The Fire Stallion

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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Text copyright © Stacy Gregg 2018

Cover design © HarperCollins Children’s Books 2018

Cover images and decorative illustrations © Shutterstock

Stacy Gregg asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008261412

Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008261436

Version: 2018-07-24

For Nicky Pellegrino and the Sea Breeze Café

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: Eternal Dawn

Chapter 2: Horses in the Woods

Chapter 3: Transmogrification

Chapter 4: The All-Thing

Chapter 5: Bru and Me

Chapter 6: The Hammer of Thor

Chapter 7: The Island

Chapter 8: True Love’s Kiss

Chapter 9: Prince Sigard

Chapter 10: The Fire Ring

Chapter 11: Loki’s Trick

Chapter 12: The Bidding

Chapter 13: Fire Stallion

Chapter 14: Long Shadows

Chapter 15: Casting the Runes

Chapter 16: Valkyrie

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About the Publisher

When I was little, I was terrified of the dark. I was totally convinced that night-time brought the monsters to life.

I never thought that one day I would miss it. That I would be here now, lying in bed wide awake at midnight, longing for the peaceful inky blackness of a true night sky.

When I push apart the blackout curtains in our log cabin it’s as bright as day outside. Lilac clouds sweep in drifts across the sky, their edges rimmed with fiery shades of pink. At the horizon the sky deepens into blood red until the point where it strikes the sea and becomes molten gold.

Nobody mentioned the constant daylight to me before we arrived in Iceland. Mum had told me it was going to be freezing here, even though it’s the middle of summer, but she never said that in summer there’s virtually no night. It’s because we’re so close to the North Pole. The sun pretty much never sets.

You would think that continual daytime would be cool – like staying up as late as you want. But it’s not like that. Eventually, you want to sleep whatever, and then you find that you can’t because, even with the blackout curtains, those rays find a way of creeping in. Just knowing that the sun is blazing outside while you’re in bed trying to sleep is enough to keep you wide awake.

No wonder this place is messing with my head. Ever since that night with the fire ritual, I swear that I’m not always me any more. I shift back and forth, my shape becoming one and the same as hers. If I focus hard now, I can hear her voice. More than that, I can feel her thoughts and instincts. They’re mingled with mine. Brunhilda’s Viking blood is coursing through my veins. I’m a thousand years old and thirteen all at the same time.

Yesterday, as I walked across the fields towards the horses with Anders I saw this patch of brilliant red berries growing right there on the moss beside the track. Without thinking, I picked some and put them straight in my mouth. Anders was horrified.

“Are you crazy? They could be poisonous!”

I laughed. “They’re delicious,” I insisted, holding them out to him. “Try some!”

I would have been in big trouble if Katherine had caught me. Feeding potentially poisonous wild berries to her lead actor? She would have hit the roof. I’m not even a proper crew member on this movie, I’m only here because of Mum.

Anders hesitated for longer than I expected. “How do you know, Hilly? If they’re poisonous, they could kill us,” he said.

“I’ve got no intention of dying,” I replied, smiling. My hand was still outstretched, daring him to take them.

“Nobody intends to die,” Anders said, plucking the entire handful from my palm and then munching them down.

“Yummy,” he agreed.

I double-checked the berries on the internet when I was back at the cabin later that day. Lingonberries, it said. They turn scarlet when ripe for the picking. Perfectly safe. A staple of the ancient Icelandic diet. But then I had known that when I had picked them. It’s because of Brunhilda. I know everything that she knows. All about the natural world around me here. Like I can tell you which are the tastiest of the mosses and lichens growing on the volcanic rocks. I’m an expert too on gathering seaweed, picking through the salty strands washed up on the shoreline, divining which kinds are suited for eating raw and which would be better for stewing in the cooking pot. The other day, walking along the beach, I found a dead Greenland shark that had washed up in the storm and, without even acknowledging what I was doing, I found myself digging a hole in the pebbles at the top of the tideline, where I knew it would stay dry, and burying the body. I dug the hole shallow, but deep enough so that the heavy stones I piled up on top will press down and squeeze the shark, making the deadly toxins leach out as it rots. It will need about a month like that before I can go back and dig it up again and eat it. By then its noxious juices will have disappeared completely and the meat will be safe to consume.