by Angus Watson
The giant raised its stubby arm and pointed it at them.
Sofi had a heartbeat to wonder what it intended, then something shot from the end of the arm at the speed of lightning and knocked her off her feet. She landed in a sitting position, but she couldn’t move. Her legs and arms were bound in what looked and felt like spider silk. She could hear Sitsi and Chogolisa struggling next to her.
The giant shambled towards them, raising its club arm.
She heard running behind her, then Keef was leaping over her head. He jammed the point of his long axe into the stone floor, leapt up in a somersault, swung his weapon round and jammed the leading edge of the axe’s blade into the beast’s one eye.
The giant lifted its head to the invisible roof and screamed. Keef landed, then leapt again, swinging Arse Splitter. The sharp metal blade sliced through the thick neck like a flint knife through a wet reed. The giant’s throat gaped open. It fell.
Keef sashayed back to the wrapped Owsla, swinging his axe around his head. For a moment Sofi thought he was going to kill them–they were embarrassingly helpless–but he sliced them free. Ottar and Freydis helped to untangle them.
Wulf, recovered from hitting the wall, walked over with a sheepish grin.
“Well done, Keef, you’re better than the Owsla!” yipped Freydis, jumping up and down on the spot.
“Well, obviously,” Keef replied.
The passage continued at the far end of the room. They headed on.
“Did anyone bring any food?” asked Freydis after a while. “Ottar’s hungry.”
“Sorry,” said Chogolisa, “I don’t think anyone thought it would take this long.”
Ottar moaned.
Soon Sofi could hear running water. The passage opened up again, this time to a much larger chamber with what looked like a wide drain running across their path, perhaps a hundred paces across and ten deep. The sound of running water was loud but the drain was dry. There was a dark square in the softly glowing wall opposite them.
“The passage continues on the other side,” said Sitsi.
“Let’s get across quickly,” said Sofi. It wasn’t just the worry of a flash flood. She’d been able to hear something following them for a while, but with the strange vibration of the walls it was impossible to tell what it was.
They were almost halfway across when she heard something heavy and wooden move against stone, followed by a surge of water. Lots of water.
“Run!” she yelled. She snatched up Ottar and sprinted for the far side.
The water struck.
Sofi was swirled upside down, around and around. She let the boy go. He was a better swimmer than her.
She gasped for air but sank immediately. She struck out for what she thought was the surface, but a current caught her legs and whirled her around.
Sofi surfaced and thought she saw someone climbing out on the far side, or possibly the side they’d come from. She thrashed, but the current pulled her down. The water was calmer now, the roaring in her ears quieter. She could see light, she could see which way was up. She flailed her arms and kicked her legs. No good. The current was holding her under.
Should have learned to swim as a child, she thought as her vision blurred and her mind clouded.
She could not die like this. Not before the quest was done. But her arms were weakening. What was it the Wootah said about death?
Something gripped her shoulders.
Rescue! she thought.
It wasn’t rescue.
Whoever or whatever was dragging her down, away from the light.
Her ears squeezed painfully, as if she’d descended a mountain in a heartbeat, but then she was launching up and up and up and… out!
She gulped air.
She was on her back. Whoever had pulled her from the depth had one arm around her chest and the other holding her chin out of the water.
“Sorry if I freaked you out,” said her rescuer, “but there’s an undertow. I had to take you down then launch off the bottom.”
It was Finn the Deep.
He pulled her to the side and she climbed out onto the rough, black, glowing stone. She held out a hand to help Finn from the water.
“Thanks,” she said.
He nodded, then flopped down onto the stone and lay panting.
The rest of them were already there. She could see Paloma and Sassa watching them from the far side, Sassa with a white bandage round her neck.
“Paloma!” Chogolisa shouted with joy. Sofi felt herself smiling. It took more than being buried under a few thousand monsters to stop Paloma Pronghorn.
“Are you all right, Sassa?” Wulf shouted across the channel.
“She’s got a cut neck!” shouted Paloma, “but she’ll be okay.”
“Where’s Thyri?” Keef yelled.
“Ah,” said Finn. “I killed her.”
“What?”
“She tried to kill Sassa.”
“Why?”
“Because Sassa killed Garth,” said Wulf.
“How do you—” Finn started, but Chogolisa interrupted him.
“Can we talk about that later?” she asked. “I lost the coffin in the flood.”
Sofi looked over the dark, swirling water. “Sitsi, can you see it anywhere?”
“I can’t. I think that—”
Sitsi was interrupted by a rushing whoosh. Suddenly the water was draining away as quickly as it had come in.
The moment the water was gone, Wulf climbed down and ran across to Sassa. Keef and Finn clambered down and dashed to where the water had disappeared.
Sofi stayed where she was. The channel might flood again.
They couldn’t find the coffin. Keef reported that the water had drained through a series of holes just about large enough to fit the coffin.
“I’ll go down one of the holes if you like,” he said, “but there are half a dozen and I don’t know if they all go to the same place.”
“No,” said Sofi. “We’ll have to carry on without it.”
Wulf climbed out of the wet but empty channel with Paloma and Sassa. Sassa looked even paler than normal above her white bandage.
“Are you all right to continue?” Sofi asked her.
Sassa nodded.
“If there’s any point, now,” said Keef.
Chapter 11
Freydis
They walked and walked along the humming, glowing tunnel. Finn the Deep didn’t know whether it was day or night. He was hungry. He kept picturing Thyri’s face as he pushed her off The Pyramid. He kept thinking about his father’s dead face. The children trudged behind. Chogolisa was carrying the weakened Sassa on her back. Finn was a little embarrassed that he’d thought she was dead, but he was used to being embarrassed about something most of the time so it didn’t trouble him too much. Killing Thyri, on the other hand, did.
It was a long walk. Finn had no idea how long, but he noticed after a while, first that his clothes had dried, second that they seemed to be heading upwards in ever tightening circles, and third that there was an ever-louder roaring sound.
Finally the passage came out into the open air. Finn blinked and looked around. There was a tornado above them. They were in a square yard, maybe two hundred paces across, with walls five paces high all around. It was made of the same black rock as The Pyramid.
They walked into the middle, looking around and up at the base of the tornado.
“Where…?” said Finn.
“We’re at the top of The Pyramid,” said Sitsi.
“But we’re not. We walked for ages. We can’t be back in the same place. And the top of The Pyramid is a point,” Finn argued.
“Not any more.”
“Paloma, see where we are,” commanded Sofi.
Paloma ran to the side, scaled the wall like a squirrel and came back moments later.
“Sitsi’s right,” she said.
“But—” said Finn.
“You may not have noticed anything unusual yet,” said Keef, �
��but this is quite a strange place. Not being quite where we thought we were is not the most unusual thing about it.”
“The monsters?” Wulf asked Paloma.
“Still doing their thing.”
They looked around.
“Is this it now?” asked Keef. “We’ve lost the coffin and there’s no Warlock Queen. Time to go home and pretend we never tried? Call a rabbit, will you, Finn?”
“Should we get a rope and try to retrieve the coffin?” asked Sassa.
“Ottar, what should we do?” asked Wulf.
“Dunno,” said Ottar.
“He doesn’t know,” said Freydis.
“Hang on,” said Sofi.
Could she hear something? Because Finn could feel something. It was like there was something alive under their feet.
“Follow me!” called Sofi.
They ran to the edge, then watched as the centre of the square collapsed. A dark shape emerged, rumbling and shaking, dust and debris cascading.
Walking towards them out of the dust–striding in fact–came a woman. She was wearing a leather jerkin and trousers, similar to the warriors’ garb, and a golden helmet with a crest running from front to back.
Most strikingly of all, as Sofi had seen in her vision quest, the woman looked like a Wootah. She had blonde hair sprouting from her helmet, pale skin and blue eyes.
As the dust settled behind her, Finn saw a stone table. On it was the coffin they’d carried from Wormsland. The lid was missing.
The Warlock Queen stopped ten paces from the assembled Wootah and Calnians. Finn almost had to look away. You could feel the power flowing from her.
“Give me the boy,” said the Warlock Queen, pointing at Ottar. Her voice was cool and quiet.
Finn noticed a long, curved scabbard on her belt.
“Will you stop your monsters and destruction if we give you the boy?” Sofi asked.
“If you don’t give me the boy I will take the boy.”
“We have to know,” said Wulf.
The Warlock Queen raised an eyebrow. “You will give me the boy and you will leave The Meadows. Then I will stop the destruction. If you, or any others enter The Meadows again, I will bring it all back.”
“But you are a human,” said Sitsi. “Why would you want—” Sitsi grabbed her own throat and fell to the ground, eyes bulging. Keef ran to her, but she waved a hand at him to say that she was okay.
“It’s a long time since I was human,” said the Queen.
“Why do you want Ottar?” asked Finn.
“Oaden’s tits,” said Keef. He strode towards Finn, shaking his head. “I worked this out before we’d even left Hardwork. She wants his life to give to her long-dead kid. How could it be more obvious? For someone who’s meant to be clever, you are thick as the crust on—”
He turned and flung Arse Splitter at the Warlock Queen. She lifted a hand. The hurled axe twirled around and shot back at Keef. The blade slammed into him. He flew and landed on his back, the leading point of the axe’s blade deep in his chest.
Sitsi ran to him, wrenched out the axe and pressed her hands over the wound.
“Slain by my own throw,” said Keef. “I will be the laughing stock of Valhalla.” He closed his eyes.
Sitsi stood and turned to the Warlock Queen, stringing her bow. Sassa strung hers. Wulf raised his hammer. Finn put a hand to his sword hilt but he didn’t know what he hoped to achieve. The others seemed unsure, too.
“Lower your weapons,” commanded Sofi. Finn took his hand from the hilt. Whether the Warlock Queen had some sort of power over them, or whether they all saw the hopelessness of attacking her, it seemed that the fight had gone out of them.
“Give me the boy,” said the Warlock Queen.
“I’ll bring him to you,” said Sofi. “Come here, Ottar.” She held out her hand. Ottar looked very unsure.
“Take me instead!” Wulf pleaded.
The queen looked away, dismissing him without a word.
Sassa took a step forward. “You will not take the boy, Sofi.”
Sofi held her gaze. “She just slew Keef with a thought. She can do the same to any of us. She is a goddess. We do not have a chance. We give her Ottar and walk away. Or she kills us and takes Ottar.”
“I’d rather die.”
“And take your baby with you? Think, Sassa. One boy in return for the world is no price at all. I lost six of my Owsla on this quest. You lost almost all of your tribe. He is one boy. We swap him for the lives of millions upon millions of children–those alive today and those to come.”
Sassa’s head slumped.
Finn sensed movement and looked up. A gigantic, winged snake was flapping overhead, between them and the base of the tornado. Surely if that weighty horror dived onto the Warlock Queen it would end her?
He reached out to find its mind.
Something burst in his head.
He didn’t know he was falling until his knees hit rock.
“Finn, what is it?” Paloma asked.
“I’m okay.”
He wasn’t. It felt like his mind was leaking out of his ears, eyes and nose. “I tried to control one of her monsters. She hit me in the head. I’m not going to be much help.” He lay on his side and tried to wish the pain away. Was he dying? Would it count as dying in battle? Would Keef be waiting for him in Valhalla, ready to take the piss? Would Erik be there? Thyri?
He opened his eyes. The tornado was darkening. The sky all around was getting darker. Was it going to rain? He didn’t want to die in the rain.
Paloma Pronghorn crouched next to Finn. His breathing was shallow and his pulse weak, but he was alive.
Sofi was right. It was a sad choice, but it wasn’t a hard one.
Wulf and Sassa looked desperate and angry enough to fight Sofi, but surely they could see reason? They’ve got to make a fuss so they can leave here with clear consciences, said the most cynical recesses of her mind.
“Your time has come to an end,” said the Warlock Queen.
“No,” said Wulf.
“We have to,” said Freydis quietly.
She stood, small, blue-eyed and blonde. Tiny, weak and bravest of the Wootah.
“I don’t want anyone else to die,” said Freydis. “Ottar, go to the lady.”
Ottar looked up at Wulf, confusion on his pink-cheeked face. His huge blue eyes were wet. So were Wulf’s.
Wulf tried to speak, but couldn’t. Sassa knelt and took Ottar’s hands. “Ottar, you have to do something that you shouldn’t have to do. That none of the rest of us can do. You have to go to the lady, and she will take you. We will remember you every hour of every day for ever more. When we meet in Valhalla we will sing of your heroism every day and we will drink Tor’s mead hall dry.”
Paloma blinked tears. It was suddenly darker. She looked up. The tornado was sucking in storm clouds.
“Go to her,” said Freydis. “That lady with the funny hat.”
“Af to?” Ottar asked his sister.
“You do. Go now.”
Ottar nodded, turned and walked away. Freydis’ older brother was only eight and very small for his age, but he looked even tinier than usual as he walked alone to his doom. The Warlock Queen took his hand and together they headed for the stone table and the coffin.
Freydis came over to Paloma and raised her arms.
Paloma picked her up and held her tight.
Freydis remembered coming to be–woven together from plants and soil then left in a forest glade. The Forest Goddess had created her in the same way as the Warlock Queen had created her monsters, but luckily the Forest Goddess had taken a little more time and care over it.
Nearly nine years before the Wootah and Calnians reached The Meadows, Holger the Dumpy had punched Aud the Manic in the stomach in an effort to kill the unborn Ottar. He’d failed, but he had damaged the tiny boy’s mind. Ottar had been born, but it was soon clear that there was something wrong. Holger the Dumpy told everyone that he’d punched Aud the Manic’s stom
ach. The Jarl sentenced Holger the Dumpy and Aud the Manic to death, but they’d fled with their baby before the sentence could be carried out.
The Forest Goddess saw Holger the Dumpy and Aud the Manic enter the forest with baby Ottar. They were Hardworkers who had been given everything by the Goachica and never looked after themselves, so they had no idea how to live in the forest. Even though it was summer, in just a few days they were nearly dead, as was their baby.
The Forest Goddess created baby Freydis to help Ottar, and left her for his parents to find. The hungry Hardworkers’ first instinct had been to eat her, but they desisted when the infant spoke to them. She showed them which fruits could be eaten and how to dig for tubers. She taught them to make fires and build shelters.
Aud the Manic and Holger the Dumpy became used to the idea of a baby telling them what to do, so when Freydis said that they should return to Hardwork after two years, they did. Freydis wanted to return to the town because it would be better for Ottar. Although she persuaded them otherwise, she knew that Aud the Manic and Holger the Dumpy would be executed.
Theirs were the first deaths that Freydis caused.
The Warlock Queen lifted her dead son from the coffin and placed him on the table. Ottar stood, watching. Paloma held Freydis all the tighter.
The queen said something. Ottar nodded, then clambered up onto the table to lie next to the dead boy.
It was exactly what Nether Barr had done for Wulf. Paloma hadn’t minded that one jot. But this was simply awful. Paloma wasn’t crying yet but she was pretty sure that afterwards she was going to cry for the rest of her days.
The Jarl executed Aud the Manic and Holger the Dumpy as expected. Freydis had not been sad about it for a moment–they deserved it for what they had done to Ottar. Gunnhild Kristlover took in Freydis and Ottar. She loved them and looked after them as if they were her own. Uncle Poppo Whitetooth made them laugh and was kind. Gunnhild Kristlover’s daughters had been aloof and Finnbogi the Boggy–as he’d been known–only noticed the children when they got in his way.
Because of the noises he made trying to speak, the Hardworkers had dubbed Ottar “The Moaner”. Freydis had not called him The Moaner. Not once, ever. Every time she said a Hardworker’s name she’d used the full title–Finnbogi the Boggy or Sassa Lipchewer–in the hope it would show the Hardworkers how silly it sounded and that they’d stop calling Ottar such a horrible name. But it hadn’t worked.