Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (12 page)

The huge bodied creatures watched, jostling and moving with excitement behind the trunks of trees.

One of the Panterran reached up high to dig black claws into one of the Lygon forearms, and hiss up at the figure towering above it.

‘Mogahrr wants them alive – she has lost too many Man-Kind and will not take kindly to losing more.’

The orange and black creature bared its teeth, but nodded its enormous head and made motions to it companions to press themselves back behind the trees.

The two small figures ran the last few hundred feet, laughing at their good fortune and escape from the heat of the desert.

Chapter 15

They’re Different

I’m itchy.’ Grimson hunched his shoulders and pulled a sour face.

Arn looked down at him, pulled him closer and turned his shoulders to look at his back. The scarring from the bat creature’s attack had healed over. The scar was still pink and uneven, but it was closed and there was no infection.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s probably just the new skin getting used to all your movement.

Grim shook his head. ‘No, all over me – I’m itchy all over. It’s too hot.’

‘Oh that. Yeah, me too.’ The oppressive heat was stifling – even though it must have only been in the high eighties, the humidity compounded the discomfort.

They had been following the river, staying a hundred feet or so in from its bank for safety. In some places it was as silent as a whisper, and others there was a thundering as if it was rushing over rocks and boulders. Now, as they crept through the thick bushes and ferns, there came a faint roar from just up ahead.

He listened for another moment, and then half turned. ‘Let’s have a quick look at the river, and see if it’s any safer. Besides, that small lump we originally saw from the cliff tops is suddenly looking like a mountain.  If the river started on top of it, then what we can hear is a fall of water, and that my young friend, means a bath.’

‘No bath.’ Grim turned away.

Arn shook his head. ‘We’ll see. C’mon, let’s go.’ He burrowed through the enormous leaves and vines, Grimson trailing behind him, thwacking at the hanging plants with a stick. The going was getting tougher nearer the river, and after a short while, sweat ran from every pore, joining with the sticky sap, plant debris, and slow moving gnats to coat his body.

After twenty minutes of working his way close to the sound of the water, he saw the jungle brightening, and soon they had broken out of the dense undergrowth, and stood just behind the final veil of jungle vines. The hanging trees acted like a curtain, giving them a final bit of concealment so they could investigate their surroundings.

As Arn had hoped, the river they had been following pooled on broken rock at the base of a cliff. The fifty feet of sheer rock was scoured clean of plants, and looking up he could see the thick river pouring over the lip high above. Mist lifted off the falling water to sparkle momentarily in the sunshine before settling onto the giant green fronds of palms and tree ferns at the water’s edge.

At the centre of the pool was a boiling cauldron of white water that spewed away from the downfall. Jagged rocks poked up from the froth like dark teeth, and the torrent would have been far too heavy for them to get any closer. At its edges, there were shallow overflow pools that were not connected to the river. He hoped that a quick dip might have been safe.
As safe as anything could be in this crazy world
, he thought. He might even be lucky enough to catch some fish, as he was getting tired of trapping the small elephant like rats from the jungle floor. He’d keep that to himself for now; fish and Wolfen did not mix.

‘Wait here.’ He cautiously stepped from behind the vines, Grimson immediately following him.

Arn turned. ‘Hey!’

Grimson just shook his head, in a
no way I’m staying
-type gesture. Arn had to keep reminding himself that only a short while ago the young Wolfen was a prince, and ra
rely got orders from anyone other than the King and Queen.

Arn stayed still and silent, just letting his eyes move over the landscape, the water, and the cliff top.

‘Is it safe?’ Grimson was right behind him. Arn noticed he already had his shirt off.

‘Maybe, Grim, but we’ll be quick and alert, and you keep your eyes on me at all times, okay?’

The youth nodded. Arn tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I thought you didn’t want to have a bath?’

Grimson kept his eyes on the water and stepped out of his trousers. ‘I don’t like baths… but swimming is different.’

Arn laughed. ‘Of course it is. Okay, there’s a small pool over there that looks perfect.’ A dozen feet from the falling water, the froth and spume splashed up onto the moss-covered boulders, pooling at their base to make a series of frothy ponds. Arn guessed they were far too shallow or agitated to have anything living in them, and would be perfect for a quick wash and cool down.

Before Arn could even unstrap his belt, Grimson quickly had the rest of his clothes off. He looked at the clothing – it was starting to wear through, like his own had days before. Arn was reduced to dressing like his forefathers in a breechcloth, flaps hanging front and back, with his last keepsakes hanging from a pouch at his belt. He kept the soft leather boots, but soon, without replacement soles he would be bare foot. Grimson still had trousers and shirt, but for how long he didn’t know.

The young Wolfen waded into the largest pool and lay face down, rubbing his head, and then pulling it back to suck in a deep breath and smile. ‘It’s wonderful…’ He lowered his face to drink. ‘… and tastes good as well. C’mon.’

Arn carried Grimson’s clothes to a dry rock, and kicked off his boots. He stepped back carefully over the sharp boulders at the water’s edge. Rays of light played on his skin, and with the cool spray from the waterfall it felt fantastic. He stepped into the pond, and he too lay down with a sigh. ‘Oh yeah.’

He ducked his head under the water rubbing his itchy scalp for a few moments before surfacing. He noticed the slick of oil, debris and tiny struggling passengers that had been dislodged from his hair now floating on the surface. He decided, unlike Grim, that drinking from this pond was definitely out.

He lay back in the water, put his hands behind his head and reflected on his new life. How quickly life’s priorities could change. One minute he was living a coddled life, in luxury that he didn’t even appreciate, where the most important things in the world to him were getting good grades, keeping a lookout for bullies, and trying to impress Becky Matthews. The greatest risk to life and limb was the potential for getting hit by a careless motorist. Now, staying alive was a minute-by-minute blessing. He had been captured twice, tortured, saved, met races of beings – some noble and some morally decrepit – and he had made and lost good friends.

Good friends.
His thoughts turned to Eilif.
Had she really existed?
If not for the Wolfen lying in the water five feet from him, happily spitting water in the air, he might have answered that question with a resounding no. Still, how could a creature really exist, so strange, so beautiful, so… loving? She still haunted his dreams.

His reverie was broken by Grimson’s voice.

‘I think my mother and father are in Valhalla now.’

Arn turned his head slightly. The Wolfen wasn’t looking at Arn, but was laying back and talking to himself, nodding as he did so. ‘Yes, I think they killed so many Panterran and Lygon that Odin himself wanted them as his personal guard… no, as his generals.’ He nodded. ‘They were great warriors.’

Arn kept watching the youth, who seemed unfazed by the possibility that both his parents were dead. He was proud of them, nothing more.

Grim turned to Arn. ‘But not Eilif – she’s not in Valhalla yet.’

Arn slowly sat forward. ‘Hmm? What makes you say that?’

Grimson shrugged and turned his head back and closed his eyes. ‘I know it. A Wolfen can sense these things.’

Arn grunted, and turned over onto his stomach in the water, resting his arms on a rock and his chin on his hands. He watched the waterfall cascade down and smash against the slick stone. Nonsense, but… He frowned and half turned to look at Grimson. The Wolfen did have extraordinary senses, well beyond his own.
Could it be true?
He lay back down.
No, nonsense.

Arn tried to turn his mind to the path ahead. He hadn’t really planned what to do if he trekked from one side of the Dark Lands to the other and found… nothing? Where was there to go back to? Valkeryn had fallen. Could he find a safe place to live out his life? Live, perhaps for another fifty years as a solitary and unique being. He snorted. He doubted anyone or anything lived a long life in this place.

He rolled over and spat water into the air. He could accompany Grim on a quest to find the lost Wolfen tribes. Although even Grim admitted they were nearly as much a myth as the mankind were.

He sighed, and thought about his last option – try and find his way back to the tunnel in the wasteland. Maybe he could re-enter the door that he had originally fallen through? But what of Grim? He could never take him back. What would become of a wolf-like creature in his time? He was a prince, who would end his days as a lab rat… or a circus freak. He shuddered as he remembered the dream of Eilif being carried away. He’d sacrifice himself before he’d ever let that happen.

Something dark came over the falls in amongst the cascading water. While he continued watching another of the dark objects came over the lip and disappeared into the frothing water. He got to his feet, and carefully walked to the water’s edge. One of the objects floated towards him. It bobbed and tumbled in the current, finally being forced to the bank. Arn stared, and then bent for a closer look. He reached into the water and lifted it free – it was a fish, or what was left of it. But now it got interesting – it was the carcass of a fish that had been cleaned.

Arn turned it over; there was a spear hole in the head, and both sides of the fish had been expertly filleted – the meat cleanly removed by a sharp blade. He looked up as another one came over the waterfall. The thought struck him like a thunder clap – someone up top was cleaning fish. The Panterrans ate fish, but shredded the flesh, preferring to dig their sharp claws and teeth into the long silver bodies.

He took a step back, trying to see up over the fall’s edge. The Wolfen hated fish, but he knew of one creature that ate fish, and cleaned it first. He scrambled back to Grimson.

‘C’mon, we got to get up on the ridge. I think we’ve found something important.’

*

Arn completed the climb first, rushing over the boulders and steeper cliff banks, lest he miss whoever had been throwing the fish carcasses over the edge. He lay on his belly panting. Watching.  Grimson soon followed and he flopped down next to Arn, his tongue hanging out, and a hoarse rasp coming from his throat. Arn didn’t need to silence the youth as the roar of the waterfall still masked their sounds.

The climb had lifted them above the jungle’s canopy. Strong sunlight poured down on the deep, basin shaped pool that fed the lip of the waterfall. Mist billowed up from the falling water, swirling in the agitated air, and cooling them. Still on his belly, Arn wriggled forward, and peered up over a fallen log.

Just across on the other side of the wide pond there was a large flat rock, and lined neatly upon it were about a dozen filleted fish, professionally cleaned, each resting on a broad leaf. Beside them were a couple of straight poles Arn assumed were the spears used to catch them.

‘I’m not eating those.’ Grimson made more disgusted noises in his throat.

‘Shush; we didn’t come up here for the fish, but the fishermen.’ Arn lifted himself a little higher, and then crept forward. He froze as the bushes on the other side of the pond thrashed and then opened. Arn’s mouth fell open – it was woman, followed by a man, both short and olive skinned. Even from where Arn stood, he could tell that neither of them was more than five feet tall, with slender waists and broad shoulders.

The woman motioned to the fish, and the man started to gather them up. Both wore a knife at their waist, and were wearing what was little more than a skirt. Both were bare from the waist up. Arn couldn’t take his eyes off the woman, and not just because of her partial nudity. It just seemed strange to him now, after what he had endured – a real person, a real human female person.

Grimson had crept up beside him, and stared hard at the couple. He lifted his head, sampling the air. Arn stuck out an arm at the youth. ‘Stay here, and I mean it.’

Grim grabbed at Arn’s arm and held him. ‘Wait.’

‘Why?’

‘Are they Man-Kind?’ Grimson held onto him.

Arn frowned down at the Wolfen, not understanding why he had asked the question. He wondered about the quality of the youth’s eyesight. ‘Of course. Maybe a different race. I don’t know if we’ll even be able to understand each other, but they look human to me.’ Arn stepped out.

Behind him, he heard Grim’s voice. ‘They look like you, but they don’t smell like you. They’re…  different.’

Arn ignored him and stepped further into the sunshine.

‘Hello.’

The man and woman froze, their black eyes round as they stared. Arn’s skin had burned a deep brown, and his long dark hair fell to his shoulders – he hoped they recognized that he could have been one of them, except for his height.

Arn held up his hand, palm toward them. ‘Hello. I am a friend.’

There was no response, and the woman looked briefly at the fish, and then back to Arn. Her eyes narrowed.

Arn waved his hands. ‘No, no, I don’t want your fish. I come in peace.’ He took another step towards them.

The woman darted forward, snatched up one of the spears, and held it up, spear tip pointed at Arn. She said something over her shoulder and the male darted forward to gather up the fish pieces. He never took his eyes of Arn as he rolled them into the broad leaf, tucked them under his arm, and started to back into the forest. The woman began to follow him.

‘Wait!’ Arn started to wade into the water.

The woman’s eyes went wide, and she screamed at him. ‘No.’

Arn pulled up shocked, but his face soon relaxed into a smile as his brain registered the recognizable word. He waved. ‘I just want to talk.’

He started to wade further out into the pool. He could feel the soft silt squelching up between his toes. The cool water felt pleasant against his overheated skin, and he continued on until it reached his waist. He took more steps and then felt a swirl of water followed by a small pinch on the front of his thigh. He looked down to see a flash of silver-orange, the same colors as the fish the couple had been catching.

There was another nudge and then a pinch to the side of his leg. Looking down this time, he noticed a small plume of red floating around his legs.
Blood?
he wondered.

The woman screamed to him again, and looking up, he saw she was motioning him to go back. Confusion was starting to turn to panic. She was pointing at the water, and waving him off.

Another pinch, more blood, and Arn realised that the original shout to him when he entered the water was a warning – the fish they had been catching might be good to eat, but they obviously returned the favor by finding people just as tasty.