, he wondered why he had never noticed before. Her eyes sparkled with a fiery green that was definitely witch. And her hair was as raven black as every other witch he had met. There was a power about her that was obvious when you just looked. “Hey, Mrs. Baron, I mean, Lady Abigail—”

  She cut him off. “Abigail is fine, Howie. We don’t stand on ceremony here in Orkney.”

  “Fine, Abigail, ma’am, I’ve been meaning to ask, it’s just . . . what took you so long to come back? I mean, Sam’s been here a while. He could’ve used your help.” Howie couldn’t hide the accusation in his words.

  Abigail shook her head sadly. “You think I didn’t try? I spent every day conjuring up ways back here, but nothing worked. When Chief Pate-wa destroyed the stonefire, he cut off our only known portal. If I had known Chuggies had a magic drain, I would have eaten there every day,” she teased.

  Howie frowned. “So how did you do it?”

  “I rebuilt the stonefire.” Her voice was proud.

  “Say what?” Howie pulled up his horse to gawk at her.

  “It was Chief Pate-wa’s idea. I used every ounce of magic I had to piece it back together.”

  “So we can go home when this is over!” Howie was jubilant, but Abigail dashed his hopes.

  “No. Unfortunately I could only hold it together for the one trip. But don’t worry, Howie. We’ll find a way to send you home.”

  Before Howie could tell her how awesome that sounded, a bird dive-bombed out of the sky and nearly took his head off. Lingas flapped around his face, trying to smother him with affection or claw his eyeball out, Howie wasn’t sure which.

  “Calm down, I missed you too, bird face,” he said, as the iolar settled on his shoulder, nipping at his ear over and over again as if she just couldn’t help herself.

  They entered through the tall gates into the main plaza that fronted the Great Hall. The windows and doors had been boarded up in anticipation of the coming skirmish, not that a few boards would stop the destruction that loomed. Selina flew down the steps from the ramparts, practically knocking Howie over as he dismounted from his horse.

  “Oh, Howie, you’re alive. I didn’t think—I mean, I knew you could do it, but I—oh, I’m just glad you’re back.”

  Howie blushed to the roots of his hair as she showered kisses on his cheeks.

  But not everyone was happy to see them safely returned.

  The weasel of a High Regent, Lord Orrin, came stomping across the square, his long red robe flapping behind him. He was followed closely by the dour-faced Emenor. Both men looked fit to be tied.

  “What’s happening? Where is Lord Drabic?” Orrin demanded.

  Teren’s voice was neutral as he stroked the muzzle of his horse. “As I predicted, it was a trap. The witches ambushed us on the road. Drabic was killed.”

  Orrin ignored the accusation in Teren’s words and pointed at Abigail. “And who is this?” he demanded.

  “Lord Orrin, meet Lady Abigail Barconian,” Teren said with more than a hint of smugness.

  Orrin’s eyes bulged as he took in the words. “Barconian? But that’s . . . she’s . . . she’s a witch? How do we know she can be trusted?”

  “Because I say so,” Teren answered with steel in his voice.

  Orrin’s face flushed red with outrage at the Captain’s insolence. “Need I remind you, Captain, that with Drabic gone, I am in charge of this city?”

  Before Teren could point out all the reasons Orrin was unfit to watch over a pack of hyenas, Emenor pushed past and grabbed Teren by the arm. “Are the rumors true? That there are monstrous men out there?”

  Teren nodded, his face haunted. “Aye. The witches have turned your kind into something . . . unspeakable.”

  Emenor blinked several times, as if he couldn’t quite grasp what Teren was saying.

  Speria appeared over the top of the rampart.

  “Captain Teren. Hate to break up a reunion, but you’re gonna want to see this.”

  The group quickly joined Speria. A walkway ten feet wide ran along the length of the wall that protected Skara Brae from intruders. Howie squinted at where Speria was pointing. Something moved on the edge of the horizon like an undulating wave of black ants.

  Howie cupped his hand over his eyes to block the glare. Whatever it was, it was movi
ng this way. Fast.

  “What’s happening?” Orrin demanded.

  Speria handed Teren a spyglass. The official studied the oncoming horde then slowly lowered the scope, his face gray as putty.

  “Look for yourself.” Teren handed Orrin the spyglass.

  Orrin held it up to his eye, put it down, then looked again. A single muscle ticked in his cheek. He passed the scope silently to Emenor.

  The Balfin gasped as he stared through the glass, putting a hand to his throat. “By the gods, what have they done?”

  Howie snatched the scope from him and twisted it until it came into focus. There were hordes of the Neanderthals they had met in the woods. So many they couldn’t be counted. Then he saw something even worse than his worst nightmare.

  His buddy Sam. Out in front. Leading them. Dressed head to toe in black armor, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He looked grim as death. It felt like a blow to Howie’s stomach. He passed the scope to Abigail, who visibly paled at the sight of her son.

  “Your orders, sir?” Teren said archly to Orrin.

  Orrin kept staring at the approaching storm. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, disappearing down the steps.

  Emenor trembled. “They’ve transformed my brothers into monsters. We are all going to die.” His voice bubbled with hysteria. His eyes darted wildly from Teren to Speria. “We’re doomed!”

  Teren popped the babbling Balfin in the chin with his fist, a stiff uppercut that dropped Emenor like a stone.

  “Take him to the armory and shackle him,” he ordered Heppner. “He’ll just get in the way.” Heppner dragged the unconscious man away.

  A rattle below drew their attention. Howie leaned over the rampart and watched as the heavy iron gates rolled up. A lone horseman bolted out of the gate before it was hastily lowered again.

  Orrin.

  He whipped his horse hard, turning left—away from the fight.