Heroes of the Valley (31 page)

Halli spun round to stare into the mist. He saw nothing, heard much: shouts, screams (loud at first, then silenced), varied impacts (some metallic, some dull and heavy), the rasp of sundered mail, the cracking of teeth, odd scrapes and draggings upon the ground, rustles of torn clothing, and assorted creaks and shuffling steps that were familiar to him from the night before . . .

He pressed his back against the cold, damp stone.

'Halli . . . 'The voice awoke him from his terror. He looked up and saw that Aud had disappeared.

'Hurry,' she called. 'Climb up.'

Slowly, slowly, Halli moved away from the crag; with great difficulty, he turned his back on the swirling mist and its vivid array of sounds. Like Aud had done, he tucked his sword into his belt; like Aud he ran, jumped up – and utterly failed to reach the overhanging stone. He jumped again, fell back to earth. No good – it was just a little too high for him; his fingers brushed the base of the ledge, but could get no purchase.

Halli wet his lips, which were a little dry. His shoulder throbbed. Suppressing his surging panic, he felt around for alternative cracks or crevices below the ledge, but in vain. He cursed under his breath.

A whisper from on high: 'Halli . . . what's the problem?'

He flashed a glance over his shoulder – swirling mist – and whispered: 'Can't get up.'

'What?'

His croak was just a little louder. 'Can't – get – up.'

'Oh, great Arne!'

'Are you at the top? Shall I go round? Where's the best way to climb?'

Silence. Halli spun slowly round; the noises were quietening now. No one was screaming any more.

Aud's voice: 'The other sides look hard too. But the top's above the mist; it's flat enough – we could defend it. Halli, you've
got
to get up. The Trows—'

'You think I don't know? I'll go round – I'll find another way.'

Keeping close to the rock, he set off, but had gone only four paces when Aud's voice came again, only louder. 'Don't go round.'

'Why not?'

'I can see them in the mist, Halli . . . they're coming from the other side.'

'Svein's blood, how many?'

'Can't tell . . . they're too hazy; the moon's too bright and they keep so low, like they're bent double, crawling.'

Halli stepped back a few paces, gave a little run-up and sprang with all his vigour at the ledge. Missing it completely, he collided with the rock and fell in a sprawling heap. His shoulder was a blaze of agony; his blood splashed on the ground.

'Halli?'

'What now?'

'There are more coming from behind you.
Jump
, for Arne's sake! How short can your legs be?'

Halli made no answer; he was busy hopping and jumping and bounding against the black surface of the crag, hands scrabbling desperately at the rock. He became aware of shuffling noises drawing close from all around.

'Come
on
, Halli . . .'

Halli stopped jumping. He came to a decision. He turned, and drew the sword that he had taken from Ragnar. He weighed it in his hand, looked down its length at the nicks and dents left from the fighting at the House. He considered the solid metal hilt, wrapped with cloth. The hand guard was wide and sturdy.

Halli held the sword ready. Somewhere above, Aud was shouting at him, but he no longer heard her; blood pounded in his ears with an intensity that was oddly calming.

The mist flickered, dimmed: dark shapes moved within it, came towards him. Their forms were slabs of shadow; it seemed to Halli they were roughly human height, but appallingly thin, their legs almost swallowed by the meagre moonlight, their arms like broken rushes, stretched towards him.

Halli took a deep and measured breath. He raised the sword.

The figures moved in with sudden speed.

Spinning round, Halli reversed the blade and rammed it into the soft earth at his feet – deep, deep as it would go: half the blade was gone. He hopped back – ignoring the rapid sounds behind – and jumped.

His boot landed on the sword hilt, pushing it down, propelling him up.

His outstretched hands landed on the ledge; he had his elbows on it.

He wriggled his legs, pushed with his elbows, levered his weight onto the ledge. Something collided with the sole of his boot.

His feet swung up amid a mass of noise and movement, of clicking, shuffling and gnashing of teeth; of things bumping and scrabbling at the steep walls of the rock.

Moving without pause or conscious thought, ignoring his flaring shoulder, he clawed, tugged and swung from handhold to hand-hold, clambering up the crag, as far and as fast as he could. Fear gave him strength. The mist grew thin; moments later he saw Aud waiting just above, her head framed dark against the moon.

The summit of the crag was a broad, irregular slab of stone, of uneven gradient, but for the most part flat enough to walk on. It was as long as three men lying end to end and almost as wide as two. At one side the rock had weathered into jagged, brittle spurs that cracked beneath the feet; the other edges seemed fairly sound. In all directions the summit ended abruptly above steep shelves of rock. Halli and Aud, investigating hurriedly, thought that two areas in particular seemed vulnerable to attack: the side they had ascended, and a narrow wedge a little way off where the slope was not so sheer.

The crag was an island in the mist. Away to the north, the crest of Rurik's ridge was visible, but the valley in between was hidden by a silver sea of mist, flat and silent, unbroken save for two twisting cords of smoke that rose from Svein's House in the depths. To the east the top of the Snag poked clear; to the south they could just make out the little hill where Aud had fallen. Near at hand a few other crags protruded; far off, the mountains shimmered. They were alone under the moon.

The edge of the mist sea lapped against the rock a few yards below their feet. The surface was calm, but dark things could be glimpsed beneath it, pushing and pressing against the bottom of the crag. It was the same on every side. Muffled a little, but clear enough, came rustlings and cracking sounds.

Aud and Halli sat side by side, close to the edge. Aud held her sword, Halli his butcher's knife.

Halli said: 'I've been thinking. Suppose we don't manage to keep them off till dawn. If they get up here and we can't escape . . . I think . . .' He looked at her. 'I think we should use the sword.'

'Yes.'

'I don't mean to fight. I mean—'

'I understand you,' Aud said. 'And the answer is: yes.'

'At least we've got the moon,' Halli said, after a long pause.

'Like it came out for Arne and Svein when they fought upon their rock.'

'Exactly. A bit of light to fight by.'

'Did you
see
the Trows?' Aud said suddenly. 'Down there.

Did you see them? What were they like?'

Halli was turning his knife so that it flashed in the light. He cleared his throat. 'Not really. I just saw their outlines. Thin, really thin . . .'

Aud brushed hair from her face. 'Like the stories say.'

'Maybe.' Halli turned the knife. 'Do the stories say the Trows wear clothes?'

'Clothes?'

'Not proper clothes; just rags, and tatters . . . I don't know, I only caught a glimpse. I never thought they did, somehow. What the hell are they
doing
down there?'

From the base of the crag came a loud scratching, as of claws on rock.

'I should think they're climbing up,' Aud remarked.

'That's good,' Halli said. 'I was getting bored.'

'Arne's line,' Aud said.

'No, it was Svein's.'

Aud got swiftly to her feet. Her hands shook, her teeth chattered together, but she kept her voice calm. 'They're following the way we took,' she said. 'Where else . . . ?' She pattered over to the protruding wedge of rock, peered over, listened. 'Yes, here too. I'll take this side. Do you want the sword, Halli?'

'No. You have it.'

'I don't know how—'

'That makes two of us. Just hack at anything you see.'

Each turned to face their chosen side. Above, the moon was a fierce white disc, the sky veined silver and black. Halli waited in a half-crouch, knife raised ready. watching the edge.

So it must have been for Svein and the other heroes on the rock. The final moment before the Trows appeared. It was not an ignoble way to die.

The noises grew louder; the mist below seemed to boil and heave.

Halli tensed, ready to strike—

Behind his back, Aud squealed.

Turning, he saw her swing the sword down at a dark head rising above the stone; he saw it slice through the neck with a short, sharp snick. The head fell away; he heard it thud distantly on the ground. Two clawing hands remained upon the parapet; with a furious whimper Aud kicked out a boot, once, twice, cuffed them both from view. A heavy impact followed. From the mist came much rustling and agitated clicks of teeth.

Halli blew out his cheeks. It had all happened so quickly that he had not quite had time to register the Trow's face.

True, it had been bent, shrouded from the moon, but even so, he'd thought—

No. No! It couldn't be.

A little sound. A furtive shuffling at his back.

Halli swivelled hurriedly to face his side of the crag – and found someone there beside him. He was squatting on his haunches, teeth grinning beneath the knotted hair of his tangled, spreading beard. The face had shrunk, changed; its skull-tight flesh had all but vanished, the holes where the eyes had been gaped deep and black like fissures in the earth. On the chest, where the white shift hung loose, the thin knife hole had spread and darkened; it seemed to Halli that the skin had burst and come away.

Uncle Brodir held out a calloused, clawing hand to him. 'Halli – come close. Let me hold you, boy.'

'A
S FOR ME, BUILD
my cairn on the ridge above the House so that I may watch over you always; and those of you who obey my laws shall join me on the hill.'

Halli jerked away, screaming. He lashed out a leg, striking the figure in its bony midriff. It toppled backwards, white grave-shift flapping once like a seabird's wings in moonlight, and vanished over the edge of the crag. There was a brittle crashing of foliage, a bump, a moment's stillness.

Halli too had fallen back. His eyes protruded, his mouth hung open. He heard himself panting like a dog. He sat up painfully, then crawled towards the edge. He craned his head over.

Below him the rock face fell away, disappearing into mist. Deep below the surface he could just make out the ledge on which he'd rested, and beneath this a swell of restless, complex movements, a host of figures jostling at the crag's base. Amidst the clicks and shuffles and the scratching of claws on rock, he now heard peculiar gulps and hisses that stopped, started, rose and fell – not words so much as reproachful echoes of past speech, whispers heard from far away.

Up the side of the crag came something that crawled on hands and knees, proceeding like a spider in little rapid darts. Its head protruded from the mist – he saw the curled grey hair, the long, thin neck . . . It hung in shadow, but he sensed it looking up at him.

'
That
wasn't a very nice welcome for your poor old uncle,' the voice said.

Halli's hair stood up on his neck and scalp. His lips were dry; he pulled them back, panting, baring his teeth and gums.

'Oh, smile
now
, why don't you?' the voice continued, 'but I've got to climb up again, a fearful job with a body as stiff as mine. Come down to me instead.'

Fear had tightened Halli's throat so that his breath wheezed and whistled. 'You're not what you seem to be,' he whispered.

'Oh, but I am. And you are a very audacious boy, whose crimes have now caught up with you. Do you not remember me telling you most clearly that it was ruin to pass the cairns? Yet here you are, disobedient to the last. Never mind, I forgive you, seeing as it's so nice to be together again. If you
do
make me climb, the whole business will take ages, Halli.'

'I don't believe it!' Halli croaked. 'This is Trow magic – an illusion designed to drive me mad.'

'Child, what do I know of Trows? Listen to my voice. Am I not your uncle?'

'No! You sound quite different.'

'That is because the wind snatches at my words. Also because my tongue and palate have half rotted away, which makes forming consonants taxing.'

Halli gave a snarl. 'What kind of an excuse is that? Anyone might use it.'

'Halli, Halli, you
know
it's me.'

Halli said: 'Uncle Brodir – if – if that is who you truly are – try to remember: we buried you not six months past! All the appropriate sacrifices were made. You – you had a full and vigorous life and . . . and were well loved by us all. You should be taking well-earned rest, not walking the cold hills in that threadbare shift, with those poor bare feet . . .' He trailed off. The figure below was scrabbling at the slope, seeking to climb; he glimpsed a bony knee outflung, a gristly elbow bending as it hung upon the surface. Something gave way; with a screech of nails, the shape skittered down the rock.

The voice gave a gentle cry of frustration. 'See what you put me to, dear Halli! Every time I slip I lose more flesh!' The figure paused in its attempts; he knew it was looking up again. 'I was sleeping soundly in my little house, shielded from this horrid, hollow sky, and now I am drawn out once more . . . Because of you, Halli. Because of
you
.' A feral, gargling growl drifted upwards. 'I don't mind saying I resent it.'

'But, Uncle, the House is under attack – I had no choice. I lured our enemies up here so that the Trows could deal with them, and—'

Teeth clicked irritably. '
Why
do you persist in this? I know nothing of Trows.'

'It's just that we thought—'

We
. Aud! He had entirely forgotten her, defending the other way up the crag! Halli flashed a glance behind, and to his unutterable relief saw her still crouching at the rock edge, sword in hand. As he watched she made frantic stabbing motions downwards out of view.

When he looked back down
his
side of the crag, Halli was disconcerted to discover that the white-robed figure had suddenly and silently progressed more than halfway up the rock face. He saw the grey grave-hair whipping in the wind, the gaping eye sockets staring; and, behind the ragged, ruined beard, the cavernous toothy mouth.

Halli shuddered. 'You tricksy thing.' He held out his knife, twisting it so its edge flashed in the moonlight. The figure paused in its frenzied ascent. 'Ghost or figment,' Halli said, 'come any closer and I will slice you in two. After that I'll watch with interest your next attempt at moving – up, down or any which way. What do you say to this?'

A low desolate moan spilled from the open mouth. 'Nephew, you are cruel! Surely you would prefer it to be me who loves you who presses his fingers upon your throat. Throw away that silly thing.'

'One inch further and your head will spin into that cloudberry bush down there.'

'But I dandled you in my arms as a babe—'

'Poke anything above the rock, I'll lop it off.'

'I gave you beer and friendship—'

'So, then,' Halli snarled, 'why try to kill me now?'

'It is not
my
doing,' the form on the rock face whispered. 'Do not blame me, or any of your other ancestors who wait for you below with open arms. It is not our choice.
We
do not choose to be here. We wish to sleep.' Regret hung heavy in the ragged voice. 'You can help us sleep, Halli Sveinsson. You can help us. Come down and let us punish you, as we must. Then he will let us sleep again – you and the girl as well. I will take you to my cairn.'

Halli's gorge rose; his body shook so hard he almost dropped the knife. 'You're very kind, but –
no
.'

'If you delay,' the voice said peevishly, 'he'll come. None of us want that.'

Instinctive panic surged through Halli; he sprang upright on the summit of the crag, looking left and right, over the valley, up towards the mountains. 'I don't know who you're talking about,' he snarled. 'I don't know who you mean.'

'He's already calling you,' the voice said. 'Do you not hear him?'

'I hear nothing.'

A shudder, a sigh. 'He speaks clearly enough to me.'

The moon was covered for an instant by a spur of cloud and Halli was blinded. He heard a scuttering below him; when he could see again, he looked sharply at the figure hanging off the rock.

'You've come closer, haven't you?'

'No.'

'You have. Your arms have changed position.'

'I was weary. I adjusted myself.'

'High time I adjusted you further.' Halli bent low, with knife upraised.

There was a scream, a shout behind him. 'Halli, I can't—' A clasp upon his wrist; Aud was there, backing away from the edge she guarded. Over the rock's lip, rising up with eager haste, came outstretched arms and grinning heads. Moonlight shone on drifting strands of grey-white hair, on skull domes, grave shawls, tattered rags and hints of bone. Long claw-like nails clasped the stone; teeth snapped together; whispers echoed in gaping throats.

A hop, a skip, a flurry of white; Brodir sprang up the rock face, dodged beneath Halli's flailing knife and came to a crouching halt just out of range. He shook his head sadly. 'Now, nephew, this gives me no pleasure, but it must be done.'

Aud grasped Halli's hand. They backed away along the crag top, surrounded on three sides. With a series of flops and scuttles, the residents of the cairns closed in.

Aud flourished her sword. Halli jabbed with his knife to ward off a lunging bony arm.

Brodir said: 'Ah, your gestures are brave, but your bodies are weak and fearful. See, girl, how your sword shudders like a dandelion in a breeze; feel, Halli, how your teeth clatter like bone dice.'

'At least we have our bodies still,' Halli gasped. 'More than can be said of you.'

'A cheap shot,' Brodir said. 'Unworthy. Halli, Halli, do you not see that this is
your
doing. Why did you disobey his laws? Why did you break the boundary – not once, but twice? Why – above all – did you steal his precious treasure?'

Halli's voice was a croak. 'I don't know who you mean.'

'Oh, but you do.'

Back towards the crag's edge; little by little, step by step. The moon went in and out of cloud; the stone of the summit dimmed and flared, flared and dimmed. The dark throng all around pressed closer, arms raised stiffly, bony knees shuffling on the rock. A thing of rags and teeth sprang from the pack; Aud swiped with the sword, striking it in mid-air, cleaving it in two. The top half fell beyond her, over the edge and away into the mist; the bottom half struck Halli with a hollow clatter. Cursing wildly, he grasped a protruding leg-bone and hurled it away.

Brodir made a disapproving sound. 'Poor Uncle Onund! That is not respectful behaviour to your ancestor.'

Halli hacked and slashed with his knife, fended off a dozen clasping hands. 'How about some respect for
us
?'

'We have no choice. We are his people. We must obey his will.'

Aud struck out wildly left and right. Bone cracked, rags tore. Halli's knife grew tangled in a knot of grave-cloth; he felt it wrenched away. In desperate fury he kicked and punched, only to have his arms snared, his leg grappled and pulled from under him. Falling back upon the stone, he found himself dragged forwards; dark shapes swept over him, bringing a deathly chill. There was an icy grip upon his throat; he choked and gasped for breath, but the air was filled with foulness—

The grip lessened abruptly, the shapes withdrew. Halli stared up at the stars.

In a flurry of horror, he rolled, bent, got to his feet. Aud stood beside him, chest heaving, clothes torn, hand bloodied, sword still in hand. All around, with an urgent rustling and clicking of bony joints, the ancestors were drawing back, retreating to the crag edges, lowering themselves down in awkward lurches. Skulls gleamed, teeth glittered; they vanished from view.

Only Brodir remained, crouched at the far end of the crag. He shifted fretfully from side to side.

Halli and Aud clung close to each other. The moon shone bright upon the surface of the rock.

The noises on the crag sides faded; all was still.

Somewhere away beneath the mists came a great noise, a crashing and clattering of rocks. It ended. At the same time the moon's light flickered and went out.

Brodir's voice said: '
Now
you've done it.'

Long moments passed; neither Halli nor Aud spoke or could have spoken. Then, through the dark, they heard, very faintly at first, but growing ever stronger, the steps of something approaching over the moor. Little by little the sound increased, and with it came the rhythmic clink of a chain-mail coat. A heavy tread, chain mail clinking: louder and louder, until the crag and the mists and the very mountains that ringed the valley took up the echo; nearer and nearer . . . It reached the foot of the crag.

Silence.

In the darkness they heard Brodir's nervous scuffling.

Bang!
An impact on the rock.
Bang!
Another.
Bang!
Something clambering up, each hand and foot striking the stone with such force that the whole crag shook. Halli and Aud pressed close; each put an arm around the other. Still the moon was smothered by the clouds.

'Oh,' came Brodir's whisper. 'You've
really
done it now.'

Bang!
Right below the edge. And then came a rattling of mail and the rasp of leather; sounds of swift movement; a great weight landing on the summit of the crag.

In the silence that followed, the clouds grew ragged in the sky; bright slashes of moon shone through. Weak light illuminated the summit.

It outlined the figure of a man.

His stature was a giant's: taller by far than Hord or Arnkel, or any other leaders of a House; broader in chest and arm even than Grim the smith. A great helmet swathed the head. Light gleamed dully on its crest and side, but the face was shadowed and could not be seen. Faint glints across the body revealed the long chain-mail coat, the armoured sleeves, the metal greaves below the knee. The legs were braced apart, straddling the crag-top; the arms hung motionless, one hand resting at a hip, the other silhouetted on the hilt of a dark and slender sword.

Power radiated from the shape, a power unbridled: the kind of power that tore rocks from the earth, split trees, withstood the river's torrents, sent its enemies wailing into the dark. Halli and Aud stood stricken; strength ebbed from their limbs. The force of the figure's presence beat against them like a tide.

It seemed to affect Uncle Brodir too: he skulked, cringing, by the crag's edge, as if eager, but unable, to depart. Now, suddenly, he stirred.

'Do you not hear him?' he croaked. 'He speaks to you.'

Halli shook his head, his voice the faintest whisper. 'I hear nothing.'