Arthur and the Fenris Wolf

by Alan Early

  ‘Hi!’ she said when she reached them. ‘Hi, Eirik!’

  ‘Let’s go inside, Stace,’ Ash said, taking her sister’s arm and trying to lead her back to the house. She wouldn’t budge, however.

  ‘Ash, stop being so rude!’ she said, then turned back to the Viking. ‘So, Eirik, are you staying with Arthur?’

  Eirik nodded before he noticed Arthur shaking his head frantically behind Stace’s back.

  ‘Oh, you are!’ she said, as Max joined in with Ash’s attempts to drag her away. ‘Maybe we’ll bump into each other some time …’

  ‘I’m sure you will, Stace!’ Arthur said, taking Eirik’s arm and leading him away. ‘But Eirik was just leaving now. He has friends to meet in town.’

  ‘Friends?’ she said. ‘Maybe I can be a friend?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Ash. ‘But not tonight. Dinner’s ready, remember?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Dinner.’

  Arthur led Eirik around a corner onto the main road and out of sight of Stace, while Ash dragged her sister towards their house. Arthur waited till he heard them go into the house and close the door. Then he gestured to Eirik to stay and walked back around to the green.

  ‘All safe now,’ he called to Eirik. ‘But keep out of sight, just in case. Stay in the shadows.’

  As Arthur turned to go he noticed a gemstone in the pommel of the hilt of Eirik’s sword glinting in the amber streetlight. He paused for a moment, then said, ‘Eirik, I think we – Ash, Max and me – maybe we should learn to defend ourselves after all. What do you think?’

  Eirik looked at Arthur for a beat, as if surprised by the question. Then he nodded enthusiastically. With that, Arthur turned and headed home, leaving the Viking standing in the shadows.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following morning was bright and chilly as Arthur strolled across the estate to the Barry house. There was a crispness to the air that told him an early spring was on the way. When he reached the house, he realised that the family people-carrier wasn’t in the drive. Hoping it didn’t mean that Ash wasn’t in, he rang the doorbell. Almost instantly, he saw a shadow pass over the eyepiece and then a moment later he heard several locks clicking open within.

  ‘Arthur, it’s you,’ Max said, peering through the crack between the door and the jamb. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them.

  ‘More nightmares, Max?’

  The boy shook his head, stepping back to let Arthur in. ‘I didn’t sleep at all in case Loki …’ He trailed off. ‘You looking for Ash? She’s in the living-room.’

  Arthur stepped past him and Max shut the door urgently, once more fastening each lock. He sat down on the floor, clutching a hurl tightly to his chest. With one last look at the boy, Arthur went into the living-room. Ash was stretched on her belly across the sofa, twiddling a minute screwdriver at the inner circuit boards of what looked like her new mobile phone. Ice was sitting up on the rug, staring at the television – it was almost as if she was watching the cookery programme that was on. She looked at Arthur when he entered the room, then turned back to the television without greeting him, clearly remembering what had happened the last time he was in the house.

  ‘Something wrong with your phone?’ Arthur asked, collapsing into the nearest armchair.

  ‘Nooo,’ Ash replied, concentrating on the screw she was tightening. ‘Just adding a few extra features.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Ash clamped the cover back on the phone. She threw something across the room to Arthur, which he just managed to catch. It was a plastic sphere about the size of a ping-pong ball and when he turned it in his hand he discovered a lens staring up at him in the front.

  ‘A webcam?’ he asked, looking back at her with raised eyebrows.

  She walked over and turned the phone towards him. A live video stream filled the three-inch screen – a close-up of his own chin! He looked down at the webcam in his hand and back at the phone. The stream was coming directly from the camera he was holding.

  ‘Wireless connectivity between that camera and my phone,’ she explained. ‘A makeshift security camera!’

  ‘Great idea,’ he said, admiring the camera once again, with one eye on the video of himself on the phone.

  ‘It was simple enough. I had the camera lying around, but I added a few extra features to it: GPS, a two-year battery and so on. I still have to get the recording function working but I’m sure I’ll manage it.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘I figured it might come in handy. What with … well, you know.’ She didn’t feel like saying his name out loud. If she did, it made it real in her mind. Loki was back. She nodded to shut the living-room door. ‘Max has been guarding the front door for hours, ever since our parents and Stace left for the day. He won’t move, no matter how much I ask. So what’s up with you? Did you tell your dad about yesterday?’

  ‘Well, luckily he was out late last night so I didn’t have to face the Inquisition. I told him this morning before I came over here.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Same as always. He warned me not to get myself into dangerous situations any more.’

  ‘Our parents were the same when we told them at breakfast,’ Ash said. ‘But it’s not like it was our fault this time so they kept the nagging to a minimum. So what are the plans for today?’

  Arthur was about to answer when he noticed that Ice’s attention had strayed from the television and she was watching him with her big black eyes.

  ‘Um … Ash, can we …’ He nodded at the staring pup. Ash instantly understood what he meant and rolled her eyes.

  ‘Really?’ she said, mildly irritated.

  ‘Yes, really. Please, Ash.’

  ‘OK.’ She sighed, then got to her feet, took Ice by the collar Stace had bought her and dragged her out of the room. She shut the door but Arthur just knew the pup was still waiting outside.

  ‘You still don’t trust her?’ Ash asked, exasperated, sitting back down.

  ‘No,’ said Arthur in a hushed tone. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Why are you whispering?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘OK.’ Ash rolled her eyes again but fell into a whisper to appease him. This wasn’t the time to be falling out. ‘What’s your plan for today?’

  ‘We should go to the Vikings. And learn to defend ourselves.’

  ‘You mean with weapons?’

  He considered for a beat before answering, ‘With whatever it takes.’

  ‘But didn’t you say–’

  ‘I know,’ he said, louder than he meant to. ‘Weapons are dangerous, blah, blah, blah. But not as dangerous as Loki. Not as dangerous as all those raiders shooting arrows at us. We need to be prepared in case they come back. You, me and,’ he glanced at the door meaningfully, ‘Max.’

  ‘Actually, I agree with you.’ She stood up determinedly. ‘My parents and Stace are bringing my granny back to her place so they’ll be gone for the day and won’t miss us. I’ll try to convince Max to leave the door.’

  Max didn’t take much convincing. He would have happily gone anywhere with Ash and Arthur on that day, but the idea of learning to defend himself made him even more delighted to go. When the three of them were ready, they mounted their bicycles. It was still freezing, but not cold enough for them to choose the bus over the freedom of the bikes.

  On the way out of the estate, they stopped by the clump of trees on the green. Eirik was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk when they walked up. He leaped to his feet and stood to attention immediately. Arthur told him to relax and then explained where they were going. Eirik nodded sagely as he listened; he clearly thought it was a great idea. They hopped onto their bikes once more and the Viking waved them off.

  Meanwhile, back in the Barry house, Ice was frantically scratching her paws at the front door and yelping to be let out. Her claws dug into the wood of the door, making deep indentations. A rage built inside her at being trapped indoors by herself.
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  Seconds later, Eirik was stretching his back with a loud creak. He rubbed his belly and looked at the sun through the trees. It was early in the day and his charges wouldn’t be home for hours yet, so he could relax because he knew they’d be safe with the others. Back in Scandinavia, when he’d been alive, Eirik had loved to go hunting. He would happily chase down a boar for days through the wild forests of his homeland, never tiring. The hunt gave him strength, gave him an unrivalled energy, adrenaline coursing through his body. He was contemplating going hunting again – even just for a small bird or a rabbit maybe – simply to feel that thrill. As he was wondering if he could find a suitably barren piece of land to hunt in Dublin, something caught his eye on the green.

  A little dog was racing across the grass. Only her front legs worked; a set of wheels acted in place of the crippled hindquarters. That was the girl Ash’s pup, he knew. The one they had rescued from the frozen lake. He half-wondered if he should catch the dog and return it to the house, but then he remembered that Arthur had warned him not to be seen. So he remained in the shadows, watching it go.

  Bjorn grunted happily when Arthur told him what they wanted. After the boy had rejected the suggestion previously, the Viking had been concerned that it was a mistake. He was pleased to hear that the boy had had second thoughts on the subject.

  He clapped his leathery hands and snorted a loud command. Three soldiers emerged from the watching mob, each holding a weapon. The one on the left had long scraggly wisps of hair falling from a mostly bare head. He had no beard on his narrow jaw and no teeth left in his dry gums. In one hand, he held a shield: a perfect circle of hard wood with an iron ring around the edge and a matching bump in the centre. Rays of black and yellow were painted on the wood, spreading out from the middle. In his other hand, he held a wooden longsword. Arthur recognised it as one of the Viking Experience props. It was in pretty good nick and with a hilt shaped like a tree, the branches forming the cross guard. The Viking’s name, Arthur remembered, was Gunnar.

  Next to him was Knut. He also had uncut and greasy hair, as well as a bushy beard. He was shorter than Gunnar but with broader shoulders and muscled arms that hadn’t withered much during death. He squinted his eyes continuously, which gave him a fierce appearance. Arthur knew, however, that he could be as gentle as a kitten and loved to play-fight with Max when they visited. Knut was carrying a bow and arrow.

  Last in line was the Viking known as Magnus. He was the shortest of any of the surviving men, barely breaking the five-foot mark. But he was also stout, with great thick legs and arms and a barrel of a chest. He was totally bald with a thick handlebar moustache sitting on his upper lip and a unibrow over his eyes. As with the other two, he carried a shield. In his spare hand he held a war-hammer. It was smaller than Arthur’s and the iron head had rusted brown over time.

  Just then, Arthur’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen: an unknown number. Feeling all the eyes around on him, he pressed the little red phone icon, cancelling the incoming call.

  Gunnar pointed at Ash and stalked away. With a quick glance at Max and Arthur, she followed him. Knut led Max to the far side of the Viking Experience, while Magnus lumbered away with Arthur. Training had begun.

  The day flew past and before they knew it, it was time to go home. The sun was low along the horizon, casting their shadows far inside the Viking Experience. No one else will ever do anything like we did today, Arthur thought as he met up with Ash and Max to leave, although he still hadn’t decided whether that was actually a good thing or not.

  The three Vikings had begun by instructing their wards about the correct use of their shields. The shields were made from thick timber and iron and felt like they weighed a tonne, so first they were taught how to carry them – the proper way to hold them to minimise the stress on their arms while maximising their effectiveness. The Vikings drilled into them time and time again the importance of protecting their faces, throats and chests. Lunchtime arrived and, before Max could moan that he was getting tired, the soldiers moved on to the second part of the training.

  They’d covered the basics of defence, now it was time to start on offence.

  Gunnar had taken one of the unused mannequins out of storage and set up a practice area for Ash. He demonstrated how to assault an enemy first. He ran at the mannequin, swinging and hacking his sword through the air and roaring a harsh battle cry. In one swift movement, he chopped the mannequin’s plastic head off. It bounced onto the ground with a hollow thud. Gunnar looked down at it and chuckled a throaty laugh, then nodded to Ash, who was holding the wooden sword.

  ‘I don’t want to chop off anyone’s head,’ she told him. ‘I just want to learn to defend myself if they have a sword.’

  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 smack
ed 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.