Arthur and the Fenris Wolf

by Alan Early

  With one last look to make sure his aim was dead centre, he ran forward, crouching slightly with his arm back to launch his ball. He swung forward to release it, but just as his fingers slipped out of the holes, a sharp and searing pain burned into his chest. The ball thumped onto the glossy floor, wobbled slowly forward for a bit and then slid into one of the gutters as Arthur clutched his chest and fell backwards to the floor.

  The pain was gone as quickly as it had started. Arthur watched the ball roll down the gutter towards the pins. Only they weren’t pins any more. They were teeth: huge razor-sharp fangs. He recognised them instantly. A forked tongue flicked out between them, globs of spit landing on the waxed floor. It was the mouth of the Jormungand! It was back. Somehow, it had returned and it was making its terrible screeching sound.

  Arthur scrambled backwards in a panic, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed the transformation, but everyone was acting normally, laughing, bowling and chatting with their friends. When he looked back at the end of the lane, the mouth was gone. Once again it had become a set of white bowling pins, nothing more. But the words painted above the pins had changed. It had once read ‘bowling fun!’ in a brightly coloured font. Those letters were gone now, replaced by lines and cross-hatches. He couldn’t read them but he knew exactly what they were. Runes.

  He got to his feet and looked around him. Every sign and poster in the bowling alley had changed. The letters were no longer from the English alphabet: they’d also been replaced by runes.

  The pendant Arthur always wore around his neck had fallen out from inside his T-shirt and was lying against his chest, glowing bright green. With one swift motion, he pulled it off and stuffed it into his pocket. Instantly, the runes reverted to English words.

  ‘You all right, son?’ Joe asked. ‘You took quite a spill there.’ The others had gathered at the end of the lane, looking at him with worried expressions.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he uttered eventually. ‘I just slipped.’

  Joe smiled sympathetically as he and Stace returned to their seats. Ash and Max waited behind with questioning faces.

  ‘Just slipped?’ Ash asked.

  ‘No,’ Arthur conceded, ‘no, I didn’t just slip.’ He took the glowing pendant out of his pocket and showed it to them, careful not to let anyone else see it.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Max asked, his voice trembling with trepidation.

  Arthur didn’t want to say the words but he had to. ‘I think it means it’s starting again.’

  Chapter Two

  Bang!

  Arthur woke with a start to find that he had a crick in his neck. He looked around, momentarily confused, then checked the time on his phone. It was a little after seven in the morning and Joe had just left for work, slamming the door on his way out.

  After arriving home from bowling the previous night – which had taken much longer than usual thanks to the fresh and treacherous layer of frost on the roads – they were surprised to find that their street had been plunged into a blackout. There was total darkness, save for the large moon hanging in the night sky.

  ‘It’s probably due to the weather,’ said Joe, dropping Ash, Max and Stace off. ‘Maybe the ice on the power lines became too heavy and broke them.’

  The Barry siblings went into their darkened house to find that their parents had positioned flickering candles around the rooms in place of the electric lights. Mr and Mrs Barry were reading by the soft light while their granny, who had been staying with them since Christmas, was on the couch, snoring like a jackhammer.

  The Quinn men returned to their quiet home. Entering it like this, so silent and lifeless, reminded Arthur of their first time in the house a few months previously. It was all very modern inside, with white walls, pale wooden floors and recessed ceiling lighting. But now those bulbs were in darkness.

  Joe tried flicking the switch but to no avail. ‘I think there’s a torch in the car,’ he said and went back out into the cold.

  Arthur took his mobile phone out of his pocket to turn on the flashlight application. As he hit the key, he realised that the phone was unexpectedly off. He tried the power button, but no luck there either. With an irritated grunt, he dropped the phone back in his pocket and turned to face the darkened stairwell. His eyes had become slightly adjusted to the gloom – not by much, but enough to follow the steps upstairs.

  The first-floor hallway was windowless and none of the adjacent doors were open, which meant that there wasn’t even any moonlight to penetrate the total darkness. He could just about see for a foot or two in front of his face. Arthur thought of what had happened at the bowling alley. Was the vision some kind of warning? What if Loki was hiding in the darkness?

  As soon as the thought formed in his head, he regretted it.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said to himself out loud, just to break the silence, and moved forward towards his bedroom door. He pushed the door inward, expecting to be confronted with more darkness. Instead, he was surprised to find a soft green light filling his room. It pulsated gently and reminded him of the light the pendant gave off. Only it wasn’t the pendant: that had stopped glowing before they left the bowling alley and, besides, it was safely tucked away in his pocket.

  The light could only be coming from one place. He ducked to the ground and reached under the bed, brushing aside a flimsy spider’s web. He faintly heard its former occupant scuttling across the wooden floor. As soon as his fingertips brushed the hammer, the glowing stopped. He heard a low hum that hadn’t been there seconds previously and things grew brighter. He sat up and looked out the window. The streetlights were back on, as was his desk lamp.

  ‘Power’s back!’ Joe called from downstairs. ‘How about some hot chocolate?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ Arthur replied. He sat back on his feet, mystified at what had just happened, then got up and went to join Joe downstairs.

  When the hot chocolate was ready, and topped with a generous portion of marshmallows each, they sat sipping it together and watching The Sound of Music on TV for the third time this holiday season. Joe hummed along to the songs and giggled at little Gretl the same way he did every year. But Arthur barely paid attention to the singing Austrian children. The only thing on his mind was what had happened at the bowling alley. What could it possibly mean? Was Loki back? Did the Jormungand somehow survive? Were the Viking soldiers in danger? Too many questions and too few answers.

  When the film was over, Joe moved to clear up the hot chocolate mugs.

  ‘Are you finished, Arthur?’ he asked as he reached for his son’s half-full mug. ‘You’ve barely touched yours.’

  Arthur looked down at the drink in his hands. He’d thought he’d finished it but had been so deep in thought that he’d simply forgotten about it.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I think I’m still full from all that junk we had at bowling.’

  Joe put his own mug on the coffee table and sat back down on the sofa. He awkwardly rested his arm across Arthur’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Son,’ he said.

  Arthur looked him in the eye. ‘For what?’

  ‘This is our first Christmas … without her.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ It was something that had been on Arthur’s mind almost constantly over the holidays, only just not right at that moment.

  ‘I’m sorry I have to go back to work tomorrow. But you’ll have fun on Tuesday.’

  ‘I know. It’s fine. Honestly.’ And then, because he glimpsed a look of sadness in his father’s eyes, he added, ‘I love you, Dad.’

  ‘I love you too, Son.’ Joe stood up, taking the mugs with him. ‘Well, goodnight. Don’t stay up too late.’

  Arthur watched his dad go into the kitchen, limping slightly on his right leg – the one constant reminder of Loki’s vicious attack. At the thought of it, Arthur was suddenly filled with rage. He clutched the pendant in his pocket. Even though it had stopped glowing, he could still feel a faint warmth from it. At that moment he swore to
himself that he wouldn’t allow Loki to hurt his father or his friends ever again.

  He bounded upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, and stepped into his bedroom. His desk lamp was still switched on – a bad habit that Joe was always scolding him about – but he turned it off, plunging the room into darkness. After a few seconds, his eyes became accustomed to the dark, brightened slightly by the amber glow from the streetlights penetrating the darkness in the room.

  He knelt down and reached under his bed, pulling out the hammer. The head of the hammer was forged from a dark and dented iron, with runes beaten into each side. The handle was half as long as the head was wide – barely long enough for an adult hand to wrap around it. The whole thing looked very heavy and Arthur knew from the way it thudded to the ground if he dropped or threw it that it was a dead weight. And yet it didn’t feel heavy when he lifted it – in fact when he held it, it was like an extension of his arm and felt just right.

  Shortly after the incident with Loki, he’d asked the Vikings what it was and what it meant. All he’d managed to grasp from the rather one-sided conversation was that it was very powerful and none of the soldiers wanted it. It was his now, they’d indicated. He made a mental note to try asking them again soon.

  He placed the hammer on his desk. Then he took the pendant from his pocket and laid it alongside. He sat down and looked at the silent world outside. Arthur could see Ash’s house across the estate. All the lights were switched off, everyone in bed, asleep. He suspected some were sleeping more peacefully than others. A warm tangerine glow flickered through the living-room window – the last embers in the fireplace burning down, no doubt. All the other houses on the street were equally undisturbed. Here and there a light was still on, but no one moved and nothing stirred. The grassy knoll in the centre of the estate – known as the green – was actually white now, painted by an ever-increasing crust of frost. The trees were leafless and the cars were lifeless. And all the while, Arthur watched.

  He stayed at his desk, watching the night pass by. If Loki showed up, he’d know. Every hour on the hour he got up and paced the room to stretch his legs. At one point a light flicked on in the Barry household. He wasn’t fully sure of the layout of the house but he guessed that it might have been Max’s room. Moments later, the window was in darkness again. The nightmares are back, most likely, he thought grimly.

  The only movement outside all night occurred just after 4 a.m. when the young couple across the estate left their house, pulling suitcases behind them. Probably off to some warmer climate on an early flight. Arthur couldn’t help but feel jealous of them. They looked so happy to be leaving – exhausted but happy. They certainly didn’t have the worries he did.

  An hour later, as he leaned back in his chair, he found that his eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. Maybe, he thought to himself, I can close them. For just a couple of minutes. To rest them. And then I’ll be able to stay awake for the rest of the night.

  He allowed his eyelids to close, relishing the sweet release. The next thing he knew the downstairs door slammed as Joe left for work and it was just after 7 a.m. He shook his head, groggily cursing himself for falling asleep. Apart from Joe’s Land Rover pulling out of the drive, the estate was still deserted. The sun hadn’t risen properly yet, but there was a faint pink hue in the sky. By the looks of things, it was going to be another bright and clear day. Which probably also meant that it was going to be as cold as it had been the past few weeks. This cold snap had started well before Christmas and, although it hadn’t snowed, every outside surface was still coated with ice and frost.

  He swivelled in his seat and looked at his bed. He didn’t want to crack but it did look very inviting. Arthur weighed up his options. It was getting bright now and it was unlikely that Loki would appear during the day – if he was coming at all. More people would start going to work in the next hour. Loki probably wouldn’t risk it.

  Arthur stumbled from his chair and collapsed onto the mattress with a thwump. He was sound asleep seconds later, still in his clothes, lying on top of the blanket and snoring lightly.

  Krzzzz …

  Arthur blinked his eyes open and dazedly wiped away the line of drool that had formed between his mouth and the pillow. The room was awash with white winter light now and when he sat up in bed he had to squint. The noise that had awoken him so harshly sounded like a bee or else a large bluebottle. Either way, it shouldn’t have been in his room in the middle of winter. Unsteadily, he swung his feet off the bed and stood up. Then he spotted the source.

  His phone was vibrating noisily on his desktop. It was rattling against the iron hammer, making it louder than usual. He grabbed it and pressed the answer key as quickly as he could.

  ‘Hello?’ he croaked in a dry, hoarse voice.

  ‘Hiya!’ Ash’s voice replied from the other end. ‘It’s just me. I’m outside. You up yet?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m up.’ He stifled a yawn then cleared his throat. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It’s eleven. Are you going to let me in or do I have to freeze to death out here?’

  ‘I’ll be down in a second.’ He hung up and pulled out a fresh T-shirt and jeans from his wardrobe. He didn’t have time for a shower with Ash waiting outside so he ran into the bathroom and sprayed some of Joe’s Lynx under each arm. It stung so much that he hopped back into his room with his arms splayed wide. When the pain subsided, he pulled on the fresh clothes and went downstairs.

  He was still rubbing the crick out of his neck as he opened the door. Ash – all bundled up in a heavy waterproof coat, scarf, hat and gloves – stepped inside. A bitingly cold gust of air followed her in. Arthur, still in his bare feet, shivered and shut the door behind her.

  ‘What’s wrong with your neck?’ she asked, noticing him massaging the tender spot.

  ‘I slept in my chair,’ he explained.

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘Actually, I only slept there for a couple of hours. I stayed up most of the night.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘A couple of reasons. I was on lookout for Loki, first of all. And then … well … I didn’t want to have any more of those weird dreams.’ During their first encounter with Loki, Arthur had experienced a number of strange and vivid dreams. They were visions of a place called Asgard, where the Norse gods lived. He’d learned a lot in those dreams, like why the gods banished Loki from Asgard and what they did with him, but he still didn’t want to start having them again. If that happened, it would leave little doubt that Loki really was active once more.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ash. ‘And did you see anything?’

  ‘Nothing. No sign of Loki and no dreams.’

  ‘Well that’s good. Maybe it was a false alarm.’

  ‘Maybe. Hopefully. Max had another nightmare, though, didn’t he?’

  She nodded. ‘Same as before. He’s flying over the city on the World Serpent and then he slips off. And Loki just lets him fall. He woke up screaming.’

  ‘I saw the light.’ He paused, reluctant to suggest what he was about to say. ‘Ash, I think we should go and see the Vikings today. Before we go to Westmeath.’

  Every year after Christmas, the Barry siblings went to visit their cousin in Westmeath for a few days and this year they’d invited Arthur to join them. When they’d suggested it to his dad, Joe was thrilled at the prospect of Arthur having something to occupy him during the remaining days of the Christmas break while he was at work. They were getting the train the following morning.

  ‘Well, I’m free now if you want to go?’

  Arthur looked down at his feet. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes to put on some shoes.’

  After pulling on two thick pairs of socks, a warm, fleece-lined coat, a woolly hat with flaps that covered his ears and a matching scarf and gloves set, Arthur hid the hammer back under the bed and left the house with Ash. As they walked gingerly towards the bus stop, treading carefully to avoid slipping on the ice, he checked a coup
le of times to make sure he’d remembered to bring the pendant. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with the Vikings, although a couple of the younger men seemed to be picking up some English. The pendant acted as a sort of translator and let them understand him even if he couldn’t always understand their answering grunts.

  As they turned the corner onto the main road, they spotted a bus hurtling towards the stop. They realised they wouldn’t make it walking so broke into an awkward sprint. Arthur could feel the soles of his shoes sliding along the icy path as he ran. The waiting crowd were boarding the bus quickly and Arthur and Ash were still only halfway there, but then they had a stroke of luck as one of the passengers dropped her coins on the ground. She took her time retrieving them, delaying the bus long enough for Arthur and Ash to glide the last few feet along the ice before the driver closed the door. They scrambled on, both out of breath, and the bus pulled off towards the city centre.

  Christmas lights were still strung across the main streets of Dublin, twinkling merrily and swaying in a light breeze. Council workers in high-visibility yellow jackets were sprinkling a mixture of grit and salt on the pavements and roads to combat the ice. For a Monday morning, especially after the crowds over Christmas, Dublin city centre was surprisingly quiet. Even though most people should have been back to work that day, it seemed as if many had decided to stay at home, keeping nice and cosy, watching family films or repeats of Christmas specials. Part of Arthur wished that he had that option. But part of him was also looking forward to seeing the Vikings. He hadn’t visited them since before the start of the Christmas break and he did kind of miss them.

  As the bus drove through the city streets, Arthur filled Ash in on what had happened with the hammer and how touching it had brought back the electricity.

  ‘What does it mean?’