But you must make it back to Valkeryn and warn the brother Wolfen.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘This is the seal of the house of Grimvaldr — it will open any doors to you, even royal ones.’
She turned wearily, searching the ground for a moment, then crouched to pick up a long, broken bone, and moved to place herself between Arn and the creature. He saw the weight of her fatigue pressing down on her, and felt a rush of anger. The thought of allowing her to sacrifice herself was so horrible, it made him grit his teeth.
She spoke quickly over her shoulder. ‘Tell them I died with honour.’
She staggered under the weight of her injuries. But despite his own fatigue, Arn felt the same sensation of flowing power through his limbs that he had felt on the hillside. He raised his hands to his face, fingers flexing, and studied them in the moonlight.
The thought echoed in his mind: the moonlight.
He spoke softy to Eilif’s back. ‘You can tell them yourself.’
Reaching down to pick up a stone the size of his fist, Arn launched it at the creature. It struck one of the segmented sections behind its head, chipping off a large piece of its red-hued carapace.
Eilif’s mouth dropped open. ‘Odin’s beard! That was a mighty throw, son of Man-kind. Only the heaviest blows can pierce the jormungandr’s armour.’ Eilif picked up a stone, and threw it as well, but it simply bounced away without any damage to the thing at all.
The jormungandr hissed. The greenish liquid that dripped from its mandibles foamed and sizzled on the dirt floor of the cave.
‘Beware of its venom,’ Eilif warned him. ‘Its bite is poisonous.’
‘Thanks. I wasn’t worried until now.’
The massive creature’s mandibles clicked together, and more of the caustic venom dripped to the ground. Eilif motioned towards it. ‘While the cave mouth is open, we have a chance. But when it closes…’ She let the words hang.
Arn frowned. ‘Closes?’ He turned to Eilif, who pointed again to the creature that was still hanging above the cave mouth.
‘Watch.’
As they watched, white foam sprayed forth from the creature’s head, sticking to the top of the cave mouth and hanging down in thick webbed strands. These stiffened and darkened on contact with the air. The jormungandr seemed to rest, but only for a few seconds. It swelled slightly, as if drawing a breath, and then spewed out still more web, sealing the cave mouth entirely.
No sooner was this done, than the jormungandr hissed and pounced at them. Arn pushed Eilif to one side, and dived to the other. He kept rolling and moving quickly, but the injured Wolfen was slower. The effects of the drug were obviously starting to wear off.
The thing dragged more of its segments up from the bowels of the cave, and where the first dozen or so had been the size of a small table, the ones now appearing were as large as a line of small cars linked together. Arn wondered briefly about the size of this thing that still coiled away into the cave’s depths, and he had a mental image of a giant hermit crab, using the entire mountain as its shell.
The jormungandr had sensed that Eilif was its easiest prey and focused its attack on her. The massive body was already looming over her, its tusk-like mandibles drawn wide. Arn only had seconds more before she would be engulfed by the horrible monster from the Wolfen’s own version of hell.
His instincts took over. Snatching up a heavy thigh bone lying near his feet, he ran hard at the beast and leapt upon it, bringing his makeshift club down on the back of its shell with a sickening crunch.
Cracks and fissures crazed away from the wound in its back, which immediately started to ooze black blood. The jormungandr swung away from Eilif and coiled around on itself, whipping back and forth and throwing Arn to the ground. Hissing with rage, it raised the front part of its broad body high into the air.
Arn set his feet, preparing to leap the opposite way to whichever angle the creature came at him. Instead, its enormous body began to vibrate. He heard Eilif’s cry of warning a few seconds too late to understand what she was trying to tell him.
A globule of green slime flew from the mouth of the beast and struck Arn in the face. His eyes burned; tears streamed down his cheeks, and his vision dimmed to a shadowy blur. The head of the creature swam before him, now seeming to fill his entire world.
This is gonna hurt, he thought, and closed his eyes.
Arn was struck hard from the side, and cried out in fear — until he realised it wasn’t the clacking mandibles that had engulfed him, but his friend leaping and pulling him out of the way. Wrapping him in her arms, she dragged him behind some rocks.
He murmured, ‘I can’t see.’
She whispered urgently into his ear, ‘The poison of the jormungandr is paralysing, and blinding when sprayed into the eyes.’ She hugged him close. ‘It was a pleasure knowing you, Arnoddr — if only for a while.’
The huge head of the jormungandr now loomed above both of them, but as Arn buried his face in the warm fur of the strange creature that held him, he felt her stiffen and turn her head.
Eilif let out a long and eerie call. Then she paused, listening. The jormungandr was now so close, Arn could feel the air moving as its huge body hovered over them.
She lifted her head and howled again, letting the notes echo and stretch inside the cave, and beyond. This time, there was an answer. And not one voice, but many. Arn could hear the sound of approaching hooves, then a huge crash as the webbing over the mouth of the cave was hacked to pieces.
The jormungandr swung away from them, and even with his weakened eyes, Arn could see the Wolfen who first stepped through the mouth of the cave was twice the size of Eilif. Dressed in his armour, the warrior looked like an enormous medieval statue that had come to life. In his hand he held a sword as long as Arn himself.
‘Mighty Strom!’ Arn could hear the elation in Eilif’s voice.
The Wolfen warrior let out a roar of anger, charging at the jormungandr with his enormous sword raised. He leapt in the air, sailing towards the gaping mandibles, and burying his blade to the hilt in the thrashing, tear-shaped head.
Roars and cries of battle filled the dark cavern, and for Arn, in his semi-lucid and half-blind state, the rest unfolded in a frenzy of blurred movement and frightening, chaotic noise. The poison of the jormungandr must have been seeping into his brain, for he thought he could feel the mandibles of the beast closing around him, and lashed out with his arm. He felt the impact of his hand on steel, and heard a corresponding yelp of pain.
‘No, Arn,’ said Eilif, holding him tightly. ‘It’s my brother Wolfen. We are saved.’
The pain from the poison was now so great, Arn could only guess that he was dying. He could see her — Becky Matthews, her long hair flowing as she turned to smile at him. But then her face began to change — her nose grew long, fur grew on her features, and her eyes became a silver ice blue.
The images exploded into darkness, and Arn slumped against Eilif’s chest.
Strom spread wide his arms and roared — it was both a victory cry and a warning to the monster as it slithered away. He watched it disappear, then spun to yell commands to the other warriors who had fanned out in the cave, or stood at the entrance to keep watch on the surrounding countryside.
He knelt beside Eilif and placed one large gauntleted hand on her shoulder. ‘Is there any trouble you cannot find, little one?’
She placed her hand over his. ‘How can there ever be trouble while you exist, my big friend?’ She smiled, then winced in pain.
‘Easy there.’ Strom called over his shoulder to one of his warriors, who ran to his side carrying a satchel, from which he extracted several bottles and pouches. He set about treating Eilif’s wounds.
She pushed his hands away. ‘No, treat the Man-kind first.’
‘He can wait. Goran…’ Strom motioned to his warrior to continue working on Eilif.
‘No!’
Strom growled with annoyance and looked at Arn. His nostrils flared as he took in his scent. ‘It is as the king said, a Man-kind… and not very nice to look at, all hairless like that. I suppose we can cover him up.’
Eilif felt her anger rising. ‘He has a noble spirit, and he saved my life.’ She looked down at the unconscious Arn, and brushed his long dark hair from his face. ‘And I think he’s beautiful.’
Strom grunted and nodded to the warrior, still poised with the medicinal salves in his hands.
