The Day the World Went Loki Page 11

  Straw dropped from the goats’ jaws and they shot forward as if somebody had just stabbed them in the backside with red-hot needles. The sudden jolt almost threw Greg and Lewis from their seats, and before they could take in what was happening, they were careering across the courtyard at terrifying speed.

  Loki leaned out of a high window and stabbed a furious finger at them. “Stop them, you peabrains!” he yelled, his face crimson with rage.

  Most of the trolls were already across the drawbridge when his voice pulled them up short. When they turned they saw two gigantic goats charging straight at them, their heads lowered to batter their way through any obstacle in their path. The trolls by the gate had just enough wit to leap aside. Those on the drawbridge toppled into the water like skittles as the carriage thundered through their midst.

  Lewis clung desperately to his seat as they rushed headlong down the road into town. “Can’t you slow them down?” he gasped.

  “It’s all I can do not to fall off!” Greg panted, heaving vainly on the reins with all his strength.

  They hit a pothole that bounced the carriage into the air like a sack of potatoes. It crash-landed with a bang and rumbled on.

  “At least at this rate,” Greg puffed, “I don’t think anybody’s going to catch us.”

  Lindsay materialised in front of them, but before she could even open her mouth, they rocketed past so fast that the rush of air sent her spinning. She tried to fly after them, but could not keep up, so she twinkled into the carriage onto the seat beside Aunt Vivien.

  They swerved dizzyingly from street to street, with terrified pedestrians leaping for cover on all sides. Bouncing about like a ping-pong ball, Lewis could feel his bones rattling.

  “Try to steer them towards home!” he urged Greg over the thunder of hooves.

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Greg yelled back. He untangled his hands from the reins and flung them at his brother. “Here, you steer them!”

  The goats swung sharply round a corner and the boys let out a cry of terror, clinging on for dear life. Inside the carriage Aunt Vivien was buffeted this way and that, almost crushing Lindsay beneath her.

  “Stop this at once, you reckless animals!” she cried at the top of her lungs.

  They burst into Market Street where some sort of fair was going on. A wave of terror passed through the crowd when they saw what was bearing down on them. A band of pixie musicians tossed aside their fiddles and harps and dived into a water trough to escape.

  All around the market square, stalls stacked with jewels and amulets, and barrows piled high with strangely coloured fruit, were bashed into the air by the swaying sides of the speeding carriage. Goblins, ogres, leprechauns and other creatures made a desperate scramble for safety.

  At last something caught the eye of the frenzied goats and they swerved towards it, panting greedily: a wagon overflowing with turnips.

  Their hooves struck sparks off the road as they skidded to an abrupt halt just centimetres from their goal. Greg and Lewis were catapulted out of their seat. Tumbling head over heels through the air, they came down with a loud squish in a barrow of overripe bananas. The rear of the carriage bucked up in the air, then the whole vehicle slammed violently down on the ground. All four wheels split clean through and the entire left side broke apart, exposing Aunt Vivien and Lindsay, who were tangled in a dizzy heap.

  Greg and Lewis hauled themselves out of the quagmire of squashed bananas, supporting each other until they were clear of the slippery expanse of yellow peel and sludge.

  “That wasn’t so bad!” Greg grinned.

  “Yes, it was,” Lewis groaned. “If the bananas hadn’t broken our fall, we’d have multiple compound fractures and who knows what else.”

  Heedless of the mayhem they had caused, the goats shook loose of their halters and greedily gobbled down turnips. Lindsay took Aunt Vivien by the hand and helped her out of the wreckage.

  Aunt Vivien’s face was puffy and perspiring beneath her smeared make-up, and her elaborate hairdo, which the boys had always thought indestructible, was in ruins. That once proud edifice had collapsed into disarray and stray locks dangled before her eyes like vines trailing over a ruined temple.

  “I’m covered in bruises from head to foot,” she complained. “I’ve a good mind to make those animals into a stew.”

  “Where’s the book?” Lewis asked when he saw that her hands were empty.

  “Oh, I must have dropped it,” Aunt Vivien realised.

  Greg and Lewis pounced on the shattered carriage and made a frantic search. Lewis pulled the book out of the wreck and lofted it above his head in triumph.

  “You keep it,” Aunt Vivien told him. “I’m too exhausted. This day has proved to be something of an ordeal.”

  “You don’t know the half of it!” Greg said.

  A four foot tall brownie with pointed ears and a hooked nose appeared from behind the wagon. “My barrow! My turnips! Your goats!” he jabbered, hopping furiously from one foot to the other. “Very bad! Very bad!”

  “Send the bill to Loki,” Greg advised him, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the castle. “He’ll pay you back tomorrow.” An ugly looking crowd was gathering around them, some of them armed with maces and chains.

  “Ooh, Greg, there’s a brawl brewing here,” said Lindsay, taking to the air, “and you’re not really equipped for it. You’d better follow me.” Floating off, she led the way to the nearest exit from the square.

  “Excuse us, folks,” Greg apologised as he bustled his way past a burly centaur. “We have to get this woman to a hairdresser.”

  Lewis took Aunt Vivien by the elbow and steered her speedily along in Greg’s wake. Once they were clear of the market, they paused by a tree strung with tin kettles and spoons. Lewis opened the spellbook and flipped through the yellow pages.

  “Aunt Vivien, can you find the spell we need?” he asked.

  “You mean to start time moving again?” said Aunt Vivien. “Of course.”

  She plucked the book out of Lewis’ hands and flipped back and forth several times before stopping at a particular page. “This is it here.”

  “Well, go ahead and do the hocus pocus,” Greg urged. “We haven’t got all day, you know.”

  Aunt Vivien laughed. “I can’t do it here in the street, you sillies. I need the proper ingredients.”

  “Ingredients?” Lewis groaned.

  Greg rolled his eyes despairingly.

  “Yes, everybody knows that’s how magic works,” said Lindsay, alighting beside him.

  “Powdered lizard bone, hummingbird wings,” said Aunt Vivien, running a finger down the page, “a pinch of phoenix ash.”

  “And where are we going to get all that rubbish?” Greg demanded. Aunt Vivien gave him a pitying look. “What are you getting so tetchy about? You’ll find them in any well-stocked kitchen.”

  “In Mum’s kitchen?” Lewis asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Greg fumed. “Let’s go and make some magic.”

  They set out down Bridge Street then on up to Bannock Street. The house had just come into view when they heard a chillingly familiar sound from behind them. It was part bestial, part mechanical and wholly unmistakable. They turned and saw the Valkyries bearing down on them on their roadsteeds.

  “Run!” Greg shouted.

  They bolted for home, but Aunt Vivien – tottering along on her high heels – immediately began to fall behind. Greg and Lewis dropped back and took her by the arms to hurry her along. Lindsay flew above them, her wings fluttering desperately.

  “We’re not going to make it!” Lewis panted, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Shona Gilhooley was speeding ahead of her sisters, determined to wreak terrible vengeance upon the McBride boys.

  “They are really getting up my nose!” Greg said through gritted teeth.

  “The important thing is that Aunt Vivien gets to the kitchen,” said Lewis.


  “Right, so that makes us the rear guard.”

  The boys pulled up and Greg gave Aunt Vivien a final shove. “Get to the house,” he told her, “and cast the spell as fast as you can!”

  Aunt Vivien hadn’t the puff left to respond, but she lurched off, clutching the book to her bosom.

  Greg and Lewis threw their arms up as the chief Valkyrie bore down on them like a thunderbolt.

  “Leave them alone!” squealed Lindsay.

  She swooped down into Shona’s face, but as she did so, the warrior woman swung her sword and struck the fairy on the side of the head with the flat of the blade. Lindsay flopped to the ground, unconscious.

  With a cry of dismay, Lewis started forward. Greg bounded after him, a split second too late to pull him back.

  Shona’s roadsteed reared up over them, front wheel buzzing like a chainsaw. Reining the creature in with her free hand, the Valkyrie brandished her sword in their faces. “Which of you will be the first to taste my steel?” she inquired with a cold smile.

  Standing over Lindsay with his fists clenched, Lewis lost his temper. Without even thinking, he snatched the magic wand from Greg’s belt and swung it as hard as he could.

  It connected squarely with the tip of the roadsteed’s nose. The wand’s star-shaped headpiece exploded in a rainbow shower of sparks, as it unlocked all the mechanisms inside the metal mount. Its wheels buckled, its plates cracked apart, cogs, gears and screws went flying. With a ruinous clatter, the creature imploded into a heap of lifeless scrap, taking Shona down with it.

  Veering off to avoid the wreckage, the other Valkyries crashed into one another and toppled over. Deaf to the curses Shona was shouting as she struggled to wriggle free, Lewis scooped up Lindsay and beat a speedy retreat.

  “Nice work,” Greg complimented him. “Let’s go.”

  They sped off after Aunt Vivien, and caught up with her only a few metres from their driveway. “Not far now,” Greg encouraged her on.

  Suddenly there erupted a hideous din, like a pack of hellhounds baying for blood. The next instant, a hairy monster of nightmare proportions bounded over the neighbouring fence and planted itself squarely in their path.

  “Oh no, the Larkins’ dog!” Lewis exclaimed in horror.

  The previous day, the animal had been a harmless, if noisy, mutt with no particular pedigree. Now it looked like three wolves rolled into one, with three sets of snapping jaws and a huge, bristling, six-legged body. Yellow saliva dripped from its fangs and its three sets of eyes blazed with a feral hunger.

  Behind them a blood-curdling chorus of war cries rang out. The Valkyries were closing in on foot.

  “Quick! Give me that!” cried Greg, and snatched the remains of the magic wand from Lewis’ right hand.

  “It’s broken,” Lewis objected. “It’s no good for anything now.”

  “You think so?” Greg retorted. Turning to confront the Larkins’ dog, he waved the wand over his head. “Here, boy!” he shouted. “Fetch!” And flung it as hard as he could.

  All six of the monster dog’s eyes fixed on the twirling stick and it bounded off in pursuit. The stick clattered to the ground in the midst of the startled Valkyries. The warrior women barely had time to shriek before the beast was upon them, scattering them like bowling pins.

  Greg propelled Aunt Vivien towards the house while Lewis followed with Lindsay in his arms. Luckily, in her fairy form she was conveniently lightweight.

  “That was pretty close to genius,” Lewis said.

  Greg gave him a smug look. “Did you expect anything less?”

  “Frankly, yes,” Lewis admitted.

  “Thanks. Next time I’ll toss you in the air and let the hound chase you.”

  They barged through the front door and on into the front room. Aunt Vivien promptly collapsed into the nearest armchair and began fanning herself with one plump, freckled hand. While Greg went back to secure the front door, Lewis carried Lindsay to the sofa and was startled to find it already occupied by the Chiz.

  Arthur Chisholm was stretched out full length, with his hairy feet dangling over one end. His head was tilted back and he was snoring like a bulldozer.

  Footsteps descended the stairs and Mum entered the room. “Arthur took a nasty knock on the head when those rude women knocked him over,” she explained. “I insisted he come in and lie down, and he’s been here ever since.”

  Seeing Aunt Vivien, she brightened, “Oh, Vivien, how was your date with Mr Key?” she asked coyly.

  “Just let me tell you…” Aunt Vivien began in an outraged tone.

  “Later!” Greg interrupted brusquely. “Right now you’ve got a spell to cook up in the kitchen.”

  “Spell?” Mum echoed. “What spell?”

  “Come and help me, Adele,” Aunt Vivien said, heaving herself to her feet. “While we’re working, I’ll tell you all about That Beast.”

  “You’d better take that poor girl upstairs,” Mum told Lewis as she and Aunt Vivien made their exit. “You can put her in Greg’s room.”

  The Chiz roused with a snort. “Greg?” he echoed groggily. “Target practice?”

  “Not now, Chiz,” said Greg. “We’ve got work to do and I need your help.”

  Lewis climbed the stairs carefully, doing his best not to jostle Lindsay as he carried her into Greg’s room. He laid her out on the bed then gently removed her glasses so he could examine her head for signs of injury. There was a bump, but other than that it didn’t look too bad.

  Greg swept into the room and darted to the window. “The Larkins’ dog is gone,” he reported, “but the Valkyries are back. They’re having some kind of argument – probably over who’s going to lead the attack.”

  “Can we hold them off?” asked Lewis.

  Greg shrugged. “Mum’s locked all the windows and Chiz is barricading the doors. But it won’t be long before they stop arguing and come after us.”

  Pushing past Lewis, he hunkered down and rummaged under his bed. When he stood up again, he had a golf club in hand.

  “What good’s that going to be against a broadsword?” Lewis said.

  “You might be surprised,” said Greg. “I think we can come up with a few tricks to even the odds.”

  “Do you think she’s going to be all right?” Lewis asked, gazing anxiously down at Lindsay.

  Greg bit back on the harsh comment that sprang to his lips and stood sympathetically over the unconscious fairy. “She’ll be fine. She’s magical, after all.”

  “Yes, she is.” Lewis sighed.

  At that moment Lindsay stirred and her eyes flickered open.

  “You see, I told you,” Greg said, throwing open the cupboard.

  “What happened?” Lindsay asked in a daze.

  “You got conked on the nut,” Greg told her as he rummaged. “Lewis saved your life.”

  Lindsay’s eyes widened and fixed on Lewis as though she were seeing him for the first time. “Lewis, you saved me?”

  “It wasn’t anything much,” Lewis mumbled. His face turned bright red.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Greg said, pulling a cycling helmet out of the closet. “He was a big hero.”

  “Oh, Lewis,” said Lindsay.

  She tried to sit up, but Lewis made her lie back down. “You stay here and rest,” he told her. “You’ve taken a bad knock.”

  “That’s right, just leave everything to us,” said Greg. He strapped on the helmet and gestured with the golf club. “Come on, Lewis, we’ve got to hold them off till Aunt Vivien gets that spell working.”

  As the boys headed out the door, Lindsay’s voice trilled, “Be careful, Lewis!”

  Lewis looked back to where she was beaming at him. “I w-will,” he stammered, then followed Greg down the stairs.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly when he caught up with his brother.

  “Don’t say I never did you a favour,” said Greg.

  Just then the house was shaken by a tremendous crash, as though someone had driven a battering ram in
to the front door.

  15. JUST ENOUGH COOKS

  The brothers rushed to the hall where tables and chairs were piled up against the front door. The makeshift barricade was teetering under the impact of the blow. They heard a snort like steam escaping from a piston and the sound of a motorcycle engine revving furiously.

  “They must be using one of those horse-bike things to smash the door!” cried Lewis.

  “I hope it smashes its brains in!” Greg said between his teeth.

  The Chiz appeared from behind them. “Back door blocked, Greg,” he reported.

  “That’s great, Chiz,” Greg said. “Help us out here, will you?”

  The Chiz pressed his huge hands flat against the tottering mound of furniture and wedged it firmly back into place against the door.

  The sharp crash of breaking glass sent them scurrying into the front room. Two Valkyries were climbing in through the window with swords at the ready. The Chiz surprised everyone by snatching up the sofa and heaving it at them with uncanny accuracy. With twin shrieks of dismay the Valkyries were bounced back into the front yard, leaving the sofa securely wedged in the window frame.

  Greg crowed, “Top man, Chiz! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

  The Chiz’s big face split in a gap-toothed grin. Thumping his hairy chest, he said proudly, “Did good.”

  Just then, there came a muffled boom from the rear of the house.

  Greg clenched his golf club tightly. “Hold the fort here, Chiz,” he said with a determined gleam in his eye. “I’ll find out what they’re up to. Lewis, go and see what’s happening in the kitchen.”

  In the kitchen Aunt Vivien had her spellbook lying open on the counter in front of her. She was dropping ingredients into a pot of ooze that bubbled unpleasantly on the stove.

  “How’s the spell?” Lewis asked.

  “We’re getting there,” Aunt Vivien replied, “but this has to be done ever so carefully.”

  Mum was standing with a pensive finger on her large, thick lip. “Goblin’s fingernails, goblin’s fingernails,” she repeated to herself. “I’m sure we have some. Oh yes, I remember.”

  She reached up to a high shelf and brought down a pot.