The Day the World Went Loki (9 page)

Greg took the lead with a bold stride that was intended to give the impression he knew what he was doing.

“Are you sure you know the way?” Lewis asked.

“Relax. I’ve got it all mapped out in my head,” said Greg, tapping his temple, “just like Lawrence of Antarctica.”

“Arabia,” said Lewis, but Greg wasn’t listening.

As they negotiated the maze of passages, Greg’s footsteps began to falter until he came to a stop by a wooden door.

“I think we came from that way,” Lewis said, tilting his head towards the far end of the passage.

“Think? Think’s not good enough. You have to know, and I know we came this way.”

Greg opened the door and stepped into the castle kitchen.

None of the servants, human and other, who were scurrying about inside, paid him any attention. Huge iron pots were bubbling furiously and giving off aromatic clouds of steam. Broad, silver platters were piled high with exotic fruits and generous cuts of meat.

Greg inhaled the mixture of culinary smells and asked, “When did we last eat?”

“I don’t know,” Lewis replied, displaying his useless digital watch. “No time, remember?”

“Well, it feels like ages.”

Greg reached for a slice of cured ham and caught the attention of a wiry, fur-covered creature in a lofty chef’s hat, who immediately cried out,
“Zut alors!”

Lewis grabbed Greg’s arm and dragged him back out into the passage, slamming the door shut after him. He pointed to Aunt Vivien, who was marching off the other way.

Greg stifled a cry of alarm and ran to overtake her. There was no telling what trouble she might stir up if she wandered off by herself.

“You’d better let us go in front,” he cautioned as he elbowed past her, “just in case.”

“In case of what?” she demanded.

“In case of
anything,
” Greg insisted, blocking her attempt to get past him.

Lewis caught up with him and whispered, “That was close.”

“You need to keep a better eye on her,” Greg told him.

“Why me?”

“Because my eyes can’t take it,” Greg whispered.

“I think it’s this way,” Lindsay advised them from above. She pointed to an open archway.

“That’s just what I was going to say,” Greg declared.

Once through the arch, they were immediately brought up short by the sound of marching feet coming the opposite way. Everyone looked wildly around until Lewis said, “Here!”

He had lifted the edge of a hanging that showed a dragon biting the head off a knight. Behind it was an alcove with just enough space to accommodate all four of them. They squeezed in side by side, the rough weave of the hanging brushing against the ends of their noses.

Accompanying the clomp of many heavy feet, came a score of loud voices raised in raucous song. The words were in a guttural tongue they did not recognise, but the tune was uncannily close to “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”.

Once the noise had safely passed them by, they emerged from their hiding place.

“What were those things?” Greg wondered, looking towards the far end of the passage from where their crude singing could still be faintly heard.

“More trolls,” Aunt Vivien answered, wrinkling her nose with displeasure. “I’m surprised even a reprobate like Lucas lets them sing that dreadful song in the
confines of his castle.”

“What’s so dreadful about it?” Lewis asked.

Aunt Vivien raised her eyebrows. “If you were any sort of gentleman,” she told him severely, “you wouldn’t even ask.”

“Let’s concentrate on business,” Greg said. He headed up the corridor where another stairway brought them to Loki’s office.

Greg pressed his ear to the door then turned to the others. “I can’t hear anything. I don’t think there’s anybody inside.”

“That door’s so thick they could be holding a football match in there and you couldn’t hear it,” Lewis pointed out.

“So what do you want to do?” Greg demanded impatiently. “Hang around until we’re invited inside?”

“I’m just saying we need to be careful. Lindsay, you’d better stay here with Aunt Vivien.”

“Stay here?” Aunt Vivien objected. “You forget that I have a score to settle with That Beast.” She lifted the club and shook it.

“He may not even be in there,” Lewis said, trying to calm her. “The important thing is to find the book and get away. You two wait here and we’ll go in first.”

“He may be more trouble than you can handle,” Aunt Vivien warned.

“If we need help we’ll whistle,” Greg assured her dismissively.

He took hold of the large brass doorknob and opened the door just enough to ease himself sideways into the room. Lewis slipped in after him. There were the animal skins, the swords, the big desk, but no sign of Loki or anyone else.

They let out a joint sigh of relief and walked quickly across the fire-patterned rugs. The book was no longer on top of the desk. They lifted up the papers and ornaments that littered it, and examined the sides of the desk.

“There’s a drawer here, but it’s locked,” Lewis said.

“Don’t worry,” Greg assured him, pulling the magic wand out of his belt. “I’m the man with the means.”

“Thanks to Lindsay,” Lewis reminded him.

“Fine. After this is all over we’ll buy her some cupcakes”

He gave the drawer a tap and yanked it open. Sure enough, the book was inside and he pulled it out with a flourish. He stuck the wand in his belt and flipped through the pages.

“Most of this isn’t even in English,” he said disgustedly.

Lewis leaned over for a look and pursed his lips. There were uneven lines of runic shapes, some stuff that looked like Greek, lots of star-shaped diagrams
and drawings of toads, goats and other creatures inscribed in the margins.

“We’ll just have to figure it out when we get home,” he said, sliding the drawer shut.

“Sorry to throw a spanner in the works, boys, but you aren’t going anywhere,” said a voice, seemingly from nowhere.

Greg and Lewis spun around to see the russet curtain at the far end of the room sweep aside of its own accord. Beyond it Loki was rising from a divan on which he had evidently been taking a nap. He stretched his arms and walked towards them.

“You boys keep coming back on me like a bad hamburger,” he said, lighting a cigar.

“We’re going to give you more to worry about than indigestion,” Greg threatened, brandishing the book.

“Why don’t you put that thing down,” Loki advised, taking a casual puff on his cigar. “You can’t even read it. I admit that’s a handy gadget you’ve got stuck in your belt, though. Too bad it won’t save your hides.”

He placed himself directly between the brothers and the door.

“Come on,” Greg told Lewis. “We can take him.”

He took an aggressive step towards the Norse god. Lewis gulped and followed. He was sure this was a bad move, but their options were limited.

Loki grinned broadly and extended his empty hand, cupping it as he did so. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you a lesson in humility and I won’t even charge you a penny for it.”

He tipped the ash from the end of his cigar into the palm of his open hand. It immediately blazed into a roaring fireball that grew larger and larger without causing Loki any harm at all.

“Looks like the end of the line for you two,” he said. “But before you go, I just want to thank you again for making my day.”

Chortling at his own joke, he raised his hand, preparing to hurl the expanding fireball at the boys.

Greg lifted the book before him and stepped in front of Lewis.

“If you blast us, you’ll lose the book too,” he warned.

Loki smiled condescendingly. “You’re missing the point, son. I don’t need the book any more. The longer the day goes on, the more powerful I get, and remember, Lokiday will never end.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Lewis. “If you destroy the book, then all the magic you’ve made with it will be cancelled out.”

“Really?” Loki responded quizzically. He quirked an eyebrow and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling for a few seconds. “No, I don’t think so,” he concluded. “I think
it’ll just stop the two of you from giving me any more headaches.”

“Your headache is just about to start,” Greg retorted, looking past the Norse god’s shoulder. “This book is overdue and you’re about to pay a big fine.”

“Don’t try to trick a trickster, son,” Loki told him with a pitying shake of the head. “I was pulling the ‘something’s creeping up behind you’ routine on Thor while you people were still painting bison on cave walls.”

Loki’s lip curled into a sneer. He raised his hand and the fireball blazed bright, expanding without even singing his sleeve.

While Loki’s attention was directed towards the boys, Aunt Vivien had slipped into the room behind his back, and was poised to inflict her terrible vengeance upon him. Too late Loki saw in Lewis and Greg’s eyes that this was no trick.

Before he could turn, Aunt Vivien hefted the troll’s club and brought it down on his head with a sound like two empty oil cans banging together. Loki’s face went slack. He did a complete pirouette and sank into a senseless heap on the floor.

“Good grief, have you killed him?” Lewis exclaimed.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Aunt Vivien said regretfully. “He is a god after all, and they’re a lot harder to kill than you or me.”

Even as she spoke, Loki began to stir. He groaned and moved a hand sluggishly towards his head. Aunt Vivien took another swing and knocked him flat again.

“Beast!” she hissed at him.

“Let’s get out of here!” Greg ordered, sticking the book under his arm.

Aunt Vivien dropped the club and snatched the book away from him. “It is mine after all,” she pointed out peevishly.

“Let’s just go before Loki wakes up and barbecues us,” Greg snapped.

They dashed out past Lindsay who was floating by the door with an anxious expression on her face.

“Greg, you could have been hurt!” she gasped.

Greg paid no attention and they hurried down the stairway with Lindsay swooping behind.

“Do you have a plan for getting out of the castle?” Lewis asked as they reached the bottom of the steps.

“Sure,” Greg answered bullishly. “It just needs some fine tuning.”

“Like, how to get past the guards and over the drawbridge?” Lewis suggested.

“Those are the right questions,” Greg answered, “and that’s half the battle. I’ve told you that before.”

They reached the front door of the keep and opened it a crack. Peering out at the courtyard, Lewis
saw groups of trolls milling here and there. Some of them were playing crude games with rocks and bones, while others were matching strength in arm-wrestling or head-butting. Two of the brutish creatures were guarding the gate, each of them armed with an enormous battleaxe.

“Lucas keeps his carriage over there in the stables,” Aunt Vivien said, pointing to the left.

“You mean the one with the giant goats?” Lewis asked.

“Yes, the giant goats,” Aunt Vivien agreed. “Nasty, ill-smelling creatures, but he seems to like them. Birds of a feather, I say. He keeps them ready to leave at all times. He hates having to wait for anything.”

“You know an awful lot about this guy considering you only met him this morning,” said Greg.

“He’s very talkative,” Aunt Vivien said defensively.

Greg shrugged. “Right, we can handle the goats, but what about the drawbridge?” He tapped the magic wand. “Will this do the trick?”

Lindsay shook her head, making the light sparkle on her gem-encrusted spectacles. “It doesn’t work on fortifications.”

Greg chewed his lip meditatively. “I’ve got a plan,” he said, “and it all depends on you, Lindsay.”

Lindsay quivered excitedly and by the time he had explained his plan she was positively glowing. “That’s
very clever, Greg,” she said admiringly.

Greg took a step back as she moved closer to him.

Lewis shook his head. He’d been caught up in Greg’s schemes often enough to set alarm bells ringing. On the other hand, he reflected, maybe this wasn’t the time for reason or caution. Greg had been devising crazy schemes for as long as they’d both been alive, and in the normal world, where the rules of logic and common sense applied, they never came to anything. But maybe here, in a world where lunacy was the norm, he was finally in his element.

“All right, let’s go with that plan,” Lewis said. “We still need to get to the stables without anybody noticing us.”

“Trolls aren’t too bright,” Lindsay said hopefully.

Aunt Vivien had opened a nearby closet and was hauling out a pile of green cloaks. “These should do the trick,” she announced.

“What is this stuff doing there?” Greg asked.

“It’s where they put the dirty laundry,” Aunt Vivien answered with a sniff. “Sometimes it’s left there for weeks.”

Lewis picked up a cloak and examined it at arm’s length. It was heavily stained with mud and food, and it smelled badly of troll.

“We have to wear these?” Greg asked with distaste.

“I don’t see any other way,” Lewis said regretfully.

“I’ll meet you at the stables,” Lindsay said, and twinkled out of sight.

Aunt Vivien drew Lewis aside. “Don’t get involved with a fairy,” she counselled him. “They can’t be depended on. You mark my words. There was one, a flower fairy called Violet Ray, and I heard that she—”

“Thanks for the advice, Aunt Vivien,” Lewis cut her off, “but we have bigger problems right now.”

“All right, but don’t you forget –
fairies!”
She wagged a finger.

They pulled their cloaks around their shoulders, grimacing at the stench.

“If nobody looks too closely, the smell will let us pass for trolls,” said Greg.

The three of them huddled together and set off across the courtyard. No one appeared to notice them until they were almost at the stables, where a passing troll grunted a greeting at them.

Greg grunted back as loudly as he could and this seemed to be sufficient to send the troll happily on his way.

“They are so uncouth,” Aunt Vivien told Lewis. “Now when I was a girl, servants took pride in their appearance. We had a maid who used to launder her uniform every day. Every day. And her pinny was always freshly starched.”