Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (6 page)

Thunder cracked over their heads, and Edward cringed, swearing under his breath, before talking to her out of the side of his mouth. ‘C’mon, it’s getting worse.’

She nodded. ‘Yup, and then what?’ She remembered what Albert Harper had told her the last time she had met him; they needed the initiator diamond, and that meant they needed Arn. They needed to bring them both home… or else.

Arn was the key. She wondered about the young man she suddenly found she cared about. Her brows knitted slightly. Did she really care, or did she care more for the excitement and attention? She had played him when he had been so close to her, literally just a few seats away in class. She had been aware of his attention. In turn she had pretended not to notice him at all. It just made him more determined to impress her, and try to stand out. Well, he’d certainly done that, and now, because of this tragedy, she found out she wanted him.

Harper had said he believed Arn was still alive, and could be found and retrieved. But there was something that nagged at her, something that didn’t fit. If he was still alive, and could be brought back, then why hadn’t he just come back by himself? She narrowed her eyes at the next thought – something, or someone was keeping him away. Maybe she needed to persuade him to return in person. After all, she was the girl of his dreams. He had told her as much.

She spoke without turning. ‘If I got you in there, could you cover for me if I wanted to go after Arn?’

Edward’s head snapped around and his mouth dropped open, mouthing words, but taking a few seconds before being able to release them. ‘Are you… freakin… serious?’

She turned to stare at him with an unblinking gaze. ‘I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.’

He turned on his side towards her. ‘Maybe, and maybe not.’

She frowned. ‘Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means if you get me in there, then I’m going all the way. I’m coming too.’ Now it was his turn to hold her gaze.

After a few seconds she smiled and nodded. She felt liberated, alive; at last she had a real purpose. When she returned with Arn, she’d be more popular than ever. She’d be… famous.

*

Edward continued to watch Becky, noticing the satisfied smile on her lips. Majoring in physics and all things sci-fi, he felt he had an understanding of what they might be getting into. Just before he had been ejected by Fermilab’s new military minders, he had gleaned from Dr Albert Harper what was on the other side of the gateway – a whole new world.

He had been Arn’s best friend for, it seemed, forever. But he still couldn’t work out why Rebecca Matthews was becoming so determined to find him – she was acting like his long time soul mate, when really, up until the day he had been sucked through the wormhole, she treated him like he barely existed.

He shook his head. How was he to know what she really thought? Or for that matter, what any girl thought? He didn’t understand them, and he’d never had a girlfriend, so he couldn’t judge them based on his experience. He’d just have to go with what he guessed, or thought… or read in a book.

He’d go along with her plan if it meant getting his friend back. After all, right about now, any help was good help.

Chapter 6

Always worked for Alligator Jack

Arn jumped the last ten feet to the jungle floor, landing hard and going down on his hands and knees. His palms, knuckles and fingers were all shredded, and his shoulders and back muscles burned like fire deep in the joints and muscles.

He pulled Grimson from his back and the youth fell to the grass, immediately curling into a fetal position with his eyes squeezed shut. His breathing was faint, and the fur on his back was dark with blood – much of it his own, but also streaks of ink-black, a result of his fight with the bat-like creature from the upper cliff face. The young Wolfen had obviously got in a few good thrusts before he had been overcome.

Arn knelt beside him and wiped at the stinking black mess, but all he achieved was getting the sticky liquid over his abraded hands. He needed water to wash the disgusting blood from the back of his young charge – he had no idea what sort of infections that thing had carried. He also hoped to find some of the strange red-bloomed plants that Eilif had shown him, the ones with miraculous healing properties. He wiped his fingers on the grass and licked his dry lips. He also needed to drink. He was now so parched that his head pounded from dehydration… and if
he
was dry, Grimson, after losing so much blood, would be doubly so.

Arn sat back on his heels and looked around at the thick growth surrounding them. It was twilight under a tree canopy that reached hundreds of feet into the sky. He could smell decaying flesh, composting plant matter, and a thousand exotic fragrances. Birds and animals shrieked and screeched overhead, and looking up, he could make out small bodies weaving in and out of the branches.

On the trip down the face of the cliff, he had seen a ‘V’ indentation in the green canopy, and hoped that meant there was a watercourse – that or a ravine. He didn’t want to think about any more climbing.

Arn wiped his face, feeling his fatigue settle on his frame like a heavy blanket. With both the light and his strength fading, he had to set off immediately.

He looked down at the curled Wolfen. Arn had already experienced a night out in the forest – there were weird vampire worms, centipedes the size of freight trains, and not to mention the vicious cat-like Panterrans. They were now at the edge of the Dark Lands, in a thick jungle, and there was no way he could leave the unconscious youth alone. He lifted the boy, who hung limply in Arn’s arms. He might have less time than he thought.

Something glinted just off to his left, and moving towards it he found his blade – thankfully there was no sign of the creature it had been embedded in, or any of its cannibalistic brothers. He picked it up, and sheathed it.

Arn started to jog in the direction of the river. He hoped.

*

Only minutes ago the tree canopy inhibited light almost to the point of twilight. Arn knew there would be no starlight, and his ability to see in the dark was poor. He increased his pace; he needed to find the red-bloomed plants –
feninlang
, Eilif had called it – and then he needed to find somewhere safe to rest and wait out the night.

He tried to be quiet, tried to tread softly, but palm fronds and vines whipped at him or clung to his skin, rotten branches snapped under his feet, and his breathing was loud and ragged. He slowed for a few minutes to catch his breath, and moved the youth to one arm. With the other he reached up to grab a thick vine, and used his knife to slash at it, releasing a stream of milky fluid. He held it up to his lips – he gagged; it burned and caused him to sputter and cough.

‘Damn, always worked for Alligator Jack on the Discovery Channel.’ He spat out more of the residue, feeling his tongue swell. He cleared his throat, coughed a few more times, and then started to jog again.

Arn ran on; for minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell anymore. His vision was starting to blur, and his jog had turned to a stagger. There was next to no light now, and he felt a sinking feeling – without water, treatment for their wounds, and somewhere sheltered to sleep, there was a good chance they’d be found by predators.

‘
Tuweni Iyayekiy
– never surrender -
tuweni iyayekiy
– never surrender.’ Arn repeated his grandfather’s words like a mantra. It was all he had left.

The soft pounding in his head from dehydration turned into a chant. Perhaps it was the ghost of his grandfather, seeking to help, singing to him. The words made him feel less alone as he staggered on.

Arn crashed to his knees, Grim sprawling to the ground in front of him, face down, still. Arn crawled forward, turning the boy over; his tongue lolled from his mouth, and his eyes had rolled back into his head.

‘No, you will not.’ He shook the youth, and then again roughly. There was a small groan. ‘That’s better.’ He grabbed the boy by the arm, and tried to lift him, but seemed made of lead, the feather-light weight of only a day ago now more like a ton of stone. Arn lowered the young Wolfen’s arm, and closed his eyes.

‘What do I do, what do I do?’

His grandfather’s deep voice again:
Listen…

‘Huh?’ Arn tried to slow his breathing, and he shut his mouth to just breathe in through his nose. There was nothing except the sound of creatures moving in the trees overhead, something slithering in the leaf litter, and the noise made by something heavy crashing through the brush, a few miles away… and then.

‘I can hear it.’

There was a tinkling, gurgling, splashing. Faint, but it was there.

‘Thank you… thank you. C’mon Grim, we’re almost there.’ He dragged the boy up into his arms, and staggered back a few paces before getting himself into a forward gear. He blundered another few hundred feet, and then broke through onto a riverbank – grassy and shiny wet, down to a slow moving river, wide, and too dark to judge its depths.

‘Maybe you used to be Lake Michigan. Or maybe you’re something new altogether. I don’t care… I love you.’

In the darkness the water was inky black, but even from a few feet away, Arn could smell its freshness. He staggered forward, lay the youth down, and then threw himself face first into the water, luxuriating in its coolness. He sucked in huge drafts, and rubbed his hands up over his face and hair, then sat back and tilted his head back to let the water cascade down his neck, back and chest. Arn reached for Grimson, and pulled him close, cupping water and rubbing it first over his face, nose and lips, and then scooping it to his mouth. Grim’s tongue came out, and even with his eyes shut, he licked at the water.

‘Good man… err, Wolfen; drink it down.’

No gift is free...
It was his grandfather’s voice again. Arn frowned; he didn’t get it.

No gift is free – be on guard.

Arn’s eyes widened, and he stood slowly, lifting the youth with him. He looked around – what was a favorite hunting ground of predators? Riverbanks of course . It was where the deer came to drink at sundown. Arn looked to his sides and then up at the sky. He could make out a glow coming from behind the clouds. He hoped it was the gigantic moon. He desperately needed to be bathed with its energizing rays once more.

He stepped back, and almost stumbled over a boulder sunk in the earth, and as he looked down, he noticed some blood red star shaped flowers sprouting from beside the rock. He went to reach down and then froze. Something was making the hair on his neck prickle. Something wasn’t right. He remained frozen, just letting his eyes move over the bank, the dark water, then the overhanging trees and shrubs, first to the left and then to the right. Nothing…

There came a splash, and he whipped his head around. It wasn’t repeated, but he straightened, and wrapped one arm tighter around the young Wolfen, who for now at least was breathing a little easier against his chest.

Arn frowned; the jungle had grown quiet. A rash of goosebumps broke out on his arms, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest.

We’re not alone
, he thought. 

He took a step back, intending to sprint back into the brush, but then stopped – he needed the red star shaped flowers. Without them, Grimson would probably die from his wounds. He might not get another chance. He reached down for the flower heads, and glanced briefly towards the river. He froze and felt the breath catch in his throat.

Chapter 7

Nothing Here but a Thousand Old Ghosts

Balthazaar sat in the dark, feeling miserable, hungry and for the first time in many decades, afraid. Close to him he could sense the old archivist, Vidarr, his breathing so soft and slow he wondered whether the old Canite was even awake.

Above them the sounds of looting, carnage and destruction had ceased – the invaders had departed obviously taking anything of value, or edible, but finding no potential prisoners.

‘Vidarr, what if they set fire to the archives?’ He continued to look up towards the roof, even though the stygian darkness where they both sheltered was complete.

Vidarr shifted beside him. ‘It would matter not – an inconvenience, and nothing more. In fact, it would probably be better for us, for if they decided to make a thorough search of my archives, then they may find our hidden door.’ He reached out, and grasped Balthazaar’s forearm. ‘We are many longs underground, and no flames can reach us. For the time being we are safe, my friend.’

Balthazaar’s head was still raised towards the ceiling, but he closed his eyes, and breathed out slowly. ‘The fighting is over. The Wolfen are no more.’

Vidarr’s grip on his arm intensified. ‘The Wolfen will never be gone. As long as Canite blood runs through the veins of a single being, then the Wolfen will rise again. The
sáál
is eternal, and can never truly die. Remember the words of the first of us all, the mighty Fenrir; as long as a single Wolfen stands, there will be a kingdom for us all.’ He paused, and his hand fell away. ‘The Man-Kind will keep the son of Grimvaldr safe.’

Balthazaar turned quickly. ‘How do you know of…’?

Vidarr laughed softly in the darkness. ‘There are no secrets for someone as old as the stone of the Valkeryn’s walls themselves. Here...’ He pressed something bread-like into the counselor’s hand.

Balthazaar lifted it and sniffed. ‘Fungus?’

‘Hm-hmm, tastes like meat. You’ll get used to it. You have to – you may be eating it for a long time.’ He laughed again.

Balthazaar sighed miserably, and closed his eyes. Behind him, a tiny movement turned into a rustle, and then something that could have been a giggle floated up to them from far away in the darkness.

Vidarr’s hand alighted on his arm again. ‘Just the wind playing in the lower passages, my friend. Nothing down here, but you, me, and a thousand old ghosts.’

Balthazaar nodded, even though he knew his friend couldn’t see it. He bit off a piece of the tough fungus, and started to chew without enjoyment. His ears remained firmly pointed to the rear of the cave.

*

Arn was frozen to the spot. He held Grimson to him with one arm, the youth still unconscious. He watched the water, or more specifically the two yellow eyes just below the surface, gliding towards the bank. They seemed to glow and were focused on Arn. There were no pupils, just two golf ball-sized blobs of yellow, spaced about two feet apart.

He gulped, and the act of swallowing gave his muscles some movement. He looked around. The jungle cover was a few dozen feet back, and he was still at the waterline. There were a few broken branches littering the bank, but there was no shelter or anything to hide behind.

He took a careful step backwards, conscious that any movement he made might trigger the attack that was surely coming. The darkness wasn’t quite complete, as a few silver edges of moon had snuck around some high cloud, and now, a momentary break threw down a curtain of silver light. Arn felt the enormous surge in his confidence and with it the familiar swell of energy rippled through him. But the light also revealed the creature as it came to the shallows.