Tales From The Wyrd Museum 2: The Raven's Knot

by Robin Jarvis

‘But why haven't the worms been at him?’ the girl asked in disappointment.

  The old woman sighed. ‘Who can say?’ she murmured. ‘Yet here lies the uncle of the one whose blood and sweat is contained within the cruets. Perhaps it is their influence which has kept the corruption at bay—or else it is the power of that which we have come to take from him. I do not know.’

  ‘He looks like a king,’ Edie remarked, ‘even though he ain't wearin’ no crown.’

  Leaning upon the edge of the coffin, Miss Veronica studied the noble face wistfully.

  ‘I remember,’ she began in a quiet, thoughtful tone, ‘when this man's nephew was born, Ursula said that a great cry rang out from the sacred groves and along the eastern shores, proclaiming the death of the ancient gods.

  ‘She was rather irritated I recall, but none of that actually happened until much later and not all of the old deities were completely forgotten. Some of them survive still, in neglected pockets and turgid backwaters of the world. How much longer they can continue, only my sister can tell, but this at least I can do now. The time has come to heal one who is fading. The weak must be made strong, Edith. That is why we are here and I must violate the serenity of this grave.’

  Reaching into the coffin, the old woman combed her fingers through the luxuriant white whiskers which flowed from the dead man's chin—searching through the thick swathes of tangled beard for what she needed to save and restore the life of her Captain.

  Parting a space through the dense, hay-like layers, Miss Veronica revealed a pair of hands folded upon the hermit's chest and saw, placed reverently above them, ensnared and snarled by the soft branching growth, a circular, golden object.

  ‘There it is,’ she whispered. ‘The healing treasure. Forgive me this act of robbery, my dearest Sir. There is another whose need is more desperate than your own.’

  With infinite gentleness, she closed her fingers about the precious yellow metal and lifted it from the dead man's breast.

  A sound like a heavy, escaping breath filled the wattle hut and, even as Miss Veronica withdrew the trinket from the lead casket, the body of Joseph of Arimathea sagged and shrivelled beneath his hermit's robes. From his noble face, the peace faded as it rapidly withered and decomposed—exposed and conquered at last by the ravages of the bygone millennia. Into black dust the ancient, preserved flesh crumbled, leaving only a grinning skull surrounded by a sea of flowing hair, until that too rotted and sank into the mounting mould.

  Soon, nothing was left inside the coffin but a heap of powderous decay and Miss Veronica shook her head sadly.

  Edie Dorkins tore her eyes away and stared at the treasure now held in the old woman's hands.

  Encrusted with gold and polished gems, the device was a curious shape. In appearance it was like a large bracelet, hammered and curved from one single piece of tapering metal that was worked into a shallow spiral and even in the glare of the cruets, she could see that it gave off a pale light of its own.

  Miss Veronica examined its richly adorned surface, but winced and shuddered as though the very touch of the gold pained her.

  Edie eyed the gleaming treasure curiously. ‘Can't see how that'll help,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Nor do I,’ the old woman whispered, ‘but there is a power within it all the same. It prickles and stings, like holding a garland made of nettles. It is all I can do to keep from dropping it.’

  ‘That's the same thing what Ursula wanted me to fetch, ain't it? She said it were dangerous.’

  Miss Veronica began to limp towards the doorway. ‘I really couldn't vouch for anything she might have said,’ she told her. ‘Ursula is always so close and secretive, she rarely bothers to explain anything to me or Celandine.’

  ‘Don't you miss them?’

  The old woman faltered, then pretended she had not heard and went out into the dome once more. ‘Hurry, Edith. We must take this valuable device to Woden. He will know the secrets of its healing power. It is time we made our way back to the surface.’

  Edie lingered in the hut for a moment more. It seemed a shame to leave the two cruets behind, she was sure they might be useful and besides they looked so pretty—perhaps if she only took one it wouldn't do any harm.

  ‘Hurry, Edith,’ the old woman called.

  Standing beside the granite plinth, the child looked longingly at the shining silver vessels and, darting a wary glance at the doorway, suddenly reached over to take one.

  As soon as she touched the cold, brilliant metal, a tremendous roar shook the domed chamber like some terrible, calamitous alarm.

  Edie let go and sprang backwards immediately, but it was too late. The ominous splitting sound of fracturing rock thundered about the cavern and the walls of the hut started to quiver as a great crack splintered down the centre of the low granite plinth.

  ‘Edith!’ Miss Veronica cried, lurching back to the doorway. ‘What have you done?’

  The child whirled around. Now the floor was subsiding and the hideous crack grew wider as it buckled, becoming a deep rift which ruptured the entire length of the chamber, dividing it in two. Shaken by fierce, jolting forces, the lead coffin jerked and tilted, as one half of the broken stone table dropped abruptly and the silver cruets toppled over to go rolling on to the quaking ground.

  Edie stared about her in horror, then fled towards the doorway—leaping across the ever growing fissure to be at Miss Veronica's side.

  ‘Hurry!’ the old woman shouted. ‘The tomb is collapsing!’

  Abruptly, the hut's ancient wattle walls shattered with the violence of the shifting ground. Like a million strands of finely spun glass, the brittle reeds and osiers exploded behind them and, with a mighty avalanche of dust and straw, the thatched roof came crashing down.

  Grasping hold of the young girl's hand, Miss Veronica tried to lead her from the chaos and destruction which engulfed them. But she was too old and weary, and when the next tremor seized and rocked the chamber she was thrown to the floor, dragging Edie with her.

  Then, with an almighty, tumultuous rending of stone, huge chunks of the fractured ground tipped and tumbled—falling down into a black abyss which yawned open below.

  Deafened by a horrendous clamour as the area where the hut had stood finally gave way, Edie raised her head in time to see the fragments of the plinth and the lead coffin slip down into the chasm. Then, like two white, fiery comets, the vessels containing the blood and sweat of Christ plummeted after.

  As their glimmering radiance plunged into the gulf, the domed chamber was lost in a darkness which only the bracelet in Miss Veronica's tightly clenched hand alleviated.

  In the ghastly, golden glow the old woman searched for the arch which led to the tunnel and pointed to it wretchedly.

  ‘We must reach it!’ she cried. ‘It is our only..!’

  At that moment the floor which surrounded the gaping fissure broke free from the curving walls and with a sickening, jarring crunch, the remaining rock heaved and pitched into the waiting void.

  Shrieking, Edie Dorkins clawed and clung to the jagged fragment of ground beneath her as it slithered downward, whilst Miss Veronica was flung helplessly into the empty darkness, and the circlet they had come so far to find was sent spinning out of her grasp.

  Chapter 23 - The Gathering

  ‘Fates preserve us!’ cried Aidan, letting go of Neil's shoulders when he saw the horror of the Valkyrie burst from the kitchen. The twisted abomination that was Hlökk threw back its deformed head and let out a ghastly shriek.

  Aidan shuddered. With its large black eyes glinting, consumed with malice and lusting for slaughter, the nightmare came pounding towards them. v-

  ‘Aaaiiiyeee!’ Quoth yammered. ‘We art caught! We art killed!’

  ‘Not yet, we're not!’ Aidan yelled, setting off down the path, hauling Neil after him. ‘Get into the van—it's just in the road!’

  The Valkyrie's horrendous screeches skirled into the night as they fled out of the Humphries’ drive. Across th
e path its murderous talons clattered, raking up a hail of gravel with its long, pursuing strides.

  Feverishly, Aidan yanked open the van door and Neil tore around to the passenger side to clamber within.

  ‘Hlökk is nigh upon us!’ Quoth whined, cowering under the boy's arm as the grotesque shape stampeded from the gates, its vicious beak thrusting the air, eager for blood.

  Hurriedly, Aidan turned the key in the ignition but, just when the engine roared into life, the monster caught them.

  Framed in the windscreen the malignant, quill-maned face appeared and a low, gloating cackle issued from the yawning throat as the beast eyed the van's succulent contents.

  Aidan's fingers closed tightly about the steering wheel as he gazed upon that consummately evil countenance, knowing that a similar sight had heralded the final moments of his friends killed in the bus. His own face grew hard as his fear turned to hatred.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Neil cried.

  Spreading its wings, Hlökk shook its feathers and crowed exultingly, raising one of its savage claws to bring it smacking down upon the bonnet, jolting the van violently.

  A vile, piercing squeal sliced through Neil's ears as the creature dragged its talons through the metal. Then the loathsome beak lolled open and the Valkyrie lunged forward to smash its way through the windscreen.

  ‘Not this time!’ Aidan shouted and, in that instant, he slammed his foot upon the accelerator and the van leapt forward.

  Startled, the monster was flung off balance crushing the bonnet and cracking the windscreen when its horrible weight came thundering down. Then it somersaulted high over the roof as the vehicle roared away.

  Hlökk's hulking shape crashed on to the road behind and, with a flailing mass of feathers, its furious, dismayed screeches split the night as it struggled to right itself.

  ‘Hurroosh!’ Quoth cheered, bounding on to the back seat of the van to watch the floundering shape recede in the distance. ‘Forsooth ‘twas grandly done. Like a reed cut down by the sickle she did fall! Behold how the grooly fiend doth squirm and...’

  The raven's voice dwindled to a hoarse whimper and his jubilation was curtailed, for the Valkyrie was already rising from the ground and spreading immense wings.

  ‘Woe betide us,’ Quoth uttered dismally, sliding down the seat to scamper back on to Neil's lap. ‘It hath taken to the air. The Valkyrie flies!’

  Trees and hedges rocketed by as the van hurtled along the lonely road towards Glastonbury, but with every passing second, the ravaging Valkyrie closed in.

  ‘What about the Tor?’ Neil cried. ‘Tommy said it'd be safe up there in the tower. He said they couldn't touch us there.’

  ‘Is that where he was going when I saw him run from that house?’ Aidan asked. ‘Well, I'm afraid the tower's out of the question for us. We'd be dead before we even got halfway up the hill. There's no way of fighting those things. We have to find someplace else, somewhere those devils daren't go.’

  ‘The church?’

  Aidan shook his head, ‘That wouldn't keep them out—sacred, ancient sites are what we need now.’

  At that moment the roof buckled and warped as a curved talon came ripping inside and the van lurched across the road, the tyres skidding over the tarmac as the vehicle was dragged aside.

  Quoth squealed shrilly, whilst Aidan hunched over the steering wheel and tried to wrench it to the left as, up above them, the apparition raged in fury.

  With a rasp of metal the claw slipped free and the van bolted away, careering madly towards the town, zig-zagging from side to side, trying to avoid the swooping horror which dived upon it again and again battering the ruptured roof.

  ‘Hold on!’ Aidan yelled, turning the van sharply around to career down Bere Lane.

  ‘The weavers of the crimson weft are wont to chase unto the direst end!’ Quoth squawked, the fierce motion of the vehicle hurling him off his feet. ‘Never doth their prey escape them!'

  'Tell that bird of yours to keep quiet!’ Aidan shouted.

  Another savage blow struck the roof and a second rent was torn in the metal as this time the cruel beak stabbed downward.

  Into the van the nightmare's iron-like bill spiked and ripped, and Neil dodged aside to avoid it impaling his shoulder.

  Slaughterous shrieks blasted within the vehicle, and Quoth gibbered in terror when more of the roof was peeled away and the creature thrust its grievous head still further inside.

  The houses bordering the street were quickly ablaze with light as the inhabitants ran to the windows to see what was happening. But as soon as they saw the small blue van race by, tormented by the horrific black shape which clawed and screeched upon its roof, many closed their curtains and locked their doors.

  Nearing the end of the long lane, Aidan suddenly sent the van into a sickening spin, whirling out of control across the road, until the wheels rode on to the pavement and Hlökk's unclean shape was thrown into the shrubs of a tidy front garden.

  Snarling, Aidan revved the engine and the vehicle shot away, but this time the terrifying creature did not follow. Leaping on to the low garden wall, its disfigured head jerked back to beyond the Tor, as though hearing a distant call and, with a powerful sweep of its great wings it soared into the night and vanished into the darkness above.

  ‘I thought you said they never gave up,’ Neil muttered.

  Quoth clacked his tongue in warning, ‘It hath gone to fetch aid,’ he said. 'To the gathering Shrieker doth fly. Then others shalt come, Screamer and Raging, Biter and Tearer. Like unto a mouse set before a dozen cats shalt we be.’

  ‘Then we've got to get help before they find us,’ Neil cried.

  Aidan said nothing. A grave resolve was carved upon his swarthy face and, leaving Bere Lane, he drove the van away from the centre of Glastonbury and up a rising, narrow street called Hill Head.

  ‘Where are we going?’ the boy demanded. ‘The police station?’

  ‘Boys in blue won't be no use to us, lad,’ the man replied. ‘No point getting even more folk butchered.’

  Neil stared out of the window at the cottages that raced by and saw the lights of the town fall behind them.

  ‘This is Wearyall Hill,’ he suddenly realised. ‘What's up here?’

  ‘Something to keep you safe!’ Aidan rapped back. ‘Could be the only thing that can, aside from Saint Michael's tower.’

  Abruptly the buildings which flanked the road ended and, where the cramped way bent round to girdle the lower slopes of the long, low hill, Aidan stopped the van and got out.

  ‘Hurry!’ he shouted, sprinting to a muddy track at the corner of the road where a wooden stile led to the desolate darkness of the hump-backed hill beyond.

  Neil and Quoth followed him in confusion.

  ‘You’re crazy!’ the boy cried, gazing at the empty expanse which stretched before them. ‘If more of those things come we'll be done for out there.’

  ‘I said you'll be safe,’ the man repeated sternly. ‘Get yourself up there as fast as you can and stop only when you reach the Holy Thorn.’

  ‘The what?’

  Aidan ground his teeth. ‘Joseph of Arimathea,’ he explained impatiently. ‘He came ashore here and rested upon this hill, hence the name, and when he planted his staff in the ground it took root and flowered. A scion of that tree is up there on the hillside. Just keep running straight and you can't miss it, it's ringed about by a railing. As soon as you reach it, hold on and don't let go for anything.’

  ‘But... what are you going to do?’

  Aidan stared back across the valley to where he could just make out the black silhouette of the Tor.

  ‘They'll all be swarming this way in a minute,’ he said grimly. ‘Urdr sent me to find Verdandi and the girl but I failed her. There's only one thing I can do to redeem myself now. She told you to trust me, well, I'll not break that faith. This is where we part company, Neil.’

  The boy grabbed the man's arm, ‘You're not leaving me again.’
<
br />   ‘I'm getting back in the van,’ Aidan told him, his mind made up. ‘Your raven was right, those creatures never abandon their prey when they give chase. They are the Wild Hunt, Woden's raven women. They'll hound my little motor until they catch it. If I leave now I just might be able to lead them off and give you time enough to reach the Thorn.

  ‘Perhaps you'll even find Verdandi—that's who they're really after. The Gallows God has lured her here to destroy her, don't you see? After that he'll despatch his Valkyries off to London to attack the museum. If I can buy even five minutes more for the Nornir, then that's what I have to do. As a descendant of Askar it's my duty.’

  Dismayed by what he was hearing, Quoth scurried over the mud to tug at the man's trouser leg. ‘Thine flesh shalt be their feasting!’ he declared fretfully. ‘Thy death is assured if thou chooseth this path.’

  ‘Listen to him!’ Neil cried. ‘You don't stand a chance!’

  The gypsy's emerald eyes glinted in the darkness as he pulled his arm free of the boy's grasp and hurried back to the van.

  ‘I know,’ he said solemnly. ‘So don't let it be for nothing. What are you waiting for? Get running—go now! Find the Thorn and may the hand of Fate guard you!’

  ‘Wait!’ Neil bawled, but Aidan was already slamming the door behind him and the engine turned over.

  Hastily, the boy ran to the van and banged his fists upon the window.

  ‘Don't do this!’ he pleaded. ‘Aidan! Aidan!’

  The man held up his hand in farewell then swerved the vehicle around and drove it back down the hill.

  ‘Stop!’ Neil shouted. But it was no use, the lights of the van quickly waned in the distance then disappeared altogether as it reached the main road.

  Standing in the middle of the lonely narrow road, Neil could not believe what the man had done.

  ‘Good luck,’ was all he could bring himself to say.

  ‘Master Neil!’ came a squealing squawk. ‘Thou must do as he bid thee. Find this Thorn!’

  The boy looked across to the stile where Quoth was wriggling between the bars. Then, with a final glance down the sloping lane, Neil climbed over the rail and rushed into the darkness ahead.