Sam heard Geela, but the need to eat was overwhelming him. His stomach was so empty. He hadn’t eaten a meal like this in forever. He couldn’t take his eyes off the deliciousness in front of him. With a shaky hand, he picked up his fork, holding it over the pile of potatoes. He pressed his fork in, watching as the butter ran down the side and mixed with the gravy. Spearing a piece of meat, he dipped it into the gravy and swirled it into the potatoes and stared at the forkful of heaven.
“Eat that, and you will surely die,” Geela said, sounding like a broken record.
“If I don’t eat it, I will surely die of hunger,” Sam said, and he opened his mouth, pushing in the morsel. As the food met his taste buds, an exquisite feeling ran through him. He’d half-expected something awful, but it was turkey and potatoes and the best gravy he’d ever tasted. He swallowed it, feeling it hit his stomach. As it did, a powerful hunger came over him.
He really was starving, he told himself, forking another mouthful in. With every bite, he grew more and more hungry. He forked a leg off the platter and put it on his plate, grabbing it with both hands and not caring that he smeared grease on his face as he gnawed it down to the bone. He had to have more. A black hole took the place of his stomach, demanding food, more food.
He reached for another leg. Geela stayed his arm again. “Look at yourself.”
He looked down. He was sure his belly would have grown two sizes, but his pants were loose around his waist. Setting down his fork, he ignored the screaming hunger that made him want to dive onto the platter of meat, and lifted his shirt. Rib bones poked out. His stomach was concave, hollowed out.
“What’s happening?” he whispered.
“You are starving to death,” Geela said tightly. “Do you never listen? I warned you about this.”
He tried to remember her words, but things were fuzzy. “The knife, you said it was Starvation,” he mumbled.
“Yes, the knife Chef used causes the person eating to slowly starve with every bite. This table is called Hunger. As long as you stay here, you will never be filled.”
“But I have to have more.” He reached for the platter of meat.
“Then you will die.” Geela didn’t try to stop him; she just sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, her eyes on the woman at the other end of the room.
Sam’s hand shook madly as he willed himself from reaching for another drumstick. He thought of all the reasons he wanted it, and then, as his stomach moaned with hunger, he finally drew his hand back to his lap.
Helva laughed, the notes tittering down the table. “Bravo. That was tremendous. I have never seen anyone resist Chef’s tableau before. You are one in a million.” Clapping her hands sharply, she motioned for the crew of servants to take away the plates and the dishes and the meat platter, making Sam want to cry as they carried it away.
“Come, we will retire to my study,” Helva said. “We can conduct our business there.”
Geela pushed her chair back, but Sam couldn’t move. Every cell of his body cried out for more food. He could have wept as he stared at the empty place where his plate had sat.
Geela forcibly lifted him from his seat and yanked him away from the table. “Come on, then, time to do what we came for.”
He looked longingly over his shoulder as she dragged him off. How could something that tasted so delicious be so deadly? Was nothing in Orkney ever good?
Geela dropped him into a chair in front of a roaring fire.
Sam gripped the armrests to stop himself from chasing after Chef and screaming for more turkey. Helva sat down across from him, folding her hands across the glossy fabric of her dress. He’d gotten used to her skeletal half, ignoring the empty eye socket to focus on her good side.
“What makes you think Odin is here?” Helva began, plucking at the folds of her skirt. “The old goat is hardly welcome in my home. He’s the one who cursed me here an eternity ago.”
“He has to be here,” Sam said, struggling to sit up straight. “I killed him.”
She arched her single eyebrow. “A mere boy?”
Geela explained for him. “Not just a boy, a Son of Odin. And Catriona.”
“I thought that was impossible. So that’s how you destroyed my piano.” She leaned forward, resting her hideous chin on her hand. “Tell me, how did you kill Odin?”
Sam told the story of Brunin and how he’d plunged his knife into the bear’s heart. “But you must know all this. Odin is here somewhere; he has to be.”
She drummed the bony tips of her fingers on the wooden arm of her chair. “It would seem you have wasted your time on a fool’s journey.” She unfolded her legs and stood up. “Which is a pity, because if he had shown up at my gates, I would have welcomed him with open arms.” The deadly tone of her voice left no doubt as to her meaning. “I do, however, have your two friends. Perhaps we can negotiate for their lives.”
Sam couldn’t tell if she was lying about Odin. Short of searching the place high and low, he didn’t know what to do. If she really had Perrin and Mavery . . .
“I’ll stay,” Geela said quietly. “I will serve you the rest of the days of my life. In exchange, you let Sam and his friends leave here.”
Interest flared in the underworld queen’s eyes, but she shook her head. “Tempting, to be sure, a Valkyrie of my own, but the boy has something of greater value to me.”
Sam was puzzled. Unless she wanted the lump of rock that hung around his neck, he had nothing to give.
But Geela had already read Helva’s intentions, jumping to her feet and drawing her sword. “No. I will not let him do it.”
“Do what?” Sam asked, confused.
“Give me your magic,” Helva said, smiling at him with that horrible half grin.
Sam’s jaw dropped. His magic for the lives of his friends? He couldn’t breathe. His magic was a part of him, like his lungs and his kidneys. It gave him strength and made him special. How could he ever give it up?
Then he thought of Mavery’s face, and shame rose up in him. Mavery and Perrin had risked their lives for him over and over again. How could he have hesitated for even a second? “I’ll do it,” he said, stepping forward. “I’ll give it to you.”
Geela slumped, her shoulders drooping as she sheathed her sword. “They wouldn’t want you to. They would understand.”
They might, but he wouldn’t be able to live a day knowing he could have saved them and didn’t. Sam looked at Helva. “I have your word we can leave, all of us, safely, if I give you my magic?”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
He had failed to find Odin, but he could save his friends. He nodded at Helva. “Then do it.”
The pair of canaries started shrieking, as if they were jeering at Sam. Helva crooked her finger, muttering some words to herself as the bony digit curled back and forth.
Sam jerked as she clawed his magic out. It felt as if a part of his soul was being ripped from him. His arms spread wide, his chest sucked forward, as his head flung back from the force of her attack. Waves of electric energy rolled off of him, and then a green vapor trailed out of his mouth.
His jaw widened into a silent scream as magic poured out of his veins and formed a snaking trail across the room to her. She inhaled it, sucking it deep inside her. The hazy cloud swirled around her half-open neck. He was frozen in place, unable to move as she crooked that finger over and over. It took an eternity, but the last wisp of magic left him.
She put her hand down, and he dropped to his knees, shattered, broken, as if he were alive but his heart had been removed from his chest.
Her one good eye was closed, and her hands gripped the chair tightly as her chest rose and fell.
“This is amazing,” she breathed, and then she laughed, her eyes opening as she leapt to her feet. “Look at me!” she cried, sending a blast of witchfire into the fireplace, disintegrating the logs and turning the orange blaze to a glowing emerald. She sent another blast at the curtains, turning them to piles of crumbling ash. The windows were false, revealing solid block walls cemented over.
Geela kneeled by Sam. “Are you okay?”
He almost laughed. Was he okay? He was nothing without his magic. Not whole. Not even close, but he just gritted his teeth and nodded. “Let’s get out of here.” He rested his hand on Geela’s shoulder. “Time for you to keep your end of the bargain,” he said to Helva. “Give us our friends, and send us home.”
“Very well, come along. They aren’t far.” She glided out of the room, her dress trailing behind her. She walked as if she floated above the ground.
“Come on,” Geela said, shouldering most of Sam’s weight. “I’ve had enough of this place.”
Turning away from the entry, they followed her down a long corridor to a wide set of stone stairs that led down to a dark abyss. She didn’t slow down, stepping quickly, expecting them to follow. As she walked, torches lit up on the walls as if they sensed her presence, and they went out after she passed. There wasn’t much to see. It was a long narrow hallway lined with crumbling bricks under a curved ceiling. When Sam looked closer, each brick had a name and a date carved into it.
“What are these bricks?” he asked, touching one. As his finger stroked the surface, an eye opened up on it, and he reeled back in horror. Around them, every brick came awake, a single eye in each watching them, following them as they moved along.
“Something’s not right,” Geela muttered to Sam. “She’s making this too easy.”
Sam was too busy avoiding looking into any of the creepy eyes.
“A shame about Odin’s scar,” Geela said loudly to Helva.
The queen of the dead laughed, never breaking stride. “Losing an eye to that fool, Mimir, and then an ear to a mere boy. What’s next, an arm to my pet Garm?”
Geela stopped in her tracks. “We never told you he lost an ear.” Her sword appeared in a flash of gold in her hand.
Helva paused, turning slowly so her good side faced them.
“Didn’t you? Well, I must have heard it over the grapevine. The dead love to tell me all the dirty gossip.”
“No, you’re lying. Odin is here.” Geela took a step forward, holding the sword before her. “Where is he?”
“I really couldn’t say.” Her voice remained neutral, but the skin on her jaw tightened, signaling her displeasure.
“Can’t or won’t? What about our friends?” Sam asked, fear draining his remaining energy. Had he given up his magic for nothing? “Are you taking us to them?”
“Oh, that. Well, to be honest, I lied.” She turned with a shrug, revealing that row of rotted teeth. “I could have just taken your magic, but it was more fun to have you give it to me.”
“What?” Sam tasted bile as his stomach turned over. “You can’t. You gave your word.”
“My fingers were crossed.” She waggled her bony hand at him. “A little trick my father taught me.”
Sam raised his hand to throw a ball of witchfire at her, but nothing happened. Looking down at his palms, the emptiness in his veins hit him. He had grown used to having magic at his fingertips. Without it, he felt hollow.
The goddess of death just laughed and raised her good hand. “Looking for this?” She ran her hand in a circle, drawing a ball of green fire, and sent it at Sam’s head. He ducked, and it hit the wall, incinerating several bricks. The ear-piercing screams of the lost souls made his skin crawl.
“This is so much fun.” She did it again, sending the blast at Geela. The Valkyrie grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him around a bend in the tunnel. “You can’t run from me,” Helva called. “This is my playground. I know every inch of it.”
Geela ran down the corridor, taking turns and twists, dragging Sam with her. He was numb and getting number. He’d lost his only chance at fighting Helva by giving her his magic, and now there was no way they were ever going to rescue Perrin and Mavery, let alone Odin.
Helva’s voice faded away as Geela dragged him on. After a never-ending series of turns, Sam dug his feet in, peeling Geela’s hand off his arm.
“Just stop, okay? It’s over. She wins.”
Geela shook her head. “A Valkyrie never quits.”
“Well, I’m not a Valkyrie. I’m not even a witch anymore, and being a Son of Odin isn’t getting us any closer to finding him.”
She shouted in his face, “How do you know when you haven’t even tried? We can’t give up now. If we fail, everything will be lost.”
“We’ll find another way to defeat Surt.”
“It will be too late. Frigga is going to destroy Orkney. She won’t let Surt get close to Valhalla.”
Sam reeled at her words. “What do you mean, destroy Orkney?”
Geela looked shattered as she said, “She will wield Odin’s Belt of Destiny and erase every trace of it. Nothing will survive.”
Despair and grief tilted Sam’s world. “So this was all for nothing? A fool’s journey?” He slumped against the wall. “And now I have nothing left, no magic, no way to fight Surt.”
Geela shook him roughly. “Snap out of it. Helva was lying. Odin is here. Find him. You alone are connected to him.”
Sam’s fingers went to the useless lump of rock around his neck. “This is a piece of Odin’s Stone. My father gave it to me. Hermodan used it to save Orkney from the witches.”
“Then surely it is imbued with Odin’s blood. Use it before that death queen finds us and embalms us into one of these bricks.”
Sam lifted the pouch over his head and weighed it in his hand, wondering if he should swing it around. He did that to call on his magic, but he didn’t have magic anymore. Remembering how Hermodan had held it up high, Sam decided to give it a shot. Undoing the drawstring, he dumped the small chunk of rock into his palm. It looked like a plain old piece of granite.
Holding the rock up, Sam planted his feet, closed his eyes, and thought about his visit with Odin in the Yggdrasil tree. Odin had been strong and vital then, his legs thick as tree trunks and a blue twinkle in his eye. He’d shaken Sam’s hand with great strength. Sam recalled the rough palms and the callused skin. “Mighty Odin,” he whispered, “show yourself to me. Guide me with your stone so that I can bring you back.”
Sam stood with his eyes closed. Nothing happened. No fireworks. No sudden dizzying drop. Nothing. Geela would have to accept their fate.
He opened his eyes to apologize and almost fell to his knees.
Geela was gone, the dark underworld replaced with a barren landscape of swirling winds that made his skin sting. Fine sand blew into his eyes. He couldn’t see a thing, but his heart soared. Odin had done it. Wherever he was, he had brought Sam to him. Heading into the wind, Sam trudged forward, clutching the stone in his hand.
“Odin,” he called out, his words taken away by the gusts, “I’m coming.”