Free The Lost Gods by Francesca Simon Page B

than fighting any giant.’
    â€˜Good luck, everyone,’ said Freya. ‘Go up to as many people as possible and spread the word.’
    The Goddess tossed her head and winked at a handsome young man sauntering by, chatting on his mobile. He stopped dead when the Goddess caught his eye. Soon he was joined by a cluster of men flocking round her.
    â€˜Hi, I’m Alfi, and I want to talk to you about the Gods,’ said Alfi.
    â€˜Can I talk to you about the Gods?’ said Roskva.
    â€˜No,’ said a woman lugging heavy shopping bags.
    â€˜I need to talk to you about the Gods,’ said Freya.
    â€˜Worship the Gods or I’ll KILL you!’ roared Snot.
    No one stopped.
    â€˜The world will end unless we all start worshipping the gods NOW!’ shouted Roskva into the microphone. ‘Stop bartering, you trolls, and listen. The frost giants are coming!’
    â€˜Why aren’t you worshipping the Gods, you conceited scum?’ bellowed Thor, fixing people with his blazing eyes.
    The shoppers bustled by as fast as possible and ducked into the Tube station.
    â€˜The Gods alone stand between us and the frost giants. Don’t cast Woden’s wise words to the winds,’ yelled Alfi.
    â€˜The Gods, may their names live forever, have given us so many gifts,’ shouted Freya. ‘But in your strivings for wealth and fame, never forget Tyr, who gave his right hand to the Wolf for the greater good of all and saved us from certain destruction. We must all strive to be worthy of a God’s sacrifice. Mighty Thor protects us. Glorious Frey and his sister Freyja give us prosperity. Woden gives us—’
    Woden yanked the microphone from her.
    â€˜We created you from pieces of driftwood,’ he boomed, his voice drowning out the din of traffic and hurrying feet. ‘Then we gave you luck, to keep you hopeful when life gets tough
and
the chance to win the fame, which alone outlives death.’ Woden’s voice rose and his face reddened. ‘So now it’s your turn to thank us with your worship, you ungrateful herrings. If you don’t, may fire play over your possessions and may it burn your backs!’
    â€˜I don’t think cursing people is the right way to win them over,’ said Freya.
    â€˜It’s time to thank the Gods for all their gifts by worshipping them,’ she shouted.
    â€˜The frost giants are coming and we need the Gods to protect us!’ yelled Alfi.
    I’m pretty good at this, thought Freya. She’d never realised how all those endless sermons she’d listened to over the years had sunk in.
    â€˜Cattle die, kinsmen die. The self must also die. But glory never dies. Come back to theGods!’ she hollered into the crowd.
    â€˜I don’t think anyone is listening,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜Shut up and listen, you scum,’ roared Thor, snatching up a passer-by and holding him in the air by his jacket, ‘Or my hammer will shut your mouth. I’ll hurl you all into Hel so no one will ever have to look at your ugly faces again!’
    The man began to kick and scream. Thor dropped him suddenly, and he ran.
    â€˜May your end be horrible. May you never enter Valhalla,’ shouted Thor after him.
    Freya watched the crowds scurrying away from the furious Gods. A bus hurtled through a massive puddle in the flooded street, drenching them with water.
    Slowly she lowered her sodden placard.
    â€˜I’m sorry, this isn’t working,’ said Freya.

Meanwhile
    Buried deep inside a glacier, jagged and raw where chunks had crashed into the curdling sea, was the outline of an ice-locked giant.

A Display for Heroes
    Freya slumped on the sofa. The Gods slumped with her. Wet clothes steamed on every radiator and sodden boots and shoes lined the hallway. Clare, fortunately, was out at a Fane Council meeting, so wouldn’t see everyone eating fish and chips on the sofa. They’d have to take some gold to a