"Simples," said Matt grinning wryly.
Modgud looked in his direction with a penetrating stare. "When you fail you'll be joining the back of the queue again here to explain yourself and why I shouldn't hand you over to the Nifs."
"We won't fail," cut in Alex quickly. "We can't fail, Sven is counting on us and then there’s Pete, our friend. Actually he must have come through here already. His name is Pete Parsons, he died yesterday by accident but we didn't see him in the queue outside. Have you seen him?"
"Pete Parsons....," she muttered, flicking through the thick pieces of paper on her desk. "Ah yes, he was the one Thor called me about. Fast tracked to the Helheim orientation centre yesterday."
"Orientation centre?" asked Alex.
"Yes, he by passed the three tests and Garm. Thor said he should go straight through to orientation and he would vouch for him. Right now he will be learning the rules of Helheim, how to survive, that sort of thing," she said.
"How to survive? Well that's a bit late, he's dead!" said Alex rolling his eyes.
Modgud sighed and tutted. "You are confusing the perception of death. When people die they move onto another existence, another plain. Once they have figured out the meaning of life a part of them returns to their original realm and they live another life, hopefully a better one than their first life as they retain some of their previous knowledge deep within their souls. The only true death is when a soul is so corrupted that it is not salvageable; those souls are given to Niddhogg or Hraesvelg, depending on how bad they are. The rest live their lives in Helheim waiting to be returned to live another life. If they mess about though and don't follow the rules they could end up with Niddhogg or Hraesvelg and their soul will disappear forever."
"I'm confused, where do the Nifs fit in?" asked Becca.
"Anyone who annoys, bores or just plain irritates me gets turned away from the bridge. The likelihood is that the Nifs will soon find them and absorb their soul. There’s no hope for them, they are lost forever," she said, looking at each of them in turn.
"You have lovely eyes," said Dvalin, gazing up at Modgud adoringly. "They are as blue as the sapphires in my treasure chamber. You must allow me to make you a necklace with them. Your beauty would put them to shame but they would highlight even more the blueness of your eyes."
"Creep," whispered Matt under his breath.
"Oh my, how lovely of you to say so. What did you say your name was?" she asked, her eyes shining with pleasure.
"Dvalin, master dwarf extraordinaire. Creator of the finest swords and jewellery in Svartalfheim at your service." He gave a low sweeping bow and smiled up at her like an adoring puppy.
"Well Dvalin, I would be delighted to accept such a gift from you. In return I will grant you one free pass through one of the realms. You may choose which, just shout out ‘ida’ when you want to pass through a realm and you will be transported to the edge of the next realm."
"Oh madam, thank you. If I survive the trials and tribulations ahead I will return with your gift and I hope you will allow me the pleasure of fastening it around your beautiful neck."
"You better bring a ladder dude," whispered Matt in Dvalin's ear.
Dvalin ignored him and continued to gaze up at Modgud.
"Ok, I didn't see that coming," said Alex grinning at Dvalin. If she were standing up he reckoned the top of Dvalin's head would reach her knees. "So can we be on our way then? We really need to get Sven out of there."
"Well you haven't told me the whole story yet but I'll let you off. Something tells me I'll be seeing you again soon so I'll wait until then."
"Gee thanks for your confidence," mumbled Alex grumpily.
"I will be counting the days until we meet again," said Dvalin, winking at her.
"Right, where do we go then, just through the bridge?" asked Sasha.
"Yes, when you reach the end of the bridge go down and head north, you will know when you reach the outskirts of Aeora. There will be a hazy glow like a force field. You will need to step through it......and then survive. If you do, you will be shown the path to Tilvigelse."
Alex nodded his acknowledgement and they all walked past her enormous desk towards the end of the covered bridge. They descended the wooden steps at the end and started to follow the road North.
Chapter Three
After fifteen minutes of walking through the desolate land, Alex held his hand up and motioned for them to stop.
"Look," he said, pointing directly ahead.
Up ahead the air looked distorted as though there was a force field blocking the way. It stretched in either direction as far as the eye could see and right up into the sky.
"Ok, I guess this is it, the entry to the Plain of Aeora. What did Modgud say? We have to face our greatest fears?" Alex asked the others.
"Yes, doesn't sound good does it?" said Ellewen, with a worried expression on her face.
"I have a plan guys. Before we enter, pretend you're scared of something. Have it in your head, we might be able to fool them," said Alex.
He was quite relaxed about this, as he couldn't actually think of anything he was scared of but the others looked petrified already and they hadn't even crossed through.
"Damn it," said Matt, shaking his head. "I can't get that giant marshmallow man out of my head. You know the one from Ghostbusters. Great, I'm going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow."
"Dork," said Ellewen. "You honestly think you can fool Hel? She can see right into your soul. She knows exactly what you're frightened of."
Ellewen looked around at the pale faces surrounding her and made a mental note to work on her motivational speeches.
"Who's going first?" she asked, with her hands on her hips.
They all looked at each other but no one was willing to offer to go first.
"Oh I'll go, or we'll be here forever," said Alex, exasperated.
He cleared his mind, closed his eyes and walked forward towards the force field. He knew when he entered it as the hairs on his body stood on end and his skin tingled unpleasantly. It was as though he were receiving a mild shock all over.
When his skin felt normal again he opened his eyes. He was standing in a bedroom he hadn't seen for ten years. He glanced around and caught a glance at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. The face of his eight-year-old self stared back at him. His bright blonde hair looked dirty and lank. It looked like it hadn't been cut or washed for ages. His face looked pale and there were dark smudges under his eyes. They looked like bruises. He jumped back in shock and looked down at himself. He was wearing blue knee length grubby shorts and a grey t-shirt.
"Ok, that's weird," he said to himself in a high-pitched voice. He clapped his hand over his mouth.
"Alex, you good for nothing punk," shouted a voice up the stairs.
Alex's stomach clenched in fear. He knew that voice; he would never forget that voice. It was the voice of the most evil woman he had ever met; his fifth foster mother.
He couldn't remember his first family, he was moved on when he was just two and had no idea why. He had remained with the next family for two years and remembered the day he was taken away from them. He was playing with some Lego in the playroom when he heard raised voices in the living room. He went out into the hallway but the door to the living room was shut. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened carefully.
"There's something wrong with him I keep telling you," shouted his foster father.
"He's just a baby, please. I'll take him to the doctor again," pleaded his foster mother.
"The doctor can't do anything, he said he had no idea. It was embarrassing, like we were making it up," said his foster father firmly. "It only seems to happen when I tell him off, it's ridiculous."
"It never happens to me," she cried softly.
"You never tell him off. I just smacked his leg to stop him climbing up the drainpipe. He almost electrocuted me, I still feel tingly."
"He's not bad, he's just an adventurous l
ittle boy, please give him another chance."
"It's too late, the foster councillor will be here soon. Best you go and get his stuff ready."
The doorbell rang behind him and made Alex jump back from the door. He ran back into the playroom confused. There was obviously something wrong with him but he didn't understand. He sat back down on the mat next to the Lego car he had built and started to pull it apart. His stomach turned over when his foster mother opened the door and stepped into the room. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red rimmed.
"Alex, come on love, it's time for an adventure. This lovely lady here is going to take you to another family. They have a little boy the same age as you. That will be fun won't it?" she sniffed loudly.
"I want to stay here," he said sadly. "I'll be good I promise."
"I know sweetie but your new family will be sad if you don't stay with them. You can always come back and visit." She held out her hand and he stood up and grasped it tightly.
He was determined to be a big boy and not cry. His foster father got angry if he cried. His last memory of that home was the sound of his foster mother crying as the door closed behind him.
His next family didn't work out very well either. He was with them for just six months before being moved on. Apparently he was dangerous and hurt people. He had no idea what they were talking about though.
He was with his fourth family for eighteen months before yet again he was taken away with no proper explanation. This time he was taken to a small end of terrace house. The woman who answered the door had a pinched face and mean looking eyes. He immediately took a step back and clutched the foster councillor’s leg. He was pushed into the house though and left with the angry looking woman. Then began the worst months of his life.
Alex looked into the mirror again remembering and ran a finger over the bruises under his eyes. He shuddered inside.
"Get yer butt down here boy before I beat some manners into you," she screeched.
Alex looked around the room for somewhere to hide. The room was virtually bare though, just a metal framed bed with a thin lumpy mattress and a battered old chest of drawers. He quickly scrambled under the bed and held his breath. The door burst open and bounced off the wall with the force.
"I know you're in here you idiot, I can smell you. All nasty boys smell bad and you're the worst of them all. Get out and go downstairs, I told you not to take any food from the fridge but you just couldn't help yourself could you? You're a greedy good for nothing, horrible boy. I should be paid double for putting up with you," she shouted.
A scrawny hand reached under the bed, grasped a fistful of his hair and pulled him out. She lifted him up by his hair until he was on tiptoes, but let go quickly and rubbed her hand.
"There you go again, giving me electric shocks. What is it with you? You're a weird one alright."
"Please I don't know what you're talking about," cried Alex in a squeaky high-pitched, frightened voice.
He knew what was coming next; this scene had been replayed back to him in countless nightmares. She stormed out of the room and returned with a broom. She poked the end hard into his stomach and he doubled over in pain.
"Get down those stairs," she hissed, poking him with the broom towards the door. He stumbled out of the door and ran down the stairs. She bounded down after him and threw open the door to the cellar. She shoved him with the broom and he went tumbling down the dark, dusty cellar stairs. The door slammed shut and the darkness enveloped and suffocated him.
"You can stay in there forever. You're not right, no one will have you, best you just rot down there where you can't hurt anyone," she hollered through the door.
Alex heard the front door slam. He was alone, she had left him and he would die down here in the dark, alone. He curled himself up into a tight ball where he lay and tears slid from his eyes. He had never felt so alone, desolate and helpless. The pain in his head where he had hit it as he fell down the stairs was nothing compared to the pain in his heart and the feeling of abandonment. He shook with fear and sobbed quietly for what seemed hours. When he felt he had no more energy left to cry he lay still and hiccupped every now and then. In the quiet he could hear rats rustling between old bags and he sat up quickly pulling his legs underneath him. His heart started to beat very fast again and he thought it might burst out of his chest. He didn't want to be eaten alive by rats. Feeling behind him he tried to find the bottom of the stairs. It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing. He knew if he could get up the stairs though then the rats wouldn't get him. He felt the wood of the steps and scrambled up them until he reached the door. He banged on the door and shouted for help but he knew it was no good, she had left him alone. He stopped when he felt the blood trickling down his hands from his grazed knuckles and he sat still, breathing heavily. The pain focused his mind and he shook his head to clear it. Hang on, he thought, this isn't real. I'm in Helheim, I'm eighteen, not a scared little kid. He took a deep shuddering breath and stood up.
"I'm not taking it anymore," he said aloud in his high squeaky, eight year old voice.
He lifted his leg up and kicked the door hard. Nothing happened. He braced himself and tried again with more force. This time the lock splintered and the door burst open. He blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the bright light. When he could see again he ran into the kitchen where the phone was and grasped the receiver off the wall. He quickly dialled the number for Childline and relaxed as soon as he heard the sound of a gentle voice at the end of the line asking if he was ok.
His eyes glazed over and he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them he was standing in a desolate land with a purple sky. He was back in Helheim and had survived the first realm.
*
Back on the other side of the force field the others were arguing about who should go next.
"Look, let me just get the Marshmallow man out of my head, then I'll go," said Matt.
Dvalin shook his head in exasperation. "You lot talk nonsense," he grumbled. "I'm going or we'll be here forever."
He closed his eyes and stepped forward through the force field boldly. When he opened them again he saw he was back in his house. It was just as messy as he had left it with papers strewn all over the floor and dirty dishes piled high in the sink. His messy bed was tucked out of the way and his wooden table was piled high with music books; loose papers covered in notes and two silver candlesticks covered in old wax.
"Well, that's not scary," he said aloud.
Perhaps he had been sent back, he thought with relief. Whilst he wanted to see the lovely Modgud again, he hadn't been looking forward to travelling through all of those realms she had spoken about. He rubbed his hands together and reached for the key, which was hanging on a bit of string around his neck. It was the key to his treasure chamber. He thought he could find those sapphires and make a start on her necklace now. He brought the key up to his lips and kissed it. With a big grin on his face he shoved some papers to one side with his foot and pulled back an old blue threadbare rug. Underneath there was a wooden trapdoor set into the stone floor. He gripped a large metal ring and used both hands to lift it up. It fell open with a loud bang. Dvalin quickly grabbed a smoky torch from a sconce on the wall and hurried down a set of steps beneath the trapdoor. When he reached the bottom he stood in front of a heavy looking wooden door, which had a large metal padlock. He used the key around his neck to open the padlock and held the torch aloft to reveal his treasure.
The room was empty. Dvalin blinked a few times thinking he must be seeing things, rubbed his eyes but still the room was empty.
"My treasure!" he cried aloud in a panic. "Where's my treasure?"
He looked around frantically but the room was bare. His heart beat rapidly and he started to sweat. This was it, his greatest fear, someone had stolen his treasure, he was poor. He sank to the floor distraught. All of the other dwarves would laugh at him, whoever heard of a penniless dwarf. He had been the richest dwarf in Svartalf
heim and now he had nothing. He covered his face with his hands and wept. All of his life had been spent collecting that treasure, now he felt as though his life had no meaning whatsoever. Then he thought about Modgud and the necklace he was going to make for her. He couldn't even make her an earring; he had nothing. His shoulders shook as he sobbed harder. She would never notice him now. Why would she be interested in a poor dwarf?
He sniffed loudly and reached into his top pocket for his handkerchief. His hand brushed across the daisy, which was still poking out of his buttonhole. He plucked it out to look at it closely and smiled. He may be poor now but he could go into the sun. He was only one of two dwarves who had the power, Lit, the Grandmaster of Svartalfheim being the other one. Just wait until the other dwarves get to hear about that, he thought to himself gleefully. Also, he reckoned Modgud would love a nice big bunch of flowers; he could pick her some now that he could go outside into the sun. There was nothing in Helheim, just dust and rocks. He reckoned that she had never seen a flower. He stood up determined. He tucked the daisy back into his buttonhole and grinned. He may be poor now but he would be rich if he could win her over. Love he realised was much better than money and riches. He would never be alone again and he could entertain her with the stories of how he had found his treasure. He might not have anything to show her now but the tales were worth their weight in gold to those who liked stories and he knew she definitely liked stories.
Dvalin shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it and bounded up the stairs. When he reached the top he looked around confused. He was back in Helheim judging from the purple sky and barren landscape. He had faced his greatest fear and got over it. Alex wandered over to him and patted him on the shoulder in understanding. Dvalin nodded and sat down to wait for the others.
*
Sasha went through the force field next. She knew exactly what she was about to face and just wanted it over and done with. When she opened her eyes she braced herself. She was standing in her bedroom at home. Her bed was covered in pink and purple fluffy cushions and she jumped on it quickly, throwing her pink blanket over her head. She sat still, listening. She knew it was there. It might even be more than one; it could be thousands. This was after all her greatest fear that she had to face. Her heart started to thump hard and her breaths were short and quick. Her eyes darted from side to side. Not knowing where it was made it worse. Whilst she didn't want to see it, she hated the not knowing. She moved back on her bed until she was pressed up tight against the Nicholas Hoult poster pinned to the wall. Even looking at him wouldn't make her feel better.
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