Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (8 page)

Grunting and snapping sounds came from up ahead. Sorenson paused and tried to search out the source of the noise before he was seen. Both Wolfen and Lygon had excellent night vision, their eyes managing to pull the most miniscule hint of light from the landscape.

He edged forward, inches at a time, scarcely breathing as he approached the open ground. The moonlight made the clearing appear as a silver-lit stage, revealing a Lygon crouching over a body. While Sorenson watched, the Lygon pulled and twisted a limb free, lifted it to his jaws and ripped at the flesh, swallowing it in great gulps.

Sorenson felt pain in his chest. Before he realised it, his warrior spirit had taken over. Where caution was needed, he instead broke into a sprint. Where silence was demanded, he instead roared a challenge, and when he should have discreetly detoured around the brute, Sorenson instead demanded the fight. As he flew forward he drew his sword.

The Lygon’s head came up in surprise, and then whipped around, the shock clear on his ogreish features. He rose to his feet, throwing the half eaten Wolfen aside and towering over Sorenson, his eyes blazing a luminous green. One huge hand reached down for the enormous axe hanging at his belt. But he fumbled. Perhaps it was the sight of a still living Wolfen running at him, or astonishment that any creature would attack a Lygon warrior in full battle dress. By the time he had freed his weapon, Sorenson was already leaping at him, flying through the air, his sword making an arc in the cold night.

The silver blade flashed in the moonlight, and the beast’s enormous head flew from its shoulders. Sorenson landed lightly on his feet, and turned to see the headless body, still upright, spraying blood as it toppled like a tree.

He snorted in contempt. ‘Compared to the
sáál
of a Wolfen, you will always be the runt.’ He walked back to the body and placed a foot on its chest. He threw his head back and howled once again, but this time it was no song of lament, but one of challenge.

The sound died away and Sorenson dropped his head, his eyes still burning. ‘We are not all dead yet.’

He wiped his blade clean on the body, and then walked to the mangled corpse of his Wolfen kin. It still wore much of its armor, now dented and bloody. It was a female warrior, her face still caught in a snarl of fury. She had died fighting. Sorenson knelt down, and placed one hand on her chest. He made a fist and tapped the steel where the snarling crest of Fenrir was raised up. He closed his eyes.

‘May you sit at Odin’s feet and await his call.’ He opened his eyes and stood. He went to turn away but paused. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he stared at the devoured remains. ‘Be at ease, little sister, there will be oceans of blood soon enough.’

Chapter 9

I’m Not Alone

Arn woke with a start, and sat up quickly, spinning left and right, feeling there was something amiss, someone watching them. His neck tingled and he couldn’t shake the sensation of something not being right. He waited, but there was nothing except the sound of the jungle waking at dawn.

He rubbed his face and inhaled. The humidity was already high, and his skin itched where biting insects had made a meal of him throughout the night. He looked down. Grimson still slept. Thankfully, it was more a sleep of the fatigued, rather than the coma-like little death he had been in the night before.

Arn slid a hand backwards through the short, silver fur on the young Wolfen’s shoulders and neck, and saw that the wounds were now pink and mostly knitted together. There was no sign of any swelling or weeping coming from the wounds.

His stomach rumbled, and he crawled forward on his knees to the opening of their shelter. He and Grimson had found an enormous broken off tree trunk, still twenty feet high, but its base hollowed out – large enough for them both to enter, and sleep hidden from the jungle. Even if they had found a cave, he wasn’t sure he would have chosen to enter – given what he had encountered in the darkness once before. Fatigued as he was, he wouldn’t have been able to fight a mouse, let alone something the size of a freight train that spat acid, and had armor stronger than an Abrams tank.

The snap of a twig from just behind the brush line made him freeze. He dropped even lower and edged backwards a few inches, while keeping his eyes on the undergrowth. There was some snuffling and then something the size of a large rat
pushed out into the open. It stopped, and its snout unfurled like a miniature trunk to pick at something in amongst the leaf litter.

Hello breakfast
, he thought and slowly reached back for his knife. There would be no fire or cooking for some time. Aside from everything being mostly damp in the jungle anyway, he couldn’t afford for the smoke to be seen rising above the tree canopy until he was sure there was no pursuit. It didn’t matter – raw or not, food was food, and he and Grimson needed protein. He leapt.

Arn smiled and hummed as he expertly skinned the small animal. Not long ago, he was worried more about trying to date Becky Matthews, or cramming for final exams, and now, here he was sitting in the dirt, perhaps a million years from home, ripping the hide off an animal like his forefathers did.

‘Talk about getting back in touch with your roots.’ He laughed, and dropped the skin into a pre-dug hole in the dirt – best not leave bloody scraps around to be sniffed out by predators.

Arn used his knife to slice away some of the softer meat and brought it close to Grimson’s nose. He put his hand behind the young Wolfen’s neck and sat him up. The dark nostrils twitched and his mouth opened weakly. Arn pushed the meat between his jaws, and the youth made almost imperceptible motions of chewing before he swallowed. Arn repeated the process several times, before lying the youth back down.

‘Need you up soon, buddy. We need to get moving.’

Truth was he had no idea what to do next other than keep moving forward into the dark jungle. He couldn’t go back, and they were surrounded by dense, almost impenetrable forest on all sides. They needed to push forward. He’d carry the youth again if he needed to, but he hoped that with his
wounds cleaned and healing, and now some protein, Grimson might spring back to health.

Arn sliced more of the meat from the small carcass. It was salty and still warm. He swallowed it down greedily; raw meat from something like a large rat suddenly seemed the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.

Afterwards, he went to relieve himself a few paces behind their tree trunk home, remembering to bury his waste. Coming back through the cleared area around the base of the large trunk he froze. He frowned, and fell to his knees, lowering his face even closer to the earth. Arn gently picked away twigs and leaves, and then sat back to wait for his head to stop spinning.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again – it was still there. He suppressed an urge to laugh out loud.

There, pressed into the soft dark earth, was a moccasin footprint; small, not perfect, but it looked definitely… human.

‘I’m not alone.’ Arn tilted his head back and closed his eyes. ‘Thank you.’

Chapter 10

Creepy as Ever

Becky drove up to the front gate of the Fermilab facility and slowed, flashing the guard a big smile. ‘Morning Mr. Wilson. How’s the wife and that adorable baby boy of yours?’

The big guard smiled and nodded, touching his cap in a form of salute. ‘Morning Miss Matthews. We’re all fine and the boy is as big as a moose… and just as loud.’ He laughed at his own wit, and then leaned into her car, quickly looking past her into the back seat, and foot wells.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Pop the trunk again? It’s full of junk I’m afraid.’

Wilson thought about it and then shook his head. ‘Nah, just a short visit to see Dr Harper again?’

‘Sure is, and I bet I’ll be straight back out after the usual “No news yet sweetheart” talk.’ She turned her mouth down.

‘Probably, but I’m sure things will all work out for you and your friend.’ He patted her shoulder through the open window. ‘Good luck this time.’ He stepped back and waved her through.

Becky nodded and accelerated away from the gate, feeling the perspiration running down under her arms. She checked the rear-view mirror to make sure Wilson wasn’t making any phone calls.

Becky turned around. ‘Phew, you all right back there?’

There was the sound of muffled movement, and then. ‘Yes, but it’s really hot in here. Where are we?’

She laughed. ‘Where are we? We’re in… but that was the easy part, so it’s about to get a lot hotter.’ She grinned, excited and feeling like there was electricity running through her veins.

As she drove towards the enormous Fermilab building, she noticed one of the guard dogs had stopped and stood high on its back legs to watch her pass.

‘Creepy as ever,’ she whispered.

Chapter 11

Vile Cross Breeder

Eilif sat by herself and hummed as she worked her blade. The trek had been slow, and she felt she was dragging Bergborr along with her. He resisted every step of the way, and as she had refused to tell him the reason she was determined to travel into the Dark Lands, he had become more suspicious and withdrawn with every passing hour.

His earlier good humor, and his infatuated attention, had slipped away. She didn’t care; she could tell he held his secrets deep inside himself.

A small sound made her drop her hands, sheath her knife and let a small piece of charcoal she was using fall to the earth.

‘I brought you these.’ He held a handful of long flowers of such a deep purple that they could have been made from crushed black berries.

She looked at them for a moment, her immediate notion was to reject them, but then decided that she could be civil to the Wolfen warrior. After all, he had saved her from a certain death.

‘Thank you; they’re beautiful.’ She smiled up at him, and then looked at the blooms, so she wouldn’t have to see his eager, imploring features.

He went to his knees beside her. It seemed her few words were encouragement enough ‘They are as you are, my beautiful Eilif.’

She turned away slightly, the insides of her ears turning pink with embarrassment. She picked at the petals, pretending to further arrange the blooms in her hand. She felt him draw closer. A hand fell on her shoulder. She shrugged it away, and flashed him an angry look.

‘You should not make presumptions, Bergborr, son of Bergrinne. Your arrogance is tedious and lacks judgment.’

The hand on her shoulder pressed harder and then pulled her around. Bergborr pressed his face to hers, his mouth trying to find her own. Eilif lashed out, striking him with her fist and knocking his face to one side.

He ground his teeth and swung back at her. ‘I saved your life.’ He yelled the words into her face, spittle spraying onto her cheek.

She went to strike his face again, but this time he caught her arm, holding it easily. He smiled, but as he felt the arm, he looked at it, his smile falling away and instead being replaced with a look of disgust wrinkling his features.

Her arm had been scraped clean of fur, and a single small word had been carved into the skin. The wound had had charcoal rubbed into the word, so when the skin healed the design would remain tattooed forever. It was a single word, a name… Arnoddr.

He wrenched her arm in disgust. ‘Ach.’ He pulled it again even harder, jarring her shoulder, and with his other hand he slapped her face… hard. ‘Lover of animals, vile cross-breeder.’

She pulled her arm away, and got to her feet. He rose just as quickly, grabbing her tunic and ripping it. ‘How long until you desire to shave your entire body? You deceive yourself. Do you expect to make yourself a Man-Kind through the simply shedding of your outer self? Foolish, disgusting female.’

He held her by the torn shards of her clothing and shook her from side to side. He stared hard into her face. His eyes grew crafty and then lascivious.

‘Where was the Man-Kind when the massed Lygon and Panterran attacked our home? Where was the Man-Kind when your father and mother fell? He was running away. But I was there, beside you, just as I’ve always been. But where was he? Where is he now? Stupid, stupid dreamer.’ He shook her again.

Eilif reached up and tried to pull his hand away from her, but instead, he lifted the other and ripped downwards, tearing away a swath of the tunic front and exposing her small breasts. His eyes grew small, and his grin widened.

‘Your problem is, you have never known what a real Wolfen feels like.’ He kept his eyes on her exposed body. ‘I can fix that for you.’ He slapped her and she staggered backwards.

She was in shock and disbelief, but anger overrode her instinct to try and shield herself. Instead she pulled a small blade from her belt, and swung it, but before it could connect he slapped her again and then again.

Her head spun, and she felt him rip more of her clothing away. She still held the blade, but now her mind was turning to thoughts of using the sharp dagger on herself, rather than let this creature take her.

She lifted the blade, weakly this time, and earned a powerful blow over her eye, knocking her down. The world spun, and hovering above it all was the dark figure of the black Wolfen. She saw him pull away his own shirt, and then start to unbuckle his belt.

‘No.’ She held up her hand.

‘Yes.’ He pulled the belt free.

Tears ran down her face, and she suddenly thought that this is the day she will die. She would never see Arn again, or her brother, or even the mighty halls of Valkeryn. Instead, she would end up here, food for the worms in some lonely and forgotten corner of the forests.

The blurred figure of Bergborr filled her vision as he began to bear down upon her.

*

Sorenson had followed the twin pair of travelers – both Wolfen – for miles now. One large, the other smaller; a youth, most likely a female by the narrow prints.

His lungs burned, and his overworked muscles screamed in protest, but he would never let up. If it was one of the ones he sought, he would run until he was at Odin’s door.

The forest became even denser, and he needed to slow his pace to thread his way through the crowded landscape. He leaned against a tree trunk, closed his eyes, and sniffed the air so he could concentrate on the minute sounds and scents. He was close now; he would be upon them in moments. He sped up, racing now, leaping over boulders and fallen trees, until the sound of a familiar voice burst across the landscape in a fearful scream.

Odin, give me strength.
He sprinted madly – seconds would count now.