by Robert Jones
At last, they stood on the forest's threshold. There was no choice but to venture forth into the dark unknown. The village behind was but a distant twinkle in the valley.
"It's too dark," Isolde murmured to herself.
Skaldi caught the words and turned back to face her. He had lost his smile, grim were his eyes as he looked at her.
"No one can ever see where the journey ends, Isolde," he said. "But those that have found the light never let their fear of the dark stop them."
"Maybe we should turn back," she stammered. "We can start the journey in the morning?"
"A little further, Isolde, we will find some hollow to call home for the night."
With a deep breath, Isolde crossed into the forest with the old man. It was pitch black at first and she picked her way slowly, but it was not long until her eyes adjusted and the deep abyss she had viewed became clearer to her. They were further north than she had been before. Here the trees clung on to sharp rocks and steep inclines and their boughs were twisted in ancient knots that seemed to reach out like haunted hands.
They found a dried creek and followed its natural track, curving this way and that along exposed rock and sandy shoals. Eventually, Skaldi stopped. He had found the home that he was looking for. A slate overhang cut deep into the creek.
"Sheltered from the wind and hidden from peeping eyes," he chuckled.
A wolf howled in the distance. A single, long, mournful cry carried by the wind. Isolde strained her ears to pick its direction.
"It's following us," Skaldi said before another joined the song and then another. The air was full of life, the wolves were calling, back and forth.
"We will be okay here, Isolde," he said, "rest now for tomorrow is a new day."
Isolde curled up into the overhang and pulled her fur coat tight around her neck. She closed her eyes and listened to the wolves. They were still calling to one another, but their song had slowed down until the voice of only one could be heard. Sleep crept over Isolde in her weariness, and soon she was fast asleep.
***
Harald ran through the night. His heart hammered as trees whirled past and the ominous sound of howls filled the air. His hands were slick with sweat. Where are they, where are they... his mind raced as he tried to pick up the track of Skaldi and Isolde. It was too dark. The creek bed climbed higher and higher up the hills, the loose rocks and grit making him slip with each frenzied step.
Aroooohhh.... the howls sent shivers up his spine and Harald whimpered in fear. I've got my bow... he assured himself as the taught string dug into his shoulder.
"Harald?" a slow voice murmured in the dark.
His feet skidded out from under him as he came to a sudden stop.
"Who... who is there?" he stuttered back, straining his eyes to see in the darkness.
"Come here, my boy. It's Skaldi."
Harald wanted to drop to his knees and thank the gods.
"What are you doing out here?" Skaldi asked, his silhouette coming into Harald's view.
"Looking for you. Haven't you heard the wolves?" Harald asked.
"Harald!?" Isolde came up behind Skaldi, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," he repeated. "Your father sent me to bring you back safe."
"Gods," Isolde spat, "go home, Harald. I am fine."
Skaldi cut in, "come now, Isolde, Harald braved the dark and the wolves to come find you. Show him some kindness for goodness sake."
"No," she said adamantly. "I am not a child to be escorted home whenever my father calls."
Harald's heart began to pound again. "He's in a real rage this time, Isolde. You should probably come back."
A howl pierced the night throwing Harald's head to watch his back.
"We cannot go back," Skaldi said. "But you may come with us, Harald."
"Nooo," Isolde whined in protest.
"No?" Skaldi was shocked. "And why not?"
"Because he is a hindrance. He is a coward. You should go home and be safe, Harald."
Her words made him feel like nothing.
"A coward?" Skaldi murmured. "He risked his life to come out here just now. All to save you. I wouldn't be so quick to call out cowardice, young Isolde."
"Don't call me young," she snapped.
"Then do not act like a child. Harald, you are coming with us."
"I... I don't know..." Harald's heart pounded in his chest.
"Don't prove her right," Skaldi said. "She will need you before the end."
"But what about the Black Witch?" he begged.
"What about her? You promised your Jarl you would bring his daughter home safe. Be a man of your word."
Harald's mouth was moving but he could find no words. Here in the deep woods, in the dead of the night, with the wolves howling all around, his fate seemed to be sealed.
CHAPTER IX
Three stick-men hung in the tree, gently wafting from side to side in the morning breeze. At least they looked like men to Isolde, she couldn't take her eyes off them. Twisted twigs bundled together with rough arms and legs, hanging by long necks. She shuddered at the sight.
"H-h-how did they get up there?" Harald whimpered. "We slept right here."
Isolde looked to Skaldi for an answer. His eyes were intent on the figures.
"I don't know," he murmured, "but I think it best to leave them."
"We should cut them down," she said.
She hated the thought of leaving them to hang alone in the woods.
"Don't touch them!" Skaldi snapped.
Harald spoke up again. "But, there are three of them... and three of us..."
Skaldi waved his arms and rustled them back.
"Leave the stick-men where they hang." He said, "and let us forget them."
Skaldi took the lead and forced a quick pace on the pair as they traversed into the heart of the great woods. Up and down they went all day, scaling craggy hills and down steep wooded valleys. By midday Isolde's legs burned like fire and she didn't know how much further she could go, but Skaldi kept marching and she wondered how he did it at his age.
"Do you see that peak?" He asked as they reached the summit of yet another hill. His hand was pointing through the trees and away into the distance. The sky was clear for many miles, but away where Skaldi directed, Isolde and Harald could see the mountain he spoke of. It was no bigger than the rest of the range it belonged to, but its rock was darker and no snow lay on its peak. But what concerned Isolde was not the distance, but the advancing front of cloud. It was an unbreakable wall of cold dark grey that brooded over the mountain, slowly moving ever toward them.
"What about the weather?" She asked.
"I wouldn't worry about that," Harald said, "Too far away to bother us right now."
Skaldi replied, "I wouldn't be so sure, Harald, that is Mjolkum. I have seen him move like lightning and as quietly as a mouse. He is a wild beast, taking the lives of some and sparing others. We will keep our eye on him."
The old man started down the hill and off they went again. Trudging the long miles with the short hours of the day they were granted. As the sun began to set, the trio found themselves scaling the last slope for the day. The setting sun cast magical light through the air and the sky above had burst into hues of bright oranges and reds, fading into a deep purple and black. Isolde noticed Mjolkum still lingered ominously over the mountain.
"Set a fire, Harald," Skaldi said as he busied himself in collecting wood, "Isolde, scout about this hill would you. See if there is anything about. We don't need any more visits from the stick-men."
She headed off and smiled at Harald as she passed him. Her mood was lighter now that they had stopped for the day. She wandered off to the east toward the distant mountains, following the hill's ridge with the deepening shadows in front of her. To her right, she spied a sea of dark green needles that made up the miles of pines they had already passed through. To her left was a deep ravine that dropped off leaving a gaping chasm which
divided them from the next ridge. The murmuring speech of Harald and Skaldi faded off behind her and the ease of being alone became relaxing. Her feet guided her ever so slightly downward and before she knew it she was on the edge of the chasm.
The sunlight was in its deep twilight now, but she could see well enough in the dying light. The cliff dropped about twenty feet or so into a flat bed of grit and sand. Dead wood and half buried stones peppered the ground and the narrow valley stretched across for a way before a second rocky cliff met it on the other side. She picked her way along the edge looking for a safer way down. The vegetation was sparse here, only the odd sapling clinging to the edge or a juniper snaking its way through the undergrowth. Soon the vertical drop gave way to a smooth decline, and Isolde walked down into the valley's bottom. The sandy grit was soft under her feet, the air was still and the sun released its last rays into the world before fading away completely.
She thought about heading back, but the little fire that Harald had lit was like a beacon on top of the hill and it reassured her that she wasn't far from friends. She ventured on, the grit crunching beneath her boots and pulled her fur hood around her ears. The ground began to give ever so slightly with each step and she came upon a little stream trickling away along the sandy bottom. She knelt down and scooped up the fresh water and thought how happy the others would be to refill their drink skins.
Isolde looked up to the sky. The great stars above shone through the clear night and the full moon slowly sailed high, bursting out from the canopy of pines on the cliff above. The nocturnal world woke up in all its splendour. Birds of the night began to hoot and flutter high above her. A little longer, she said to herself, no need to go back yet.
She splashed through the shallow stream and crossed over to the far shore, wandering toward the other cliff. But something seemed off. The hair on her neck stood up and she spun around. Had she heard steps in the sand behind her? She walked on but kept her ears pricked up. Schh... schh... schh... She was sure something soft was ghosting her footsteps. She spun around, but nothing. The way she had come was clear. It was dark, but she could see well enough by the light of the moon that the valley was empty. She squinted into the night, straining her eyes and slowly circled her surroundings, forcing herself to see deep into the gloom. Nothing emerged from where she came. The creek was clear, all was silent, nothing on the hill... eyes! Two blood red eyes gazed down at her from the cliff above like glowing coals in a hellish night. Her heart stopped.
Soft, snarling growls trembled out from the dark, she could feel the beast's lips quivering in hatred. The glowing embers of the wolf's eyes had her stuck to the spot like a mortified deer. Isolde was stuck to the spot as the wolf let out a blood-curdling howl. It arched its head back and cried out prayers to its moon goddess. One by one the rest of the pack joined in on the killing song from unseen shadows.
Isolde's heart beat in furiously and she gasped for breath. She had been stalked, set up, and surrounded. The huge wolf lunged down from its rocky platform, its shaggy coat of jet black fur feral and matted. It stood as tall as her chest and held its head low, slowly moving up toward her with all the grace of a serpent. The spell broke and Isolde's hand darted to her side and drew her mother's sword. The Dragon's Eye blazed in furious swells of citrine yellow and crimson red. She threw the blade up in front of
her with shaking hands, trying to keep the sword between her and the beast.
Splash... splash... splash... two more hell hounds darted across the creek and took rank next to their leader. They were lean with scruffy grey coats and snapped and growled with the same ferocity of the leader. The smaller wolf lunged, its lips curled back, eyes red with hate, teeth barred. She thrust her sword up, the blade found its mark and tore into the grey flesh of the wolf. It howled with pain and slid limply down on top of her. Its lifeless body pinned her down on the sandy grit. Her hands throttled the sword's grip. Its blade lost under the shaggy mass of grey fur. She kicked violently. The other beasts howled. In seconds the foul black leader was on her. The heavy wolf crawled up onto the dead underling and stared down at Isolde with barred teeth. Her face went blue as the weight on her chest forced the breath from her lungs. The wolf snarled, its eyes intent on the prey, yellow teeth like razors giving way to thick drool stringing from black lips. She clenched her eyes, suffocating under the weight.
Something snapped and hissed. An arrow's shaft cracked open the great beast's head and the fire in its eyes snuffed out. The weight on top of her suddenly released as the black wolf burst into a thousand obsidian crows that exploded into the air above her. A cacophony of shrieks and feathers retreating into the night sky. The wolves howled and screamed in chorus. She wriggled and clawed her way free from the dead-weight of the first beast. As she kicked her way to freedom, the hymn of growling grew stronger, the ring of wolves had tightened.
My sword, where is my sword! She panicked realising the blade was still buried in the first beast. Red eyes surrounded her and one by one the wolves snapped forward and edged closer. One darted too close and she swung her fist out sending it back yelping. A second lunged, its teeth intent for her soft neck. Crack! Another feathered arrow found its mark and the fiend collapsed lifelessly in front of her. A flame flickered from beyond the creek. A voice roared. Suddenly, Skaldi drove the ring of eyes apart as he found his place next to Isolde, a flaming branch in his hand.
"Be gone! Your queen has forsaken you!" He swung the flame out at the wolves forcing a choir of low howls like screams. "Be gone!"
One by one the eyes of the night flickered out as the wolves turned tail. No howling returned that night.
CHAPTER X
Harald clenched his jaw until his teeth were grinding. Isolde's screams tore him apart. They sent cold shivers deep into his soul as she screamed and screamed into the night until he could hear her hoarse voice burning. He raced down the slope, half sliding, half falling, gripping the yew bow in his hand as though it was the only thing that could keep him alive. Skaldi was with her. He could see the old man's face covered in deep shadows from his flickering flame-torch. He was trying to calm a frenzied Isolde.
"Where were you!" she screamed, catching sight of Harald as he burst into the light.
"Wheeerrrree!" Her voice shrieked and she lunged at him with pounding fists.
Harald's heart was pounding, everything was happening so fast. He didn't think. He just caught her and enveloped her deep into his arms.
"Shhh, Isolde, it is okay," he said feeling her shaking body.
She buried her head deep into his chest and sobbed.
Harald looked up at Skaldi. The old man wore a look of grievance that made Harald tremor.
"Skaldi," he said, "what was that thing?"
The old man met his eyes and Harald could see how deep his eyes had sunk. It was a look of desperation.
"Orlog..." Skaldi whispered, "it was the Black Witch herself."
Harald's knees went weak and he trembled for a moment. Isolde wept harder and for a moment he thought she was holding him up... again.
Skaldi rubbed his face with his old gnarled hands.
"Did...did I kill her?" Harald asked slowly.
Skaldi half laughed at the question. "If only... but I am afraid that your arrow was not the first mortal blade to strike that foul creature... and I fear it might not be the last. She cannot be killed. Not by the mundane in any case."
Isolde pushed herself out of Harald and wiped her face, "How do we kill her?" she asked through a half sob.
"Kill her?" Skaldi said, "my dear girl we have greater worries, we have very quickly become the hunted."
"Then what do we do!?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said, "but my mind needs silence. We rest tonight, tomorrow we move."
***
As morning came, the camp was quickly packed and again the trio were off. A light wind rolled in from the eastern mountains and birds chirped as they hopped from tree to tree. They crossed the creek and filled their
skins with fresh water from the stream. The bodies of the wolves lay by the bank, their hulking bodies no longer the size of the giants which Isolde remembered in the dark. Up the incline they went and back into the dense woods. Up and down hills they climbed all day, but despite Isolde's bruises, she felt energised, like yesterday's trek had broken off the old rust of a machine and now she could run smoother and more efficiently. She easily kept up with Skaldi's pace and the three were happy to walk in silence, each busy with their own thoughts.
"Skaldi," Isolde asked, breaking the old man's meditations, "I don't understand anything anymore. Why can't we kill Orlog? Why the wolves and crows?"
Skaldi kept his pace and thought on the question.
"Why can't we kill Orlog?" he mumbled slowly, "well, I suppose you can, but it would be like grabbing hold of water. She changes, you see, she is a queen of illusion."
Isolde nodded but she had no idea what the old man meant, "and what about when we were alone in the woods, that laughing on the wind?"
Harald quickly cut in, "elves right, Skaldi? No one believed me but I saw them too."
Skaldi stopped and turned around to face his companions.
"What exactly did you see, Harald?" he asked.
Harald looked at Skaldi and began to bite the nail of his thumb before gazing off into the distance, trying to summon some dream-like memory.
"Well," he said, "I suppose it would have been about four or five weeks ago now. I was out near the banks of the Jule, maybe a mile or so further than the standing stones, trying to track a stag. It was a calm night, the moon was high, not quite full, and out of nowhere, I heard this laughter behind me. I span around thinking some kids had followed me but the forest was dead. Like, really dead, no birds, no crickets, nothing. I remember a chill coming up from behind and knew that something wasn’t right, but when I turned to go home, the wind came down from the east in such a blast that it nearly sent me back into the river. I wrestled on forward trying to keep my ground but as soon as I found my footing, the wind was gone. I ran home as quick as I could but no one believed me."