Sky Wolves

by Livi Michael

  Aunty Joan cut yet another strand of wool and Aunty Dot put her knitting down. Both she and Aunty Lilith looked expectantly at Aunty Joan, who sat up suddenly.

  ‘Sisters,’ she said. ‘It is Time.’

  ‘It is Time,’ echoed Aunty Lilith and Aunty Dot, and then all three of them did something very surprising. They unfolded their wings.

  9

  An Unwelcome Guest

  Jenny lay asleep on the rug in front of the fire. She was breathing heavily and her paws were twitching.

  ‘I wonder what she’s dreaming about,’ Sam said.

  ‘Bones,’ his mother replied. ‘Chasing a ball in a field. Come on, you’ll be late for school.’

  But in fact Jenny wasn’t dreaming about bones or balls. She was dreaming that a great tree had spread over the world. Its branches covered the sky and its roots lay in a chasm of darkness. The universe lay suspended beneath the roots of the tree, quivering with life like a great egg that was about to crack, and a serpent coiled from the branches to the roots.

  It is Time, a great voice said, and there, filling the kitchen, was the biggest wolf she had ever seen.

  Jenny tore herself out of her dream. Nothing had changed. She was in the lounge, not the kitchen, and the room was quiet and empty, though very cold, because Sam’s mum had turned the fire off. She shook her ears to warm them and to help her wake up properly. She had had these dreams before and she always found them unsettling. She trotted into the kitchen to finish what was left of her food, then paused, looking in astonishment through the glass door.

  Snow was falling – a few gentle flakes at first, then thicker and thicker, until the whole yard was covered in a whirling whiteness. But only yesterday the sun had shone and it had been quite warm.

  ‘IT HAS BEGUN’, said a huge voice behind her.

  Jenny spun round. There was an enormous wolf in the kitchen.

  It is a characteristic of the Jack Russell breed that they don’t know they are small. No enemy, however large, goes unattacked. Jenny crouched, barking for all she was worth, then sprang at the intruder. She didn’t know what he was doing there, or how he’d got in, but she was determined to see him off. She wasn’t even deterred by the fact that if he had opened his great mouth, he would simply have swallowed her. But no matter how often she sprang, the enormous wolf didn’t seem to be quite where she thought he was. And yet he didn’t seem to move.

  ‘HAVE YOU FINISHED?’ he said, as she leapt at him for the fifth time.

  ‘Ow!’ said Jenny as she crashed into a cupboard. ‘Stay still, can’t you?’

  ‘I THINK YOU’LL FIND I’M NOT MOVING,’ said the wolf. ‘YOU ARE MOVING, AND SO IS THE WORLD. I AM QUITE STILL.’

  None of this made sense to Jenny. All she knew was that there was a strange wolf in her territory. She rushed at him again, barking, but the great wolf simply raised a paw and flattened her.

  It was a force like an electric shock. Jenny lay stunned and gasping.

  ‘THAT’S BETTER,’ said the wolf.

  Jenny closed her eyes briefly. Something was tugging at her memory. Her mind ran over the facts. There was a strange wolf in her kitchen. He was huge and glowing. His eyes were like two blowlamps and there was a kind of electric drool from his massive jaws that disappeared before it hit the floor.

  ‘I HAVE TRAVELLED THE NINE WORLDS TO FIND YOU,’ said the wolf, and Jenny had a sudden sinking sensation. She knew that she ought to know who he was. She tried to bark again, but all that came out was a kind of rattle.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she managed to ask.

  ‘I THINK YOU KNOW WHY,’ said the wolf, and added, ‘IT HAS BEGUN.’

  Slowly, warily, Jenny got up. She couldn’t bear to look at him, so she looked at the floor instead, which was gently smoking. Sam’s mum would be furious, she thought.

  ‘You already said that,’ she said quietly.

  ‘THE FIMBULWINTER IS HERE,’ said the wolf.

  Jenny shook her ears. Fimbulwinter, she thought. The word echoed strangely in her mind.

  ‘Wh-who are you?’ she asked.

  The strange wolf lowered his massive head. His eyes seemed to burn right through Jenny.

  ‘I THINK YOU KNOW,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Jenny, though again she had the awful feeling that in fact she did.

  ‘I THINK YOU DO.’

  Jenny felt a spasm of annoyance. There was a strange wolf talking riddles in her kitchen.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she said waspishly ‘Or I wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘MY NAME IS FENRIR, HOUND OF RAGNAROK,’ said the wolf, and the kitchen rattled as he said these words.

  Slowly, horribly, Jenny’s memories came tumbling back. She licked her lips.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

  The wolf tipped back his head and howled, and it was as though suns were bursting inside Jenny’s skull and stars were pouring over the edge of the sky.

  ‘MY NAME IS FENRIR, SON OF LOKI, HOUND OF RAGNAROK,’ said the wolf, and Jenny stood still, shocked into silence.

  ‘YOU HAVE TAKEN SOMETHING THAT DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU,’ said the wolf, and Jenny waited, bracing herself.

  ‘YOU MUST RETURN TO YOUR WORLD,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Jenny.

  The great wolf lowered his terrible gaze towards her once more.

  ‘DO YOU REMEMBER GINNUNGAGAP?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘GINNUNGAGAP.’

  ‘Er –’ said Jenny.

  ‘THE GREAT ABYSS? IN WHICH EVEN LIGHT AND TIME ARE RENDERED VOID?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ said Jenny. ‘No.’

  The great wolf gave the mildest sigh.

  ‘DO YOU REMEMBER EMERGING FROM THE ABYSS ON TO THE PLAIN OF VIGRID?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Jenny said.

  ‘WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER – ABOUT HOW YOU GOT HERE?’

  Jenny looked at him blankly.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ‘THAT’S IT.’

  ‘No, I mean I don’t remember anything. Nothing at all.’

  ‘YES,’ said Fenrir. ‘THAT IS GINNUNGAGAP.’

  Jenny tried to assemble her thoughts. But before she could get them into any kind of order, the wolf said, ‘GIVE ME THE MISTLETOE DART,’ and her heart lurched. She knew where the dart was, of course. It was under her pillow, a bit chewed and scraggy, because Sam and Jenny played with it every day. All Jenny knew was that it was precious to her, her favourite thing, and she would never give it up.

  ‘Suppose I don’t?’ she said, and the wolf tipped back his head and howled again, a deafening, blasting howl that had the cries of many beasts in it, a bellowing, roaring howl that flattened Jenny back against the cupboards. Lightning flashed around the kitchen units.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ said Jenny, as a thunderbolt left a huge scorch mark on the kitchen floor. Fenrir ignored her.

  ‘YOU HAVE ALTERED THE COURSE OF DESTINY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BEGIN WITH BALDUR’S DEATH,’ he Said, and the name Baldur rang like a bell in Jenny’s memory. ‘YOU KNOW THIS, BALDUR’S DEATH WAS TO BE THE FIRST IN THE GREAT CYCLE OF EVENTS THAT BRINGS ABOUT RAGNAROK. NOW RAGNAROK IS COMING ANYWAY, AND ALL THE EVIL OF THE WORLD WILL BURST ITS BONDS. THREE COCKS WILL SOUND THE ALARM, FROM VALHALLA, MIDGARD AND NIFLHEIM. HEL AND HER MINIONS WILL SPILL FROM THE GREAT ABYSS. VALKYRIES WILL HOVER OVER THE BATTLEFIELD OF VIGRID, DRINKING THE BLOOD OF THE WOUNDED AND EATING THEIR FLESH, THEN THE HELL HOUNDS WILL DEVOUR THE SUN AND MOON, THE SEAS WILL BOIL, ENGULFING THE LAND, THE HEAVENS WILL BE RENT ASUNDER AND THE STARS WILL FALL INTO THE GREAT ABYSS THAT IS GINNUNGAGAP.’

  Jenny’s mouth felt entirely dry. ‘Is that all?’ she managed to say.

  ‘YES,’ said the wolf.

  Jenny began to feel that she might have a headache coming on. The great wolf gazed at her with scorching eyes.

  ‘Are you trying to say that my world – the world I came from – will come to an end?’

  ‘YES.’

  �
�And its sun and moon – and stars – and seas –’

  ‘YES.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘YES.’

  ‘Well, then,’ said Jenny helplessly. ‘I mean – when?’

  ‘IT IS HAPPENING NOW,’ Fenrir said patiently, ‘THE FIMBULWINTER HAS BEGUN. I TOLD YOU THAT ALREADY. WERE YOU NOT LISTENING?’

  ‘Yes – yes,’ said Jenny hurriedly. ‘But – I mean – what can I do?’

  ‘YOU CAN GIVE ME THE MISTLETOE DART.’

  ‘But why?’ said Jenny. ‘Will that stop the end of my world?’

  ‘NO.’

  ‘No?’ said Jenny. ‘Then why bother?’

  The great wolf Fenrir bared his mighty teeth and for a moment Jenny thought he would swallow her in a single bite, then he lowered his massive head and spoke.

  ‘IF YOU STAY HERE, IN THIS WORLD,’ he said, speaking slowly and clearly, ‘THEN RAGNAROK WILL COME HERE AS WELL. SEE – THE FIMBULWINTER IS HERE NOW, NOT ONLY IN YOUR OWN WORLD. THIS WORLD WILL BE DESTROYED WITH YOUR OWN. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?’

  Jenny’s heart sank like a stone. She knew he was speaking the truth. Somewhere inside she had known all along that she might not be able to stay here. But she did not know what else to do. She remembered finally, with a fierce pain, why she had run away with the dart in the first place, and what she had started. Then suddenly she wondered why he was telling her this. Fenrir was the Hound of Ragnarok. Why would he want to prevent it?

  ‘WHERE IS THE DART?’ the wolf said.

  ‘Why do you care?’ said Jenny. ‘I thought you wanted Ragnarok. In Ragnarok you are free. Why should you want to save this world?’

  And she started to back away from him, though in fact there was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.

  The great wolf bellowed again.

  ‘FOOL!’ he roared, ‘DO YOU STAND HERE ARGUING WITH ME WHEN THE FATE OF TWO WORLDS IS AT STAKE? GIVE ME THE DART – NOWWW!’

  And this last word ended in a terrible howl. Jenny was horribly frightened.

  But she thought she could see something on the other side of the wolf. She tried to look round him, but he was too big. She could sense the void, lapping and quivering behind him, and something else. Something that had stopped him coming further into the kitchen and simply attacking her or carrying her away. All of a sudden, she knew what it was.

  ‘Fenrir,’ she said, ‘this is not your world. You are bound to the void. The gods bound you, with a rope as light as silk, but stronger than anything in the known universe. It was made by the Dark Dwarves, from the footfall of a cat, the spittle of a bird, the breath of a fish, a woman’s beard, the sinews of a bear and the roots of a mountain. This is not your world and you cannot come in.’

  The great wolf roared and bellowed, rolling back its terrible eyes.

  ‘YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE,’ he roared.

  ‘No, you do not belong here,’Jenny said. ‘And you can’t have my dart.’

  The great wolf strained and frothed, then was suddenly still. There was a cunning look in his eye.

  ‘SHOW IT TO ME,’ he said.

  Jenny stepped sideways, towards the cushion. If she was right, she could run straight past him, to the dog flap in the door. If she was wrong, she would die.

  ‘Here it is,’ she said, holding it in her mouth. And as Fenrir’s great jaws snapped towards it, Jenny ran.

  10

  In Which More Unusual Things Happen

  Pico woke up alone. He stared around for a moment, bemused. One minute he’d been on the coffee table, watching Aunty Lilith polish her bunions, the next he’d fallen asleep in the tea cosy. And now he didn’t know where everyone was.

  He struggled out of the opening for the spout. Aunty Lilith had knitted the tea cosy, which meant that it was a very peculiar shape and seemed to have holes for three spouts. He stood up on the coffee table and shook himself, then looked all around.

  Since Pico was so very small, it was difficult to see over the various things around him, but he felt absolutely sure that the room was empty. This was very odd. He was never alone, since one or other of the aunts would carry him wherever they went, in their sleeves or even under their hats. Worse, the silence around him seemed bigger than the room, as though the whole house was empty. Surely the aunts wouldn’t have gone dog-walking without him?

  ‘WOOF!’ he said experimentally, then louder: ‘WOOF!’

  But there was no reply.

  One thing was certain. He couldn’t stay perched on the coffee table, all alone. Somehow he would have to get down.

  It wasn’t a big table, but to Pico it seemed very high. This wasn’t as bad as the time Aunty Lilith had absent-mindedly put him on the top shelf of the dresser and he’d had to knock all the ornaments off before anyone realized he was there, but still the coffee table stood sixty centimetres off the floor, which was more than five times Pico’s height. He ran all the way round it before finding the best place to jump from, so that he would land on the thick hearth rug.

  Once safely down, Pico trotted through the door into the hallway, and was further taken aback to realize that the front door was open.

  What was going on?

  A cold wind was howling and it flung the front door back with a crash. Pico summoned his courage, stepped forward into the gap where the door had been and warily looked out. He sniffed the scent of snow. The aunts must have gone out without him, but they wouldn’t have gone very far in this weather, leaving all the doors open.

  As Pico peered out along the garden path, which was flanked to either side by a dense undergrowth that looked like a jungle to him, he was suddenly struck by a new thought. For the first time in his life that he could remember, he was alone, unsupervised. This was his big chance! If he was ever going to realize his dreams of travel and adventure, now was the time.

  But it was very cold and the first snowflakes were gathering. The leaves and roots and twigs all around him looked enormous.

  ‘Come on, Pico,’ he said to himself sternly. ‘How many times have you waited for an opportunity like this?’

  He tried to summon the images of stars and rivers and mountains that beckoned him in his dreams, but he was finding, as many people do, that the moment of realizing his wildest dreams was a rather scary one. He was suddenly very aware of himself as a one-kilo Chihuahua alone in an enormous world and his heart quailed. Why, there were spiders out there in the garden that were nearly as big as him.

  Then, just at that moment, the wind blew again. It brought with it the scent of rain, and traffic and trees, and something else, delicate and sweet, to Pico’s nostrils. It was the scent of Jenny, the new friend to whom he had given his heart. Jenny had passed that way recently, as far as he could tell, and he instantly remembered the way she had looked at him and the things she had said. ‘Your body is small, but your heart is great,’ she had told him. ‘You have within you distant horizons and marvellous deeds.’ And just the memory of this made him swell with pride, so that he was nearly a centimetre taller. If Jenny was out there, he wanted to be with her, and the one place he could think they would be likely to meet was the croft.

  Without further delay, Pico made the enormous leap from the doorstep to the path and landed unhurt. Glancing round quickly for obvious hazards, such as a falling leaf, he stuck his nose in the air so that he could follow Jenny’s scent, then trotted quickly to the end of the path. The gate was closed, but he just slipped under it and he was out on the pavement, tracking a scent, alone and free for the first time in his life.

  ∗

  Gentleman Jim lay asleep on his rug by the fire. He had started to dream, a wonderful, exciting dream about being led into battle and running alongside a chariot with soldiers, their swords and shields flashing in the sun, when he was woken by the sound of voices at the front door.

  ‘No, Gordon,’ one of the voices was saying. ‘I won’t come in – not while you’ve still got that disgusting hound.’

  Gentleman Jim twitched all over convulsively. I
t was the one voice he had hoped never to hear again – Maureen’s.

  ‘It’s for the best, Gordon,’ she said. ‘He’s getting too old to enjoy life now.’

  Gentleman Jim didn’t know what she was talking about, but he was suddenly absolutely sure that he needed to know. He struggled to his feet, which wasn’t easy, since his rear end seemed to want to go a different way from his front, and just as he’d got his hips locked into position his knees buckled. But once he was up, he crept as quietly as he could into the hallway, only knocking over a coffee table and two lamps on the way.

  He could see his owner and Maureen through the glass in the vestibule door, talking earnestly.

  ‘It’s a kindness really,’ Maureen was saying. ‘It can’t be any fun being that old. How are you going to look after him when he needs full-time care?’

  Gordon hung his head. As usual, when Maureen was talking, he seemed to have no capacity to assert himself. She fiddled with a button on his shirt.

  ‘We could be so happy together, just the two of us,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sure if you ask the vet, he’ll agree with me.’

  Vet? thought Gentleman Jim. That was one of his least favourite words. He could even spell it, since Gordon had taken to saying V-E-T in his presence.

  ‘It’s only one little injection,’ she said. ‘He won’t feel a thing.’

  Slowly, the full horror of what Maureen was saying sank in.

  No! thought Gentleman Jim. Don’t let her get to you! Send her packing!

  But Gordon seemed to be mesmerized by Maureen’s eyes.

  ‘Promise me you’ll take him,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I – I – ’ Gordon said, and Gentleman Jim nearly bit through the coat stand in frustration.

  Tell her you’ll take her to the vet’s, he thought furiously, as Maureen rested her cheek on Gordon’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s for his own good,’ Maureen said.

  Gordon murmured, ‘I suppose so.’

  Gentleman Jim stared at them both in disbelief. He felt a long shudder, from his tail bone to the top of his skull. He had heard enough. He didn’t know when he’d felt more desolate or betrayed. He turned away, blundering blindly back into the living room.