Odin Blew Up My TV! Read online

  “Come on, Lewis!” Greg urged. “You can’t hang around there all day.”

  “Hang around!” Lewis muttered. “That’s a bad joke, even for you, Greg.”

  The risk involved in grabbing for the dangling backpack scared him a lot. But so did the knowledge that eventually he would lose his grip and plunge into the abyss.

  “Lewis, I think you’d better move now,” said Susie.

  Lewis saw at once what she meant. The rib he was holding onto was breaking loose of the spine.

  Lewis sucked in a deep breath. Taking his left hand off the long curved bone, he grabbed hold of the strap of Greg’s pack. His other hand immediately slipped free and he dangled there, his feet kicking the empty air.

  Taking a firm grip on the dragon’s vertebrae, Susie slid herself further down so she could lower her pack closer to Lewis.

  “Susie, be careful!” Greg exclaimed.

  “Come on, Lewis, grab a hold!” Susie called.

  His legs swinging in the air, Lewis stretched his right arm until it ached. He just managed to get his fingers over the strap of Susie’s pack.

  “Hold on tight, Lewis!” said Greg. “Come on, Spinny, heave!”

  The two of them pulled hard and dragged Lewis panting and puffing up onto the spine beside them. They had barely stood up when another angry roar shook the bridge again. They threw themselves flat and clung on to the shaking spine.

  This time, however, the bear halted its advance. It had noticed that each time it moved to attack the strangers, the bony surface beneath it rocked and swayed. The bear was not used to the ground behaving like this and found it unsettling. It decided that the intruders had learned their lesson and would not trespass on its territory again.

  Carefully the bear moved backwards onto solid ground. Once the earth was firm beneath its feet again, it reared up to full height and delivered a final warning. Then it dropped down onto all fours and padded majestically back into the forest.

  “Good riddance!” said Greg. “I don’t think the bridge could bear his weight.”

  The three of them scrambled to their feet and Susie and Greg slung their packs over their shoulders.

  Sigurda gestured at them with her sword. “Separate!” she ordered.

  “She’s right,” said Lewis. “Standing all together, we’re putting too much strain on the bridge.”

  Even as he spoke they could feel the bones bend under their weight with an ominous cracking sound. The rib Lewis had been clinging to came loose and plummeted into the chasm. It seemed like a long time before they heard it splash down in the river far below.

  “I’m out of here,” Susie announced, darting nimbly towards the dragon’s head.

  “On you go, Lewis,” urged Greg, giving his brother a gentle shove to get him moving.

  Once they were spread out the bridge stopped bending. Lewis felt better when he reached the neck and followed it up onto the crown of the dragon’s huge head. He could see clearly the gaping crack Thor’s hammer had made in the monster’s skull. He passed between the round empty eye sockets, so big you could ride a bike through them, then hurried down the long snout to join Susie on solid ground. When he looked back, he saw the dragon’s huge teeth grinning at him like two rows of gravestones.

  Greg arrived shortly after him, looking flushed and relieved. “That was a bit hairy, eh?” he beamed.

  “I hope there’s a different route back,” said Lewis.

  “I’ll be happy if we get back at all,” said Susie. She glanced towards the distant peak of Mount Daggerflash. “It looks like we’ve still got a fair hike ahead of us.”

  Sigurda marched confidently over the dragon’s skull as if she were strolling down a broad highway rather than a shaky bridge of bones.

  “That is one peril behind us,” she commented as she rejoined the others. “Who can say what further dangers yet lie in our path?”

  “Could you not say something cheerful for a change?” Lewis complained. Sigurda clapped him on the shoulder. “Danger is meat and drink to a warrior, Lewis,” she declared, “for how else are we to test our mettle?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lewis. “Sudoku? Table tennis?”

  Sigurda laughed and led the way onward.

  Directly ahead the crimson sun was sinking behind the distant peak of Mount Daggerflash. The mountain cast its long shadow across the land like a beckoning finger. As darkness fell the party made camp in a hollow surrounded by oak trees.

  The three youngsters made beds for themselves out of moss and dead leaves and fell into an exhausted sleep. Sigurda slept sitting upright with her back against a boulder, her sword stabbed into the ground beside her within easy reach should anything startle her out of her slumber.

  ***

  A chorus of birds greeted the first golden sunbeams next morning. After a simple breakfast of apples and water, the travellers climbed out of the hollow and continued their westward journey.

  The trees before them thinned out and they found themselves on the crest of a ridge that sloped gently down towards a broad and beautiful landscape. They saw hills and valleys, wide expanses of woodland, sudden shards of rock bursting out of the earth, and the silver traceries of streams and rivers.

  “The land of Vanaheim,” said Sigurda proudly, “though its features have been twisted by Loki’s mischief.”

  “Hey, something’s happening to my ring,” said Lewis. “It’s like there’s a magnet pulling at it.”

  “I feel it too,” said Greg.

  “And me,” said Susie. “It’s yanking at my finger.”

  “They are drawing you to the separated parts of the Odinstaff,” said Sigurda, “so that you might reunite them into one.”

  “My ring’s pulling me that way,” said Lewis, “to the north.”

  “Mine too,” said Greg.

  “Well, my ring’s tugging me the other way,” said Susie, pointing to the south.

  “Which way are we supposed to go?” said Greg, rubbing his jaw.

  “Two of the rings are pointing north,” said Lewis, “so we should go that way first, then double back.”

  Sigurda shook her head. “Time flies swiftly and with each passing hour the danger grows. We must act quickly if we are to thwart the evil intents of Loki and Ymir.”

  “What’s the plan then, Sigurda?” asked Susie.

  “We shall divide our forces,” Sigurda decided. “Lewis and Greg, you will travel northward. I will accompany Susie on the southward route.”

  “But how will we ever find each other again?” Lewis objected.

  “Methinks once we’ve found two bits of the staff,” said Susie, “the rings mayhap will lead us all to the third piece – eh, Sigurda?”

  “Verily you speak in sooth, Susie,” said Sigurda approvingly.

  “Spinny, what are you talking like her for?” Greg asked sourly.

  “I’m starting to get into it, Greg,” Susie answered with a grin. “It’s cool.”

  “So we’ll all meet up at the third piece,” said Lewis, “wherever it is.” He had an uneasy feeling it wouldn’t be that simple.

  “Indeed, Lewis,” Sigurda agreed, “then we shall resume our sundered fellowship.”

  Lewis and Greg glanced quizzically over at Susie, who could only shrug this time. “I guess it’s sundering time then,” she said. “Come on, Sigurda, let’s see what’s out there.”

  “Menfolk that way, womenfolk this way,” said Sigurda. “May fortune smile upon you.”

  “Good luck to you too,” said Greg.

  As Susie set off with the Valkyrie for the south she looked round and waved. “You boys try to keep out of trouble!” she called.

  “Right, Lewis, off we go,” said Greg, starting towards the north.

  Lewis slouched along unhappily beside him.

  “What are you looking so glum about?” Greg asked.

  “I should think that’s obvious,” said Lewis. “Who knows what sort of monsters are lurking out there. At least Susie’s got a
Valkyrie with her with a sword and everything.”

  “Not to worry, Lewis,” said Greg, giving him an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve got me.”

  14. A PIG IN THE MUD

  “Well, Lewis, this is the life, eh?” said Greg.

  They were strolling through a patch of elm trees towards a hill, which they hoped would give them a view of the route ahead. Lewis’ eyes darted this way and that in expectation of an ambush.

  “If by ‘life’ you mean ‘the pits’,” he said unhappily, “then yes. Loki’s stolen our town, turned everybody into statues and we’re lost in a weird country full of dragons, bears and wolves.”

  “It was a dead dragon, Lewis,” Greg pointed out, “the bear ran away, and those wolf things of Loki’s are as thick as Mum’s Sunday custard.”

  “I’m still worried about Dave,” said Lewis as they started up the hill. “How is he going to manage on his own?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Greg assured him airily. “Didn’t you say he’s really brainy? He’s probably nearly as smart as I am.”

  “If you’re so smart,” said Lewis, “do you know where we’re going?”

  “The rings know,” said Greg. “It’s just like following a satnav. Yours is still pulling you, right?”

  “It gives my finger a tug now and then,” Lewis answered. “I just hope we recognise this bit of magic staff when we find it.”

  “If we’d known they did this,” said Greg, raising his hand to gaze at the Asgardian ring, “maybe we could have used them ages ago to find buried treasure and stuff.”

  “I don’t think they work like that,” said Lewis.

  The top of the hill was covered in thick bramble bushes, and as they pushed through to the other side they came face to face with a Really Big Troll. They stopped dead in their tracks and stared at him. He stopped and stared back at them.

  The troll was twice as tall as Lewis, with dull green skin. He had a huge, bulbous nose and tufts of red hair sprouted randomly from various points on his scalp. He wore a frayed leather tunic studded with metal discs and had a dirty blue rag tied around his head. He smiled, revealing rows of crooked teeth that looked like pebbles dug out of the ground.

  “He looks pleased to see us,” Greg muttered.

  “Do you think that’s a good thing?” Lewis murmured back.

  The Really Big Troll stepped closer and squinted at the boys. “Ouat ee nid,” he grunted.

  “Sorry, I didn’t quite get that,” said Lewis.

  “Frr teem,” the troll explained.

  “Whatever he’s havering about,” said Greg, “it looks like he wants us to stick around.”

  “Gum sonn,” the Really Big Troll informed them amiably.

  “We need to get away from him and find the staff,” said Lewis anxiously.

  Greg whipped a book out of his pocket and started flicking through the pages. “Maybe I can find some words in here to make him do what we want,” he said.

  Lewis wrinkled his nose doubtfully. “Is that the stupid book you bought, The Verbal Samurai?”

  “Ninja, Lewis, Ninja,” Greg corrected him. “A Samurai is something completely different.”

  He was still flipping pages when the Really Big Troll stretched down a massive paw and snatched the book out of his hands. He popped the paperback in his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed it in a single gulp.

  He made a face and grunted, “Sandwich too dry.”

  “Sandwich?” Greg echoed incredulously. “That was no sandwich, you great lump. That was the key to my future success.”

  “Hey, I understood what he said that time,” said Lewis.

  “When you get used to his grunting, it’s not really that hard,” Greg agreed.

  The Really Big Troll beat a fist against his chest and declared, “Gruklob!”

  “Hang on, I didn’t catch that,” said Greg.

  “I think he’s telling us his name,” said Lewis.

  The troll pounded his chest again and repeated, “Gruklob!”

  “Nice to meet you, Gruklob,” said Greg, pointing to himself and Lewis. “I’m Bedbug and this is my brother Sickbag.”

  “Bedbug, Sickbag,” the troll repeated. He set off down the far side of the hill, beckoning the boys to follow.

  “He doesn’t seem like such a bad guy,” said Greg, heading after the creature.

  Lewis followed reluctantly. “Do you really think we should be going with him?”

  “The rings are pulling that way, aren’t they?” said Greg. “Besides, we’re all pals now, aren’t we, Gruklob?”

  “Bedbug friend,” the troll grunted. “Sickbag friend.”

  “What did you give us those stupid names for?” Lewis complained.

  “We’re operating undercover,” said Greg, “like spies. All we need now is a pen that shoots poisoned darts and a car with an ejector seat.”

  At the bottom of the hill the troll led them through a maze of scraggy trees and mossy boulders to where another troll was waiting. He was even bigger than Gruklob with pale yellow skin and a crest of black hair sticking out of the top of his head. He also had a blue rag tied around his brow.

  “Wer yu bin?” he asked Gruklob.

  “Found two,” Gruklob announced proudly, shoving the boys forward. “Bedbug and Sickbag.”

  “What do they want with us?” Lewis wondered. “Trolls don’t eat people, do they?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Greg, “but if you see a cooking pot, run for it.”

  The Even Bigger Troll stared at them. “Puny,” he grunted, “but do.” With that he turned and sauntered off through the trees.

  Gruklob shoved the boys along after the Even Bigger Troll. He pointed at him and said, “Spudlug.”

  “Right, his name is Spudlug,” said Greg.

  “Team for game need…” Gruklob paused to count on his fingers. “Ten. Plus…” He paused to count his ears and his nose. “Three.”

  “Thirteen,” Lewis piped up.

  “Mugrash break leg kicking mountain, so can’t play,” said Gruklob. “Bograg pick fight with giant. Not see Bograg again. So need two. You.”

  “Did you hear that, Sickbag?” said Greg. “We’re on the team.”

  “What team?” Lewis asked. “What do they expect us to do?”

  Gruklob said no more but herded them along after Spudlug.

  They followed Spudlug to a spot where crude stakes the height of a man had been driven into the ground. Stretched between them was a fence made of branches, woven grass and strips of tree bark, enclosing an area roughly the size of a football pitch. They were led through a gap in the crude fence and onto the enclosed field.

  A couple of dozen trolls were milling about here, some wearing blue rags around their heads, others red. Standing in the middle of them all was a Very Old Troll with a huge purple nose and a wild mane of white hair. At the end of a leash he held a pig that was nosing about in the ground.

  Spudlug approached the Very Old Troll and addressed him respectfully, lowering his head and bowing every few seconds. From the way he was gesturing in their direction, Lewis could tell he was talking about the two of them.

  “It looks like they need that old guy’s permission to let us on the team,” said Greg. “I expect he’s the referee.”

  “Is your ring still pulling?” asked Lewis.

  “No, it’s tingling now,” said Greg. “Maybe that means the staff piece is right here. We need to stick around till we find it.”

  After a short discussion, the Very Old Troll raised a hand in the air and declared, “Yes! Punies on blue team!”

  “I wish they’d stop calling us puny,” said Lewis.

  “Stop being so sensitive,” said Greg. “Keep your eyes peeled for the staff thingy.”

  The trolls in the blue headbands gave a ragged cheer and everyone headed to the centre of the field – a stretch of rough ground pitted with holes, many of which were filled with muddy water. Grassy hillocks rose up here and there with boulders and logs
scattered all over.

  Gruklob stood them before Spudlug, who slipped a length of blue rag over Lewis’ brow and knotted it behind his head.

  “Not so tight!” Lewis complained. “You’ll cut off the circulation to my brain.”

  The troll performed the same operation on Greg, who grinned. “Now I actually feel like a ninja,” he said.

  “Sports!” Lewis moaned. “I never win at sports.”

  “Come on, Lewis,” Greg said encouragingly, “remember that time you nearly beat me at table tennis.”

  “Nearly,” Lewis repeated sourly.

  “Rules simple,” Gruklob explained. “Catch pig. Get pig in enemy circle. Keep pig in circle. Take enemy flag as sign of win.”

  Lewis looked up and down the field and saw that a circle of stones had been laid out at each end. There was a blue flag in one circle and a red flag in the other. When he looked at the red flag the tingling in his ring grew stronger.

  “Greg, I think the red flagpole is what we’re after,” he said. “The piece of the staff!”

  Greg squinted up the field and nodded. “That makes things simple. All we have to do is win the game and take the flag.”

  “Oh, right, that’s no problem then,” Lewis groaned.

  “Lewis, it’s just a game, okay? Like rugby.”

  “I hate rugby,” said Lewis. “I nearly got killed that time they made me play it at school.”

  Both teams had now lined up facing each other. The Very Old Troll stood between them with the pig. Gruklob pushed the two boys into position among their teammates.

  It started to rain and the trolls all cheered.

  “I guess they like playing in mud,” said Greg.

  The Very Old Troll raised a fist in the air and yelled, “Ready for pig!”

  Everybody tensed up as he released the animal. As soon as it was free the pig shot off, zigzagging across the field. With a savage roar, both teams set off in pursuit, bashing their opponents aside and slithering about in the mud.

  “Come on, Lewis, let’s go!” Greg urged, joining the chase.

  Lewis tried to run after him but slipped and fell face-first in the mud. “Sports!” he groaned, spitting out a mouthful of mucky water. “I hate sports.”