Return of the Ancients

Chapter 38 The Forges of the Enemy

It was dark outside when the Wolfen messenger led them through the narrow laneways, up onto a small stone bridge over a river that ran through the castle grounds. The river flowed deep and swift, and provided much of the drinking water for the castle inhabitants.

The small party had to stand aside as dozens of Wolfen warriors ran past carrying shovels and picks. ‘Preparations,’ Balthazar explained grimly.

The warriors rushed towards the main gate, and then out onto the plains in front of the castle. In the distance, Arn could make out a glow on the horizon. He frowned and turned to Balthazar. ‘Wrong place for the sun to set… Looks more like a forest fire.’

Balthazar’s face grew dark. ‘Hundreds, thousands of fires, I’m afraid. It is the Panterran. Listen.’

Arn concentrated, and could hear a faint, rhythmic clunk-clang of something heavy and metallic being smashed together.

‘What is it?’ He looked to Balthazar, but it was the tall, thin messenger who answered.

‘The forges of the enemy. They are making weapons in readiness for their attack.’

The Wolfen, too, were preparing themselves. Some of the castle’s smaller gates had already been closed, and masons worked to brick them up. The main gates were reinforced with crisscrossed wooden beams, locked together with massive iron studs. When it came time to close them, a metal bolt as thick as Arn’s leg would be threaded through several large iron rings.

‘Could they lay siege to the castle and starve us out?’

Balthazar chimed in. ‘Doubtful. We have plenty of supplies, and we also have the river. Though we can’t stand the flesh of fish, we can survive on it. Also, as the far Wolfen join us, we will grow stronger while, hopefully, the enemy weakens.’

Arn looked down into the water. The river was deep and flashes of silver glinted in its depths. It rushed beneath them, and disappeared through an arched tunnel into the ground.

Anticipating Arn’s next question, Balthazar pointed to where the water flowed into the tunnel. ‘The river travels underground, and we have placed a gate across the tunnel. Have no fear: no Panterran will be sneaking up on us. Besides, they can’t stand water.’

Arn nodded, watching the river as it swirled away into the darkness.

Once again Arn found himself seated before the sealed doors of the king’s main hall. He and Eilif sat together on a polished wooden bench, and Arn rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. He looked across at Eilif’s face — she seemed calm, but her breathing was rapid.

‘Are you afraid?’

The silver blue eyes turned to him. ‘Afraid?’ She seemed to think for a moment. ‘Of dying? No. Of living, yes, if it meant a lifetime of Panterran oppression.’

Arn starred at her for a few seconds, wondering at the depths of her people’s desire for freedom. He knew there were always things worth fighting for… and dying for — his own heritage had taught him that. He rubbed his face and then ran his fingers up through his long hair.

She put her hand on his shoulder, and shrugged. ‘Perhaps the Panterran were created to provide some sort of balance in the world — light against dark, good to bad, peace and war. She sighed and sat back. ‘Perhaps we are not supposed to know peace. Perhaps, from time to time, we Wolfen need war to remind us of where it was we came from — born of pain and fire. I think that ruling a land is not a right, and it must be fought for every single day. My father taught me that.’ She turned to him. ‘Did your people know peace, Arn?’

Arn thought for a moment before answering. ‘Mostly, but there was always conflict. We had world wars, and small wars, but we always wanted peace. We all lived in the hope that one day war would be a thing of the past.’

‘You had no Panterran, or Lygon, or even Boarex. Who did you fight?’

Arn snorted. ‘Other humans. Different countries — sometimes even within our own country.’

She frowned in confusion. ‘You fought other Man-kind — why? You would have been the same. Did you want to eat each other, or make slaves from your brothers? Did you not have shared dreams and goals and a common lore?’

‘No and no, we were a fractured race. I guess you could say, we were still evolving.’

‘Ha, it sounds like you were more warlike than the Wolfen or Panterran. You must have been fearsome warriors.’

Arn sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, but the problem was, we humans became very good at war — too good.’

Eilif screwed up her brow in confusion, and was about to say something else when the huge double doors pulled inwards. Vulpernix appeared, and with his single eye, looked from Arn to Eilif and then back again, before bowing slightly and motioning with his hand for Arn to enter.

Eilif got to her feet, but Vulpernix stopped her. Instead she mouthed something he couldn’t make out, which Arn assumed was a wish for good luck. Vulpernix watched Arn enter, but didn’t follow, and pulled the heavy door shut, leaving him alone in the large hall.

The heavy doors closed shut behind him.

Arn stood alone in the large hall. He walked forward cautiously, his footsteps sounding heavy on the stones and echoing in the high-ceilinged room. The last time he had been here by himself… He just hoped that if the king was going to ask anything else of him, it didn’t involve eating insects.

It didn’t bode well that the hall was as dark as it had been the last time. Arn was beginning to wonder whether he really was alone in the room, when a slight scrape of a heel on the stones drew his eyes to one of the windows. He could make out a large figure leaning against the sill, and looking out into the dark night — a dark night with a rim of red on the horizon.

The figure spoke without turning. ‘Not long now. I would wish for more time, but there will be none given.’ He raised one large fist and pounded it onto the sill. ‘We need hold them for only a few days! Just until the Wolfen arrive from the far outposts. Only then, may I dare to believe that we can defeat them.’

Arn stepped a little closer. ‘But why don’t you just shelter behind the walls? Surely you have a better chance of staying safe and holding them off then.’

Grimvaldr shook his head, but kept his eyes on the red horizon. ‘We are Wolfen. The strength of the kingdom is not in her stone, but in her blood and flesh. We will face them in battle, eye to eye — our courage, our skill, and Odin’s will, will define our victory, not our ability to cower behind brick and mortar. The walls will be our last refuge, not the first.’

‘And… if you can’t hold them?’

Grimvaldr turned and looked at him with weary eyes. ‘A king may fall, but a kingdom may not. While a single Wolfen lives, then so too will Valkeryn.’ He smiled. ‘We will hold them.’ He turned and stared once more at the glowing horizon. ‘I must call on you again, young friend. All Wolfen must fight when the kingdom is threatened — not just because it is our duty, but because it is in our blood.’

‘All?’

The king nodded. ‘Male, female, old, young. All who are strong enough to wield a sword, axe or pike will heed the call. The very young, the sick and very old have already been spirited away to somewhere safe, but there is one who must also be kept safe — one who is the soul and future of this mighty kingdom.’

‘You mean Grimson.’

The king nodded solemnly. ‘In the short time you have been here, you have proved your courage, honour and skill — all things that are valued and needed now. Grimson must be taken from the castle and hidden. No one must know where he is… not even me.’ He glanced at Arn again. ‘The Panterran have methods of interrogation that go beyond physical torture. But they found it difficult to drag secrets from your mind, a human mind. It is enough for me.’

Arn remembered the claws digging into his mind, and how the old sorcerer had been unable to clearly read his thoughts. But this thing the king asked, the responsibility of it, made him feel overwhelmed.

‘What about Sorenson? He is better able to find his way through the forests. And besides, I want to fight as well.’

‘Yes, I hear that your skills grow rapidly, and I would have valued your sword. But after Strom fell to the Panterran, it would take a brave Wolfen indeed to tell Sorenson that he is not to fight them, and gain an opportunity to avenge his brother.’

‘And Eilif?’

‘Will fight at my side.’

‘But… I was planning to take her with me to—’

‘To the dark lands. Arnoddr, you could not stop her from entering the battle even if you wanted to. But you must take Grimson there; it might be the one place the Panterran will not follow. But I do not want to know any more, in case…’

Grimvaldr tugged a ring from his finger and held it out to Arn — a large silver wolf’s head, its ruby red eyes glowing. ‘There is not a Wolfen on this world who will not recognise this ring. Please… take it, and you will have passage anywhere. And when the time is right, give it to Grimson.’

Arn looked at the ring, then reached into his pocket and pulled forth the ring that Eilif had given him when they first met. ‘There is no need, sire. I have one.’

Grimvaldr’s stared down at the small piece of jewelled silver. ‘I should have known. What did the princess tell you when she gave you this?’

‘That it would keep me safe — as you have told me.’

‘And that is all?’ The king stared at him, hard.

Arn just nodded, feeling a little confused.

Grimvaldr turned away. ‘It is of no consequence. There are other more pressing matters. Tell Grimson…’ He searched out the words. ‘Tell him… any Wolfen, servant or king, would be proud to call him his son. Tell him… I will always be looking over him.’

Arn nodded even though the king couldn’t see him. ‘I’ll keep him safe.’ He turned to leave, then stopped, silently regarding the large figure, silhouetted against the glowing red horizon.

‘My strength to you, great king Grimvaldr.’

Eilif sprang to her feet as Arn slipped quietly back out into the corridor. No sooner had he closed the doors, when an eerie howl echoed behind them. Concerned, she tried to push past him, but he grabbed and held her fast.

‘He is sad about the coming battle. He just needs… some time alone.’

He felt her muscles relax, but couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he spoke softly as he led her away from the door. ‘You’re going to fight, then?’

She squeezed his hand tightly. ‘Oh yes! I can’t wait for the battle to begin. Will you fight by my side, Arnoddr?’

Arn frowned. ‘What if you’re killed?’

‘I will acquit myself honourably — if I die, many Panterran will die first. Besides, all Wolfen have no greater wish than to die in love, or in battle.’ Her voice softened. ‘I can do both.’

Arn was horrified, but she went on. ‘After all, we all die, and is it better to die old and sick, or to cross the rainbow bridge to Valhalla as a young warrior?’ She was almost skipping like a child.

‘But we could…’ He stopped, remembering the wishes of the king.

‘Together we will make the Panterran quake in fear. They will sing about us for a hundred generations — the great Arnoddr and Princess Eilif.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘I need to prepare my battledress and weapons. The war should be upon us by morning — I shan’t be able to sleep tonight.’

Arn watched her skip down the stone corridor.

And neither will I, he thought dismally.