The Day the World Went Loki (7 page)

Mr Calvert settled himself back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Now start from the beginning and tell me everything,” he said.

Lewis told the whole story of the book, the rhyme and everything they had been through that day, including the magic mirror and their flight from the Valkyries. He was just coming to his insight in the boathouse when he noticed that Mr Calvert had a faraway look in his eyes as though he weren’t paying any attention.

“Mr Calvert!” he said loudly.

Mr Calvert looked at him owlishly. “Sorry. I was just recalling an amusing anecdote from Herodotus. Something to do with a hippo. Anyway, back to your problem. I suppose the first thing you need to know is why all this is happening.”

“Yes,” the brothers agreed at once. They both looked expectantly at Mr Calvert.

“Well,
I
don’t know!” he exclaimed. “You have to work it out. You know what I’ve always told you, Lewis. Read first, then think, then conclude. Wisdom lies in the use of knowledge, not in its accumulation. Now, haven’t you been researching matters of time for your school project?”

“You remember that?”

“You told me it a few minutes ago when you were explaining about the book. I’m not totally befuddled, you know. Now what have you learned about the days of the week and how they are named?”

“Well, Saturday is named after the Roman god Saturn, and Sunday and Monday are named after the sun and the moon.”

“And the others?” Mr Calvert prompted.

“They’re named after Norse gods. Let’s see… Tyr, Odin, Thor and Freya.”

“Yes, that’s four.” Mr Calvert nodded.

“The Vikings had five days,” Greg interjected. “It’s in the book.”

“Five days,” Lewis mused. “But we only use four of them.”

“So what happened to the fifth day?” said Mr Calvert, raising his eyebrows.

“This is it!” exclaimed Lewis. “Lokiday. Loki’s day.”

“Who’s Loki?” Greg asked.

“He was the Viking god of mischief, magic, that kind of stuff,” Lewis explained.

“And does that fit in with what you’ve been seeing around you?” Mr Calvert asked.

Lewis pondered. “Yes, I suppose it does. But there’s something else going on too.”

“What exactly?”

“Time has stopped, Mr Calvert.”

“So this day’s going to last forever,” Greg added.

“Hmm,” Mr Calvert mused without any sign of concern. “It looks like I’ll finally have time to catalogue those periodicals on the second floor.”

The boys watched him cogitating, then Lewis finally said, “Mr Calvert!”

Mr Calvert looked up. “I hadn’t drifted off that time,” he informed them stiffly. “I was giving the matter a great deal of thought. A spell powerful enough to bring time to a halt must be potent indeed. If you knew anything about celestial mechanics you’d appreciate that. There is only one place where such a spell could have been found.”

He paused dramatically.

“Are you going to share that with us?” Greg asked.

“Only
The Great Unholy Book
contains magic of such potency,” Mr Calvert intoned darkly. He reached absentmindedly for a biscuit, as though seeking comfort in the face of such horror. “It is the unspoken tome, the monstrous grimoire, a book of dark horrors that strikes fear into the heart and blights the lives of the innocent.”

He bit into the biscuit and chewed on it ferociously. As he did so a glazed look came over his eyes. Greg
was about to say something but Lewis hushed him up. “He may be coming up with an important thought,” he whispered.

Finally Mr Calvert came out of his daze and stared at them without recognition. Then he shook his head.

“Sorry, boys. What were we talking about? The wedding customs of the Chaldeans, wasn’t it?”

“The Great Unholy Book
, Mr Calvert,” Lewis reminded him. “The monstrous grimoire.”

“Ah yes. Only a spell from that book could stop time in its tracks. If you are to counter this pernicious magic, you must find the book and undo the spell.”

“So where is the book?” Lewis asked.

Mr Calvert arched his eyebrows. “I haven’t the least idea. But from what you say, it has been raised from its slumber by the Lokiday spell, right here in town.”

“Well, then who’s using it to stop time?”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there, either, Lewis, but maybe if you think about it…”

All at once Greg clutched his forehead and groaned.

“What is it?” Lewis asked. “Are you getting a headache?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked. “You’re the one who said we made a lot of this stuff the way it
is. You know, Mum, Lindsay, Mr Calvert.”

Lewis nodded and made his humming noise, unsure of just where this was going.

“So,” Greg continued, “this horrible book that messes everything up…”

“Is Aunt Viven’s cookbook!” Lewis finished for him, his jaw dropping at the revelation. “It has to be!”

He turned to Mr Calvert to look for confirmation. “Is that right?” he asked.

Mr Calvert was munching on another biscuit and staring upward. “Is what right?” he responded vaguely.

“Never mind him,” said Greg. “We’ve found out what we need to know. Let’s get out of here.”

Lewis waved a farewell to Mr Calvert as they left, but the librarian was tapping a half-eaten biscuit against the end of his nose, completely lost in his own thoughts.

On the way down the stairs Lewis hurried to keep up with his brother who was taking them two at a time. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you think?” Greg retorted. “We’re going home to get the book. We’ll reverse the spell, start time up again, then hide out until the day’s over.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“One of us has to have a plan. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be up there yacking with that weirdo in the
goldfish bowl.”

They exited the library under the mistrustful eye of Miss Perkins and her unpleasant bird. As they crossed South Street, Greg rubbed his stomach.

“I don’t know about you, but I could murder a mealie pudding.”

“A good idea,” Lewis agreed. “There must be some place around here where the food’s edible.”

They headed down Bridge Street to Moby Rick’s fish and chip shop. It had changed quite a bit. For one thing, Rick was now a one-eyed pirate with a fruitbat perched on his shoulder. The food on offer consisted mostly of lizard, snake and blowfish, which the boys declined in favour of some innocuous looking cheese between slices of crusty bread.

It took all the coins they had in their pockets to pay for the snack, and Rick bit down on each one to make sure it was genuine. He threw in a flask of apple juice and invited the lads to join him on a planned pirate raid against Pittenweem. Refusing politely, the boys backed out of the shop and sat down on a wooden bench to eat.

Once the meal was over Greg stood up and stretched himself. “Now I’m ready for anything!” he declared.

Lewis got up and brushed off the crumbs, wishing
he shared his brother’s confidence.

They approached the house cautiously, skulking at the corner until they were sure nobody was lying in wait for them.

“Do you think Aunt Vivien will be there?” Lewis asked.

“Could be,” Greg said. “Best be prepared for the worst. Here’s the plan. We walk in through the front door, we stroll into the kitchen and we get the book. Any questions?”

“That’s it? You call that a plan?”

“What do you expect? Mission Impossible? It’s our house. We live there. Just act normal and everything will be fine.”

They walked casually up the street. Greg even put his hands in his pockets and started whistling. Lewis glanced around nervously, sure that the discordant noise would attract attention, but nobody came to their window.

They slowed down as a rickety wagon pulled by four frothing horses came careering up the street. It was manned by half a dozen goblins, each with a hand clamped on top of his head to stop his helmet falling off. A wolf was sitting up front with the driver, howling for all he was worth. In the back of the wagon were a couple of ladders and a huge wooden vat that was sloshing water in all directions as the vehicle
veered from side to side across the road.

Lewis turned as it went by and saw that it was headed towards a plume of smoke somewhere in the region of the town hall.

“That was the fire brigade,” Greg said in an amused voice.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more fires,” Lewis said. “You’ve seen what the school is like. It’s only a matter of time before the whole town goes to pieces.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Greg stated with iron determination.

Lewis didn’t draw much strength from this. He could tell that Greg was just slipping into the role of a hero he’d seen in some film, and that this tough, in control attitude had nothing to do with any understanding of their situation or his ability to get them out of it.

They ignored the unholy howls of the Larkins’ dog and the sound of it bashing against the fence as they walked up to their front door. The dinosaur that used to be Aunt Vivien’s car was still sound asleep in the driveway.

Lewis put a hand on his brother’s arm and said, “Maybe we should give this a bit more thought.”

Greg answered with a smile of carefree self-assurance that made him feel even worse.

They entered the house, alert for whatever might
be lurking inside. Walking up the hall, they could hear Mum tidying the bedrooms upstairs. She was singing her favourite Beatles’ song “Yesterday” without any idea of how appropriate it was. The sound of her voice was so normal that it provided Lewis with a little comfort until he remembered that Mum was now seven feet tall and had a green tail.

They moved quietly through the front room and into the kitchen, where they were engulfed in a noxious cloud of greasy smoke. Overcoming the fumes, Greg pitched himself over the sink and flung open the window.

“What is Mum cooking?” Lewis choked, burying his nose in his sleeve.

There was a big fire set in an alcove in the wall roughly where the microwave used to sit. A huge, black pot hung over it and something bubbled frantically inside. They approached the pot as if it might explode and risked a look. The thick liquid inside was bright orange, and strange, multicoloured shapes floated in it.

“I’m glad we ate before we got here,” Greg said weakly.

“The cookbook,” Lewis said. “Where is it?”

They started searching the room. Although all of the kitchen fixtures had been transformed into archaic equivalents, the layout was the same, and it didn’t take them long to make the depressing discovery that Aunt
Vivien’s cookbook wasn’t here.

“Do you have a plan B?” Lewis asked.

Greg picked up a rolling pin as big as his arm. “This is no time for jokes.”

Before he could say another word the door banged open and Mum, all thirty stone of her, lurched into the room.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted them cheerily. “Home for lunch?”

“No!” they chorused, their voices shaking.

Mum looked taken aback by their reluctance and not very pleased.

“We already ate,” Greg explained.

“A lot,” Lewis added, rubbing his belly and making an uncomfortable face for emphasis.

Mum dipped a spoon in the pot and took a sip. The boys could hardly bear to look.

“It’s your loss,” she told them reproachfully. “It’s as fine a batch of salamander stew as I’ve ever made. It will probably last us for weeks.”

Lewis fought to keep a pained expression from his face.

“It isn’t one of Aunt Vivien’s recipes, is it?”

“Good gracious, no! I wouldn’t feed you any of those. I wouldn’t want you to turn into scorpions or something.”

“So what’s happened to her cookbook?”

Mum looked puzzled. “You mean her spellbook?”

“That’s what he means, Mum, the spellbook,” said Greg. “He’s just kidding.” He forced a laugh and punched Lewis playfully on the arm.

Mum shrugged her brawny shoulders. “Vivien must have taken it with her.”

“Taken it where, Mum?”

“She left with a gentleman friend,” Mum said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. “They were going for a drive down by the beach.”

“Who was he?” Greg asked. He only just resisted adding, “And did he have a guide dog?”

“Mr Key I think he said his name was.”

Lewis felt a shock shoot through him. “Lucas Oberon Key?”

“Oh, you know him,” Mum said brightly. “That’s nice.”

“Do you know him?” asked Greg.

“He’s the one that wrote the book,
The Folklore of Time,”
Lewis said excitedly.

Greg looked confused. “What would he be doing here? And why would he take Aunt Vivien out on a date? Why would
anybody
take Aunt Vivien out on a date?”

“That carriage we saw outside this morning… that must have been his,” Lewis said.

Greg made a disgusted face. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t good news?”

Mum dragged a wooden tub out from under one of the counters and stuffed the laundry into it. She then filled a bucket from a hand pump and tipped it into the tub. She was singing “Hey Jude”.

“Mum, do you know where this Mr Key lives?” Lewis interrupted her.

Mum paused in her work and her brutish features took on a thoughtful expression that didn’t look very at home there. “In the castle, down by the harbour.”

“St Andrews Castle?” said Greg. “But that’s a ruin.”

“I don’t think it’s a ruin any more,” said Lewis.

“Vivien was quite impressed,” Mum said airily. “Pass me the soap, please, Greg.”

Greg looked about and saw a wooden cup filled with white flakes. He handed these to Mum and she dumped them into the tub.

“What do you think?” he asked Lewis.

“It looks like we’re going to the castle,” Lewis answered.

“Why did she take the spellbook with her?” Greg complained.

“That was Mr Key’s idea,” Mum told them as she stirred the laundry with a long wooden spoon. “He insisted. To tell you the truth, I think he’s some kind of sorcerer.”

“Oh great!” Greg exclaimed.

“Perhaps he cast the spell that stopped time,” Lewis said to Greg.

“What was that, son?” Mum asked.

“Time has stopped, Mum,” Lewis explained. “This day is never going to end.”

“Maybe I’ll finally get through all my housework for a change then,” Mum said breezily, turning her attention back to the washing.

“Come on, we’d better get a move on,” Greg said, heading for the front door.

“Why don’t you take a snack with you?” Mum chimed after them.

“Sorry, Mum, we’ll pass on that!” Greg called back.

An idea suddenly dawned on Lewis. “Wait a minute! His initials:
L. O. Key
… He must be—”

Before he could complete the thought, Greg opened the door and they came face to face with a Valkyrie.

Greg immediately slammed the door in her face and clicked the lock in place. He said something he wouldn’t have wanted Mum to overhear, even in her present condition.

“The back door!” they said together, and made a bolt for it.

But Mum had already come out of the kitchen to answer a pounding at the back door. She opened it to Shona Gilhooley, who brushed right past her.

At the sight of the two boys, the chief Valkyrie threw her head back and laughed. It seemed to be a habit. Two more Valkyries appeared behind her.

“Did you truly think we wouldn’t be waiting for you?” she mocked.

“Frankly, we’ve been giving you as little thought as possible,” Greg told her. “You’re getting to be a real pain.”

The Valkyrie leaned forward menacingly. “Are you going to surrender,” she asked, “or are you going to offer me some sport first?”

Greg looked past her and deliberately widened his eyes in fake astonishment. “No, Mum, don’t do it!” he screamed in a horrified voice.

All three Valkyries looked behind them. By the time it dawned on them that it was a trick, the boys were already halfway up the back stairway.

“I can’t believe they fell for that!” said Lewis.

“Anybody who dresses the way they do can’t be too bright,” Greg said. “But we still have to get out of here.”

“My room,” Lewis said. “The magic mirror.”

They tumbled into the room, slamming the door
shut after them.

Greg stood in front of the mirror and said, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, are you any use at all?”

The Face blinked into view and raised an eyebrow. “That’s hardly very tactful,” it complained. “Besides, you should know the drill by now.”

“Lindsay!” Lewis gasped.

“Hullo!” the mirror responded brightly.

“Valkyries chasing us,” Lewis told it. “Have to escape.”

“Use the rug,” the Face suggested.

Greg looked down at the rug they were standing on. “Does it fly?” he asked hopefully.

“No, you simpleton. When they come in, you pull it out from under them. By the sound of things, you’d better get in position right now.”

The boys moved to the far end of Aunt Vivien’s ghastly rug and took a tight grip. The door burst open and Shona rushed in with one of her sisters.

“Now!” Greg cried.

They tugged with all their might, yanking the rug out from under the warrior women’s feet. The Valkyries went down in a tangle of chainmail and swords.

Greg and Lewis jumped over them and bounded out into the hallway.

“Hey, babe,” they heard the mirror say, “you are definitely the fairest of them all. And believe me, I
should know.”

An angry battle cry rang out, followed by the sound of glass shattering.

“He had that coming,” Greg muttered.

At the top of the stair they saw more Valkyries heading up towards them. Greg immediately grabbed the hatstand and held it like a battering ram.

“Give me a hand!” he ordered Lewis.

Lewis took hold and as the first of the Valkyries reached the top step the brothers charged. They caught her full in the midriff with the end of the hatstand and sent her cannoning backwards into her sisters. All three tumbled back down the stairs while Greg pitched the hatstand aside.

“Follow me!” he urged, seating himself on the bannister. He shoved off and slid down at high speed.

Lewis jumped onto the bannister and followed. He’d always hated doing this; only Greg’s dares had forced him into it before. He reached the bottom, came flying off, completely out of control, and fell right into Greg’s arms.

Greg set him on his feet and they rushed out the front door.

The Chiz was waiting for them out on the pavement. He looked only marginally less massive than the average mountain. He clamped an enormous hand on
Greg’s shoulder and said, “Back to school, Greg. Mrs Witherspoon wants you.”

Greg wriggled ineffectually and began coughing. “Can’t make it, Chiz,” he wheezed. “I’m sick. Go ask my mum. I’m just on my way to the doctor.”

He let loose another barking cough to emphasise the point. “He’s a wreck, Chiz,” Lewis put in. “He should be in hospital.”

“Big trouble if I don’t bring you back,” the Chiz said, slowly shaking his head. Lewis half expected some snow to fall off it.

“You’ll be in bigger trouble if I die on the way there,” Greg countered, working up another coughing spasm.

Thoughts were stirring in Chiz’s head with the sluggishness of a tectonic shift, when they heard an all too familiar sound. It was the ululating battle cry of the Valkyries, who came pouring out of the house with vengeance in their eyes.

Greg wriggled as hard as he could and Lewis tried vainly to prise the Chiz’s fingers loose. The Chiz seemed to hardly notice their efforts. He was gawking at the Valkyries as they formed a circle around the boys.

“This time there is no escape for you!” Shona Gilhooley declared, once she had finished laughing.

“Later, girls,” Greg said dismissively. “We’re with the yeti. Tell them, Chiz.”

“He’s going to school,” the Chiz told the women flatly. He squeezed Greg’s shoulder to show that he meant it.

“He is coming with us,” Shona stated, grasping the hilt of her sword. Her friends all did likewise.

Lewis stepped close to the Chiz and said, “Chiz, we need to get out of here!”

“Sorry, Miss. We need him for target practice,” Chiz apologised as he steered Greg towards the edge of the circle of warrior women.

Shona Gilhooley struck a martial pose and pointed her sword directly at Chiz’s face.

“Not a step further, grotesque one!” she warned.

The Chiz looked puzzled for a second. Then he opened his wide mouth and bit the end off her sword. He chewed noisily before swallowing.

Shona stared in disbelief. Then her face turned crimson with fury.

“Get him!” she yelled.

The other five Valkyries obeyed without hesitation and piled on to the Chiz. Greg took his chance to squirm free and race off down the street, pulling Lewis along behind. He glanced back to see the Chiz tossing Valkyries this way and that, grinning inanely.

They had not gone far when they heard an ominous sound up ahead, like the roar of an engine mingled with the growl of a beast. All six of the roadsteeds came swerving round the corner and pulled up in front of them. Their eyes blazed like hot coals and gusts of steam blasted from their nostrils. They bucked up and down, their wheels whirling.

Both boys skidded to a halt.

“Think of a plan!” Greg said desperately.

“You mean one that doesn’t end with them pounding us into the ground?” Lewis quavered.

“Yes, one of those.”

The roadsteeds roared and they surged forward, speeding round and round the brothers in a tight circle.

“Have you thought of a plan yet?” Greg asked above the din.

Lewis shook his head. He was starting to feel dizzy.

A voice called out a command and the roadsteeds halted their frantic motion to make way for Shona and two of her sisters.

“Yvonne, Trisha, seize them!” Shona ordered.

The women quickly grabbed Greg and Lewis and trussed them up with thick lengths of rope.

The other three Valkyries were still locked in a heroic struggle with the Chiz. It wasn’t going their way. One had her arms wrapped uselessly around the
Chiz’s knee while the other two ducked under his huge fists, which swung back and forth like a pair of sledgehammers.

“Chiz, we could use a little help over here!” Greg shouted.

Shona cuffed him across the mouth. “Silence, fool!” she spat.

She picked him up and threw him across the front of her roadsteed. One of her sisters bundled Lewis up in the same fashion.

At a command from their leader, the other Valkyries abandoned their battle with the Chiz and ran for their steeds. All six Valkyries mounted up and roared off.

“I’m gonna be in trouble now, Greg!” The Chiz shouted after them.

“You think you’ve got problems!” Greg called back as the road sped by beneath him.

They raced down Largo Road and up Bridge Street.

Greg twisted his head to look up at his captor. “Are we going anywhere in particular or is this just a joy ride?” he asked over the roar of the roadsteed.

“You will see soon enough,” she answered coldly.

As they swung past the West Sands and on to the Scores, Lewis saw a stampede of kelpies galloping along the beach. The bright green water horses shook their black manes and plunged headlong into the
waves, kicking up a cloud of spray behind them.

The Valkyries coasted down to the castle, which, as Lewis had predicted, was no longer a ruin. Great stone walls reared up to where armoured figures patrolled the battlements and fiery banners fluttered from the lofty towers.

“I don’t think we’re going to like it here!” Greg shouted to his brother.

A heavy drawbridge crashed down over the moat and they raced across it to an arch that swallowed them up like the mouth of a colossal beast.