How to Be a Hero

Whetstone groaned. It felt like someone was tap dancing inside his head in metal boots. Memories started catching up with him.

Asgard, Asgard,

Home of Gods and stealing,

Don’t let them catch you

or You’ll be nailed to the ceiling?

Then lots of shouting, people chasing him … But he had got away and buried the stolen cup, hadn’t he? And then he’d found that stable.

Rough breathing came from somewhere nearby. That meant people and, judging by the sound of the breathing, it was big people. Whetstone kept his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure where he was, and once people realized he was awake, things might start happening. Things he wasn’t ready for.

Slowly he stretched out his fingers, but instead of the straw he was expecting, he found cloth and furs. That meant … a bed? The last time he had slept in anything close to a bed was at the Angry Bogey’s rescue home, but it is hard for a boy to sleep comfortably in a dog basket.

And a bit like dog biscuits. Whetstone turned his head and peeled one eye open. He found himself staring at the longest teeth, in the biggest mouth he had ever seen.

‘ARRRRGGGGGHHHH!’ With a jump, Whetstone pushed himself up and away from the enormous jaws. Stars flashed before his eyes and the pain in his head made him feel sick.

A huge grey dog sat watching him – so big, Whetstone thought it must be a wolf. His stomach twisted into knots, afraid that it had all been a dream, and that he was back with the Angry Bogey.

He stared frantically around, expecting to see the inside of her kennels, but instead found he was inside a smallish wooden room. Furs, brightly patterned blankets and carved furniture danced in front of his panicked eyes.

The dog, wolf – whatever it was – hadn’t moved. It sat at the side of the bed and watched him with mismatched eyes – one blue, one brown. A long line of drool hung from its jagged teeth.

‘Good doggy.’ Whetstone tried to shuffle down the bed away from the beast. The dog shifted to follow him. Whetstone froze. A scar on his arm twinged unpleasantly, a souvenir from one of the Angry Bogey’s furry babies, a Snapping Shadow Wolf who had decided that a toddler-sized Whetstone looked like lunch. Whetstone rubbed his arm slowly, trying not to look at the wolf-dog’s long curved teeth.

Except … wolves weren’t usually found inside, and not even the Angry Bogey was mad enough to put collars on them. Not even collars with big metal spikes like this one.

‘Nice doggy,’ he said. ‘Good doggy, please don’t eat me.’ The dog opened its mouth and a long pink tongue lolled out. Whetstone wasn’t sure if this was an improvement.

He hesitated, then slowly stretched out a hand. But the dog didn’t snap at him, so Whetstone reached over and rubbed it carefully behind the ears. The dog closed its funny mismatched eyes and panted.

He eyed the dog’s collar, which had a name tag in the shape of an axe hanging from it.

Whetstone sat back. His head throbbed. Reaching up, he found an egg-sized lump sticking up under his hair. He winced as his fingers prodded it, wondering if he should invest in one of those metal helmets after all.

The boy looked around, puzzled. The last thing he could remember was the stable in which he had been hiding from Chief Awfulrick and his horde of hooligans. But this definitely wasn’t a stable, and he couldn’t imagine Awfulrick giving him a bed if he caught him. More likely he would give Whetstone a shove off the nearest cliff.

There was a distinctly bedroomy feel to the place. In fact, quite a girly bedroomy feel. On the wall opposite was a large poster, some drippy-looking boys pouting out at the room. The Vanir, Whetstone read. And below in more swirly writing: Frey, Heimdall and Njord. Frey had a ridiculous haircut, and Njord was wearing stupid trousers.

Whetstone cast his eyes over the room. Clothing was scattered untidily across a diamond-patterned rug, and in a brightly woven bowl lay a hairbrush with several long black hairs trapped in it.

Putting his hand back to steady himself, Whetstone found he was squashing a whole family of cuddly dragons in a range of colours and sizes, which had been tucked in next to the pillow. He pulled his hand back quickly and Broken Tooth licked him. Whetstone wiped the dribble off his face with the pinkest of the dragons.

Somehow he had ended up in a girl’s bedroom. He had to get out of here and back to Light Finger before she, whoever she was, came back. Whetstone slid his legs off the bed and on to the rug. His head spun as he tried standing up, and he gulped down the swirling nausea.

Using Broken Tooth for support, he crept towards the door. He could sense movement outside and the sound of distant voices. The door was not locked. Whetstone pulled it open a crack and looked out into the world beyond. His mouth dropped open.

Broken Tooth bumped into his legs, knocking him through the doorway and out into a wide rutted street. He was in a sort of village, but one unlike any he had visited before. Not even Bore, which was buried deep in the caves outside Spindle Mountains, or Dulge, which floated on the marshes to the far west.

Broken Tooth followed him out and sat on his haunches, panting. The door banged shut behind them, but Whetstone ignored it; he was too busy gawping.

The THIRD thing Whetstone noticed was the sky. It wasn’t blue or grey like he was used to, but bronze.

The SECOND thing he noticed was the buildings. They were wooden with thatched roofs and decorative carvings, just like normal Viking homes, but these were HUGE. Easily four or five times as big as the biggest house he had ever seen. Each one looked like the hall of a Great Chief.

But the FIRST thing he noticed was the people. There were dozens of Vikings here – and they were all GLOWING!

A tall, tanned woman strode past him carrying an axe. A bright yellow glow surrounded her, reminding Whetstone of the sun shining out from behind a cloud. But the glow wasn’t coming from behind her; it was coming from inside her, out of her hair and skin. With barely a glance, she swept past Whetstone, continuing down the path.

Whetstone jumped back as an older, dark-skinned girl in armour marched past him in the opposite direction. He stumbled, trying not to land on Broken Tooth, who licked him. The girl tossed back her long dreadlocks and threw out her arms. With a loud CRACK the girl vanished, and a large bird appeared in mid-air. It squawked at Whetstone before swooping away.

‘Oh, this isn’t good,’ Whetstone muttered, closing his eyes and leaning back against the door. ‘Now I’m seeing things.’

Broken Tooth whined in sympathy and stuck his wet nose against Whetstone’s arm. Whetstone opened his eyes again, expecting the world to tilt and spin around him. But it didn’t.

Up ahead, he could see an open area, a bit like a market square. Colours flashed as people moved about, filling the space with light. Drums and rattles boomed for a moment, fighting with the sound of chatter and merchants selling their wares. The scent of strange spices drifted in the air.

‘C’mon,’ Whetstone muttered to Broken Tooth, pulling up his hood. ‘I need to find a healer – that bump on my head must be making me hallucinate. The cup will be safe at Ivor the Nose Grinder’s farm until I figure out where I am.’

Every house he passed seemed to be larger and more magnificent than the one before. Some had two, three or even four floors (which may not sound like much to you, but it’s a lot when all you have to build with is wood and mud).

‘Light Finger said he was going to take me to the city of Cloggibum – maybe this is it?’ Whetstone muttered as he stopped to gaze at a house with fruit carved around the door posts. ‘But that doesn’t explain why I ended up in a girl’s bedroom. And I never thought Cloggibum would look like THIS.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Ha, Light Finger is going to be so annoyed when he finds out I left the cup back in Krud.’

The houses were painted in bright colours, some green, others blue or purple. Each house had a huge set of doors with a symbol set into them in shining metal. They passed a sword, a bear, a boar, and on a particularly dramatic set of red doors, a large cat.

Whetstone tried not to stare – no one else appeared to find it unusual at all. ‘Wow. If being a thief means I get to live like this, I would’ve done it sooner.’

He paused to look at a low, dark house. A pair of silver snakes glittered on the door, their eyes picked out in bright jewels. Whetstone took a step towards them; Broken Tooth growled and nudged him with his wet nose. ‘All right – I’m just looking.’

Whetstone soon forgot all about the snakes when ahead of him he saw the largest and most amazing building yet. Easily the size of the whole of Krud, the walls were made of row upon row of painted shields, and when he tipped his head back, Whetstone could just make out that instead of straw or reeds, the roof was made of thousands of spears.

The delicious smell of roasting meat wafted out from the half-open doors. Whetstone’s tummy rumbled. The last food he’d eaten had been Ethel’s horrible stew – and you could hardly call that food.

Whetstone followed the smell towards the doors. Picked out in silver swirls was a pair of large birds with bright eyes that flashed and quivered in the light.

‘I guess they’re supposed to be Odin’s ravens.’ Whetstone reached out to touch them. ‘The people in this place are REALLY into religion.’ He stopped, his fingers inches away from the carved metal.

‘That’s it! That’s what’s so strange! There’s a house for each God or Goddess. Look.’ He pointed towards the symbol on a large, squat building. ‘A hammer for Thor, God of Thunder.’ Gesturing towards the red doors. ‘A cat for the Goddess of Love, Freyja. And there, snakes for Loki, the Trickster.’ He faced the ravens again. ‘And these are for Odin, Chief of the Gods.’

‘Maybe this isn’t a real village at all?’ Whetstone puzzled, stepping away from the doors and following the side of the building down a nearby street. ‘Maybe it’s a sort of amusement park where people go to celebrate the Gods, like … Asgard-land? Where you can dress up as your favourite God or Goddess, look round their pretend Great Hall, maybe even go on Valkyrie rides and buy a souvenir shield?’ Whetstone ran his hand along a fence post covered in carved bees. ‘It feels real enough – you could almost believe you were in Asgard. I wonder if there’s some kind of show where the Frost Giants attack and the Gods have to fight them off?’

Broken Tooth whimpered. Whetstone scratched his ears absent-mindedly. ‘I bet people pay a lot of money to come here. Bring the kids, you know – a fun day out for all the family.’

Behind them a door slammed open. The dog sniffed the air and whined, his ears lying flat against his head.

Whetstone twisted the edge of his cloak between his fingers. ‘But what am I doing here? I don’t think Light Finger is into fun days out.’

‘Where’s that blasted dog?’ bellowed a female voice, making Whetstone jump. A woman appeared on the steps of the raven building. She peered about, her hands on her hips. ‘Broken Tooth, I know you’re here somewhere – there’s dog hair in Valhalla again!’

At the sound of her voice, Broken Tooth lunged forward, knocking the boy against the fence. Whetstone flung his arm out to break his fall. A panel shifted under him, the boy and dog tumbling through. They landed in a sunny flower bed on the other side. The fence panel shifted back into position with a creak.

Whetstone glanced around. They were outside the low dark house he had spotted earlier. Carved snakes twisted along the house’s wooden beams; they seemed to move by themselves. Whetstone rubbed his eyes, blaming a trick of the light.

A window stood open. Disentangling himself from the dog, Whetstone crept forward. Hearing a voice from inside, he instinctively ducked down, hiding below the painted shutters.

‘I can’t believe you came back empty-handed, after all the fuss you made,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘You said it was important.’

‘I couldn’t get it,’ replied a sulky voice Whetstone thought he recognized. ‘You brought me back too soon.’

‘You’re pathetic!’ raged a man. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.’

Whetstone shuffled around to peek in through a crack in the shutters. He could see a sliver of a luxuriously decorated room with lush red-and-gold tapestries hanging from the walls. A glowing woman with elaborate plaits stood with her back to him. Beyond her, a tall, pale man in a red tunic paced up and down. He kept appearing and disappearing as he walked past the woman. Their faces turned towards something Whetstone could not see.

‘I was so close,’ the man fumed. Whetstone flinched at the crash of something being kicked over. ‘Twelve years I’ve been working on this plan, but this numbskull had to mess it all up.’

A flash of green light came from inside the room. Whetstone ran his hand over his face, trying to clear his vision.

Whetstone peeked through the window again and saw a familiar ghostly-white figure with dark-rimmed eyes sliding into a chair.

‘I told you, it wasn’t my fault.’ Vali ran his hand through his hair. A flickering orange glow surrounded him. ‘I left him asleep in the stable while I looked for the cup.’

Whetstone swallowed, his mouth dry, the realization that they were talking about him sinking in.

Footsteps halted as the man stopped pacing and contemplated Vali with a sneer. ‘You couldn’t find a pebble on a beach. You know how important this is. I had the boy, and I nearly had the cup too. The plan can’t progress without them.’

Whetstone’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he tried to figure out what plan they were talking about. The only plan he knew of was Light Finger’s one to get the cup and make him famous, although it seemed as if Vali wasn’t really working for Light Finger after all. He wanted to get the cup for these people instead.

‘Now the boy and the cup are missing. How convenient,’ the man said in a low voice.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Vali snapped back. The chair scraped against the floor as he rose to his feet.

‘That cup has many powers,’ the man continued softly. ‘Maybe SOMEONE isn’t sticking to the plan, Vali.’

‘I’ve spent years trying to get my hands on that tatty mug. Years of sucking up to Odin and Frigg, playing the fool. Waiting for the boy to get old enough to be of any use. Waiting for my moment to come. The boy was my best shot at seizing power, and you lost him?!’

Whetstone’s mind spun, trying to take in everything they were saying. If Vali didn’t know where Whetstone was, maybe it hadn’t been Light Finger who took him out of Krud after all.

‘Do you think the boy ran off with it?’ The woman moved to stand next to Vali; she put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Maybe he knows more than you think. He was brought up by that … woman, after all.’

The man leaned against the table. The movement threw strange shadows against the wall. This one looked like a bear, no … a fox, or maybe a snake. ‘He has no idea what it is, or who he is. He’s harmless.’

The woman spoke again. ‘Well, I’m not sorry that he’s gone. I always thought it was cruel of you to involve him.’

‘HE IS INVOLVED!’ the man shouted, slamming his hand down on the table. The others shushed him. Whetstone ducked down lower.

‘He has always been involved,’ the man repeated more quietly. ‘Why else do you think he ended up in Drott under her care?’

Vali sniggered. ‘You always said you were so great and powerful, but now you need help from a worm.’ A thud and an ‘Ow!’ followed, as though someone had just clipped him around the ear.

‘Don’t speak to your father like that!’ the woman snapped, followed by another flash of green light and a yell.

Whetstone dropped on to his hands and knees, keen to get away from Vali’s parents. He had thought the Angry Bogey was bad. No wonder Vali was desperate to get his hands on the cup.

‘Then start paying attention,’ the man barked. ‘We need the boy because: One – he’s the only one who knows where the cup is now …’ Another flash and a bang. ‘Two – you know what will happen if I touch it, idiot.’

‘That’s not my fault. You shouldn’t have had that argument with Frigg and Odin.’

‘And three – we need the boy to ask the cup for the riddle. He’s the only one who can do it. I can’t finish the Skera Harp without him.’

Feeling sorry for Vali for having to deal with his parents, Whetstone crawled sideways away from the window. Not sorry enough to give him the cup though.

Whetstone froze as his knee landed on a twig. The voices inside the house stopped abruptly and quick footsteps approached the window. Whetstone dived behind a nearby bush, trying not to breathe too loudly.

Whetstone’s heart hammered wildly in his chest. He looked around for the dog. Broken Tooth was sitting right in front of the window; there was no way they could miss him.

‘Broken Tooth!’ Whetstone beckoned to the dog. But the dog was more interested in trying to catch a flea, a ferocious expression on his face as he nibbled at his own leg.

The window shutters opened, and Vali appeared, the orange glow surrounding him and the dark shadows under his eyes giving his face a fox-like expression. Whetstone’s stomach rumbled loudly as the sweet smell of apples cooking rolled out of the window.

‘It’s that wolf.’ Vali leaned through the window. ‘The dopey-looking one.’ Broken Tooth looked up, a hurt expression on his fuzzy face. ‘How did he get in here?’

The shutters were pushed further open, and Vali’s mother peered out into the garden. ‘He’d better not be pooing. It will destroy my begonias!’

Broken Tooth sniffed. Then, following the scent of food, he lolloped over towards the window, his tongue hanging out.

‘I said, go!’ Vali picked up a painted stone sitting on the windowsill and chucked it in Broken Tooth’s direction. It bounced off the ground and hit the dog on the nose. Broken Tooth cried out and Whetstone’s eyes watered in sympathy. The dog turned and bounded away, jumping the wooden fence back on to the busy street. A high-pitched shriek came from beyond the fence as a wolf unexpectedly landed on someone’s head. Vali laughed mirthlessly and returned to the house, pulling the shutters closed behind him.

Whetstone stood up carefully, picking his way out from behind the bush. He crept towards a wicker gate that led out of the garden. Voices drifted after him.

‘I’ll have to go back,’ Vali’s father said from inside the house. ‘Find the boy before it’s too late.’

‘You?’ The man laughed. ‘If I wanted another complete failure, I’d ask you. No, I have a better idea. They say Valkyries are good at picking the right person out of a crowd.’

‘We’ll see about that. There’s always someone who’s keen for a favour.’

Chapter Five

Pink, Cuddly Dragons