Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (27 page)

*

The cell was dark. There was only one torch burning along the corridor, and it gave meagre light to the prisoners. Eilif wasn’t bothered by the darkness and knew that dawn would not be far off now. She had managed a little rest, but sleep eluded her, as the Becky Man-Kind had sobbed miserably for most of the night, and in between, had whined to her friend, Edward.

At one point it had become too much and Eilif had growled at her to be silent, which had only made her sob louder. Her friend had been braver, but he was drenched now, and shivering cold. Just after they had been returned to their prison, Becky had demanded he ask the guards for some more food. The guard had stared with his luminous green eyes for several seconds, before departing and then quickly returning with a bucket of something cold, wet, and foul smelling. Edward had worn the lot of it. Lesson one: there would be no special favors for Man-Kind in this new kingdom. Lesson two: stop listening to the weak willed female, or she will get you killed.

Eilif closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Her fatigue dragged her back into a dream. There was another Man-Kind, this one tall and strong with coal-dark eyes. He smiled at her and held out his hand. She reached out to take it. Her own hand was pink and soft and… hairless. She reached up and felt her face, now small and round, teeth tiny and even, not the jagged daggers she now wore.

She threw her head back and laughed, taking both his hands and spinning round and around together. The sun was on her face and there were green fields, and Man-Kind everywhere. She was with Arn, in his world, his time. It was the most beautiful place in the universe. She reached out again, wanting to throw her arms around his neck, wanting to bring him in close to her. But she couldn’t; something had her wrist.

Arn pulled away, stepping into a doorway. Wind rushed past her, making her narrow her eyes. The sun disappeared and Arn held out his hand, calling to her, but she couldn’t get to him as something, or someone, held her back. He edged further back through the doorway, but it changed to become a dark maw, purple at the edges and more like a giant wound torn into the darkness.

She wailed and thrashed, but couldn’t get to him. He was going through now, starting to disappear. She became frantic, and looking down saw there was a rope, a leash binding her wrist. Following it, she saw it was tied to someone else, another Man-Kind, a human girl. The lights went out completely as the doorway snapped shut, and when she looked for Arn, there was nothing but mist settling in the blackness of a cold, dark tunnel.

She wailed and opened her eyes. She was in the cell, dark, damp, and still tied to the humans. She wailed again and banged her head back into the stone of the wall.

‘Stop that. Now who’s making all the noise?’ Becky’s face was twisted in annoyance.

Eilif grabbed her head and moaned.

‘Shut up!’ Becky spat the words.

Eilif was on her in a flash, pushing Becky back against the wall, her head thudding.

‘Edward… get this… animal off… me!’ Becky choked out the words and held an arm across her face.

Eilif dragged the hand away so she could stare into the girl’s eyes. She bared her teeth, and Edward’s indecision broke and he grabbed Eilif, and tugged.

Eilif pushed Becky back again with one hand, and also reached across to grip Edward at the throat. She now had them both pinned against the stone wall. She leaned in to Becky’s face, he
r lips almost touching her cheek.

‘Here, you are the animals, you are the freaks.’

‘Please.’ Edward whispered, holding the Wolfen’s wrist.

Becky kept her head turned and sobbed.

Eilif whispered again to her. ‘You should not have come. The Arnoddr Sigarr is not for you, and you are not for him.’ She pushed them both back hard and released them. ‘Remember my words.’

Both cowered, with Edward wrapping Becky in his arms. They tried to inch as far from the Wolfen as they could even though they were tied together.

Eilif brought the rope to her mouth and chewed for a few seconds, easily severing the course fibers. She spat some rope to the floor.

‘The Princess of Valkeryn does not wish to be tied to a Panterran pet any longer.’

Eilif walked to the centre of the cell and stood with her eyes closed. She held up her hands, palm outwards and let her mind roam, to reach out. She could almost feel them – Arn, and Grimson – she had to believe they were alive… it was all she had left.

‘Odin keep them safe… and bring them back to me one day.’

*

Arn and Grimson were lifted in the rope elevator, Simiana from time to time sneaking glances up at him. He looked across at her. ‘The king is friendly, I hope.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well he is to me… he’s my father.’

‘A princess? Of course you are.’ He half smiled; it answered why the tribe had treated her with such defere
nce at her young age. ‘I knew a princess once.’ He looked down at Grim whose eyes burned momentarily.

‘You might meet some more.’ Simiana reached out to softly touch his hair. ‘The king has many children, and many wives. He loves us all… and we love him.’ Her hand grasped for a moment. ‘You will too.’

She reached out to stroke Arn’s long hair, and he caught her hand, squeezed it and let it drop.

‘I’m sure we will.’

She reached out again, determined to touch him. ‘He is a good king and he will want to know where your tribe is from. We know these lands, and of all the Panina tribes in it. There are none like you.’ She looked up at him, her eyes lingering over his towering physique. ‘… none as strong or as handsome as you, strange Arn.’ Her large brown eyes were without shame as she stared.

Arn gulped and looked away.

‘Yech.’ Grimson did the same.

Having left the elevator, they followed Simiana across bridges, through tunnels dug into the gigantic boughs of the trees, and passed through small gatehouses. The structures were old, but solid, some of them seeming part of the tree.

At last they came to a large, well-kept bungalow adorned with fresh flowers. A broad balcony was set with a long table and chairs, covered in large bowls of exotic coloured fruits.

Simiana guided them to one side of the long table, and she sat down at the other, leaving the huge throne-like chair at the head of the table vacant. Grimson leaned forward and sorted through the bowls.

‘Any meat?’

‘Maybe soon.’ Simiana kept her eyes on the door.

Grimson dropped the fruit back into the bowl and sat back with folded arms. He grumbled softly.

At last the door swung open and young woman appeared with trays covered in all manner of foods. They set them down, and the Wolfen looked onto one large platter, and pulled a face. He nudged Arn, and Arn leaned forward to see a plate full of moving… things. He had the impression they were a type of insect as they looked like crickets except instead of legs they had coiling tentacles that thrashed like oily black worms.

Simiana reached forward to dip her hand into the moving mass and scooped some up, immediately pushing them into her mouth. Arn heard crunching as she chewed. Another tray arrived, this one containing rows of small, cooked animals that looked like rats – thankfully their heads had been removed. Arn tasted one, and found it like a mix of rabbit and anchovy. These were more to Grimson’s liking, and he pushed one after the other into his mouth.

More flowers were carried out, and then large pots of palms and other strange plants were positioned around the table, acting as both a screen for privacy and also giving the impression of eating in the centre of a garden.

Once again the doors were pulled back, and this time a small group of males stepped through flanking a brightly adorned man who must have been no more than four feet tall, overweight and slightly bowlegged. A tall wooden crown on his head signified royalty, and his body was heavily daubed with different hues of paint, and he wore a robe that seemed made of flowers all sown together.

Arn bowed with what he hoped was the right amount of deference, but to him the king looked like one of the people who danced at the head of Rio’s Mardi Gras parade.

Arn continued standing, but Simiana pulled him down.

‘Sit. Troglan will not want to look up to you.’

Arn sank back into his chair, but couldn’t help but stare. Just like Simiana and all the others in the tribe, the king wore broad moccasin-type footwear. His darting brown eyes regarded both Arn and Grimson for many seconds before he walked toward them in a curious rocking motion.

Grimson leaned in close to Arn. ‘Like you, but not like you.’

Arn glanced at Grim, frowned and turned back gathering his fac
e into the friendliest and most polite expression he could muster. He waited, unsure of the protocol. The new group stopped and just stared… and stared.

After several minutes, Arn felt ready to burst. He swallowed. ‘Uh, pleased to…’

Simiana headed him off. ‘Great King Troglan, I present Arnold Singer, and Prince Grimson of Valkeryn.’ She spent the next few minutes giving the king a quick history of their encounter and how Arn had attacked the mugrab by himself, and also lent a hand to pull it from its watery lair, matching the strength of half the tribe.

The king’s brows flew up and knitted together in turn as he listened. He waddled closer, keeping a watchful eye on Arn, but speaking to Grimson.

‘You are a Valkeryn Wolfen. They are no more.’ He turned to Arn. ‘And where do you come from? You are not Wolfen, although you smell of Wolfen. You are not Panina, although you look like Panina. There are none like you in our land.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But, I feel I have seen you before.’

‘Seen people like me?’ Arn half rose, excitement getting the better of his manners.

‘No, seen
you
before.’ Troglan continued to stare directly at Arn. ‘Now, where do you come from?’

Arn cleared his throat, deciding time travel was a subject best kept to himself for now. ‘I am from far lands, on a journey to discover the ancestors of my people. The humans… maybe I’ve found them.’ He turned to smile at Simiana, who had her eyes on the king.

‘And the Far Wolfen.’ Grimson added.

‘Hu-mans.’ Troglan tested the word, circling the table. ‘In the faraway lands there are hu-mans?’ He grunted. ‘Tell me more of your people.’

Arn smiled, slowly feeling that the greeting was turning into an interrogation.

‘My people are the friendliest people in the world, and we live beyond the wasteland. I travelled a long way, and found my way to Valkeryn.’

‘Just for discovery? This is a gamble for any race. There must be something well worth finding to travel so far across a desert that has never been crossed, and into such dangerous lands. Are there many more hu-mans there?’

‘Well, yes and no, but I believe this is a clue to their whereabouts.’ Arn pulled out the fragment of ancient parchment that Vidarr had given him. The faint lightning bolt and fist inked onto the map were still vivid.

Troglan traced it with his long finger, while Simiana looked over his shoulder. She whispered to him. ‘Just like in the metal caves.’

‘What? You’ve seen it.’ Arn shot to his feet, making the king jump back. The guards crowded in front of him, pointing their spears. Simiana held up a hand, and pushed Arn back down into his seat.

The king came out from behind his Praetorian guard. He still held Arn’s map in one hand. He looked away as if becoming disinterested.

‘This image drawing – we might have seen it before.’ He leaned closer to Simiana and whispered. She nodded and turned to Arn.

‘It is customary, when meeting the king, to offer him a gift.’

‘A… gift?’ Arn repeated.

She nodded.

‘Uh, okay.’ Arn’s mind worked furiously. ‘I bring you the gift of knowledge.’

The king’s small brown eyes remained bored. ‘And…’

Arn groaned, feeling at his belt. His hand closed on his only possession. ‘And this.’ Arn pulled out his penknife, the only object left from his own time. He handed it to Simiana, who offered it to the king on an open hand.

He lifted it carefully, feeling its weight. To Arn’s surprise, he then put it in his mouth, feeling the steel with his teeth.  Removing it, he set about pulling and picking at it. He held it out to Arn.

‘Show me what it does.’

Arn got to his feet, once again rising to his full height and making the king cower slightly. The guards watched him carefully as he approached. Arn lifted his hands. ‘Take it easy, boys.’ He slowly reached out for the knife.

Simiana crowded in close, placing a hand high on his shoulder, and watching intently as Arn used his thumb and forefinger to carefully lever out the largest blade.

The silver was now tarnished and the blade’s edge somewhat blunted, but the king’s face lit up in wonderment. Arn continued to pull out tools – the small saw, magnifying glass, tweezers and corkscrew.

‘It is a multipurpose tool. It can cut things, saw wood, clip nails, and even remove splinters.’ He bowed slightly and held it out. ‘I give this great gift to you.’

Troglan reached out to take it, and Arn swapped it in his hands for the scrap of ancient parchment. Troglan didn’t notice, his focus solely on the small utility knife. He held it up, showing it left and right to the guards. He ran a finger down the blade, feeling the sharpness, and then set about closing and then reopening all of the instruments.

Simiana looked up at Arn, grinning. ‘It is a wonderful gift.’

Arn raised his eyebrows. He was happy to have delighted his new hosts, but sorry that his last link to his old home was now gone.

The king handed the knife to a guard, and his face became serious. ‘Such a wonderful device. The tribe that built this must be very powerful.’  His eyes lifted to Arn. ‘Do the other hu-mans in your tribe know where you are now?’

Arn shook his head. ‘No, I think I am lost to them.’

‘Lost.’ Troglan nodded, his smile appearing once again. ‘Lost... only for now I think.’ The king turned and waved towards the door to his wooden palace and immediately three women that, to look at, could have been Simiana’s sisters, returned holding three goblets – one for the king and one each for Arn and Grimson.