The Legends of Orkney Page 16

  Mavery took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Sam. We’ll get your friend back.”

  Sam wished he shared her confidence. But they were heading out on a quest for Asgard, an island that had no map, to confront the most powerful god in Orkney. And if he somehow found Odin, he had to convince him to help Sam end the curse that was poisoning the land and then secretly steal one of Odin’s prized objects, the Horn of Gjall.

  Piece of cake, Sam lied to himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Guards escorted Sam and the two girls along an arched corridor. No one spoke. Keely kept her head down, arms folded tightly across her chest. Mavery skipped along next to Sam. A set of iron gates appeared ahead. Rust-stained sunlight filtered through the bars, casting long, striped shadows. Keely picked up the pace, practically running toward the gates, no doubt eager to get away from the memories of that spider and all the other horrors she had faced here as a guest of the Tarkana witches. Mavery trailed close behind her.

  But Sam’s feet dragged. He kept looking over his shoulder, wishing guiltily for another glimpse of Howie. Had he made the right decision leaving his best friend behind? What if the witches broke their promise and fed Howie to the spider just for sport before Sam could return?

  Busy imagining every possible painful end for Howie, Sam failed to see the shadowy figure lurking behind a pillar until a hand reached out and yanked him into a hidden recess.

  It was Emenor. The black-robed Balfin looked anxiously over his shoulder down the corridor. The others kept on marching toward the gates.

  “What do you want?” Sam asked angrily.

  “You must not retrieve that horn,” he hissed.

  “Back off. You’re nothing but a traitor. All you care about is your stupid trinkets.”

  “You need to focus on what’s important, Barconian.” Emenor’s bloodshot eyes were intense as he gripped the front of Sam’s shirt. “Do you even know what the Horn of Gjall can do?”

  Sam shook his head slowly.

  “Blasting the Horn summons an army of the dead. Hestera craves the power to rule over Orkney. With a legion of unstoppable corpses, she will have her way. Would you risk all of our lives to save one friend?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  He made to leave, but Emenor gripped his arm, stopping him. “Your father is alive.”

  Fresh grief rippled through Sam at the bold-faced lie. “No. Rego told me he’s dead. He wouldn’t lie. Not about that.”

  Emenor’s grip tightened. “The dwarf wasn’t there; I was. Lord Barconian was badly wounded. But Endera cast an enchantment and imprisoned him in a stone at the Ring of Brogar before he died. She wanted him to feel the same pain her ancestors do, trapped alive, with no hope of escape. Your father lives. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Sam couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. “How . . . how do I save him?”

  “Odin’s magic can break the spell that keeps your father trapped in that stone.”

  Sam nodded, still not sure he believed Emenor but confused about why the Balfin would lie about such a thing. “I have this. It contains Odin’s magic.” Sam pulled the pouch out, dumping the rock into his hand, but Emenor closed Sam’s fingers over it, crushing his hand.

  “That shard won’t break a curse as powerful as that which holds your father in the stone. Go now,” Emenor said. “Follow the road to the harbor. A ship has been arranged for you. You can trust my men. I swear it on my life.”

  He gave Sam a little shove back into the corridor and hurried away. Sam’s mind was spinning with thoughts of his father. He stumbled through the gate outside, blinking at the sullen light of day. The sun’s veins had blossomed, spreading across the face of the sun so much that the day had an eerie red cast to it. Endera had been right; the poison was spreading.

  Keely and Mavery were already on horseback. Sam climbed onto a waiting horse.

  “Let’s go,” Keely said impatiently, and turned her horse away. “I don’t want to spend another minute in this place.”

  They trotted the horses down the road. Sam looked back once at the high stone wall encircling the fortress. A pair of crows flew overhead, letting out harsh caws. “I promise to come back for you, Howie,” he whispered. He urged his horse forward and pulled up next to Keely. Her face was puckered into a frown. She didn’t look happy to see him at all.

  “I want to go home, Sam. I want to go home right now. I don’t want to see any more witches or rats or giant spiders. I just want to go home.”

  The words spilled out of Sam. “Rego told me my father was dead, but Emenor says he’s alive and there’s a way to rescue him.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Sam. They’re just telling you that to get you to do what they want.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “The witches are using you. You can’t believe anything they tell you.”

  “But what if it’s true?”

  “It’s not!” she shouted, pulling her horse up so hard, the animal tossed its head sharply. “God, Sam, do you realize you’ve just sentenced your best friend to death?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, Endera promised—”

  Keely cut him off. “Endera is a witch! She laughed when those rathos attacked us. She has no heart. They’re probably feeding Howie to their spider right now.”

  “Stop it!” Sam shouted back at her. “What did you want me to do?”

  “You should’ve left her.” She jerked her chin over her shoulder at Mavery. The little witch sat on her horse behind them, watching them with narrowed eyes.

  Sam cast a quick glance at Mavery and then lowered his voice. “I didn’t have a choice. I need her. She knows Orkney better than we do.”

  “She’s a witch, too. She even told me she was spying for them.” Keely looked at Mavery, as if challenging the girl to deny it. “And you chose her over Howie? He would never have left you there. Never.” Keely kicked her horse in the ribs and rode ahead.

  “When are you going to tell her you’re a horrible witch, like me?” Mavery said saucily.

  “Soon.” Sam turned his horse to follow Keely.

  “She’s not gonna like it,” Mavery called after him.

  Sam rode on, gritting his teeth at the thought of confessing his secrets to Keely. After everything she had been through at the Tarkana fortress, he could imagine her horrified response when she found out not one but two witches were leading her across a hostile land. She would probably hate him on the spot, and he wouldn’t blame her. After all, the only reason she was in this mess was that she had tried to help him.

  After an hour of riding, they crested a hill. A small harbor with several ships sat nestled between steep cliffs. Mavery turned her horse away and headed down a muddy trail, away from the Balfin ships.

  “Where’s she going?” Keely asked irritably.

  “Mavery, we have to go this way,” Sam called.

  “Not going on a Balfin ship,” she piped over her shoulder, without stopping.

  Sam kicked his horse and rode over to her, grabbing her reins.

  “Mavery, Emenor has a ship waiting for us. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “We can’t use a Balfin ship.” Her chin trembled like she was about to cry. “The Balfins hate the witches as much as they hate the Orkadians. We have to find Jasper. His boat can’t be far. He would have waited for me.”

  “Sam, the ship is right there,” Keely said. “Think about Howie. We don’t have time to go running around just because this little witch says so.”

  A tingle of electricity passed over Sam’s scalp. There was a crackle of energy in the air, and it hit him. That little witch was about to do something with her magic. Something bad.

  “Mavery, stop!”

  But he was too late. Mavery flung her hands out, muttering a spell. Keely squealed from atop her horse.

  Sam turned around and groaned. Keely sported a face full of mud. Blobs of it clung to her hair and spattered her face. She wiped her eyes, looking
at Sam in total disbelief, as if it was all his fault.

  “I told you,” Keely sputtered. “She’s a horrid little witch.”

  Sam got down from his horse and walked over to her, tearing off the bottom of his shirt so she could clean her face.

  “Try being nicer to her,” Sam said. “It’s not her fault she’s a witch. She was born that way. Being a witch doesn’t make her like Endera.”

  After Keely cleaned up, they followed Mavery, mainly because she wouldn’t turn around, and also because, after giving it serious thought, Sam didn’t like the idea of a Balfin ship, either. The trio snaked silently along the ridgeline bordering the coast. The day was hot, not a cloud in sight, leaving them exposed to the red rays of sun that seemed to sear a hole in Sam’s brain as he clung to the saddle.

  “Sam, what’s wrong with the sun?” Keely asked quietly, shading her eyes to squint at it. “It looks . . . sick.”

  “Don’t look at it,” Sam said sharply. “It’s been cursed. It’s poisoning the land.” He gathered his courage, searching for the right words to tell her the truth, but the sound of hooves pounding down the trail made him spin around in the saddle.

  A regiment of Balfin soldiers was riding hard down the trail.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Move it, Mavery!” he shouted. They whipped the horses forward. They rounded a short bend, and Mavery let out a cry.

  “There’s the ship—see?”

  Below them, Jasper’s rickety ship, with its tattered brown sails, bobbed in the sea.

  “That’s our boat?” Keely’s voice was loaded with doubt.

  “No time to explain,” Sam said, jumping down and helping her off her horse. Behind them, the Balfins were a hundred yards off and closing. “If you really want to go with the Balfins, we will,” Sam said. “But I think this is a better way.”

  “Hurry up!” Mavery called, making her way down a narrow path.

  “I swear, Sam Baron, you’re going to be the death of me,” Keely said, and then she ran after Mavery.

  Sam grinned, scrambling after her down the path that led to the beach. He carried the leather satchel Endera had given him with the compass in it. They ran across the sand to where Jasper had a rowboat waiting. Shouts rang out from the clifftop as the Balfins appeared.

  “Time to go, Jasper,” Sam shouted, as the girls clambered onboard. He helped shove off the boat and jumped in.

  Jasper rowed them out to his ship, his sinewy arms pushing the oars easily through the surf. Sam waved at the helpless Balfin soldiers left standing on the beach.

  The old seaman hauled up the anchor, and in moments they were under sail, helped along by Jasper’s magical lungs.

  “So where to, lad?” Jasper asked.

  Sam pulled the compass from the satchel. “Asgard. This compass belonged to Odin. It should guide us there.”

  Jasper eyed the compass suspiciously. “Where did you get that?”

  “The witches gave it to me. They need me to end this curse as badly as the rest of Orkney does.”

  Jasper grunted, taking the compass and turning it in his hands before handing it back. “Seems mighty hospitable of them. Where’s the other one? The witches took two hostages.”

  Before Sam could think of a lie, Mavery piped up. “Jasper, you know Endera. She always has a plan. She wants to make sure Sam doesn’t chicken out.”

  Jasper grunted again and returned to his helm, turning the ship into the wind.

  Sam grinned at Keely. “Well, that was close.”

  Keely eyed the rickety boat. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have gone on the Balfin ship? This boat looks like it’s about to sink.”

  “Don’t worry. Jasper knows what he’s doing. You have to trust me.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I do, but . . . I just don’t understand what’s going on. A cursed sun? Witches? I feel like this is a bad dream and I can’t wake up. Why does it seem like you’re in the middle of it? Like this is all about you?”

  Sam hesitated. Over Keely’s shoulder, Mavery glared at Sam. “It’s all about him because he’s a witch, like me, so there.” She headed below, slamming the hatch behind her.

  “Keely, I can explain,” he started.

  She laughed. “Explain what? It’s not true, right?”

  Sam’s throat constricted. He couldn’t speak.

  “Right?” she repeated, her voice growing tense. “Come on, Sam, tell me she’s lying. I mean, you can’t be a witch, right?”

  Sam tripped over the words. “It’s not . . . I mean, it is . . . I didn’t know.” He let out a groan of frustration.

  “He’s a witch, all right.”

  Jasper’s gravelly voice cut in. The old seaman sat at the helm, his feet resting on the wheel as he steered. Sam closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look of disgust in Keely’s eyes. He badly needed her support, needed her friendship.

  “Explain,” Keely said, her voice sharp.

  Sam hesitated so long, Jasper added, “You gonna tell her, lad, or do you want me to?”

  Sam cleared his throat before he started in. “Okay, so . . . you remember that book you showed me about Odin?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, back in the library. What about it?”

  “Well, Odin’s sort of my great-great-grandfather.”

  She laughed. “You think you’re related to Odin? Has the sun scrambled your brain?”

  “I’m serious. My dad was born here. He’s a direct descendent of Baldur, Odin’s favorite son. People call him Lord Barconian. I was born here, too.”

  Keely looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard the half of it.” Sam chose his words carefully. “My mom . . . she’s from Orkney, too. She’s apparently a witch. A good one,” he added hastily, as Keely pulled away in horror. “I think. I mean . . . I don’t know for sure.” He ran a hand through his hair as confusion jumbled his thoughts.

  “So you’re really a witch?” Keely’s voice was hoarse. She stared at him as if he had turned into a giant cockroach.

  For a moment Sam couldn’t answer, didn’t want to answer, and then he nodded stiffly and admitted the truth. “Yeah, I am. I’m a witch.”

  It was the first time he had said it out loud. It was strange to say the words, but they fit. Like it or not.

  Keely was silent, her brows pinched together as she processed his words. Sam waited for her words of disgust, of rejection, but all she said was, “I guess you can’t pick your parents, can you? Just tell me you’re a good witch, and not like those others.”

  Relief flooded Sam, and he chuckled, feeling his tension deflate. “It’s funny, I thought my parents were the most boring people on Earth. I had no idea about any of this. They took me away when I was a baby and never told me I was from Orkney.” He hesitated, then confessed, “But there’s more. A long time ago, this he-witch, Rubicus, wanted to challenge Odin’s power. He’s the one who cursed the sun. Odin had to cut off Rubicus’s head to end the curse. To stop it from happening again, Odin cursed the witches to never again have another son.”

  Keely was smart enough to see the problem right away. “So how can you be a witch?”

  “You could say I’m special. I’ve got Odin’s blood and Rubicus’s blood. The combination somehow broke one curse and started another.”

  “What do you mean, ‘started another’?”

  This was the hard part. “When I was a baby, Endera dropped a scorpion in my crib to try to kill me.”

  Keely rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Sam, what is it with you?”

  “She wanted to see if I would live or die. Obviously, I lived.” He gave a short bow at that achievement.

  She didn’t smile at his antic. “So?”

  “So it meant I had great power, magic, whatever you want to call it.” He waggled his hands in the air. “Enough that on the day I turned twelve and pounded on Ronnie Polk, I caused that.” He pointed up at the cursed sun.

>   She glanced quickly at the sun, then back at him. “No, I don’t believe it.” When he didn’t retract the words, she grabbed his arm. “Look, I don’t care what they say you did—there’s no way you meant to do it. You’re a good person, Sam. You protect Howie. You care about people. You might have caused this stupid curse, but it’s not your fault.”

  Her support was a relief, but it didn’t stop Sam from feeling the power, the connection to dark desires, that his magic offered. He wanted to control the sun. He wanted to do things that he couldn’t put words to. But what he wanted now were more answers to questions haunting him.

  Sam turned to face Jasper. “You said you knew my parents. What else can you tell me about them?”

  Jasper spoke with a raspy voice while keeping both eyes on the water. “I knew your parents back when they lived here in Orkney. They were very different then.”

  The seaman tied a rope around the wheel to the rail, setting a course, and came to sit across from them. From inside his tattered shirt, he pulled a knobby piece of yellow fruit and peeled it with a knife, carving them each a slice.

  “What is this?” Sam asked. The fruit tasted funny, a little bitter, like it wasn’t quite ripe.

  “Kava fruit. Keeps away the scurvy.”

  The wind blew Jasper’s stringy hair off his forehead. The lines on his face were deep crevices.

  “I remember the day your father went on a peacekeeping mission to meet with the coven on their home turf,” Jasper began. “The witches were stirring up trouble, spreading discontent, damaging crops. Orkney was like dry kindling. Anything could upset the balance. Your father wanted to strike a truce, and that’s when he met your mother. There were rumors it was a trap, some kind of powerful enchantment by Abigail. Your father was nearly thrown off the High Council when he announced he was marrying her.”

  “Do you think she tricked him?” Sam asked, chewing slowly. Had his mother been living a lie all this time, pretending to be kind and loving while hiding her real witch self?