Arthur and the Fenris Wolf (16 page)

Gunnar gave her a look that clearly suggested he was surprised that anyone wouldn't want to know how to decapitate a foe, but slowly nodded. He ducked into one of the nearby huts then came out with a broom. He brought the broomstick down on his knee and it cracked in two. He discarded the shorter end that had the mop head and twirled the longer pole in his hand, appraising it. He grinned, seeming happy with his own wooden sword, then sliced it through the air at Ash's head.

She barely had time to react and failed to raise her sword in defence, but Gunnar stopped his assault just shy of her face. She looked up at him, slightly shaken. The Viking was smiling. He tapped her longsword with his own.

‘Oh!' Ash murmured, getting the picture. She swung back with hers, sending the Viking's stick clattering to the ground. He looked at it in shock, then back at her with a satisfied grin and a nod.

In another part of the Viking Experience enclosure, Max was learning the basics of archery. Knut had also raided the props room and arranged a variety of fake plastic fruit on the window ledge of one of the huts. He led Max away from the ledge, as far as he could in the confined space. Max looked back at the fruit. It seemed so distant now; he'd be surprised if Knut could hit any of the pieces.

The Viking dropped to one knee and lined up a shot, squinting even more than usual. He held the arrow steady, keeping the bow string as taut as possible, and then loosed it. Max heard a whistle as the arrow sliced through the air. Before it had even found its target, Knut was lining up the next shot. He fired again and immediately aimed and loosed arrow three. He left the bow on the ground and the two of them walked back to the ledge. Max was shocked to see that Knut had made all three shots: an arrow speared through each piece of plastic fruit. The Viking pulled the arrows out and handed them to Max.

Back at the opposite end of the archery range, Max picked up the bow. It was light but clearly very strong and came up over his hip. He put an arrow in the little nocking point and pulled back the bowstring. He strained to wrench the string back far enough and Knut even motioned to him a couple of times to pull it more. By the time the Viking was smiling, Max's arms were quivering. He heard the wood groan as he held it and part of him hoped it wouldn't snap. He shut one eye and focused on the first piece of fruit – an apple. It was so far away he could barely see it. He was about to loose the arrow when Knut held up his hand to stop him. The Viking put one hand on Max's shoulders and another on his lower back and straightened his posture, pushing his chest out. He grunted at the boy, satisfied now. Max looked back at the apple then let the arrow go. It flew through the air – nowhere near as straight or steady as Knut's – but it still managed to reach the far end of the range. He saw it sail just over the apple and into the plywood wall behind. Even though he hadn't hit the target, he was immensely pleased with himself. Knut patted him on the back proudly, then gestured for him to continue.

Arthur wasn't having as pleasant a time with Magnus. This Viking had always struck Arthur as grumpy, cantankerous and sullen, but he really had no idea how bad-tempered he was until he started training with him. Magnus hadn't put in as much preparation as the other two Vikings. He began by simply heaving his hammer down a narrow laneway. It tumbled through the cold air and smacked into one of the metal emergency-exit doors that were peppered around the exterior wall. The force of the blow gave off the sound of a church bell, which rang throughout the Viking Experience. Magnus picked up the hammer and wobbled back to Arthur, pushing it into his waiting arms.

Even though this war-hammer was smaller than Arthur's own one at home, it was much heavier. Or, at least, it felt much heavier. He was able to pick his own up one-handed but had to use both hands to lift this monstrosity.

‘It's too heavy,' Arthur complained.

‘Grnk,' Magnus grunted ambivalently and stood with his arms crossed, waiting.

‘Fine!' Arthur said. He swung both his arms backwards between his legs, then let the momentum carry the hammer forward again. As it reached the peak of the arc he let go. It landed with a hefty clang a few feet away.

‘See?' said Arthur, looking at Magnus. ‘It's too heavy.'

The Viking just grunted and pointed to the hammer on the ground.

‘Again? You want me to do it again?'

Magnus nodded impatiently, so Arthur took a second try. This time was no better. Arthur looked at the Viking but he only pointed to the hammer once more.

‘But it's not going to work this wa–'

Magnus rolled his eyes up to heaven and grunted a high-pitched and whiny imitation of Arthur. When he was done, he nodded to the hammer once more. Arthur picked it up and tried again, his biceps feeling the strain already. The day continued like this. Arthur would try to reach the door and fail, and Magnus would have him do it again. There was only a marginal improvement after a few hours. On top of that, Arthur's phone rang a couple of times throughout the day – always with the unknown number. Even though he always cancelled the call, Magnus sighed loudly each time. Arthur was understandably delighted when it was time to go home.

The sun was just setting when they got back to the Barry household; Stace and her parents were already home. Arthur, Ash and Max were about to run upstairs to discuss their training in private when Mr Barry called Ash into the living-room. He and his wife were sitting on the couch and Arthur could guess from the redness in his neck that he was annoyed about something.

‘Where have you lot been?' he asked furiously.

‘We just went to the cinema,' Ash lied.

‘And you left the front door wide open!' Mr Barry accused.

‘No, we didn't,' she cried. ‘I definitely locked it on the way out!'

‘Well, it was wide open when we got home,' said Mrs Barry. ‘How do you explain that?'

‘I don't know but I definitely locked it, didn't I?' She turned to Arthur and Max and they both instantly backed up her story. Arthur distinctly remembered Ash making sure the door was tightly shut.

‘And what about the scratches on the door?' Mr Barry went on. ‘If it's that dog of yours, we're getting rid of her!'

‘Scratches?' Ash repeated, running into the hallway. She knelt down and studied the deep grooves etched into the wood of the door. They definitely looked like claw marks. Before anyone could say anything else, she ran through the house, going from room to room and calling her pup's name. Ice was nowhere to be seen.

‘Arthur,' she said, out of breath, when she was finished her search, ‘Ice is gone.'

Flashlight beams broke through the darkness of the estate as calls of ‘Ice!' shattered the silence. They walked the length and breadth of the estate, shining their torches under cars, behind wheelie bins and down the narrow alleys that ran between every second house. Even Mr and Mrs Barry were going from door to door, asking the neighbours if anyone had seen the dog. While Stace and Max concentrated on the far end of the estate, Arthur took his chance to search the green.

Eirik was concealed in the depths of the trees when Arthur got there, keeping a close eye on the proceedings in the estate. He wore a pained, worried expression.

Arthur felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. A quick glance told him it was the unknown number again. He still didn't have time to talk to anyone so he cancelled the call once more. He looked up at Eirik.

‘Have you seen Ash's dog, Eirik?'

The Viking nodded in response and pointed at the green, drawing the line with his finger where he saw Ice run earlier in the day.

‘She followed us?' Arthur asked. Eirik nodded. Why would she follow us, Arthur wondered as he headed off in the direction Eirik had indicated. He snuck through the brush rather than going around it as he usually would. Whatever Ice was up to, he aimed to find out for himself, without Ash's input.

He emerged right at the edge of the road that ran behind the estate. Two lanes of traffic flew at breakneck speeds in both directions. Car headlights blinded him and trucks rattled loudly, shaking the very ground beneath his feet, but there was no sign of the pup.

Arthur was about to turn back when he heard the bark.

It was a high-pitched yap – not unlike Ice's own cry – and it was so faint that Arthur wasn't sure if he had heard anything. A second bark confirmed that the sound had been real. It was distant and broken, the sound bouncing to him from across the busy road. There was a third bark, this time accompanied by a persistent and shrieking yelp. Whatever animal had made the sound was clearly in some pain or discomfort.

He squinted across the road. There was a matching estate and clump of trees on the opposite side. Although he couldn't get a clear view through the hurtling traffic, he could just make out some of the low bushes moving over there. It could have been caused by the wind or by the gusts from the cars, but the shuddering of the shrubs seemed too urgent to be either.

The nearest set of traffic lights – and pedestrian crossing – was a few hundred yards from where he'd seen the bushes move. However, in the other direction was a footbridge over the road itself, which Arthur headed straight for, taking extra care on the narrow pavement along his side of the road.

Both sides of the footbridge had a set of steps and a long, winding wheelchair ramp. At the top of the stairs on each side were tall poles with a pair of iron suspension cables holding the bridge itself aloft. The walkway spanned the entire four lanes of the road. Arthur took the steps, bounding up them two at a time. As he passed over the walkway, he felt the slightest vibration of the traffic below his feet. He came to a stop midway and peered over the edge. It was a strange sensation, being up so high over the busy road. Despite the fumes and noise, it felt oddly peaceful to look down at the disappearing lights. After a moment, he continued on across the bridge.

A figure was slowly moving up the ramp he was approaching. He squinted in the amber glow of the streetlights and the person came into focus. It was an old woman, frail and hunched over, with a headscarf fluttering in the slight breeze. She was heaving a shopping bag on wheels up the last few feet of the ramp. From the way the bag bulged at the sides, it was clearly very heavy. Arthur ran forward to help her with it.

‘Oh, thank you, dearie!' she said, her voice crackling with exhaustion as Arthur took hold of the trolley. She wore green eye-shadow and bright-pink lipstick – both applied liberally. Her teeth were yellowed – no doubt the result of a lifetime of smoking. And she reeked of flowery perfume. ‘Me legs aren't what they used to be.'

‘No problem at all,' said Arthur cheerily as he set the cart down on the walkway. ‘Would you like a hand down the far side with it?'

‘You're very good. But I should manage that side by myself. Thank you again, dearie.' The woman gripped the handle and went on her way.

Arthur continued down the ramp – half running, half skipping – and then towards where he'd spotted the rustling bushes.

‘Ice?' he called as he walked. ‘Ice, are you there?'

There was no discernible sound over the traffic now. No barking or yelping. Just his own footsteps and the speeding cars.

‘Ice?' He ducked into the shrubbery in a gap between two dense briar patches. As soon as he was inside the clump of trees, the noise of the traffic lowered to a distant groan. The trees were denser here which meant that it was darker than on his side of the road and he had to use his phone flashlight to see anything.

‘Ice? Come here, girl.'

No answer, no sound.

Arthur moved deeper through the trees and bushes. All he found was the remains of a campfire and beer cans that some teenagers had probably been responsible for. After a few minutes, he gave up and trudged back towards the footbridge.

He went back up the ramp more slowly than before, lost in his thoughts. Where was Ice? Why had she followed them? Or, rather, had she been following them?