A Hero's Throne (An Ancient Earth) (4 page)
Kelm’s face was expressionless for several seconds, and then he let out a loud, ugly snort. “Watch yourself, your words tread closely to outright sedition.”
“I had better do what I came to do then, hadn’t I? My master’s message is this: events are even now in motion. The two lifiende heroes have been reengaged and will shortly be on their way here. You are to resist them but not defeat or collaborate with them. Keep them alive. You are to bait the bear—to within an inch of its life—but not to kill it.”
“This is an inglorious assignment.”
“I imagine it would be harder to keep these overworlders safe while they’re running around down here rather than to just smite them outright. Consider it a test of skill—and one, despite your own convictions about your prowess, I personally doubt you’ll manage.
“In any case, they must be allowed to blow the horn. It is all over for them when they blow the Carnyx. It shall be the honeyed hook that, when pulled, will bring steel jaws rushing in on them.”
Kelm nodded. “I understand. It will be done.”
The messenger turned and beamed at Kelm. “Very good. And now with your permission, I may depart?”
He lazily flicked his hand. The messenger bowed and turned to walk away.
Kelm’s lieutenant appeared again, his face twisted into a question. Kelm narrowed his eyes and then nodded. The lieutenant lumbered off.
Kelm sat patiently for several moments, which turned into several minutes. His lieutenant did not return.
With a supreme effort, he lifted himself out of his chair and manoeuvred down the pile. The courtyard guards were missing.
One of the city’s silver lamps lay askew in the path ahead. He went to it and picked it up and found that it illumined a scene of carnage. Bodies lay everywhere. All four guards lay on their backs, a thin cut at the base of each of their necks that poured blood out into a deep puddle. The lieutenant lay a small distance apart, his own knife in his chest. He was twitching slightly, painfully trying to breathe.
The general squinted into the darkness to try to see some trace of a pale figure dressed in white. Nothing was visible between the buildings.
Kelm went over to his lieutenant and peered down at his face.
Then he raised his foot and brought it down hard, ending the officer’s misery. He turned to one of the yfelgópes who yet lived. “You are my new second officer,” he informed him. “Draft a new guard immediately. Then bring me my dinner.” The newly promoted lieutenant bowed.
Kelm climbed back up to the throne and continued to brood and plot.
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IV
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Two days later they walked along the grass verge beside a road that ran along the fields and farmlands of Warwickshire. Their trip to Scotland had only lasted as long as it took to get provisioned and kitted out in sturdy hiking and spelunking gear. They had stayed in Alex’s parents’ manse—on land where Freya and Daniel had emerged after completing their quest in the under realms. They met Alex’s father and Vivienne’s older brother; James was privy to more information than perhaps even Ecgbryt had about the underground realms, but his days of travelling below were far, far behind him, he said, gently tapping a knee with his cane.
“You’ll be best off wi’ Viv, I can tell ye’ tha’.” His accent was stronger than either of the other Simpsons, and with it he continually sang his sister’s praises. “I’d take her as she stands now over myself in my prime, any day. Yes, you’ll do well with Viv, if there’s well to do! I’ll gi’e you what support I can up here, but dinnae expect it’ll be much. You’ll stay in my prayers—count on that.”
Freya found him a kind and affable man ready to help out but lonely in the years since his wife died.
During the stay in Scotland, Freya felt that she had finally managed to catch up on her sleep, and now, hitching her rucksack up her back and loosening her breathable waterproof coat, Freya felt considerably more prepared than she did eight years ago. All
she’d had then was her school uniform and a jacket. Now she had several changes of hard-wearing clothes, military-grade food rations and utilities, and shoes that cost more than a month’s rent.
They were getting close. Freya could see Ecgbryt checking his map more and more often—every dozen paces or so, in fact. He had a lot of maps. “Is this what you’ve been doing for the last eight years?” she had asked Ecgbryt after seeing the stacks of them on Alex’s dining room table.
“Aye. I have been marking and charting the positions of the sleeping knights across the isles,” Ecgbryt answered, running a palm over a map of the British Isles that was spread before him. It had crosses and annotations in red, blue, and black. Beneath his other palm was a stack of papers that he had been diligently copying details of the map onto. “I have been hunting out the ancient markers and indicators, tracking the legends and secret demarcations of the old land that I used to live in. I am sorry, both of you, for not contacting you before now,” he said apologetically, thinking, mistakenly, that there was accusation in Freya’s question. “But only I could do this task, and only Alex could assist me.
“Do know that of me, Freya,” he said, raising sad eyes to her. “I am sorry.”
Alex, just ahead of her, looked at his watch and then turned, pulling open a long, metal gate. “Shortcut,” he explained. “But let’s try to pick up the pace. The sun’s about to set,” Alex called out in his soft Scots accent. “Daniel, Ecgbryt?” The two behind them hefted their packs and lengthened their strides across the thickly grassed field.
Focusing primarily on keeping her footsteps measured and even, Freya tried to stifle the nervous energy that was coursing through her, which was making her hands and knees shake. She wanted to run away and collapse to the ground all at the same time. The Fear was now an ocean that was pressing against her
wall, threatening at any second to push it over and sweep her away on waves of terror. So instead, she built a boat and put the Fear beneath her feet. As the sea raged around her, she only watched it roll and bob past the window. Soon it would be “The Evening,” when horrible things could happen; the sort of things that sent her life careening beyond her control. There were traps and pitfalls in the half-light that were not there in the day or the night, and they were actively trying to search one of them out.
“Can I ask you a question?” Vivienne bustled up close to Freya. She was apparently as strong as a mule. Where Freya constantly flagged and felt crippled by her load, Vivienne bounded quickly and merrily beside her. “No, don’t turn to me,” Vivienne said in a quiet tone. “Don’t stop. Keep your voice low. Your friend, Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Is he alright? I mean, is he well?”
“Well?”
“Aye, well. I only ask because he wanders around at nights, talking to himself.”
“He does?”
“Aye. Now, I only need four hours of sleep a night—one of the few benefits of being as old as I am—but I’d guess that your friend there has had less than that—much less. If any at all, in fact.”
“Really?”
“Really. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”
“No. Honestly. I’ve been sleeping like crazy. I wouldn’t have noticed if the building fell down around me.”
“What happened to him? Was it really Elfland?”
“I suppose so—he says it was. I really don’t know.”
“Keep a sharp eye,” Vivienne said, and then she shouted, “Are we nearly there yet?” in a jovial bellow.
“Almost, Aunt Viv,” Alex said, calling over his shoulder. “Look, you can see it there.”
Alex made a gesture, and Freya saw a fenced-off area to her right that seemed well looked after. It was tidy and neatly mown. Through gaps in the bordering hedge, she could see a curved line of grey stones.
They approached the stone circle, which Freya judged to be thirty meters in diameter and made of dark limestone. They entered at the small wooden gate, which bore a wooden sign that informed them, beneath the English Heritage symbol, these were the Rollright Stones. They began to walk the circumference, passing the stones inside, on the right. The smallest markers of the circle came up to about their knees while the largest were a couple feet taller than Ecgbryt.
Ecgbryt was counting stones, and this was apparently not as easy as it sounded. Alex and Daniel were doing a control count. Every five stones, Ecgbryt would turn and compare his number with Daniel and Alex.
“I count twenty, thus far,” Ecgbryt called over his shoulder.
“Twenty also,” Alex reported.
“Twenty,” Vivienne said.
“What are you looking for?” Freya asked.
“The stone that does not fit,” Vivienne told her. “It is said that no two countings of the stones in this ring are the same. The stones come and go. We are looking for one of the ones that is going.”
Freya nodded her head as if to say that made perfect sense. She dismally fell into step behind them, contemplating the dark days ahead of her. She took one last, long look at the aboveground scenery.
It was then that she noticed the four of them were not alone. A man, large, and shouldering something bulky, was standing between two of the stones on the other side of the ring. At first Freya thought it was another hiker or a tourist, but he was wearing a dark, shaggy coat that hung from his shoulders and came to
just above his knees. His legs and feet were bare and stocky, hairy. His face was black with bristles around the mouth, his head as shaggy as his coat, to the extent that the hair from one entwined with the other.
He was just standing, staring at them, and something in his aspect seemed menacing to Freya. The twilight shone into his eyes, making them large and bright, like cat’s eyes in a dim room, giving him an added animalism.
“Come away, Freya,” Vivienne said, coming alongside her and pulling her gently by the shoulders. “We see them. Keep to the task. Quickly now.”
“Let us speed on,” Ecgbryt said, continuing the circle, brushing the tips of his fingers against the dark stones. “Thirty-five. What have you?”
“Thirty-five.”
Ecgbryt grumbled.
“There’s another one,” Daniel said to Alex in a low voice as a man, almost identical to the first, stepped out from behind the standing stone by the wooden gate.
Freya hurried to catch up to the others, Fear gaining on her. “I’m still not—ah!” She reeled as a third man stepped out just in front of her. Up close she could see the matted hair of his massive cloak quite clearly, as well as the features of his face, which were broad and rough, his mouth and nostrils protruding snout-like. She could also smell him. He stank of grease and wind and dead animal. He loomed over her, gazing intently but not moving. She hurried around him to stay with the others.
“Who are they?”
“They’re . . . people we’d hoped not to run into,” Alex said. “We should be fine if we hurry. As soon as you go through the portal, then you’ll be safe. Mostly.”
Freya looked across to Daniel. He was keeping his eyes on the
men behind him, a hand under his coat where his sword was, an eager, sneering grin on his face; he was counting under his breath.
“Forty,” Ecgbryt said.
“Forty,” Alex said, coming to stand next to the knight.
“I’ve got forty-one,” Vivienne said.
“Forty-one also,” Daniel said, joining them.
There were more of the hairy men now—six in total—striding between the stones.
“It is one of these, then,” Ecgbryt said, studying the stones behind him. He circled one that stood about five feet high. “Which one? Which one . . .”
Freya took two steps toward Ecgbryt and then froze in terror as the men—the six of them that they could see plainly—started howling at the top of their lungs. As each one stood, heads thrown back, they began to shudder and shake, their fur coats bristling. By degrees they leaned forward, spasming, arms extended, transforming. Their fur skins drew tighter around them, their arms and legs growing thick and bulky, and their skin darkened as fine fur grew everywhere, even on their faces—faces that lengthened, noses flattening into snouts, jaws widening, opening to show teeth that grew visibly. Their eyes turned black and sank back into deep, dark-furred brows.
Their arms—now forelegs—touched the ground and the transformations were complete. Where large men once stood, now there were large, black bears with slavering jaws and clawed limbs.
Freya gaped. “Oh, you’re kidding me.”
As one, the bears rushed them, tearing across the neatly trimmed lawn at a sprinting pace.
“Yes, yes. Here. Daniel, Freya—it is time, quick!” Ecgbryt yelled at them, but Freya was rooted to the spot. She felt Daniel tug at her arm and she stumbled forward, trying to pick her feet up far enough so as not to stumble.
Ecgbryt drew his axe from his rucksack and stepped forward to deal with the bears. He pulled a silver can from his belt and tossed it on the lawn. Freya watched as it rolled to a stop on the grass and then exploded in a flash of light and a head-rattling boom.
Of all of them, Freya was the only one who hadn’t braced herself for the flashbang grenade. Woozy and blinded, she felt arms join around her waist and she was hoisted off the ground. She rubbed her palms into her eyes to try to clear them. The last she saw in the twilight of the overworld was Ecgbryt wading through white, smoky vapours, swinging his axe swiftly around him. A bear carcass already lay at his feet, but the others were rallying. She heard the sharp, tinny pops of Alex’s firearm, Ecgbryt shouting, and then she was pulled down into darkness, as if into the grave—as if into the Fear.
She was released and stumbled down a short flight of steps, shouting and grabbing at the stone walls. She stopped her slow fall by pushing her weight against a wet stone wall, its texture and smell all too familiar.
The sounds dimmed, and the last suffused rays of light disappeared as the darkness around her became complete.
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I
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Hartlepoole
Sean Pitt walked Anna Powell home along the side path of the motorway that skirted their city. It wasn’t a very scenic route to walk—it was littered, noisy, and polluted—but it was nicer because Sean liked Anna, and he thought that Anna liked him back, even though she ignored him at school. But on Wednesday evenings, when they both had orchestra, he was able to walk her home, just the two of them together, alone.