by Alane Adams
“What of their boercats?” Keely asked. The pendant around her neck felt heavy. She wished she knew how to make it work. Things were pretty desperate. A little powerful magic would come in handy.
Gael stood abruptly. “What is that you wear?”
Keely instinctively clasped her hands around it. “It’s a pendant.”
“Where did you get it?”
“You wouldn’t believe me. There was an Eifalian princess, a ghost—”
“Nehalannia. You found the lost Pendant of Helina.” There was a trace of joy and awe in Gael’s voice. He stepped closer, reaching out trembling fingers to touch the stone. It glowed a bright blue, brighter than ever. A ripple of power flowed through the room.
“Gael, what is it?” Abigail asked.
“Long ago, the Eifalians were gifted with a magic so powerful and dangerous that it had to be contained lest it be released on the world. Our ancestors placed it in this pendant.”
“Where did it get its name?” Keely asked.
“Helina is the Goddess of Protection. She gifted us this magic, trusting the Eifalians to use it wisely. Only the queen of the Eifalians was permitted to wear it. When Nehalannia’s mother died, the pendant passed to her. When she was lost, we thought the pendant gone forever. May I hold it?”
Keely took it off and handed it to Gael. He gripped it in his hands and closed his eyes.
He frowned. “I feel nothing. Yet when you wear it, I can sense its power.”
He put it back around her neck and held it again. “Yes, it responds to you, Keely. Whatever magic it holds, Nehalannia passed it on to you.”
She brushed her fingers over it. “What do I do with it?”
“You will know when the time is right.”
She looked into his aquamarine eyes, feeling overwhelmed and wishing she could hand the pendant off. “How? How will I know? What if I can’t figure it out?”
He patted her shoulder. “You will know. When everything is lost, and there is no hope . . . when there is nothing else that can be done, the pendant will show you what to do.”
There was silence in the room, and then the door banged open and a young boy ran in and started shouting, “Your lordship, come see, come see!”
Keely’s heart sank. Had Surt come already? They followed the boy outside up to the ramparts. A blur of black fur moved across the charred fields, stirring up clouds of smoke and ash.
“What is it?” Teren asked.
Abigail frowned. “It looks like a giant wolf.”
“Fenrir!” Keely gasped, horrified. “Sam must have freed him.”
Teren pulled a spyglass from his pocket and studied the horizon.
“What on earth? There’s someone on his back. I think— by the gods, I think it’s Howie!”
Keely snatched the spyglass from him and peered through it. Teren was right. Clutching the fur on the giant wolf’s back was Howie. And there was a black wolf behind him looking miserable. Damarius.
“It is Howie.” She passed the glass to Rego.
“Well I’ll be a shreek’s uncle,” the dwarf said. “Leave it to Howie to return in style.”
The giant wolf loped hard until he reached the wall of Skara Brae, and then he simply leapt in the air and scaled the walls in one leap, landing with a skidding thud in the center of the marketplace.
Chapter 36
Howie felt like a conquering hero as he flew over that wall. The look on the ol’ captain’s face was priceless, a mixture of terror and awe. He flashed Keely and Leo a thumbs-up, as if he rode in on a giant wolf every day. Behind him, Damarius had his paws spread out, holding on for dear life.
“Howdy, everyone. I’m back,” he said, sliding down to land on his feet, Damarius following. He turned to the wolf, wagging his finger. “Be good, Fenrir, or no more goats for you.” Howie pointed to a spot near the wall. “Go on. Our deal’s not done yet.” The humongous wolf growled at him softly, but he followed Damarius over and lay down with a loud thump, licking at his wounded paw.
“Is that really Fenrir?” Keely said, giving Howie a hug as Leo slapped him on the back. “And why is he so—tame?”
“Aw, he’s just doing me a favor because I saved his life and all,” Howie bragged. A flash of feathers made him flinch as Lingas greeted him, nearly biting his ear off. “Back off, bird-face,” Howie said, and then he relented as the bird perched on his shoulder, rubbing her face up against Howie’s cheek.
Captain Teren strode over, his face tight as a drum. Howie had been dreading this.
“Did you really bring that bloodthirsty creature inside the sanctuary of our walls?” Teren blasted. “He could devour half my men for his morning snack.”
Howie flushed, turning red. “Er, Captain, I—”
“Not to mention you deserted your post.” Teren folded his arms.
“I know.” Guilt made Howie squirm in his boots.
“A squire never leaves his post,” Teren said sternly.
Howie cleared his throat and nodded. “You’re right. But I couldn’t let Jey go after his father alone. I’m sorry. You can fire me.”
Lingas flared her wings, cawing at Teren like he could fire her, too.
Teren glared another moment, and then he snorted, “Fire you? I was thinking of extending your time as my squire. My shirts have been a mess since you’ve been gone. No one irons them like you.” He clasped a hand on Howie’s shoulder. “Tell us, did you find Beo?”
Howie nodded, diving into his story. “We found him, all right, and a nest of Safyre Omeras. I came back to let you know they’re coming as soon as they can raise the rest of the Falcory.”
Bells began ringing, clanging loudly from the far sentry post.
“What is the alarm?” Teren shouted up to the sentry.
“Smoke, Captain, on the horizon. They’re coming.”
Howie’s knees went weak. They had run out of time.
War had come to Orkney once more.
Teren ordered the horses brought up. “The vanguard will leave immediately on my command. Time to see if Howie’s plan is going to work.”
“I’m coming along,” Howie said.
Teren nodded. “I figured you’d want to see it through. Rego, get the boy some fresh armor and be sure to keep him from harm.”
Rego snorted loudly. “Those red devils are not going to get the best of us. They’ll be hightailing it back to that lump of lava before they can spit in the wind.”
A line of witches trailed silently behind Abigail up unto the ramparts and took position. Howie counted nine, with Abigail. They could have used a hundred or two. He marked the clusters of white-haired Eifalian archers along the posts. Not as many as Howie would have liked to see.
Gael stood impatiently as Keely came over to say goodbye. Leo hovered behind her.
“Don’t get fried to a crisp by one of those fire giants,” she said, hugging Howie tightly.
“I won’t. You be safe. Are you on the wall with the archers?”
Keely shook her head, her hand going to a strange pendant. “I’m to stay clear until I’m needed. Howie, we really need Sam to come back with Odin.”
“Fingers crossed,” Howie said, raising both hands and crossing all his digits.
Gael called to her, and she left them.
Leo hovered, looking uncertain. Howie could tell he wanted to fight along his side, but he was more worried about Keely. He gave the boy a shove. “Stay with her and keep her alive. She needs you more than I do. Besides, you’re a better shot with a bow than any of those elves.”
Leo smiled slightly. “When did you get so brave?”
Howie snorted. “You mean, when did I get so dumb? I’m heading into what’s looking like certain death.” A wave of emotion choked his throat. He looked at Leo, his eyes blurred with tears. “Look, if something, you know, happens to me, when you get back to Pilot Rock, you tell my mom, well,” he swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, “you tell her I loved her. Promise?”
Leo graspe
d his shoulder. “You’ll tell her yourself when we all go home.” He squeezed Howie’s shoulder and then hurried after Keely.
A stable boy brought them horses. Rego slipped a set of chain mail and a breastplate over Howie’s shoulders and clamped a helmet on his head. Howie mounted amid a flurry of activity as the front line assembled, prepared to face Surt in the first wave.
The frost-giant queen had assembled a small group of oversized boys. Even Howie was in awe of their muscled arms and broad shoulders. Each had a sword strapped to his back and a fierce look of determination on his face as he followed his queen.
Surveying the men on their horses, Howie wondered how many of them would make it back. But not one hesitated or looked doubtful. They were ready to die. If it meant saving this realm, they would lay down their lives.
Immensely proud, Howie held up the flag of Orkney, and they let out a resounding cheer. From the ramparts, the sounds echoed as every soldier raised his or her voice in support.
To Gael, Teren said, “Wait for our signal to attack. If it doesn’t come, then the gods be with you.”
Howie waved goodbye to Keely as he followed Teren out.
Outside the walls, Howie felt exposed, like at any second Surt could fire a flaming arrow from the sky and burn him to a crisp.
The smoke-pots had been lit. Speria and Heppner had their men hidden in the forest along the opposite side of the battalion of dummy soldiers. A light winked at them from a mirror. The Orkadian forces were in place.
Their job was to mingle among the fake soldiers to add movement and make it look real. A dangerous job. They would be in the line of fire when the battle started.
“Now don’t go being a hero,” Rego said. “The moment the battle begins, you hightail it to the rear and get to safety.”
“Sure, you bet,” Howie said, not meaning it. He wasn’t going to turn and run. Not a chance.
A scowl crossed the dwarf’s face. “You’re a worse liar than Sam,” he muttered. He drew one of the swords lashed to his back and handed it to Howie. “Whatever you do, take some of those ugly fire giants with you.”
Howie grinned, tapping the sword to his forehead. “Ten at least.”
“Only ten?” Rego kicked his horse forward. “I plan on taking twenty-five before they roast my innards.”
Chapter 37
Surt sat on the back of his boercat on top of a hill overlooking the valley leading to the walled city of Skara Brae. The valley was bordered by woods and lined with fields that crisscrossed the flat plain in front of the city. Arek sat on his own beast next to him and passed him a spyglass. He held it up to his eye.
A troop of men on horseback rode in front of a legion of troops. One of them carried a red banner with a white heron.
Surt looked closer. The fields were smoky, as if fog clung to the ground, but the battalions of men were clear enough. There were at least a thousand men lined up in the fields. A tiny sliver of doubt grew. Surt dropped the spyglass.
“Sire, there are more than we expected—” Arek said.
“Fool, you didn’t warn me of this.”
“I didn’t know—I have never seen this many men. They must have been scattered to hide their true numbers.”
Surt cut him off with a chop of his hand. “We will wait until Lukas and Bellac arrive. They are only a few hours behind us. Lukas will take his legions in first. They will draw them into battle. When they have tired, we will launch an aerial attack on their city while Bellac finishes them off.”
The waiting was the hardest part. Howie could see the line of boercats on the hills above Orkney, poised to attack. Why weren’t they already burning them to the ground?
“It’s working, Howie,” Teren said, wheeling in his horse in front of Howie. “They’re holding off.”
“Aye, waiting for their ground troops so they can skewer and barbecue us,” Rego said.
“Take Reesa’s boys, and keep your fake army moving,” Teren ordered Howie. “We mustn’t let them suspect it’s not real.”
Howie and the other boys moved among the ranks, picking soldiers up and moving them about. It was hot and sweaty work, but between the men on horseback riding and kicking up dust and the smoke-pots they kept burning, it was impossible to make much out, not from the distance Surt sat.
Howie kept staring at the sky. Jey was going to show up with his army of Safyre Omeras anytime now, but the sky remained clear. And where was Sam? If his bud didn’t get here soon, his mission to bring Odin back wouldn’t matter. There wouldn’t be anything left to save.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Howie caught sight of something moving across the valley, a small cloud of dust that rolled impossibly fast toward them, as if it were a speeding car.
Howie dodged through the buckets of armor to stand by Teren. “What is that?”
The soldier stared grimly at the approaching cloud. “Don’t know.” His voice was tense, as if he expected the worst.
“Is it Surt? A trap?”
“I don’t know, Howie. Let’s go find out.”
They rode forward to meet whatever bad news was flying toward them.
One second it was a blur of motion, and then it stopped suddenly ten feet from them. A swirl of smoke and dust surrounded it. When the dust cleared, Howie’s eyes grew wide.
A giant bear stood in front of them. It roared, beating its chest with two hands. Then, before either of them could say a word, a blinding light exploded from it, and the bear shrank down into a familiar figure.
“Sam!”
His buddy Sam was back! Howie ran forward ready to give him a hug, but some instinct made him stop.
Sam was not Sam. Well, not exactly. His skin had an unearthly glow to it, like he was filled with light. His eyes blazed with a sheen of power, but his smile was the same.
“Hello, Howie.”
“About time,” Howie choked out, holding back all the emotion and relief that he felt. “The party was about to start without you.”
“I was kind of busy,” Sam said, and then he looked at Teren. “Fill me in.” His voice sounded like Sam’s, but it was oddly commanding.
“Surt is up on that ridge with his boercats,” Teren said. “We think he’s waiting for his foot soldiers to arrive before he strikes. We have an army of fake soldiers, just piles of armor. Howie’s idea, but it’s holding Surt off.”
A horn sounded, sending a blaring echo across the valley. The distant roar of thousands of voices raised in a deep battle cry made the hair on the back of Howie’s neck stand up.
“It sounds like he’s done waiting,” the glowing Sam said.
A line of red armor-clad warriors moved down the hillside like a tide of crimson blood. Line after line of fearsome fire giant marched. There were so many.
“I’m afraid we are going to lose,” this new Sam said calmly. “There are far too many of them.”
Howie knew that. They had all known that. But hearing Sam say it was crushing.
“Let’s even things up, shall we?” Sam rubbed his hands and then clapped them together. A loud boom echoed across the valley. There was a ripple of energy that made Howie’s hair lift, and then the fake soldiers began to vibrate and rattle. Their armor moved jerkily, and then something miraculous happened.
They began to move like soldiers, drawing their swords from their sides. It was the freakiest thing Howie had ever seen. One of them had its mask open, and there was nothing in it, but Howie could swear he could hear them breathing, and they were definitely preparing to fight.
“Captain, your army awaits you,” Sam said.
Teren drew his sword, looking hopeful for the first time in days. “For every one of us they take, let us take ten of them!” The men, both real and fake, cheered. Teren raised his sword. “For Orkney!”
The men shouted in return, raising their swords before marching forward.
The frost-giant queen also raised her sword, turning to face her boys. She wore a golden crown unadorned with jewels. Her face was shin
ing as she called, “For the freedom of all!” They joined her, rattling their swords together.
A trickle of hope made Howie’s spirits lift.
They had their miracle.
Sam was exhausted and yet filled with power. Sharing a body with Odin was electrifying. They had journeyed day and night to get here without stopping. Only the great power of the god had enabled them to make it in time to stop the destruction of Odin’s beloved Orkney. It had involved loping across the seas between whatever island they had been on and Garamond. Sam would never forget racing over white-capped waves, as if he were weightless and immense at the same time.
Sam had apologized a hundred times, but Odin had never answered. Never acknowledged Sam’s presence. No. Odin had been a silent companion, one with quiet power he allowed Sam to wield.
It was nothing like his time in the Omera. Then he had been in control. With Brunin, Sam was like a passenger allowed to put his hands on the wheel to steer the car, but he was never in control.
Exhaustion made him sway on his feet, but now was not the time for rest. Not with the wall of red flesh that was running toward them. Sam had never seen such fearsome men in all his life—thick red skin, angry snarls, black hair tied in ponytails on the tops of their heads, yellow eyes that glowed with an inner fire. The roar of their battle cries made Sam’s shirt vibrate with the thumping of their boots on the ground.
Courage, a voice in his head said.
Sam shuddered with relief. Odin was still there. Now, ensconced in Sam’s body, the god hovered, not taking control, but Sam could feel him pressing on the edges of his consciousness.
Teren and the others had taken position toward the center of Howie’s army, the enchanted one that now stood with swords drawn, ready to protect Orkney.
It was a wacky idea—one only Howie could have come up with—wacky but brilliant. Better that inanimate objects bear the brunt than flesh and blood. It would slow and confuse Surt’s men when no blood was spilled.
Sam itched to blast the field with witchfire, but not even sharing a body with Odin had restored his magic. It was gone forever. The thought left him sad.