The Sleeping Army by Francesca Simon Page A

Alfi and Roskva fell upon the hoard as well, filling their pockets.
    Freya hesitated. Just one of those gold arm rings or brooches must be worth … was it stealing, to steal from a giant? Especially a giant who had stolen Idunn?
    â€˜Stop – you’re stealing …’ began Freya.
    The others ignored her. Alfi looked at her, surprised.
    â€˜This isn’t stealing,’ he said. ‘We’re plundering an enemy.’
    â€˜Doesn’t your father go raiding?’ said Roskva, stuffing arm rings into her pouch.
    â€˜No!’ said Freya.
    â€˜How do you gain wealth then?’ said Alfi.
    Not by being an inner-city priestess like Clare orworking at the British museum like Bob, thought Freya. The memory of her parents bit into her heart.
    â€˜You get a job … and you work.’
    â€˜Like on a farm?’ said Alfi. ‘No one gets rich working on a farm. My parents barely had a cauldron and an oak chest. Oh, if they could see all this!’
    Roskva grabbed a sword and tucked it into her belt. Then she handed Freya a long sword attached to a leather strap. ‘Take this. You may need it.’
    Freya stared at the sword, covered in runic inscriptions, heavy and warm in her hand. It was so leaden she could barely lift it. What would she do with a sword except trip over it? She set it back down on the heap of weapons.
    â€˜Come on, we’re looking for Idunn, we don’t have time to waste,’ said Freya, leaving the hoard. Had the gold made them forget that almost half their bodies were now mottled ivory?
    â€˜Freya’s right,’ said Alfi, grabbing one last brooch as he followed her. ‘We can always come back for more.’
    They continued searching the entire storm-hall, every room, every chest, but there was no sign of Idunn or her apples.
    â€˜She’s not here,’ said Alfi, striving to be heard above the whistling wind.
    â€˜Idunn!’ shouted Roskva. ‘Idunn! It’s Roskva. Are you here?’ Her voice echoed eerily in the vast hall.
    Freya felt hideously disappointed. What had she expected, to find Idunn sitting at a loom or tending to a fire? She realised she’d been hoping against hope that somehow it would all turn out right.
    â€˜Let’s get some food,’ said Roskva. Her teeth chattered. ‘I’m starving. Then we must decide what to do.’
    â€˜Kill the giant,’ snarled Snot.
    Fat lot of good that will do, thought Freya.
    The table was far too high to reach, so Alfi grabbed a fishing rod, scrambled up on to a bench and swept the table to knock down whatever was on it. A massive loaf of barley bread and a bowl of curds and whey flopped to the floor. They fell on the food. After the berries and the rotten oat cakes and the tree sap it tasted like heaven. Freya felt like Goldilocks. I should wash my – oh forget it, she thought, shovelling bread into her mouth. I’ll be dead soon, I can live a little.
    There was a fluttering sound.
    â€˜Look!’ hissed Roskva. ‘Oh look!’ She pointed to the beam high above their heads. A mass of feathers hung over it, ruffling in the wind.
    It was a falcon skin. It shimmered and glimmered,the feathers flecked with gold and blue.
    â€˜That’s Freyja’s falcon skin,’ said Alfi. ‘I’d know it anywhere.’
    â€˜It means Loki was definitely here,’ said Roskva, beaming. ‘Freyja loaned it to him to fly here. He can’t change into a bird: only to earth-bound creatures.’
    â€˜Then why would he leave the falcon skin behind?’ said Freya.
    Roskva shrugged. ‘Something obviously happened to him here. There’s no way he would abandon it. Maybe he left in a hurry. Maybe Thjazi killed him.’
    â€˜Maybe he froze to death,’ said Alfi.
    â€˜Quick, let’s get it down,’ said Roskva. ‘Freya can fly up to it.’
    What? thought Freya.
Fly?
    The ground began to shake. There was a THUD!