Return of the Ancients (10 page)

Eilif’s head fell forward, and he spoke to keep her conscious. ‘What does this plant look like?’

‘It grows on the banks of rivers. Some call it the blood-star flower. Its fat leaves are what we seek.’

Arn nodded. ‘I know it.’

Eilif looked at him wearily. ‘Of course you do. This is your world, after all.’ She collapsed against him, and he lifted her in his arms and ran on, hoping he found the river soon.

Twilight had caught up with them.

Arn easily found the river, and left Eilif leaning against a large rock, still warm from the late afternoon sun. Blood-star flowers lined the water’s edge, and he pulled free several of the fat juicy leaves. He looked up the bank to the girl . . . He shook his head. He was starting to think of her as a normal girl, yet she was as strange to him as he probably was to her. She half dozed and her breath now fell in a shallow wheeze. He looked at the small pile of leaves in his hand, wondering if she would be able to tell him how to administer them – was she supposed to rub them on? Swallow them? Burn them and then inhale the smoke? He had no choice; he’d have to try to rouse her
.

Arn was making his way back up the bank with a handful of leaves, when he noticed that Eilif was covered in the small, carnivorous yellow butterflies – they were fighting over her wounds. Disgusted, he ran forward kicking and swatting at them.

‘Get outta here!’

They floated upwards in a yellow cloud, content to hover overhead – waiting. It seemed that the smell of blood attracted them like a school of gossamer-winged piranha.

Arn knelt beside Eilif. She was very still. Arn was thirsty, so he guessed she must have been severely dehydrated, given the amount of blood she had lost. He placed the leaves on the ground next to her, glanced up at the hovering butterflies, and then raced back down to the stream. He scooped some water into his hands, and ran back up the bank. Her nostrils twitched as he approached, and her eyes opened slightly. Arn had expected a long tongue to dart from her mouth, and for her to start lapping at the water. Instead, she reached out to grab his hands and guided them to her mouth, sipping the water daintily. Swallowing, she gave a soft croak of thanks, and then lay back.

Arn leaned forward. ‘I have the leaves – what should I do?’

Eilif lifted a hand, palm open, and Arn dropped some of the leaves into it. He noticed that a few of the butterflies were once again starting to flutter close to her head, and he swatted them. Looking at their broken bodies scattered in the dirt reminded him of the marching fish. His stomach rumbled.

‘Back in a minute.’ He grabbed the fallen butterflies and raced down to the stream. But when he returned a minute later carrying a couple of freshly caught fish, he was dismayed to see that she hadn’t moved. Her head lolled to one side, and the leaves lay untouched in her open palm. He knelt beside her and shook her gently.

‘Hey, wake up. You need to show me how to prepare the leaves.’ He shook her again, and she mumbled groggily, but didn’t open her eyes.

‘Eilif, please. You need . . .’ A deep trumpeting sound came from the forest behind them, and Arn swung around. He looked along the edges of the forest, now quite dark as the sun was nearly down. He held his breath . . . The forest beyond had grown ominously silent.

He heard it again – like a giant horn being blown, this time a little closer.
A hunting horn,
he thought.
We’re being tracked
.

He looked down at the comatose Wolfen and shook his head. He wanted to run, and got to his feet. He couldn’t think clearly. If the Panterran caught them again, there would definitely be no escape. His stomach lurched at the thought of that vile old sorcerer cutting him open. He was breathing fast and knew he was starting to panic. It took all his willpower to close his eyes and drag in a few deep, calming breaths.

He had more at stake than just his own safety. He needed to think of the girl – well,
wolf-girl
. He knew they couldn’t stay out in the open; they needed a place to hide . . . and it certainly wasn’t here.

Arn quickly gathered up the blood-star leaves from Eilif’s hand, and stuffed them into his pocket. In his other pocket he managed to stuff one of the fish, but gave up on the other, leaving it to the butterflies.

He scooped her up in his arms. In the fading light, he could make out some cliffs just a few miles back from the river.
Gotta be some rocks or a cave we can hide in
, he thought, looking down at the unconscious warrior in his arms.

The horn blared again – still distant, but definitely working its way closer. With Eilif in his arms, Arn started to run.

The lengthening shadows merged into darkness, and as the giant moon had not yet risen, Arn knew there would be a period of utter blackness. He didn’t break his stride, knowing that the Panterran would be worried little by the lack of light – he had the feeling they would probably prefer it.

He shook his head, not fully understanding how he managed to carry someone nearly as big as himself, and not fall over from fatigue
. Adrenaline,
he told himself, and increased his speed.

After another few minutes, he saw a cave in the distance and raced the last few hundred feet towards it. Pushing some overhanging brush out of the way, he stepped through its mouth and gagged. The smell was slightly like fish and ammonia, but the cave looked unoccupied. It didn’t matter anyway as he was out of options. He just needed somewhere to hide until morning, and time to work out how to administer the plant medicine to his new friend.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he noticed that the cave opened up into a larger cavern. Dagger-like stalactites hung from the roof overhead, and sticks crunched painfully beneath his bare feet. He carefully lifted Eilif to one side of the cave, away from the mouth, to give them better cover. He eased her down against a tumble of smooth boulders.

Arn pulled the leaves from his pocket, noticing many were now crushed, coating his hand in thick green fluid. They gave off an odour like cloves and mint, much more appealing than the smell of the cave. Once again he held them out to the Wolfen.

‘Eilif, how do you take them? Do you . . .?’

It was no use – she was unconscious. Lifting her head, Arn squeezed the leaves over her open mouth. Their flesh gave up more of the thick green liquid.

Arn watched intently as the liquid first fell onto her tongue, and then slid down her throat. He waited, but nothing happened.

His injured hand had begun to sting like crazy now that the sap from the leaves had coated it. He turned it over, and as he watched, the pocket-knife wound fizzed and foamed, the skin around turning pink and closing together like a zipper.

Wow, I gotta take some of this back home to show Grandfather
, he thought. Beside him, Eilif coughed.

‘Have you got any water?’ she croaked.

Arn smiled, and felt like hugging her. Instead, he settled for putting his hand on her shoulder. He shook his head. ‘No, but I’ve got a fish.’

‘
Yecch –
Slinker food.’ She sat up, rubbing her forehead and blinking. Arn noticed her eyes shone luminously in the dark.

‘Where are we?’ she frowned, her nostrils twitching as she inhaled the smells of the cave. She grabbed his arm and her eyes widened. ‘Thor’s hammer; we’re in a jormungandr hole!’

‘A wha . . .?’ Arn looked around. The moon must have risen, as a silvery glow washed in along the cave floor, and now he could see clearly what he had previously taken to be dry sticks underfoot as he had entered.

Bones
.

He glanced about warily and leaned in close to Eilif. ‘What’s a jormungandr?’ He already guessed it wasn’t going to be something pleasant. He pulled the Wolfen to her feet.

She kept her eyes on the back of the cave. ‘It’s the closest thing to a daemon on Earth, and something you don’t want to meet without a company of strong warriors, or at least a sword of Wolfen steel . . . Arnoddr?’

‘Yes?’

‘Back up slowly.’

Arn noticed Eilif’s ears were flicking back and forth to the multiple passages that branched away into the impenetrable darkness at the rear of the cavern. He shook his head – perhaps the blood-star leaves were making her hear things. Then there came a heavy sliding sound, and something else like giant knitting needles clicking, clacking together.

He looked back towards the mouth of the cave – he had dragged Eilif quite a way inside; at the time, he wondered whether it was going to be enough to hide them. Now he wished he had stayed near the entrance.

The heavy scuttling and clicking was getting nearer, and the stench of ammonia was becoming overpowering.

‘I can smell it,’ he whispered.

Eilif sniffed. ‘All I can smell is that stinking fish – get rid of it.’

Arn reached into his pocket; pulling out the slimy fish, he threw it to the other side of the cave. It bounced once, but before it could come to rest, the tip of an enormous spiked leg speared it to the ground.

Arn’s breath caught in his throat and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. The same feeling of dread had an even more pronounced effect on his companion, whose fur stood on end from the top of her head.

Arn was frozen in place as the enormous creature rose up over them. Glistening a deep red like oily blood, its segmented body resembled massive bulbs joined together, each sporting a pair of legs that ended in sharp, bristly points.

The largest segment was a bulging, tear-shaped head, gaping open to display fiercely curved mandibles that clacked open and closed like some sort of machine for grinding wood . . . or bone.

Arn watched in horror as the creature raised the fish to its mandibles and ground it into paste.

He couldn’t see any eyes on the glistening head, only a pair of wrist-thick antennae waving in the air, perhaps tasting or sensing the surroundings. Arn was in no doubt that the thing was aware they were there.

He whispered to Eilif, ‘It’s blind – does it track by sound or movement?’

‘Sound, smell, movement – it doesn’t need eyes in the dark depths of Hellheim.’ Eilif started to back up, then spoke without taking her eyes off the creature. ‘Run.’

No sooner had she uttered the word then the thing swiftly positioned itself by the cave entrance; its huge teardrop head hung over them, mandibles dripping, almost daring them to try and pass underneath it.

Eilif’s shoulders slumped and she turned to Arn. ‘Both may not make it, but one might have a chance.’ She put her hands together and twisted free a silver ring that was on her right middle finger. She held it up to kiss it, and Arn saw that on its surface was the raised face of a wolf, with red eyes. She grabbed his hand and pressed the ring into it.

‘I cannot run far now, even if I escaped the cave. Already the effects of the fenninlang leaves are wearing off. But you must make it back to Valkeryn and warn the brother Wolfen.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘This is the seal of the house of Grimvaldr – it will open any doors to you, even royal ones.’

She turned wearily, searching the ground for a moment, then crouched to pick up a long, broken bone, and moved to place herself between Arn and the creature. He saw the weight of her fatigue pressing down on her, and felt a rush of anger. The thought of allowing her to sacrifice herself was so horrible, it made him grit his teeth.

She spoke quickly over her shoulder. ‘Tell them I died with honour.’

She staggered under the weight of her injuries. But despite his own fatigue, Arn felt the same sensation of flowing power through his limbs that he had felt on the hillside. He raised his hands to his face, fingers flexing, and studied them in the moonlight.

The thought echoed in his mind:
the moonlight.

He spoke softy to Eilif’s back. ‘You can tell them yourself.’

Reaching down to pick up a stone the size of his fist, Arn launched it at the creature. It struck one of the segmented sections behind its head, chipping off a large piece of its red-hued carapace.

Eilif’s mouth dropped open. ‘Odin’s beard! That was a mighty throw, son of Man-kind. Only the heaviest blows can pierce the jormungandr’s armour.’ Eilif picked up a stone, and threw it as well, but it simply bounced away without any damage to the thing at all.

The jormungandr hissed. The greenish liquid that dripped from its mandibles foamed and sizzled on the dirt floor of the cave.

‘Beware of its venom,’ Eilif warned him. ‘Its bite is poisonous.’

‘Thanks. I wasn’t worried until now.’

The massive creature’s mandibles clicked together, and more of the caustic venom dripped to the ground. Eilif motioned towards it. ‘While the cave mouth is open, we have a chance. But when it closes . . .’ She let the words hang.

Arn frowned. ‘Closes?’ He turned to Eilif, who pointed again to the creature that was still hanging above the cave mouth.

‘Watch.’

As they watched, white foam sprayed forth from the creature’s head, sticking to the top of the cave mouth and hanging down in thick webbed strands. These stiffened and darkened on contact with the air. The jormungandr seemed to rest, but only for a few seconds. It swelled slightly, as if drawing a breath, and then spewed out still more web, sealing the cave mouth entirely.

No sooner was this done, than the jormungandr hissed and pounced at them. Arn pushed Eilif to one side, and dived to the other. He kept rolling and moving quickly, but the injured Wolfen was slower. The effects of the drug were obviously starting to wear off.

The thing dragged more of its segments up from the bowels of the cave, and where the first dozen or so had been the size of a small table, the ones now appearing were as large as a line of small cars linked together. Arn wondered briefly about the size of this thing that still coiled away into the cave’s depths, and he had a mental image of a giant hermit crab, using the entire mountain as its shell.