Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (36 page)

‘To the lower levels.’ He whispered as they descended. By now they could make out the sounds of habitation beyond the walls – heavy bodies moving, or the clanking of steel. After another twenty minutes of easing down moss-covered steps and around broken boulders, Vidarr raised a hand.

‘The prison cells. The guards will be outside, and will stay outside unless they hear something.’ He scowled at Teacher for a second or two. ‘We must be quiet… and your kin must be quiet.’ Vidarr ran fingers along one section of the wall, pressing hidden studs, and then pushing. Stones moved on ancient hinges, but its protests were more a dull grinding than the squeal of rusted metal. He stepped through, waving them on.

*

The hallway was dark. Stone wall on one side, dotted with burning torches every dozen feet. On the other, lines of cells, empty. Vidarr put his finger to his lips and then pointed to the end cell. He then motioned to Teacher and the single entrance door at the end of the corridor – large, solid, and for now, closed.

Grimson headed to the end of the corridor, Balthazaar hurrying to keep up. The young Wolfen stopped at the only locked cell, his face beamed and he opened his arms wide. ‘Sister.’

Arn caught up and gripped the bars. Altogether they crowded around the barred door. Eilif was hugging Grimson through the bars, but when she saw Arn she slowly rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving him.

‘I always knew you would come.’ She placed her hand over his, but then reached through the bars to grab his head and pull him forward. She kissed him hard.

‘Yech.’ Grimson grimaced and then looked at the lock. ‘Can we break it open?’

Vidarr waved them away, producing a massive set of keys. ‘Mogahrr may control the castle, but I control the locks.’ The door opened easily.

Inside Arn could make out the shape of Becky and Edward hugging each other and pressed against the damp wall. They only became less fearful when they recognized their friend.

‘Arn? Arn, is it you? I came looking for you, and this happened.’ Becky held out her arms, showing him the filth. She burst into tears.

The door was pulled back, and Arn was first in – but it was Eilif in his arms. ‘I knew… I just knew you were alive.’

Eilif pressed her forehead into his neck, hugging him tight.

Becky stood trembling, her mouth hanging open. She looked down at herself, still only partially clothed in scraps of material she had managed to scavenge, and still Arn had barely noticed.

Edward staggered towards them. ‘Way to go, Bro – gone totally native I see. Suits you!’

Arn extracted himself from Eilif, and grabbed his friend. ‘Man, you stink.’

Edward chuckled. ‘A gift from our captors. Note to self: don’t ask for anything when the Lygon are in charge.’

Arn laughed and then went to hug Becky. She folded her arms, her lip jutting. He grabbed her anyway.

‘You’re so brave. Are you okay?’ He asked.

‘No. Just get me home.’ Her eyes narrowed and kept darting to Eilif.

Once again, Vidarr hushed them, and beckoned them forward. Teacher closed the cell door, and was last back through secret doorway, closing it with only the slight grinding of sand. As they worked their way back up through the passageways, Grimson hung onto Eilif’s waist, and Arn could tell he was bursting to tell her of his adventures, forgetting that she had seen the monstrous battle at the fall of Valkeryn.

Balthazaar put his hand on Teacher’s shoulder, pulling him close and whispering, ‘That was the easy part, Jim Teacher. We will help you, but we cannot risk the heirs of Valkeryn for you or your world. After all, perhaps the destruction of your world in your time was the genesis of ours – saving you might actually lead to our demise. An incredible risk, is it not?’

‘What will be, will be. Just show me to the throne room, and then you can run a mile.’

Teacher lifted Balthazaar’s hand from his shoulder. Balthazaar bowed, and turned to follow Vidarr as he led them back up the winding alleyways behind the stone walls of the ancient castle. 

As they neared the royal rooms, they slowed. Many times Arn had to turn to quiet Becky and Edward who continued to bicker and complain, their voices rising ever higher. Eventually Balthazaar had stopped them, and threatened to bind their mouths if they put the group’s lives at risk again.

Arn felt Eilif press up beside him, her eyes always on him, and many times she reached out in the dark to hold his hand. She leaned in close to him.

‘Whatever happens, know that I am now happy.’ 

He smiled back at her and squeezed her hand.

At last they reached a section of wall, with a step built up against it. Vidarr stepped up and removed a plug, peering through. He turned and waved Teacher forward.

‘Mogahrr is here… and so is your female warrior leader.’

T
eacher looked through the small hole. An enormous wooden throne dominated the room, and seated upon it the most disgusting looking creature he had ever seen. Beside the vile thing was her human pet, Colonel Briggs, sitting on a cushion, eyes vacant and a string of drool hanging from her open mouth.

Teacher moved his head to a different angle trying to see more aspects of the room, until Vidarr grabbed his shoulder.

‘No, look to the mirrors at the far side of the room.’

He did as the old Wolfen suggested. The mirrors hung on the walls showed him more of the large space. Lygon and Panterran milled about, and Mogahrr’s private guards attended to her. Overall, the numbers were still too formidable for him to take on by himself. He hoped his team’s assault would draw them away.

Teacher stepped back down. He turned to Arn. ‘Soon.’ He pressed a stud on his suit’s collar, and it immediately telescoped up over his head, covering his face in the lattice mesh. Arn did the same.

Edward grinned. ‘Very cool.’

Grimson and Eilif’s eyes burned with hatred as they stood silently, staring at the wall of stones.

*

At the same moment, Alison Sharp pressed the same small stud on the neck of
her
CL suit, causing it to telescope up over her head and face. She moved her fingertip along a line of tiny lumps at one temple, selecting the first, then the second – immediately the landscape illuminated as the optics in the single wide lens over both her eyes changed from normal to night enhancement.

‘Hmm, I love these suits. You just try and get this baby back, Teach.’
She snorted. ‘Who are you kidding, Sharpie? You’ll probably be buried in it tonight.’

A bird call from several hundred feet to her right brought her head up – a wave, from Simms. She waved back, and then repeated the call and wave to her left. Brown’s head came up and he returned the gesture. She noticed he then put his hand to where his mouth would be, kissing it and throwing it to her. She pretended to grab it out of the air, and put it in her pocket.

She hunkered back down. ‘I hope so big fella. I really want to get home and claim that drink.’

Each of the three remaining Deltas was dug in and had piles of the remaining ammunition stacked next to them; RGPs, spare clips, a few handfuls of toe-cutters – small grape-sized explosives that were powerful enough to blow up a vehicle, and with luck a few dozen fully armored Lygon. She held up a hand and made a fist. A foot-long spike extended from her hand.

‘That’s close quarters combat taken care of.’

She drew the spike back into her fist, rubbing the knuckles, still feeling the tingle within the bones of her hand. She touched the line of tiny lumps at her temple again; this time the castle walls sprang towards her in close-up. The parapets were thick with Lygon and the heavy doors were closed. She looked at her watch – it was time.

‘Okay boys; party time.’ She shouldered her rifle, loaded a grenade into the underslung grenade launcher and fired at the massive wooden door. The grenade exited the barrel in a burst of explosive gasses, an incendiary arrow that crossed the several hundred feet of open ground in a few seconds, to hit the door in an explosive whump. It blew splinters, bronze hinges and panels away like so many matchsticks.

‘Yeah baby!’

There was confusion on the castle walls for only a second or two, and then horns started to blare, and the sounds of confusion turned to roars of anger. Like some sort of horde of monstrous black and orange army ants, the Lygon poured forth to protect their nest.

Sharp sucked in a deep breath and sighted along her barrel. ‘Fight or die.’

*

‘Come on, come on.’ Hanson stood and moved the glasses over the black landscape. Just after sun down, and before the moon comes up, was one of the darkest time of night. It was the perfect attack time.

Beside him, Bannock also stood, and walked along the ridge of debris. ‘We’ll get some starlight soon, and given the flat terrain, nothing is going to creep up on us.’

A crack came from out of the dark, and then the sound of a bullet striking the hillside, made both men flatten themselves to the ground.

‘You were saying?’ Henson crawled to his foxhole and slid in, Bannock followed.

‘Nothin’ like your own weapons turned against you.’ Bannock drew a lens down over one eye and moved up and down the thermal and night scope ranges. ‘Can’t see anything. Must be coming in like they did at the camp.’ He lifted his head slightly. ‘Farfalle, give me some light down there.’

Immediately several deep whumps sounded from a near foxhole, followed by parachute flares that burst into bright light and hung high in the dark still night for a few seconds, before gently drifting down, throwing huge pools of sun-like illumination onto the desert floor.

‘Pimples.’ Bannock, exhaled with annoyance. ‘Damn, these guys are good.’

The desert was alive with tiny brown lumps. The Panterran were coming in low and slow, and as their dark-adapted eyes didn’t need light, they could totally cover themselves in damp blankets and creep along, an inch at a time. Bannock noticed a few of the lumps had rifle barrels sticking from their fronts.

‘Got some snipers comin in. I reckon Colonel Briggs gave them some quick lessons before they set out.’

‘We knew they’d have teeth. So, let’s take some of those teeth out before they get too close.’ He spoke into a small mic-stud on the side of his face.

‘Burnside, Mason, French; take out those guys with the guns. Fire at will.’

The three sharpshooters fired down at the creeping Panterran who had rifles. Each shot made its mark and corresponded to either one of the mounds ceasing to move, or a small figure leaping in the air, before falling back to the ground, dead. In a few more minutes, Hanson was satisfied most of the rifle carriers had been terminated.

He spoke again into his mic. ‘Good job. Now switch to full automatic – if they stick to their normal game plan, they’ll come in a physical wave to try and overwhelm us.’

Bannock grunted. ‘No trees to drop out of, but I bet these little suckers are too light to set off the mines.’

Hanson nodded, continuing to watch the desert floor through his field glasses. ‘You’re right… but it’s not the little guys I’m worried about.’

Out of the darkness came the sound of a horn – low, deep and ominous – and a roar that seemed to come from every point on the horizon. In front of Hanson, the soil at the edge of his foxhole started to bounce and then topple inwards.

‘Okay boys and girls, time to earn our pay.’

Hanson quickly checked his rifle was on automatic, touched the pile of spare clips and grenades, to make sure they were all still in reach, and then got down low.

The small lumps threw back their cloth camouflage, each revealed Panterran holding a crossbow or a curved sword. Thundering up from behind them came hundreds of Lygon, their pounding footfalls making the earth shake.

Hanson roared his own words above the sound of the approaching beasts. ‘Not… one… gets… past us.’

The Panterran horde was first to reach the small mountain the Deltas had dug in on, and behind them the first wave of Lygon exploded in a wall of fire and shrapnel as dozens of mines exploded underneath them.

‘Music to my ears.’ Bannock sighted and commenced to fire. The hill came alive as thousands of rounds were fired.

*

Orcalion was at a sideboard, carefully placing slices of softened meat on a platter for the queen. He cursed under his breath as he went about the menial work he was doing as some sort of penance for allowing the Arnoddr Man-Kind to escape. He looked up into the mirror, catching sight of himself. He turned his head one way and then the other. He grinned; he really was the most handsome Panterran he had ever seen.

Outside an explosion sounded, followed by a shockwave that travelled through the heavy stones of the castle. Orcalion’s eyes widened and he froze, gripping the sideboard and staring at his reflection in the looking glass. Behind him, Lygon and Panterran rushed from the room, and the rest moved to the windows to see what was happening at the gates. While Orcalion watched, a strange thing happened – a section of the stone wall swung open and the most bizarre being he had ever seen stepped forth.

It was a biped, but had some sort of strange skin or suit that completely covered its body. There was a single long eye running from one side of its head to the other. His shock was further compounded by the doorway opening further allowing him to see more figures inside, and something even more startling – a Wolfen, a young Wolfen… the
prince
…
here
!

As Orcalion watched, keeping his back turned, the figure darted forward, moving to the queen, and before she knew what was happening, it snatched something from her chest, making her squeal in surprise, before the being threw something over her face, and then vanished back into the wall.

He grinned. Now was his chance to make amends, to improve his standing with Queen Mogahrr. He leapt for the closing door, landing too late, as he knew he would. He spun, seeing Mogahrr pull the old rag from her head, her eyes a mix of fear and shock.

Orcalion pointed. ‘My Queen, it was the Wolfen, in a secret passage… here.’ He jabbed at the wall with a long talon.

She stood unsteadily on her bowed legs, her previous confusion now turning to utter fury.

‘Get theeem. Orcalion, get theeem, and bring theeem to meee… alive!’ She screamed the words, spittle flying from her black toothed mouth.

Orcalion nodded, and raced to the wall placing his ear to the stones. He pointed at some Panterran rushing about. ‘You, bring me some Lygon, now.’

He moved along the wall, listening, listening. As he did some lumbering Lygon entered carrying axes and hammers larger than he was. He turned to them and pointed again.

‘Here… break it down… quickly.’

The huge brutes set to swinging their massive weapons at the wall, pounding thousand-year-old stones to rubble and dust. In a moment a hole was opened, and Orcalion stuck his head in.

‘There,’ he pointed further along the wall. The Lygon jumped to the new position and swung again several times before one of them punched his huge fist through the shattered stones and grabbed hold of something. When he pulled his hand back out, he held a struggling body.

‘Crush it.’ Orcalion danced on the spot.

The Lygon threw the figure to the ground, and raised his enormous hammer above his head.

*

The passageway narrowed, and their bodies scraped against the stone. Teacher grimaced at every stumble, clink of steel, or scrape of a boot on rock; he knew they would be sought out soon, and he guessed giant ears were already being pressed to the walls.