Skidbladnir lunged forward into the tunnel. As the prow passed the entrance, everything around them went silent and black. There was no rush of movement, no sudden drop; the ship drifted along slowly. Darkness pressed in. Sam couldn’t see his hands on the wheel.
“What’s happening?” he called. His words sounded muffled, like he was speaking in a world filled with cotton.
“We’ve gone the wrong way,” Geela said from his side.
An eerie yellow glow lit up the water.
“There’s something out there,” Perrin called. Sam could just make her out in the glow. She stood by the edge of the deck. She backed away as figures flitted up out of the water.
“Stay back,” Geela cautioned, drawing her sword.
Mavery squealed and ducked under Geela’s arm as the Valkyrie brandished the sword over her head in a shower of golden sparks. Sam lifted his hands off the wheel, relieved he had use of them again.
“What are they?” he whispered as figure after figure rose out of the depths, disembodied, faceless, shapeless but not voiceless.
They sent out high-pitched shrieks that rippled across the water. Sam covered his ears, and the others did the same. Their wailing cries were heartbreaking, filled with a sadness that nearly brought him to his knees with grief.
“They’re Helva’s wraiths,” Geela called. “Everyone hang tight to the ship. They mustn’t take hold of you.”
She lashed herself to the mast, wrapping the rope around her and Perrin. Sam grabbed Mavery and crouched under the helm, holding her tight in his arms.
The cold fingers of the wraiths passed over him, reminding him of the ones he and Mavery had once encountered in the woods. At least these ones didn’t shoot bolts of ice. He caught the fleshless gaze of one. It looked sad, its features drawn back into a wide scream. Tendrils of fog formed and shaped an endless wail in the center of its face.
“Back off,” Sam snarled, waving his hand at it and releasing a bolt of energy. It dissipated into wisps of fog. As it did, another wraith came in from behind, wrapping fingers around Mavery, tugging on her.
The filmy fog was surprisingly strong and tensile. He pushed it away, but the wraith had wrapped bony hands around Mavery’s waist.
She screamed at Sam, clinging to his arms as her legs left the deck.
“Sam, don’t let me go!” she cried.
He held on to her with all his strength, calling on his magic to create a blast of energy, but he couldn’t release it unless he let go of her with one hand.
Seeing no other choice, he threw his hand out, palm thrust upward, and sent witchfire that pushed the creature back, dragging Mavery with her. The witchling tumbled back against the side of the ship, then scrambled up, peeling away the wraith’s bony grasp as she reached for Sam’s hand.
“I’ve got you,” he shouted, grabbing for her, but her fingers slipped out of his as another wraith swooped down and snatched her away up to the roof of the cavern before plunging straight down toward the water. A dark swirling hole opened, providing an exit. In unison, the other wraiths peeled away from the ship and vanished into the same watery hole.
Sam lunged to the side of the ship, screaming Mavery’s name as she disappeared from sight. Determined to follow her down no matter what it took, he climbed on the railing, but Geela tackled him, knocking him to the deck before he could go over.
“Stop, Sam, she’s gone.”
“Get off me!”
Sam struggled to throw her off, but the Valkyrie pinned him with her elbow across his throat. “You can’t help her by going to your own death. If there is any chance of rescuing her, we have to make our way to Helva’s mansion.”
Sam pounded the deck with his fists, tears burning his eyes. Why did he always let down the people who counted on him? Every time. He couldn’t get anything right.
Geela lifted her arm and rolled off him and went to stand by the helm. Perrin came over to Sam and stuck out her hand.
“Come on,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “Mavery would want us to keep going. She’s a tough little bird. We’ll find her.”
Sam staggered to the railing, gripping it with all his strength as he kept himself from vaulting over the side. “I’m coming for you, imp,” he whispered as tears ran down his cheek.
He swiped at them and then went back to the helm and turned the ship around. It sailed docilely back the way they came in until they popped out in the chamber with four tunnels. The star had burned out. The other three symbols remained glowing.
Sam pointed at the moon without speaking. The ship lurched forward, making its way silently toward the tunnel. It listed slightly to the left. The steering dragged. They were taking on water. A lot, by the feel of it. Sam looked at Geela, but the Valkyrie just shrugged.
“There’s still time,” was all she said.
Sam had his doubts. How much time before the ship sank? How long before they sunk to the bottom of this pit of horror? He was tempted to go down below and see how bad it was, and then he decided against it. Geela was right; all they could do was go on.
As they entered the tunnel, Sam clung to the wheel as the ship tilted forward over a steep drop into a free fall. It seemed to defy the laws of gravity, but that was probably his imagination. At last, it evened out until the ship slowed to a crawl.
They exited into another cavern, this one darker and gloomier than the others. Perrin lit up a large green ball of witchfire. Long shadows loomed over the water from rocky spires that hung down from the ceiling. The ship scraped its mast on one of the spires. A tearing sound echoed as the sail ripped in half.
Geela stood by the railing with her hand on her sword. Sam swallowed back the bile and waited for the next set of tunnels to appear.
Five dark openings loomed in front of them. He and Perrin stood side by side and sent out a blast of witchfire. The green ball of energy bounced off and ricocheted around the cavern, but nothing happened.
“We need more power,” Perrin said. “We’re not strong enough.”
Sam stared at his hands glumly, realizing she was right. “We need another witch.”
Mavery.
The pang hit him again, making him weak, hopeless. And then a stinging voice rang out behind them.
“I knew witches were useless. Useless, powerless, can’t even send out a small blast of witchfire to save your friend.”
Perrin and Sam turned as one to look at Geela. The Valkyrie stood behind them, arms folded in disgust.
“What did you say?” Sam asked as anger prickled under his skin.
“I’m saying that witches run when it gets hard. Admit it; you can’t light them up because you don’t care. You have a cold heart. Just like every witch I’ve ever met.”
Anger boiled over in Sam, reminding him of the good old days when rage flowed like water in his veins. “You think I have no feelings? You think I don’t care? Mavery is the best person I’ve ever met. How dare you call me coldhearted!”
He spun around and threw his hands forward, unleashing a tirade. The unfairness, the grief, the loss—all of it overwhelmed him. Beside him, Perrin did the same, matching his blast of energy with her own angry blast. When the air cleared, the symbols glowed over the tunnels.
Geela just smiled and patted them on their shoulders. “That’s better. Now, which way do we go?”
Sam glared at her, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. He and Perrin looked at each other, and the truth hit them at the same moment. Geela had just been pushing their buttons.
Not appreciating her methods, Sam turned back to the symbols and took a deep breath, reading them out loud.
“Ox, horse, rabbit, snake, raven.”
“Anything?” Geela asked evenly.
Sam bit the inside of his cheek. What did he remember? “Not the rabbit,” he said tersely. What if he made another mistake? Who would be lost then? Who would he sacrifice next with his mistakes?
“Don’t think about it,” Perrin said. “What does your gut tell you?”
Easy, raven. But he had to be sure.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You saw it, you traced the lines, you know which one it is. Just say it.”
“What if I’m wrong?” he said, his voice shaky.
Perrin’s eyes drilled into his. “You won’t be. You know what to do. Just do it.”
“I can’t.”
She gripped his arm, yanking him close. “Yes, you can. Mavery believed in you.”
“And look what happened to her!” he shouted. “She’s gone, and I’m never going to see her again.”
“Why are boys so stupid?” Perrin grumbled. “We’re going to come through this.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because you’re Sam Baron, son of Robert Barconian, the last Son of Odin, the first Son of Catriona, the last and first of your kind. You were born to do this, and no one, no one will deny you your role. You are going to win because it’s what you do. You just have to believe it, and you can do anything. Anything at all.”
He stared at her, his breath heaving in his chest. And then calmness settled over him, a feeling of peace and strength, as if his mother had just given him one of her famous hugs.
“You like me.” A grin split his face even though it was the most ridiculous thing to say and feel at this moment; it was all he could think of. “You like, like me.”
She rolled her eyes, but a hint of color crept into her cheeks. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered, but he could tell she was pleased. “Just pick a symbol.” She turned her back on him, crossing her arms and tucking her hands in her sleeves.
He smiled again as he made his way back to the wheel.
He would choose. He knew what to do. He was a Son of Odin, and, yes, a Son of Catriona. He was a witch and the son of a god. He would not be defeated. At least not before he’d gotten in there and raised a little chaos of his own.
“Raven,” he said, and he put his hands on the wheel of the ship.