Shaun set off over the most inhospitable of landscapes, flying above the swirling heat haze that covered the ground, and as he approached one of the volcanoes his blood ran cold. He came to a halt mesmerised by the magnitude of this monstrous, fiery beast. Searing gases and a flow of golden, red lava cascaded down its sides, forming a molten river which meandered over the terrain, and once it solidified, leaving a hard, brittle, razor-sharp slag which would be impossible to tackle on foot. He took a deep breath before pushing on, floating swiftly forward and where possible in a straight course, heading for the fiery curtain of the flaming valley, deviating only to avoid the other volcanoes and plumes of hot gases and belching lumps of molten lava.
Finally after some hair-raising encounters he approached the end of the volcanoes with the curtain of flames only a few hundred metres away. He slowed right down and came to a halt outside. He sat there staring at this incredible yet terrifying spectacle. Although he was protected by the shroud, the flames were so intense he thought he could feel the heat, and he was sure it was much more severe than the other flames and fires he had encountered. But what was more threatening was the sheer size: it stretched as far as the eye could see both ways, and it soared skyward, disappearing through the clouds above, forming an impregnable barrier. But the longer he sat there, the greater the feeling of failure and self-doubt. He was torturing himself to no avail as he had little choice but to carry on, so one more deep breath and he shot forward.
With his eyes tight shut he reached the other side in one piece. The shroud had done its job. He opened one eye at a time and shouted out loud with joy. He had no idea what to expect, but what he was greeted with was certainly not in his wildest dreams. Unlike the raging inferno with the blanket of heat haze he had just passed through, he had now entered a beautiful, serene paradise with only the joyful sounds of what seemed like a thousand birds singing in unison reverberating around the panorama that unfolded in front of him. A land of rolling hills and mounds cloaked in lush, green grass with sparkling, silver streams meandering through and around the fringe soaring mountains with dense, forested slopes and tumbling waterfalls – truly a special place.
He set off once more, following a fast-flowing river which gathered the water from the waterfalls on its journey through the centre of the landscape, and high above the sky was bright blue with a huge ball of golden sun and fluffy, white clouds gently sailing across. Keeping a few metres above the river, he continued floating along, admiring the scenery, but his pleasure was tarnished by the thoughts of his two friends. How sad they couldn’t see this magical place. Ava in particular would have loved every sight and every sound. But his thoughts were interrupted as the river made a sweeping bend and he came to a halt just hovering as he looked on in awe for, a short distance further down, the river carved a deep gash through a cluster of high hills, creating a wide valley which was totally engulfed in flames: at last, the flaming valley.
It would have been impossible to describe his feelings. A huge amount of pride having arrived there, his head was filled with wild excitement, but his stomach was churning with a combination of anxiety and fear of the unknown. But he pushed his worries to one side and slowly ascended, coming to rest on a plateau overlooking the valley and he was overcome with a spine-tingling awareness of the task ahead, And worse was to come as he slipped out of the shroud and felt the full force of the intense heat: it was like standing in front of an open furnace and for the first time he realised there was every chance he would die in there. But there was no going back; after all, the shroud was created by the Great Wizard and he had every faith in him. The overriding factor was that his was but one life against so many lives of his friends. So without further ado he opened his rucksack, took out the diver’s breathing apparatus he had created with the magic ring, and put it on before slipping back into the shroud. Pondering for only a few seconds, he took a deep breath and disappeared into the flames.
He sighed with relief as he descended through the flames into the poisoned river and was still unaffected. It was impossible to see anything as the flames were so dense, but finally he landed on the valley floor and steered the shroud straight forward. He travelled for quite a distance, all the time talking to himself and trying to block out any negative thoughts entering his head, but the further he went he realised the valley was so huge it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And just when he was losing all feeling of hope his ring lit up and started flashing, sending out a beam which seemed to cut through the flames. He followed the track of light for several hundred metres before slowly the beam changed course, manoeuvring around to the right, and a short distance further on he came to a halt, as there in front of him was the boat Skioblaonir. He screamed out in glee. His heart was beating like a jackhammer as though it was going to burst, and his whole body was tingling with excitement. Cautiously he floated over to the boat and peered inside. The strange thing was that there were no flames in the boat and he was amazed at the size of the deck: it looked so much bigger than the outside.
He floated over the side and continued his inspection. There was a section with seating and a curved roof over the top; the remainder was an open area. At the far end, laid neatly across the deck, stood seven golden caskets. Six of them were the same size, but the odd one out was much thinner and so much longer. Each one was inscribed with strange runes. Shaun smiled to himself: he knew these must contain the legendary weapons and now all there was to do was to take the boat up to the surface. As instructed by the Great Wizard, he pointed his ring towards the deck and closed his eyes. The minutes ticked by without any movement. He opened his eyes and peered over the side. He could see they were still firmly planted on the valley floor. His heart sank. Surely after all they had been through, he was not going to fall at the last hurdle; maybe he should try at the other end of the boat under the roof.
So he floated back and this time, using all his concentration, he pointed the ring down and closed his eyes, but again there was no movement. He continued to channel all his thoughts, willing it to rise. All of a sudden there was a loud, creaking sound and slowly it began lifting. He punched the air in jubilation, still keeping his eyes tight shut, but his joy was short-lived as there was a strange, grinding sound and the boat shuddered to a halt. Leaning over the side, he could see the boat had lifted a metre beneath him, but at one end it was firmly planted on the bottom. He floated down to the valley floor at that end and was amazed to find a fine, thin ribbon threaded through the boat and anchored down at each side, the ends disappearing into the ground. He tugged at the ribbon with all his might, but it was solid and deceivingly strong, and he pointed his ring towards one end, closed his eyes and imagined it snapping, but again he was to be disappointed. How could this be? he thought. What could he do now? Maybe he should return to the surface and consider his options as he was worried if he wasted too much time there, his oxygen cylinders might run out.
Back on the plateau he slipped out of the shroud and took off the diving equipment. He found a sheltered spot away from the heat of the flames, opened his rucksack and took out some of his favourite treats, trying to lift his spirits, and food usually did it for him. But watching the fierce flames licking the valley sides and shooting skyward, he shuddered at the thought of going back in, but what else could he do? Leaving this place without the boat was unthinkable. He was mesmerised by the heat haze which hovered above the valley, twisting and swirling with an alluring face, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Just then he was aroused by the sound of his ring oscillating and his eyes shot wide open to see the golden ray of light sweep out and spread out on a nearby hillside. He prayed it was the Great Wizard: if ever he needed to talk to him it was now.
‘Thank goodness!’ he exclaimed as the Wizard’s face appeared. ‘I need your help: we have a problem, a major problem,’ he said as he leapt to his feet.
‘Yes, I know. That is why I have appeared.’ His voice boomed across the valley but his face was filled w
ith anxiety. ‘But I’m afraid I will be unable to help: the ribbon you saw holding the boat down is a magic ribbon forged by the Dwarfs for the gods. It is known as Gleipnir. Its purpose was to shackle Fenrir, a huge, monstrous wolf that threatened the gods and, although my powers are great, they do not compare with the gods. As you have witnessed, the ring could not release it, so I’m afraid all your valiant efforts have been in vain.’
Shaun sank to his knees, his head in his hands. This was the first time he had failed, and what made it worse was that this was the most important. Without the weapons, things looked bleak for Colgilor.
Return to Colgilor Page 24