closed his eyes.
Arn pushed his long hair back off his face and took a deep breath. Washed, clothed and fed, he felt human again. Human — I’m probably the only one in the world who feels that way now, he thought.
As he strode down the stone corridor looking for Balthazar, Eilif silently fell in beside him.
‘You smell nice again.’
‘Not a Slinker stinker anymore?’ He raised his eyebrows.
She laughed lightly at his words. ‘No, just the Arnoddr-Sigarr smell — nice.’
Arn looked her up and down. She wasn’t wearing any of the clothing she normally wore around the castle — no heavy velvets, satins or embroidered silks. Instead, she had on a similar outfit to that which she had worn when she had rescued him from the Slinkers — pants, leather vest, and a fine chain mail — light but formidable. Her outfit was finished off with a sword strapped to her belt.
‘You going out again?’ He reached out and pinched the material of her vest.
Eilif looked from his hand to his face. ‘Valkeryn is on a war footing now. All must be ready to fight at short notice.’
‘You’re seriously going to go into battle?’
‘Of course.’ She frowned, not understanding his question.
‘But you’re a princess.’
She knocked his hand away. ‘And just a female — is that it? I don’t know what females were like in—’
‘No, I mean that you’re royal. It is important for you to be safe, for the good of the Canite population’s morale. Will the king go into battle as well?’
‘Yes. The king is a great warrior. It would be a waste of his skill for him not to fight… and bad for the population’s morale.’
‘But what if he falls?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘The king may fall — but Valkeryn will not, must not. All know what to do. All must fight.’
Her eyes bore into his like chips of silver blue ice. He could see that she didn’t just believe she had to fight; she wanted to fight. After another few seconds, he nodded. She folded her arms and looked him up and down.
‘And where do you go in such a hurry, son of Man?’
Arn motioned down the corridor with his head. ‘Looking for Balthazar. He’s going to take me to the archives, where we hope to find Vidarr.’
‘Why?’
‘Looking for clues.’
She stepped closer to him. ‘What sort of clues?’
‘I’m looking for something—’
‘Like treasure, weapons or food?’ Her eyes lit up with excitement.
‘Something far more valuable than that, at least to me. I’m on the trail of what happened to my people.’ He started walking again.
She skipped a few steps to catch up with him. ‘I’m going to help. I think I’ll like looking for clues, and finding out what happened to your pack.’
Bergborr stepped back into the shadows.
Neither Arn nor Eilif paid any attention to the dark corridor as they passed it — both were too engrossed in each other’s company.
He stepped out again, knowing they wouldn’t see him. Why would they? he thought. She doesn’t even know I exist anymore — I might as well be vapour rising from a dying fire. His bitterness boiled inside him.
He peered around the corner. His mouth turned down in distaste, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
The Slinkers should have finished him. The Man-kind needed to disappear, one way or another. Until then, Bergborr knew that he would be no more than an annoyance to the princess.
He shook his head. When the Man-kind first arrived, he had taken Eilif’s infatuation with the hairless creature as being one of simple curiosity. He shuddered. It was turning out to be much more. Moving back into the shadows, he leaned his head against the cold stone wall.
One way or another, he thought.
Arn and Eilif met Balthazar in the courtyard and he walked them to the castle keep — the most ancient structure within Valkeryn’s walls.
Arn was taken aback by the age-old building. While the walls, towers and castle of Valkeryn were old, it was still formidable and obviously well maintained. But this smaller structure reminded him of the old castles or temples that sit abandoned in unexplored jungles or on miserable hilltops in Scotland. The hard granite was weathered to a melted smoothness, and where once there were probably sharp spires and ornate carving it was now crumbled and degraded.
Arn imagined it had been a grand hall and set of rooms for the king and his family and perhaps that was about all. Maybe long ago there had been other buildings surrounding it for guards or servants, but now they were either long disintegrated or their bones had been incorporated into the massive edifice that Valkeryn had become.
Balthazaar turned to Arn.
‘In the first days of our empire, this was all that Valkeryn was. The main halls were built over a natural maze of tunnels and caverns that were further excavated down many levels. The lower we descend, the older the artefacts we find.’ He smiled. ‘The problem is, the tunnels are near endless, and the only lighting is what we carry. Without the archivist’s knowledge, a Wolfen could search for a lifetime… as Vidarr already has.’
Arn turned to Eilif. ‘Have you met this Vidarr?’
Eilif shrugged. ‘Maybe when I was younger, but I can’t recall him.’
Balthazar chuckled. ‘Not many have. He was old, even when I was a youth. And that was many, many years ago. Some say he is as old as Valkeryn itself, but that can’t be true, can it?’ He turned and winked at Arn.
Balthazar stopped at a huge wooden door, with a ring for a handle and heavy brass rivets, giving it a solid, armoured appearance. He raised his fist and knocked. A deep echo could be heard from within. The echo died away, and they waited. Nothing.
Balthazar looked at Arn, shrugged and then banged his fist once more. He leaned forward until his ear was against the wood. As before, there was no response, other than the lonely echo bouncing around the cavernous interior.
Balthazar took hold of the ring, first with one hand, then with both. The ancient metal mechanism grated and squealed, but eventually turned. He put his shoulder to the door. ‘Give me some assistance; this weighs more than a veldoxer.’
Arn had no idea what a veldoxer was, but guessed it was something heavy. He nodded to Eilif, and the three of them pushed on the door. There was a popping sound as the time-welded seals gave up their hold on the wood, and then the massive door swung slowly inwards, releasing a wave of odours — mouldy paper and mushrooms, or something else long dead.
‘Phew.’ Arn had his hand up over his nose. ‘When was the last time anyone saw Vidarr alive?’
Balthazar looked around slowly. ‘Ten years, maybe more — he never leaves. But wait, he’s here. Look.’
He pointed to a torch that was burning at the far end of the entrance hallway, its flame looking tiny in the enormous chamber.
Everywhere Arn looked, there were stacks of papers, books and scrolls, and bottles of things dried or floating in fluids. It resembled a cross between a magician’s workshop and a very disorganised library. He felt a cold draught; the chamber had arched doorways leading away in all directions.
‘Vidarr.’ Balthazar looked around, smiling, but tapped his foot impatiently. He raised his voice. ‘Vidarr, it’s Balthazar; I’ve brought someone interesting for you to meet.’
The three of them stood in silence, listening as the echo of Balthazar’s voice died away.
Eilif edged closer to Arn in the gloom. He felt her elbow touch his.
