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.
Chapter 39
Reconnaissance Mission-1
Colonel Marion Briggs had taken over the command centre, and now walked up the line of five rod-straight men and one woman. All wore green fatigues and cradled M16s. The six elite Green Berets stood like statues as she gave them their final briefing.
‘This is a reconnaissance mission: take a look around, get me some intelligence on the terrain. If you see the kid, grab him. But I also want… samples.’ She paused. ‘The indigenous inhabitants are approximately human-sized, and have little more than knives and swords. But I don’t need to tell you not to underestimate them — if you’re threatened, shoot to kill.’
Briggs stopped and stared at Albert Harper, her expression hard enough to break stone, her voice lethally soft.
‘Once we confirm that my team has survived the jump, your man will be going through.’ Her eyes challenged him to object. When he didn’t, she turned to look at the bank of screens beside him; each of the six small displays showed an image of her — taken from the corresponding cameras mounted on the helmets of each of the soldiers.
The vision was clear — her team was ready. Satisfied, she shouted, ‘Good to go, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s do this.’
The Panterran camps were advancing on the castle. Trees had been felled for their fires and war machines, and huge swathes of forest had been flattened as the main army moved forward like a living mass of fangs and steel. Behind them was a wasteland, crushed and burned to ashes.
Advance parties of Panterran and Lygon scouted ahead. Goranx led his party of ten Lygon up a hill, atop which stood a single tree. At close to nine feet in height and weighing more than a thousand pounds in his battle armour, he was a fearsome sight, even to his own kind.
He held up one large, clawed hand, signalling for the patrol to halt. He could sense something — a vibration deep in his gut. In the dark, his eyesight was exceptional, but he could find no cause for this strange feeling anywhere on the barren hilltop.
But there was something coming. His giant warriors, sensing it too, began to breathe heavily. Six-inch claws extended from the ends of their thick fingers, tightly gripping axes and clubs that were nearly as long as most creatures they battled.
Then, from out of the dark, six strangely dressed bipeds crested the hill, pointing small metal sticks, the other ends of which they cradled against their shoulders. One of the Lygon shifted, his huge belt clanking at his waist. The creatures froze in surprise.
‘Man-kind,’ Goranx muttered.
One of the creatures fled back down the other side of the hill. Goranx roared at the sudden movement, drawing back an arm thicker than a tree, and flung his club at them.
The humans screamed in a tongue he couldn’t understand, and then a noise like thunder roared from the
