The Sleeping Army by Francesca Simon Read Free Book Online

Heimdall’s horn was blown at long last.
    â€˜But the entire army didn’t wake. Just … you.’
    Roskva and Alfi glanced at one another. Snot gripped his sword and growled under his breath.
    Uh-oh, thought Freya. Uh-oh. I don’t like thesound of this. Could Woden hear her heart banging against her chest?
    â€˜Our fate is a harsh one, Lord,’ said Roskva. Alfi poked her.
    â€˜Fate rules all our lives,’ said Woden. ‘Even the Gods.’
    â€˜Just tell me who to kill,’ said Snot. ‘My sword is sharp and ready.’
    â€˜You four are our last hope,’ said Woden.
    â€˜Ha!’ snorted Sif.
    â€˜Some hope,’ muttered Frigg.
    Woden ignored them.
    â€˜You must save us. The giant Thjazi took Idunn the ever-young to his storm-home high in the mountains of Jotunheim. Go to the realm of the giants. Find Idunn and bring her back. Otherwise, we will die.
    â€˜And when we die the weeping world will die with us. The ice is melting. I can feel it. I can hear it. Drip. Drip. Drip. The waters are rising. The Frost Giants will rise up, freed from their icy bonds. Then the Axe-Age and the Wind-Age and the Wolf-Age will be upon the earth.’
    Let the ice melt, thought Freya viciously. She felt as if she were struggling through quicksand. What can
I
do? Find Idunn? Find Thjazi? What?
    â€˜Don’t ask me to do this,’ Freya whimpered. Shethought of terrible things she’d been forced to do in the past. Wear a hideous pink dress to the school disco. Babysit her bratty cousin. Eat beetroot. Walk to the top of Arthur’s Seat in the Edinburgh rain. Invite Grisla Taylor to her birthday party. Sing a solo at Ruth Kirsch’s bat-mitzvah. Clean her bedroom
every
Saturday. Go on a rollercoaster.
    â€˜You will do as you’re told,’ said Tyr. ‘We are the Lords your Gods.’
    Alfi looked at Freya open-mouthed. Then he fell to his knees.
    â€˜We are ready to obey,’ he said.
    â€˜Tell us where to go,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜I will kill Thjazi, I vow it,’ said Snot.
    Everything was happening too fast.
    â€˜Wait!’ said Freya. She jumped to her feet. ‘Wait. I’m a schoolgirl. I’m not even old enough to stay home alone at night. Of course if I were, then I wouldn’t be here, would I? This is all some terrible mistake. I blew the horn by accident and I was in the stupid museum by accident because my dad is stupid and my parents are divorced. Please. You can’t ask me to do this. I don’t even have a coat with me!’ she wailed.
    Roskva muttered under her breath. ‘I’d shut up if I were you.’
    â€˜It is not for you to decide yes or no,’ said the Father of All. ‘It’s enough that I command it.’
    â€˜You can’t make me.’ Freya felt as if a bratty voice inside her was speaking. Fear made her reckless.
    The assembled Gods gasped and hissed. Thor half-rose, but couldn’t get up and collapsed back on to the stone.
    Roskva muttered under her breath. ‘I’d really shut up if I were you. He’s killed people for much less.’
    â€˜You DARE to challenge the will of the All-Father, Waker of the Dead, Giver of Victory, the All-Mighty, the …’ Woden broke off, coughing, hacking, wheezing and clutching his wizened chest. ‘Don’t you want to outlive your mortality?’ he rasped. ‘Life is so short. You came from darkness and in a few flaps of a raven’s wing you will return to darkness. Without renown, without glory, you are nothing. You’ll be nothing. You should be eager for fame.’ His filmy eye glared at her contemptuously.
    Eager for fame? Freya looked bewildered at the one-eyed God as he swayed before her, gasping for breath. Of course she wanted to be famous. Didn’t everyone? But she wanted to be a famous rock star. A famous writer. A famous palaeontologist. A famous tap dancer (even though she had two left feet