Return of the Ancients

Chapter 23 Dark Times

Arn was shown into the main hall by one of the castle’s hundreds of attendants. The servant didn’t enter the hall, but merely opened the door and motioned with his arm towards the darkened interior. Arn stepped through, and paused to allow his eyes to adjust.

A single candle burned on the far side of the room, and he made his way towards it. The silence was unsettling. Even his cautious footsteps sounded heavy as he crossed from the polished stones onto woven rugs.

Arn slowed when he saw that someone was seated in a massive chair, their head resting on one of their hands. Another empty chair stood close by. The figure lifted his head, silver eyes shining in the dark.

‘Dark times, young Man-kind.’ Grimvaldr sat back and studied Arn carefully. ‘Dark times that require dark deeds.’ He sighed. ‘What would you do to save someone you loved?’

Arn stepped a little closer. ‘Anything… Everything.’

Grimvaldr nodded. ‘Yes, I too.’ He opened his hand and showed Arn the scrap of material bearing the crest of the silver wolf with red eyes. ‘Grimson has been taken by the Panterran.’

Arn felt a sudden surge of anger, and fear for the youth. The thought of the old sorcerer’s talons digging into Grimson’s flesh made him want to scream with rage. ‘Is he a hostage? Do they want a ransom?’ He stepped closer. ‘Can we get him back?’

The king nodded slowly. ‘I hope so. There is a ransom, but they want something that is not mine to give.’

Arn grabbed the king’s forearm. ‘Then you must get it, and do everything in your power to save your son. How can I help?’

The king stared at the floor, but his eyes were focused on something much further away. At last he looked up, the weight of all his years dragging his features down.

‘They want you, Arnoddr-Sigarr.’

Arn frowned, momentarily confused as he tried to make sense of the words. He stepped back, feeling his legs bump against the empty chair, and he sat down heavily.

‘They… They want me?’ Arn’s mind jumped back to being tied to the rack, the hooked claws piercing the flesh of his face, and the invasion of his mind. He also remembered the creature wanting to read the future in his entrails. It made his legs weak, and he shuddered and felt cold all over. ‘If they get me, will they… release Grimson unharmed?’

‘Perhaps they will.’ The king stared hard at him.

‘And did they say what they wanted me for?’

Grimvaldr shrugged his heavy shoulders. ‘Perhaps to be a pet for their queen.’ He paused. ‘Or it could be something… else.’

Arn felt a lump of fear in the back of his throat. In the short time he had known the Wolfen, he had found them to be the noblest race he had ever met. Eilif, Sorenson, Strom; they wouldn’t hesitate… He rose to his feet.

‘Then you must do anything you can to get your son back. And I will do everything I can to make sure it happens.’

The king stood and placed his huge hands on Arn’s shoulders, pulling the other towards him in a crushing embrace.

He stepped back. ‘Putting yourself in harm’s way for a friend is a noble thing.’

Arn nodded. He remembered Mr. Jefferson, the bus driver, saying the same thing. The lump in his throat grew bigger as he suddenly longed for his old life back. He nodded again, but still couldn’t speak.

‘Our races are very similar, Arn. It’s no wonder the legends talk of our enduring kinship.’ He walked over to a long table on which lay something covered with a soft cloth. He motioned for Arn to join him. ‘You asked me whether the Slinkers would release my son unharmed. I said, perhaps. But truly, I think not. I also think your fate will be far more unpleasant than to be some curio for the queen.’

Arn thought once again of the claws in his face. ‘I’ll still do it.’

The king lifted the cloth. Beneath lay two small cages side by side — one slightly longer than the other. He used a knuckle to tap the top of the larger cage, causing its occupant to fall from the side where it had been hanging, close to its mate. The creature looked like a beetle, but was the size of his fist, with its abdomen blazing like a light bulb. In the other cage, its mate was smaller, and emerald green in colour.

‘Fleet beetles.’ Grimvaldr pointed to the larger one. ‘The female fluoresces when close to the male. They mate for life, and even if you separated them by a thousand longs, she would still find him. The closer she is, the brighter she glows.’

Arn leaned over the cages. ‘How does she find him?’

‘By smell — the male fleet beetle gives off a unique odour that the female tracks. Only she can smell it, and once paired, the perfume he makes is designed to be just for her.’

‘I think I see.’ Arn saw the king’s plan in his head. ‘So, I hide the male beetle on myself, and then you use the female beetle’s homing light to come and find me.’

‘Yes… But the Panterran will most likely search you.’ The king smiled ruefully. ‘You will need to swallow him. The female will still be able to track him when he’s inside your gut.’

Arn grimaced, and looked hard at the smaller beetle. Smaller, but still the size of his thumb, and with six spindly, sharp-looking legs. Ugh. ‘When?’

‘Not yet. Just before we hand you over. It will take three days for the beetle to pass through your system, which should be time enough.’

Arn nodded slowly, still feeling queasy at the thought of something that large, alive in his stomach. ‘And then the Wolfen army will find me, and when they do, hopefully I’ll be at the same place where the Slinkers have taken Grimson.’

The king lifted the smaller cage, and shook it slightly as he peered through the tiny bars. ‘That’s what we hope. But I’m afraid there will be no army. The Panterran scouts would alert them to a large force approaching long before it got anywhere near you. No, it will need to be a small party.’

This did nothing for Arn’s confidence. ‘So, ahh, fifty Wolfen elite?’

The king shook his head.

‘Twenty? Ten?’

Grimvaldr just shook his head again.

‘So how many?’

The king held up two fingers.

‘Two? Just two? Oh, great…’

‘Do not fear, Man-kind — I will send Strom and Sorenson. They are an army in themselves, and the best warriors and trackers this land has seen in many generations. They will find you… and bring you both to safety.’

Arn knew the king was right about the size of the force needed — the Panterran could probably hear a blade of grass bending in the darkest forest, so would certainly know if even a small force of Wolfen were making their way towards them. Besides, he thought, the king won’t risk perhaps his only chance to rescue his son.

‘Good as it gets, I suppose — when can I expect to go?’

‘Tomorrow eve. Say nothing of this to anyone, young Man-kind. Even in the court of the king, there are those — a very few, thank Odin — who prefer the reward of riches to the brotherhood of the pack.’

‘Traitors… Spies? Is that why we’re meeting in private? Do you have any idea who they are?’

The king draped the cloth back over the cages. ‘We have suspicions, but nothing we can prove. Just the same, we must be cautious. If the Panterran discovered our plan, they would remove the beetle — with a blade.’

This didn’t do much for Arn’s confidence either.

Vulpernix had travelled alone through the dark forest for many hours. He sought out a secret passage only he knew — a cave that led under the fields and open spaces, emerging in a small valley at the very edge of Valkeryn.

Even as he approached, he could sense the being waiting just inside the hidden mouth of the cave. His nose twitched at the familiar, unpleasant smell.

‘Vulpernix, betrayer of the Canites, friend to the Panterran.’ Orcalion glided from the dark hole and sat with his hood pulled up over his head, his yellow eyes glowing.

Vulpernix turned away for a moment, to throw off the look of distaste that had spread across his features. He smiled indifferently at the Panterran. ‘Greetings, wise Orcalion — and please, not a betrayer, but a saviour of the Canites. I bring good news: the king has agreed to hand over the Man-kind.’

Orcalion got to his feet. ‘Good news for the king, I think. What else, brave Wolfen?’

Vulpernix frowned at the other’s indifference to news he had thought critical to the queen of the Panterran. ‘He has sent word to the far garrisons to bring in the scattered Wolfen tribes — in ten days their numbers will be powerful indeed. I suggest any attack takes place before then. The kingdom will be yours.’

The old sorcerer’s soft, rasping laugh was like a hiss of steam. ‘Yes, attack early. But I have also heard the scattered Wolfen are being recalled not in ten days… More like five. That doesn’t give us much time at all, does it, trusted friend Vulpernix?’

Orcalion glided closer. ‘It seems the information you bring is a little… stale. I have also learned that the king plans to send his young and old Canites away from the castle.’ The yellow eyes glared with an intensity that seemed to burn into the old Wolfen’s brain. ‘We will need them. It is a long journey back to the dark lands, and the Lygon will need plenty of food… live food.’ Again, there was the hiss of laughter.

Vulpernix recoiled in disgust. ‘You go too far, Orcalion. I’ll gladly sell you information, but I’ll not see the young ones taken captive… for food. That was never part of the deal.’

In the blink of an eye, Orcalion had a curved dagger up under the old Wolfen’s chin. ‘Small, young ones, soon grow to be big ones. We cannot have another army of Wolfen coming down from the far lands after the Lygon have gone home. Best if the Panterran solve all their problems at once — besides, as soon as you took our wealth, you became one of us… brother Vulpernix.’ He lowered the dagger and turned his back, stepping once more into the shadows of the small cave. ‘Make sure next time you bring us new information. You told me nothing that I didn’t already know, vile betrayer of your kind.’

A small leather bag hit the ground at Vulpernix’s feet. When he looked up again, he was alone.