Odin Blew Up My TV! (6 page)

The warrior woman rushed into the midst of the wolflings, brandishing her flashing blade.

Lewis realised, from his previous adventures among the Norse gods, that she must be one of the Valkyries, Odin’s personal guards.

The wolflings gave way before the fury of her assault, opening an aisle between her and Loki.

Astonishingly, his face broke into a beaming smile. “Sigurda – baby!” he exclaimed happily.

“Hold your tongue, base villain!” the warrior woman commanded. She strode up to him and pressed the point of her sword to Loki’s chest.

Loki raised his hands in surrender. “You’re looking good, sweetheart,” he said.

“Do not waste your honeyed words on me, trickster,” Sigurda answered through gritted teeth.

“Come on, sugar,” Loki coaxed, “don’t pretend you haven’t got feelings for me.”

“All you shall feel from me is my wrath,” Sigurda responded frostily. “That, and the keen edge of my blade.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Loki pleaded. “Remember how I always promised you I’d amount to something? Well, now I’m the boss of the whole show.”

Sigurda glanced around and curled her lip contemptuously. “You are a shabby clown presiding over a pauper’s court,” she sneered.

“Okay, it’s not much to look at right now,” Loki admitted, “but wait till I’ve had time to fix it up a bit.”

Sigurda transferred her attention to the prisoners. “Are you the Ringwearers?” she demanded.

In spite of her warlike manner, she seemed to be on their side, so Greg, Susie and Lewis all nodded and showed off their rings.

Turning back to Loki, Sigurda raised her sword point to his throat. “Bid your bestial guards withdraw,” she ordered, “else I shall separate your head from your shoulders.”

Loki sighed resignedly. “Better ease off, boys,” he told the wolflings.

As the guards backed away, Sigurda’s eye lighted on the crystal shard. She stiffened. “What vile mischief have you unleashed now?” she demanded of Loki. “That rock pulses with pure wickedness.”

“Don’t worry about it, sugar,” soothed Loki. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Lewis could tell Loki wasn’t as confident as he was trying to appear.

The Viking god’s jaw dropped as the crystal rose into the air and began to revolve. It grew larger and new facets spread across its face, throwing off glints of lurid light.

“You fool!” Sigurda raged at Loki. “This is beyond your control!”

Whipping away from Loki, she struck the crystal a resounding blow with her sword. The impact reverberated across the room like the clang of an enormous bell, but it appeared to have no effect on the shard. The crystal rose higher and spun more furiously, throwing off bolts of multicoloured lightning in all directions.

“Hit the deck!” cried Dave the Lobster, throwing himself flat.

A shrill whine ripped through the air. Streaks of energy played over the walls. Lewis flung himself to the floor as a spear of electricity sizzled past him, blasting the cycle helmet off the wall above his head.

The whine grew more piercing, driving the wolflings into a frenzy of terror. Dropping their swords, they clutched their ears and dived for cover under tables and chairs. Loki ducked behind his crudely painted throne as a bolt of energy smacked into the wall and set fire to one of the flags.

“Keep your head down, Spinny!” Greg cried as he and Susie crouched low to avoid the fireworks.

Unmoved by the chaos, Sigurda snatched Lewis to his feet and pointed to the open door with her sword. “Ringwearers,
we must away!” she commanded. “I will act as rearguard.”

“Any place has got to be better than here,” said Susie.

Grabbing hold of Dave and Lewis, she and Greg made a dash for the door. Together they spilled into the hallway and pulled up short at the sight of the two police officers.

Iona and Kenny were guarding the exit with the same glazed look in their eyes. Iona signalled them to halt. “Please remain calm,” she said flatly.

“The emergency services have everything under control,” stated Kenny in the same tone.

Sigurda came barging out of Loki’s throne room. “To the rooftop!” she ordered, leading the way upstairs.

“But we’ll be trapped up there,” Greg protested.

“Never argue with a woman holding a sword,” said Susie, shoving him towards the stairway.

They all pounded up the steps after the Valkyrie.

“This is turning out to be quite a day,” panted Dave the Lobster.

At the top of the stairs, Sigurda led them down a short passage and through another door. This opened into a storeroom full of cleaning supplies, spare chairs and rolled-up carpets, with an open skylight in the roof.

Susie looked up. “Is that the way you got in?” she asked Sigurda.

The Valkyrie nodded curtly.

“Crikey, that’s some drop!” said Dave the Lobster. “You
must be really fit.”

From the direction of the stairwell came guttural growls and the heavy scuffle of clawed feet.

“Secure the door!” ordered Sigurda. “Loki’s minions will soon be upon us.”

With the help of the others, she braced the door shut with a folding chair and couple of broom handles just before the wolflings started banging on the panels.

Greg cast a sceptical glance at the skylight. “If you’re expecting us to get out that way,” he told Sigurda, “I hope you’ve brought jetpacks.”

“I have already planned our escape,” said Sigurda, pulling a lightweight aluminium ladder out of a far corner. She set it up under the skylight as the door began to crack under the wolflings’ assault.

“Go quickly!” Sigurda ordered. “I shall hold them off.”

Susie raced nimbly up the ladder and disappeared from view. Lewis hurried after with Dave the Lobster and Greg right behind.

Susie peered down to see Sigurda scrambling up the ladder just as the wolflings burst into the room.

They rushed in and toppled the ladder. But as it fell, Sigurda launched herself upward like an Olympic gymnast. She caught the frame of the skylight and swung herself to safety, landing on her feet beside the others.

“Blimey!” Dave the Lobster exclaimed. “What a performance!”

A chorus of frustrated howls issued from below.

“We must away before those reckless beasts think to copy our escape,” said Sigurda. She threw back her head and gave a trilling whistle.

From somewhere above came an answer that sounded like the whinny of a large horse. Lewis looked up and gasped in wonder.

Descending out of the sky was a great white stallion, held aloft by a magnificent pair of feathered wings. He was harnessed to a two-wheeled chariot, which floated along behind him, as light as a leaf in the wind.

“Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?” breathed Dave the Lobster.

“Just go with it,” Susie told him.

The flying horse alighted on the roof and bowed his head to Sigurda. She caught hold of the stallion’s luxuriant mane and swung herself onto his broad back. “Into the chariot!” she commanded.

They all leapt aboard as a loud metallic clatter warned them that the wolflings were replacing the ladder.

Sigurda clapped her heels to the stallion’s powerful flanks. “Fly, Rimfaxi!” she cried.

Rearing back on powerful haunches, the great horse spread his wings and vaulted into the air. The wolflings piled onto the roof and howled at the sight of their quarry escaping into the clouds.

Lewis’ stomach lurched violently as they made their speedy ascent. Clutching at the sides of the chariot, he groaned, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Susie whooped with glee. “This is
amazing
! Better than a roller coaster.”

St Andrews was spread out beneath them, a patchwork of rooftops and gardens. Beyond the West Sands, Lewis saw a monstrous sea serpent rear up out of the waters of St Andrews Bay then dive back down with a colossal splash. The chariot swung round and swooped over the arching West Port – all that remained of the town’s medieval walls.

Lewis stared out beyond the boundaries of the town and saw that the farmlands of Fife had been replaced by a far-flung wilderness of dark trees, broken here and there by stony ridges and gleaming lakes. To the far west rose a lofty snow-capped peak. Lewis recognised it as the mountain that had appeared on the screen at the museum.

Just then there came a piercing screech and they saw Loki’s giant hawk plunging out of the clouds towards them.

“That dirty great budgie!” Greg exclaimed.

“It is Falkior, the hunting bird of Loki,” said Sigurda grimly. She drew her sword. “Brace yourselves for battle.”

The bird of prey sped towards them, its wicked claws extended to attack. Sigurda directed her mount sharply downward and the hawk shot over their heads in a rush of air.

Rimfaxi flew on, drawing the chariot out over the
wooded landscape of Vanaheim. Vast crags of grey rock thrust upward like grasping fingers and the stallion climbed desperately to avoid the obstacles.

Suddenly the chariot wheels glanced off a rocky pinnacle and the three passengers were jolted off their feet.

With a cry of alarm Dave the Lobster lost his grip and toppled over the side.

“Dave!” Lewis yelled, stretching a helpless hand towards the marine biologist as he plummeted to earth. Right below them was a small lake where Dave splashed down before disappearing behind tall trees.

“Will he be okay?” Susie asked anxiously.

“I’m sure he can swim,” said Lewis. “Like a lobster probably.”

“Look, if we carry out this mission,” said Greg, “Odin will rescue the fish guy from wherever he ends up. Right, Sigurda?”

“You speak the truth, Ringwearer. We cannot stop to help your friend now, but we shall return this way. If he acts with valour, he will come to no harm.”

They were all struck dumb by the sight of the huge hawk Falkior rushing at them again. This time it struck home, gashing the stallion’s right wing in a spray of blood. With a curse, Sigurda stabbed her sword at the bird but caught only empty air as it wheeled away.

Falkior let out a squawk of triumph and glided over the treetops, seeking an angle from which to resume its attack.

Sigurda patted the horse’s neck. “You will pay for that, Falkior, blood for blood!” she swore.

Now the great hawk came at them head-on. Sigurda steered her brave mount directly at the enemy, then, at the last instant, pulled back on the reins to climb above the swooping bird. She threw herself out of the saddle, one hand gripping tightly to the shaggy mane, and swung under the great horse’s neck. With her other arm she swept her sword downward and slashed it across Falkior’s back as it passed below. The bird of prey let out a screech of agony as Sigurda swung herself around to the other side of her mount and back up into the saddle.

With a bloody gash down its back, Falkior beat a rapid retreat to St Andrews.

The three youngsters gave a cheer.

“Sigurda, that was amazing!” Susie enthused.

“Our victory has come at a price,” said Sigurda, casting a pitying eye over Rimfaxi’s bloodied wing. The horse was losing height as the deep wound drained the strength from his mighty body. Sigurda struggled to keep him on a straight course, her eyes scanning the forest below for a safe spot to set down.

Lewis, Greg and Susie clung desperately to the sides of the chariot as they spiralled steeply downward and the forest rushed up to meet them.

“Crash landing!” Greg exclaimed. 

They ploughed down through a dense covering of leaves and branches to hit the ground with a jarring crash. The chariot broke apart, spilling the three passengers out onto the mossy ground. Startled birds flew off in every direction, squawking in panic.

Only when his dizziness had passed did Lewis realise that he was alive and neither his arms nor legs were broken. Susie caught his hand and pulled him to his feet beside her. Greg was already up and stamping on the ground, as if to make sure it was really solid.

Rimfaxi had staggered away from the wreckage of the chariot and collapsed beneath a rocky overhang. Sigurda knelt beside him, stroking his mane and applying a patch of blue moss to his wounded wing.

She looked up at the three youngsters as they joined her. “Ringwearers,” she said, “know that I am Sigurda, daughter of Oyunn, captain of the Valkyries, the warrior guard of Lord Odin.”

“I’m Susie,” Susie answered, “daughter of Theresa, and these guys are Greg and Lewis.”

“Sons of Alan,” Lewis added.

“Is your horse badly hurt?” asked Greg.

“His wounds are not mortal,” said Sigurda, “but he needs rest in order to heal.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Lewis.

Sigurda handed her helmet to Susie. “Use this to fetch water,” she said. “There is a pool on the other side of those rocks.” She plucked off a piece of the moss and handed it to the boys. “Gather as much of this as you can find,” she said. “It has healing properties and will speed Rimfaxi’s recovery.”

Greg and Lewis stripped as much moss as they could from boulders and logs and carried it back to Sigurda. The Valkyrie used the water Susie brought to wash the wound then dressed it with moss.

“Shouldn’t we go and look for Dave?” Lewis suggested. He was worried about the scientist, alone in this vast, strange woodland.

Sigurda shook her head firmly. “Time presses too heavily upon us.”

“Oh, great!” said Greg. “So time is trying to squash us too. I suppose Loki is chasing after us.”

“That may be,” said Sigurda, “but the more urgent matter is our quest.”

Lewis felt his stomach sink. “A quest?”

“Great!” said Susie eagerly. “Tell us all about it, Sigurda.”

Sigurda stroked the horse’s neck soothingly as she spoke.

“When Loki escaped from the Ginnungagap,” she began, “he brought with him a jewel that allowed him to draw on ancient magical energies. You have seen its powers.”

“Loki said it was a shard from the heart of Ymir,” said Lewis.

Sigurda’s eyes grew wide. “Ymir! He yet lives?”

“According to Loki he does,” said Lewis. He reported everything Loki had told them.

Sigurda heard him out, and nodded grimly. “There are many stories of how the universe was born,” she said, “but through them all runs a tale of the destroyer, the one who despises all life but his own. That one is Ymir, the dark shadow of creation, the lord of death.”

“He’s definitely scared the pants off Loki,” said Greg.

“The trickster used Ymir’s unholy power to seize your earthly town and with it displace the golden city of Asgard. Rimfaxi and I were on a mission far away when Lord Odin contacted me by means of the Nornstone, a mystic jewel in the pommel of my sword.

“By the foresight his godly power grants him,” Sigurda continued, “Odin was warned of the destruction to come. Using the power of his Odinstaff, he escaped the golden city mere instants before Loki carried out his enchantment. He had just enough time to cast a spell that would preserve Asgard and conceal it in a place of safety where Loki would not find it.”

“Can you use this Nornstone again to ask Odin where he’s hidden it?” asked Susie.

Sigurda displayed the pommel of her sword. Only a blackened hollow remained where the jewel had been fixed. “The powerful magical energies destroyed the gem,” she explained.

“Just like they blew up our TV,” said Greg.

“Loki does not know that Asgard is safe,” said Sigurda. “But the strain of casting such a powerful spell shattered Lord Odin’s staff, breaking it into three pieces and scattering them across Vanaheim.”

“So where is Odin?” asked Lewis.

“Without his staff and with his power depleted by the rescue of Asgard, he took refuge deep inside Mount Daggerflash,” said Sigurda, “which towers above the western border of our land. He closed the walls of the mountain about him, so that Loki would be unable to detect his presence.”

“That’s what Odin was trying to tell us,” Susie realised. “He didn’t want us to find a dagger, he wanted us to find the mountain, Mount Daggerflash.”

“So that will be the mountain he showed us on the monitor at the museum,” said Greg.

“That’s right,” said Lewis. “I saw that same mountain when we were up in the sky.”

“Odin cannot free himself from the mountain without his magical staff,” said Sigurda. “He instructed me that the three Ringwearers would have the means to recover his staff and bring it to him.”

“And how are we meant to do that?” asked Greg. “I don’t suppose he left an instruction manual?”

“We must make our way towards Mount Daggerflash,” said Sigurda, pointing decisively to the west, “and hope that the fates will deliver the three broken pieces into our hands.”

“In other words we’ll do what we usually do,” said Greg. “Make it up as we go along.”

Sigurda stroked her horse’s mane. “Rimfaxi must rest here until he recovers,” she said. “We shall continue our journey on foot.”

“What? Without food?” Greg objected.

“You will find provisions aboard the chariot,” Sigurda replied.

While she tended the wounded horse, Susie, Greg and Lewis searched the wreckage of the chariot. They salvaged five water flasks and a pouch with half a dozen apples in it.

“There are many streams here in the Ironwood from which the flasks can be filled,” said Sigurda. “And these apples are from the orchard of Idunna.”

“That sounds nice,” said Greg, “but a few apples won’t last us long.”

“Share them out and try them,” said Sigurda.

The apples were bright green with a golden sheen. They took one each and bit into it. It was the most delicious thing Lewis had ever tasted, sweet and nourishing. Before he knew what he was doing he had munched down half the apple.

“Mmm,” said Susie. “It’s nearly as good as a Mars icecream bar.”

“It’s delicious,” Lewis admitted, “but like Greg said, they won’t last long.”

“Will they not?” countered Sigurda. “Just look at them.”

Lewis examined his apple and saw to his astonishment that it was completely whole, as if he hadn’t taken a single bite. And yet his stomach felt full from what he had eaten.

“The apples of Idunna renew themselves and can never be entirely consumed,” Sigurda informed them.

Leaving an apple with Rimfaxi, they set out on their westward trek.

“I couldn’t help noticing, Sigurda,” said Susie, as they walked through the trees, “that you and Loki seem to know each other kind of well.”

Sigurda grimaced uncomfortably and her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.

“It is true,” she said, “that in an age long past he did woo me with precious gifts and sweet blandishments.”

Greg’s brow furrowed. “What is she saying?”

Susie lowered her voice and spoke confidentially. “She’s saying that they used to
date
.”

“You mean Loki used to be her
boyfriend
?” Lewis exclaimed.

“For the briefest moment of time,” Sigurda protested through gritted teeth. “The merest blink in which an enemy blade might elude one’s guard and penetrate the
chink in ill-fashioned armour.”

“She says it’s a mistake anybody could have made,” Susie explained.

Sigurda turned away from them and stomped off through the trees.

“She seems a bit touchy,” said Lewis. “I think we’d better change the subject.”

“Yes, before she shuts us up with her sword,” Greg agreed.

As they walked through the dense woodland, branches kept snagging on Lewis’ jumper and he stubbed his shoes on thick tree roots.

“To think, this day started out just fine,” he complained. “I was going to catch microscopic sea life at the harbour and write a really interesting report about it. Loki has completely messed that up.”

“Look on the bright side, Lewis,” Greg encouraged him. “If you go down to the harbour now, instead of catching tadpoles you can probably net a giant octopus.”

“That’s not much of a comfort,” said Lewis unhappily.

They had been walking for about an hour when they emerged from the trees to find themselves standing right on the edge of a deep crevasse. From far below, where the sunlight didn’t reach, they could hear the roaring torrent of a mighty river.

Susie stared at the wide chasm, which seemed to divide the land in half as though cleaved apart by a gigantic axe.
There appeared to be no way across.

“You know,” she said, “there are times you could really do with a flying horse.”