The Day the World Went Loki (4 page)

Lewis accepted that this was the best he was going to get. “Anytime,” he said.

When they reached the main door, Greg asked, “Where are we going anyway?”

“Home,” Lewis answered decisively. “That’s where this whole mess started and that’s where we’ll find a way to undo it. If there is a way.”

They had no sooner stepped outside than they were hailed by a gruff, overloud voice they recognised only too well. “Just the boys I’ve been looking for,” it said like a judge passing sentence.

It was Mr Benson, the gym teacher. As a troll, he didn’t look much different. His face was even rounder, his mouth wider, his belly bigger, and there was an orange tinge to his leathery skin, but other than that, he was still the same Mr Benson. And he smelled exactly the same: a malodorous blend of three-day-old sweat and cheap aftershave.

“I’m short a couple of players for the hogball team,” he explained, tapping the pair of spiked clubs he had stuffed under his arm.

Lewis had never cared much for sports and the sort of game this equipment implied made him go pale. “Hogball?” he repeated limply.

“Two of the team went down injured in the last game,” Mr Benson growled. “Worse than that, somebody fell
on the hog and killed it.”

“We’d love to help out, but we can’t,” Greg said.

“Why not?” the gym teacher challenged.

“Because…” Greg said vaguely. He gave Lewis a nudge then saw that his younger brother was too distressed by the prospect of contact sports to be any help.

“Because I’ve got to get him home. He’s having a seizure,” Greg blurted out.

He stared expectantly at Lewis. So did Mr Benson.

Lewis couldn’t think how to fake a seizure, so, to his own surprise, he started to bark. Greg smiled weakly and patted him on the back.

Mr Benson shook his head in disgust. “There’s too much of this going on,” he complained. “If you boys spent more time on the sports field and less time messing around with magic, we wouldn’t have this kind of trouble.”

He stomped into the school in search of alternative victims.

Greg breathed a sigh of relief. “It was my turn to save you,” he said. He grabbed Lewis by the arm and dragged him towards the gate. “Come on. It’s time you got us out of this.”

As soon as they cleared the schoolyard they broke into a trot, hoping to avoid further encounters with giants, trolls or any other sort of monster. They were scarcely halfway home when they were ambushed – again.

One second the pavement was empty. The next, there was a flash that made them grab each other for protection.

Lindsay was floating in the air in front of them. She was a good metre off the ground, supported evidently by the large butterfly wings fluttering at her back. Her hair glinted like gold and she wore a short, gossamer gown. Her glasses were studded with what looked like real diamonds.

“Where did you come from?” Greg cried. He could hardly believe that with all the other things that had gone wrong, Lindsay had ambushed them two days running. This time she really had appeared out of thin air.

Lindsay made a huffy face. “I have a seat by the window and I saw you running off. I thought there might be some fun going on, so I left when Mr Guthrie wasn’t looking. I mean, who ever died from not learning hieroglyphics?”

“Nobody yet!” Greg said pointedly.

“Greg, be nice to her,” Lewis whispered, pulling his brother aside. “We could use her help.”

“To do what? Style our hair?”

“Look, she’s harmless. If we let her tag along, maybe she knows something that could help us out.”

Greg looked dubious, but grudgingly nodded. He turned to Lindsay with a smile that wouldn’t have fooled anyone but her.

“Lindsay, you look nice. Your outfit, your hair, your, uh…wings. Nice.”

Lindsay beamed radiantly for a second then vanished. Greg let out a yelp when she reappeared only centimetres from his face.

“Sorry, Greg,” Lindsay apologised, clasping her hands together and lowering her eyes. “Sometimes I just twinkle without meaning to.”

Greg tried to stop himself making a sickly face.
“Twinkle?”

Lindsay nodded shyly. “That’s what we fairies call it.”

“It’s a good trick, Lindsay,” said Lewis.

“Oh, it’s something any fairy can do,” Lindsay responded modestly.

“You see,” Lewis said into Greg’s ear, “she can
twinkle!”

“Yes, that’s going to be a big help,” Greg answered sceptically.

“So why did you run out of school?” Lindsay asked.

“It’s Lokiday,” Lewis said nonchalantly, “so we thought we’d take the rest of the day off.”

“We’re going to go home and relax,” said Greg, “take a nap, watch some TV.”

“What’s teevee?” Lindsay asked naively.

“You know, where you watch those singing shows and that thing about the models,” said Lewis.

Lindsay gave him a blank stare.

“Never mind,” Lewis said.

A thoughtful look came across his face as they carried on down the street with Lindsay hovering above them. “Lindsay, do you remember when we met around here yesterday?”

“What’s yesterday?” Lindsay asked unconcernedly. She was still looking at Greg.

“The day before today,” Lewis said.

“And today’s Lokiday,” Lindsay said.

“Right,” Lewis agreed.

“So what do you want to know?”

“It was your idea to let her tag along,” Greg muttered.

“The spell’s clouded her mind,” Lewis surmised.

“She had a head start on that.”

They walked along to the accompaniment of Lindsay’s chatter about the latest fairy fashions, gossip about what some of the elves at school were up to and her mum’s new crystal ball.

Greg tried to ignore her. “Have you come up with a plan yet other than letting Tinkerbell follow us
around?” he demanded of Lewis.

Lewis hummed uncertainly. “I’ve got lots of information about time stored on my computer as part of my project. If I could get to it, maybe it could help us sort things out.”

“Why should your computer be there? It’s probably turned into a toadstool or something.”

“Not everything’s changed. Your room’s stayed the same and mine’s right next door. Even downstairs some of the furniture’s the same. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Greg glanced up at Lindsay and said, “Anything’s worth a try.”

When they turned the corner into Bannock Street, Greg stuck out an arm to stop Lewis going any further. Parked in front of their house was a coach painted red and green led by two tethered goats. As big as horses, they were busily devouring the front hedge.

In the driver’s seat sat a tall figure in a leather coat with a long, sharp face that looked like it was made of ice. He wiped away a drip from his icicle of a nose and made a half-hearted effort to pull the goats away from the bushes.

“What’s that doing there?” Lewis asked.

“I’ll bet it’s got something to do with Aunt Vivien,”
Greg groaned.

Lindsay gaped at the carriage. “Isn’t that the cutest thing! Could you take me for a ride in it?”

“It’s not ours, Lindsay,” Lewis explained. “We don’t know who it belongs to.”

“Best not to find out,” Greg said. “The fewer weirdos we run into, the better.”

They ducked and took a roundabout route to their back garden. They slipped stealthily through the gate and wove a cautious path around the well that had appeared that morning.

Lindsay bobbed excitedly up and down in the air in front of them. “Is this some kind of a game we’re playing?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s loads of fun,” Greg agreed, signalling her to shut up.

“Ooh, a Lokiday prank!” Lindsay squeaked. “Can I help?”

Greg was starting to seethe. “It would be a big help if you got—”

“See that window up there, Lindsay?” Lewis interrupted in the nick of time. He was pointing to his bedroom window. “Could you fly up there and see if anybody’s inside?”

“Is this part of the prank?” she asked brightly.

Lewis nodded.

“Yes, it’s hilarious,” Greg said. “Now will you fly up there?”

Lindsay flitted up to the window and peered inside.

“There’s nobody there,” she said just loud enough for the boys to hear.

“Is my computer there?” Lewis asked eagerly.

Lindsay frowned, her little nose wrinkling under her glasses. “What’s a computer?”

“Well, it’s got a glass screen and it can answer questions.”

Lindsay peered into the room. “Yes, it’s there,” she reported, looking pleased.

“Going in through the door is too risky,” Greg grimaced. “We’ll have to climb up the drainpipe.”

“Lindsay can fly,” Lewis said thoughtfully. “Maybe she could carry us up there one at a time.”

Greg’s face took on an instantaneous look of horror. He clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth before Lindsay could hear him, and repeated with grim determination, “We’ll have to climb up the drainpipe.”

Lewis looked up. “Lindsay, could you twinkle inside and open the window please?”

“Yes, if that’s what you and
Greg
want.”

“It’s what we both want,” Greg confirmed. He made a face at her as she blinked out of view.

Marching up to the drainpipe, he took a firm grip with both hands and began hauling himself up. Luckily there were enough cracks in the worn brickwork to provide footholds.

By the time he reached the top Lindsay had opened the window and was standing back to leave him space. He clambered in and fell to the floor in an ungainly fashion.

Lewis came puffing over the window ledge and lowered himself to the floor one foot at a time. He could see at once that the room had changed, just like the rest of the house. There were stone statues of dragons and gargoyles dotted about the place, garish hangings on the walls, and the air was so thick with incense it was stifling.

Aunt Vivien’s ghastly Persian rug was one of the things that still looked the same, but there was no sign of Lewis’ computer.

“Where’s the computer, Lindsay?” he asked.

Lindsay pointed to the mirror hanging on the wall. “It’s not  what I’d call it, but why quibble.”

“That’s not a computer,” Lewis told her, aghast.

“It has a glass screen and it answers questions,” Lindsay insisted. She sounded a little hurt.

“And you told me what a big help she’d be,” Greg reminded Lewis.

Lindsay pouted. A tiny tear sprang to her eye and she disappeared.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Lewis accused.

“Big deal. She just made us bash our knees in for nothing.”

“Maybe not. She said it answers questions.”

Understanding dawned on Greg’s face. “You mean it’s a magic mirror, like in a fairy tale.”

“It makes sense, I suppose. But how do we start it up?”

“That’s simple,” Greg told him confidently. “Have you never seen
Snow White?”

He walked up to the mirror and saw that instead of his reflection, the glass was filled with a swirling mist. He cleared his throat and spoke in a commanding voice. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The twisting clouds rapidly formed an exotic face. It wore a red turban and had a long, aristocratic nose. Its large green eyes gazed out of the glass in a bored fashion and its forked beard twitched as it spoke.

“What sort of a question is that? You boys aren’t much of a beauty contest.”

Greg took an involuntary step backwards then steadied himself. “Forget about the beauty stuff,” he said. “That was just to get your attention.”

The Face yawned. “So?”

Greg paused and thought for a moment. “It probably only answers to rhymes.”

“Why would you think that?” Lewis objected, but Greg waved him to silence.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, open up and tell us all,” Greg intoned.

The Face gazed back scornfully. “You didn’t say the magic word.”

“Tell us all,
please,
” Greg said in a long-suffering tone.

The Face looked away and its eyebrows did a fair imitation of a pair of arms being crossed.

“What’s the problem?” Greg demanded. “I said what he wanted.”

“That’s not what he wants,” said Lewis. “Remember he’s kind of like a computer. He wants the password.”

The Face quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, the password,” it agreed superciliously.

“Go ahead and give it to him then,” Greg said.

Lewis cast an embarrassed sidelong glance at his brother. “Could you maybe step outside for a second?”

“Get on with it,” said Greg. “Give him the password.”

Lewis leaned as close to the mirror as he could and whispered, “Lindsay.”

“Lindsay?” Greg repeated in a voice dripping with scorn. “That is
tragic
!”

“Don’t…” Lewis began, then groped helplessly for the next word. “Just don’t.”

“If you’re quite finished,” the Face piped up.

“Sorry about that,” Lewis told it sheepishly.

“Don’t apologise to me,” the Face said. “I’m your servant, remember.”

“So serve us then,” Greg demanded, placing his fists on his hips.

“Who asked you to stick your nose in?” said the Face. “The little fellow’s the boss. He’s the one who said the magic word.”

Lewis bristled. “What do you mean ‘little’?”

“Forgive me, mountainous one,” the Face said in an off-handed manner. “What is your request?”

“Well, tell us what’s going on.”

The Face grimaced. “I hate to carp, but do you think you could be a shade more specific?”

“Well, yesterday, there were cars, TVs and computers. Today there are monsters, fairies and magic mirrors.”

“And Mum is an ogre,” Greg added.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the Face. “We said a rhyme and everything changed,” Lewis explained.

The Face made a quizzical expression. “I’m not aware of any change, O baffling one.”

“No, that’s because you’re part of it,” said Lewis. “The whole of reality has been altered.”

The Face let out a low whistle. “That’s too heavy for me. You need to consult the Fount of All Knowledge.”

“What is that?” Greg demanded.

The Face contorted in thought. “I don’t know. It just sort of popped into my…” its eyes rolled around searchingly, “head.”

“You mean you’re giving us advice that you don’t understand yourself,” Greg said irritably.

“You have a gift for the obvious,” said the Face. “Why should I need to understand it? I’m not the one with the problem.”

Greg turned assertively on his brother. “Okay, what’s this Fount of All Wisdom?”

Lewis lowered his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Greg chewed his lower lip then stabbed a finger decisively in the air. “The drinking fountain in Kinburn Park!”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of fount.”

“Well, at least I have a suggestion.”

“Such as it is,” the Face put in.

“It’s not like you’ve been a big help, Glasshead,” Greg retorted.

The Face ignored him and addressed Lewis with exaggerated politeness. “If you are done with me, O
unfortunate sibling, I shall return to the nothingness from which I came. And with some relief, I might add.”

So saying, the Face dissolved into the swirling mist that covered the mirror’s surface. Greg made an unpleasant gesture at the glass.

“Just a moment,” they heard a voice call from outside the room. “I must fetch my coat first.”

It was Aunt Vivien. There was no mistaking that piercing tone and they could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs towards them.

“We need to hide!” Lewis gasped in sudden panic.

“No time,” Greg said grimly. “Out the window!”

“We’ll break our necks,” Lewis objected.

“Slide over and hang on with your fingers, then let go,” Greg told him. “It’s not that big a drop. Now do it!”

The prospect of confronting a monster version of Aunt Vivien was enough to snap Lewis into action. He swung himself over the window ledge and slipped down till he was only just hanging on, with his legs dangling over the back garden.

He wasn’t inclined to let go, but he was delaying Greg’s escape by hanging on. He relaxed his grip and slid down the wall, the rough brickwork tearing up the front of his jumper. When he hit the ground his legs folded up and he collapsed into a ball. He lay there checking for broken bones until he was sure he wasn’t
injured.

He was about to get up when he noticed that he was staring at the toes of a pair of black boots. He followed them up a pair of long legs to where a tall, blonde woman stood over him. She was wearing chainmail and a round helmet with wings on the sides.

“So I find you crawling in the grass like a worm, just as should be expected,” she announced grandly, as though she were performing a scene out of an opera. She seized the hilt of the sword that hung at her side and pulled it from its sheath. “It’s time you were dealt with.”