Sky Wolves (10 page)

Flo didn’t know much about mirrors, but she did know they were supposed to reflect the room they were in. She turned round again, slowly, fearfully, and there were the three white figures, leaning forward. They appeared to be spinning something, and as she stared, with a dreadful
fascination, the central one lifted her head and gazed at Flo with milky eyes. There was something familiar about her, but Flo couldn’t think what. And just as she thought this, the surface of the mirror rippled and changed to a kind of smoke.

Oh dear,
thought Flo, as the smoke wreathed its silky way towards her.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

And she wrenched herself awake, trembling and sweating.

Nothing had changed. The room was empty and quiet apart from the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire. Outside, the wind mourned.

Flo couldn’t bring herself to look at the mirror. There was no sign of Henry or Myrtle. She felt disturbed by her terrible dream and wanted company. Though she was afraid to leave the room, she padded quietly to the door and poked her nose into the hallway.

A blast of cold air came in through the front door, which was open. Flo felt more confused than ever. Myrtle never left the front door open – it let the outdoors in, she always said. Fearfully, in case Henry was waiting for her on the stairs, she trotted towards it and peeped out.

The light had changed to a greenish yellow and there were snowflakes whirling round in it, dancing lightly in the air rather than falling to earth. Flo shivered, then, more disorientated than ever, she ventured on to the path, looking for her mistress. She didn’t dare to bark, in case Henry heard, but as she advanced towards the gate, she saw that it too hung open.

Something was terribly wrong, Flo thought. No one was more security-conscious than Myrtle, who kept most of the
doors and windows locked even when she was in. Finally she remembered that Myrtle was visiting her next-door neighbour, Mrs Drum.

Next door couldn’t be that far, Flo told herself. She could go there, all by herself, and bark at the window until someone appeared. Still she hesitated. Terrible things happened to dogs who stepped outside their own gates. Beyond her gate was the croft, and she didn’t feel safe without a lead. She wished very much that Aunty Dot would come along and attach her to one. She didn’t even know if she could walk properly without one. Gingerly, as though the earth might open up beneath her and swallow her into its gaping mouth, Flo took one step forward, then another, and soon the gate was behind her and she stood, gasping a little in fright, on the scrubby grass of the croft.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled as Jenny reached the croft. The wind whipped leaves, twigs and small stones up into the air in a flurry before pelting them down again towards all the small creatures who lived there. Shrews, mice and beetles ran for cover. Jenny paused, squatting to begin the message she had to leave for her friends. It was the most complicated message she had ever sent by doggie post. It began with the creation of the world and ended with Ragnarok.

Dear friends,
she began, sniffing the electric air,
I am running away from Fenrir, Hound of Ragnarok.

She moved on to the next clump of grass.
I have to return the mistletoe dart, which was the reason I ran away…

As she left her messages, Jenny felt terribly alone. She could smell the scents left by her friends on previous, happier
days. She could smell the disturbance in the air, and something else, which was more like the complete absence of smell. Ginnungagap, the void, lapping at the edges of the storm, surrounding the croft. It was waiting for her, she knew that now. She had been summoned and she would have to return. All her memories had come flooding back and she knew it was useless to attempt to escape. Who was she, a small Jack Russell, to defy Fenrir, Hound of Destruction?

The last thing Jenny wanted to do was to jump into the void again. Just contemplating it made her feel even more lonely and afraid.

‘I wish I wasn’t alone,’ she said aloud.

‘WOOF!’ said Pico, and Jenny jumped violently. She looked all around before realizing that he was underneath her and she had been about to widdle on him.

‘Pico!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

But before he could answer, a quavering voice said, ‘Hello? Is anyone there? Oh, please don’t jump out at me if you are.’

‘Flo!’ cried Jenny and Pico together, so that Flo bolted backwards in fright, closing her eyes.

‘Wh-wh-who is it?’ she said, too nervous to recognize their voices.

‘Well, if you opened your eyes,’ said Gentleman Jim, rounding a large bush and nudging Flo from behind, so that she yelped in fright, ‘you’d stand a much better chance of finding out.’

‘Gentleman Jim!’ said Jenny, Pico and Flo, and Flo opened her eyes and instantly felt much better. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ she said, wagging her little pom-pom of a tail.

‘So it is,’ said Gentleman Jim. ‘It looks like it’s all of us.
Apart from Boris and Checkers,’ he added, and was immediately bowled over by Checkers.

‘Wotcha, GJ,’ he said, bounding all the way round the croft and back again. Anyone seen Boris? He was here a moment ago.’

‘Here I am,’ said Boris, plodding slowly out from behind a bush. He had met Checkers several moments ago and since then had been leapt upon, sucked, nuzzled, pummelled and chewed, and so was feeling a little dazed. But he was very glad to see all his friends.

‘Well, here we all are,’ said Gentleman Jim, picking himself up again and looking sternly at Checkers, who was too busy belting around to notice. And none of us with our owners. Or Aunty Dot. I must say, this is very unusual. What brings you all here?’

And immediately everyone began talking at once and trying to explain, so that Jenny, who at first had been overwhelmed with delight to see them all, could hardly hear herself think. And she was very afraid that all the noise would attract some unwelcome attention.

‘Stop talking, all of you,’ she said, and when no one heard she lifted her voice and cried,
‘Silence!’
and everyone stopped talking at once.

‘There is no time,’ she said earnestly. ‘We are all in terrible danger.’

‘WOOF!’ said Pico, and Flo said, ‘D-danger?’ and Checkers bounded all round everyone three times in excitement.

Jenny raised a paw and stamped it on the ground in impatience. ‘You must listen, all of you,’ she said. ‘I have to tell you my tale.’

‘Tail?’ said Boris, but Gentleman Jim said, ‘Quiet, everyone. Let Jenny speak.’

And Jenny looked at him gratefully, for she had such a lot to tell them that she hardly knew where to begin.

‘First of all,’ she said, as they all looked at her expectantly, ‘my name is not Jenny.’

‘I come from a different world,’ Jenny said, gazing into the far distance. ‘And there my name is Leysa, meaning “to set free”.’

All the dogs followed the direction of Jenny’s gaze, as if they expected to see a different world appearing suddenly on the croft. Then they looked at one another in bewilderment. However, dogs very rarely tell lies, and in general they are trusting animals who believe, implicitly, everything they are told. They looked back at Jenny, waiting for her to go on, and Jenny sighed.

‘A long time ago, when my world was young,’ she said, ‘Odin, the All-Father, and his beloved wife, Frigg, gave birth to a baby son, named Baldur. He was not like their other children, who were harsh and violent. He was known as the fairest of the Aesir, the wisest and most merciful. He was gentle and kind and everyone loved him. He was my master, my Golden Boy, who saved me from the jaws of a wolf when I was out hunting. We went everywhere together.’

Jenny looked at the others, with an indescribably sad expression on her face, so they all too felt very sad. ‘I owed him my life, you see,’ she said, and the dogs bowed their heads. Loyalty was a concept they all understood.

‘When he was born, his mother, Frigg the Gentle, Lady of Flowers, extracted a promise from all the plants in the world that they would not harm him. But she overlooked one plant, the mistletoe,’ and Jenny nudged the mistletoe dart at her feet. ‘One day, all the gods, in sport, decided to put this to the test. They shot arrows at him and threw spears, but everything missed or bounced off him harmlessly. Then Loki, the most evil of the gods, found this sprig of mistletoe and shaped it into a dart.’

All the dogs looked at the mistletoe. It was chewed and misshapen, but they could see that it might once have been a dart.

‘He put it into the hands of Baldur’s brother, Hod, who was hanging back because of his blindness, and said to him, “Do as the others, enjoy yourself, and I will guide your hand.” So the mistletoe dart flew through the air. But I was watching, and I knew Loki could be up to no good. Before it could strike Baldur, I leapt into the air and caught it.’

‘WOOF!’ said Pico, and Checkers leapt into the air too, exactly as if he was catching the dart. They all understood. Every single one of them would have done the same, for a dog’s first loyalty is always to his master.

‘And then what?’ asked Gentleman Jim.

‘Then I ran,’ said Jenny. ‘With Loki howling behind me, for if a dog disturbs the games of the gods, the penalty is death.’

‘That – seems a little – harsh,’ said Flo.

‘No,’ said Jenny, ‘for the gods do not play their games for amusement only. The outcome decides the fate of men, and the world, and even the gods themselves.’

Now the dogs looked baffled, and Boris started to say, ‘I don’t understand,’ but Jenny went on.

‘Baldur was supposed to die that day, and his death was the first in a long chain of events that would bring about Ragnarok.’

Jenny lowered her voice as she said this, yet still the earth around them rumbled and shook.

‘Ragnarok?’ said Gentleman Jim, and it rumbled and shook again.

‘Do not speak that name unless you have to,’ said Jenny earnestly. ‘It is the last battle at the end of the world.’

‘Battle?’ said Checkers.

‘The end of the world?’ said Flo nervously, and Boris, who was catching up, said, ‘Mistletoe dart?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gentleman Jim. ‘Could you run that by me again?’

‘Ragnarok,’ said Jenny patiently, and the dogs all huddled together as earthquake-like tremors reverberated through the ground, ‘is the last battle, between the gods and the forces of destruction. When the evil of the world will burst its bonds, and Hel and her minions will rise from the abyss. The seas will boil, engulfing the land, the heavens will be rent asunder and the stars will fall into endless night.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Flo, feeling faint, and Checkers said, ‘Battle!’ and ran round everyone again.

Gentleman Jim said, ‘But luckily you’ve stopped all that.’

‘No,’ said Jenny. ‘You don’t understand,’ and Boris was glad she’d noticed, because he certainly didn’t.

Jenny sighed. It was hard for her to put everything she had to say into words.

‘The gods are angry,’ she said finally. ‘I was not supposed to alter the course of destiny. Baldur was supposed to be slain. I don’t know why. But if Ragnarok comes and Baldur is not slain – then – something terrible will happen.’

She looked at them all earnestly.

‘Something terrible –
apart
from Ragnarok?’ said Gentleman Jim, and Flo said, ‘Can you
please
stop saying that?’

Jenny just said, ‘Baldur – has to die. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. It is written.’

‘Where?’ asked Gentleman Jim.

‘I don’t know where,’ said Jenny a little peevishly. ‘It just is.’

There was a short silence, then Gentleman Jim said, ‘If you came from another world, then how did you end up here?’

‘I fell into the void,’ said Jenny.

‘OK,’ said Gentleman Jim cautiously, ‘and what void would that be?’

‘The great void that is Ginnungagap,’Jenny said.

‘Ah,’ said Gentleman Jim, and Jenny could see that he didn’t fully believe her. She gave him a hard stare.

‘I set off running, without knowing where, only certain that the gods were giving chase,’ she said. ‘I ran over a field and through a river, and suddenly I was on a vast deserted plain. And round the edges of this plain a mist was swirling, and I could see nothing beyond this mist. The war cries of the gods grew faint behind me and still I ran, until the mist closed around me and I could see and hear no more. And then suddenly – whoosh!’

Flo jumped in nervous alarm. ‘Wh-what?’ she said.

‘The earth itself disappeared beneath my feet,’ Jenny said solemnly, shaking her head as she remembered the horror of that moment. ‘I was falling, falling,’ she said. ‘I do not know how long I fell. Time itself disappeared. I remember nothing, until my paws struck something hard and gritty, and I was climbing out of the void, on to the ring road. There I was struck by one of the iron chariots you call cars, and Aunty Dot picked me up, and took me to Sam’s house. The rest you know.’

Gentleman Jim looked at Boris, Boris looked at Checkers and Checkers looked at Flo. Flo looked down at the ground.

Gentleman Jim cleared his throat. ‘So – this void,’ he began.

‘Ginnungagap.’

‘Ginnun –’

‘Ginnungagap. It is all around us now, lapping at the edges of your world.’

‘I can’t see anything,’ said Boris.

‘Yes, that’s it.’

‘No, I mean I can’t see anything,’ said Boris, while Checkers ran off to find it.

‘Yes,’ said Jenny. ‘That is Ginnungagap. It surrounds the known world and leads into other worlds unknown. It is always with us, though it cannot be seen.’

‘Well,’ said Gentleman Jim, after he too had looked around. ‘It’s an amazing story. Quite the best I’ve heard.’

Jenny almost stamped her paw in impatience. ‘It’s not a story,’ she said. ‘It’s the truth. I have to return.’

‘What?’ said Flo in alarm. ‘To certain death?’

Jenny bowed her head. ‘The great wolf Fenrir appeared
in my kitchen,’ she said. ‘He couldn’t do anything, because he was bound to his world by the cord Gleipnir, which is the strongest cord in the world. It was made by the Dark Dwarves from the footfall of a cat, the spittle of a bird, the breath of a fish, a woman’s beard, the sinews of a bear and the roots of a mountain.’