Return of the Ancients

Chapter 49 The Fall of the Wolfen

Arn paused and grabbed Grimson by the shoulder. The sun was coming up, and a slight breeze blew up from behind them, carrying with it a sound he could just make out. It was like a gong or bell being struck over and over.

Grimson lifted his head to sniff the air. ‘My father — I can’t… I can’t sense him anymore.’ He looked up at Arn. ‘Can we go back, Arnoddr?’

Arn shook his head. ‘Not this day.’ He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He hoped somehow that Eilif had survived, that the far Wolfen had arrived in time, and that Grimvaldr had triumphed. But even though the sounds of the gong probably signalled the end of the battle, deep down he knew the day did not belong to the Wolfen.

He watched the sun rise up over the horizon. He might have travelled a million years, and might have arrived just in time to witness the last night of the Wolfen. It isn’t fair, he thought.

He patted Grimson on the shoulder and glanced at him, and for a moment the youngster looked like a normal boy. He blinked and the mirage dissolved. Grimson looked up and smiled, and Arn turned away. ‘C’mon, we have a lot of ground to cover.’

The two small figures pushed their way through the brush. One was human, possibly the last of his kind. And for all Arn knew, the young Wolfen beside him was possibly the last of his kind, too.