‘Do you know what we’re up against or not?’
Bran averted his gaze. ‘Yes and no.’
The Vallesm growled, lifting its gigantic head up to Bran’s shoulder.
‘Back off!’ Bran warned, holding out a glowing palm. ‘Or I’ll make it so you never make a noise again.’
The Vallesm peeled its lips back, a long growl rumbling from between its fangs. The heavy fall of its paws made the bridge tremble as it pushed its head up against Bran.
‘No!’ Kaelia threw herself between the pair of them and pushed Bran away. ‘I won’t let you touch him!’
Bran steadied himself and smirked. ‘It’s clear who of us means the most to you. You should trust me by now.’
The bridge swayed, knocking the three of them against the tall railings at the side. The Vallesm shook its head and jumped back onto its paws, howling profusely. It slid across the bridge, valiantly keeping upright. A booming sound filled the air. Kaelia clasped the railings, clinging to them in an attempt to stay on her feet.
‘What’s that?’ Kaelia’s eyes widened in terror as a female giant stomped along the bridge towards them.
Stringy, dripping wet hair hung around an incongruously beautiful face. Violet water streamed from the giant’s clothing, running down her tree trunk sized legs. Kaelia looked back in the direction they had come, the Stone Pier was no longer visible, the end of the bridge stretching mercilessly far. She glanced fearfully at the Vallesm and the wolf was by her side in an instant. Kaelia welcomed its warmth pressing against her. It furled its long, fluffy tail protectively around her waist. They shrank back as the giant woman skidded to halt before them, casting them all in her shadow. Without realising she was doing it, Kaelia pressed closer to the Vallesm, clutching the dense fur on its back. She didn’t notice how the creature grew slightly larger, its fur longer.
Bran hesitantly raised a hand. ‘Guardian of the bridge, I am Bran,’ he stated loudly. ‘This is Kaelia and her wolf. Our business is to find a spirit not belonging in this realm.’
The giantess’s voice deafened. ‘And what do you offer me for clear passage?’
Kaelia craned her neck. The giantess’s eyes flared as bright as rays of a sun and her skin appeared air-brushed.
‘Do you bring me a corpse to eat?’ The giantess licked her plump, strawberry-red lips.
Kaelia froze. The Dybbuks were one thing, this giant guardian corpse eater, another matter entirely. Fear crippled her.
‘We do not,’ Bran shouted. ‘I offer you something far better.’
The giantess lowered to one knee, still looming metres above Bran’s head. ‘What is it?’ She held out a palm the size of a football pitch. ‘Come closer and tell me.’
‘Bran, no!’ Kaelia screamed. She clutched the Vallesm’s fur tighter.
Bran stepped into the giantess’s outstretched hand. The giantess lifted Bran level with her face and stretched back up to her full, tower-block height. After a few moments, she slowly lowered Bran back to the bridge and he clambered off her hand. Without another word, the giantess lifted a leg and stepped over the railings of the bridge straight into the torrential river.
Relief wilted Kaelia and she shivered again, feeling even colder. ‘What did you offer her?’
Bran took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Me.’
The Vallesm uncoiled its tail from around Kaelia’s waist and pulled it out from the canopy of Bran’s coat. Kaelia slipped her arms into the sleeves of the coat and shoved her hands in its pockets. ‘Why?’
‘I’m the most powerful necromancer in Midgard. I can keep spirits from entering Hel’s realm if I want, if I agree not to bring any dead back to life, Hel can have all the spirits she wants.’
Kaelia followed him as he ran down the length of the bridge, hardly daring to believe him. The cost of passing into Niflheim couldn’t be so simple, could it?
* * *
Kaelia’s legs ached when they finally stopped running, even the Vallesm was panting. Behind them the Gjallarbru bridge spanning the river Gjoll curved in a teasing, never-ending snake. A cold mist hung around them as they stepped from the bridge and onto land. Kaelia touched a droplet of mist; it was as large as a pearl but glistened like a diamond and floated away from Kaelia’s prodding. The sky was a mix of russet and burnt amber with dark red clouds. The ground underfoot was hard and stony; cracks ran through it and from these cracks, flames licked. Kaelia jumped as a flame caressed her boot and caught it, panicking she patted it out.
‘It’s cold!’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘The fire doesn’t burn but I feel warm.’
‘It’s all an illusion,’ Bran explained. ‘This is the ninth realm in the land of ice and mist. We need to look for a palace. There is a hall where spirits are kept.’
They moved cautiously through the mist droplets, strangely they were not wet yet settled glimmering water diamonds upon the Vallesm’s guard-hairs. The wolf raised its head and sniffed before charging ahead.
‘I guess we follow,’ Bran said grimly.
Kaelia didn’t object when he scooped up her hand and they zoomed after the wolf. The mist dissipated and they whizzed through barren landscape until a steep rock face rose from the ground into the red sky, bringing them to a halt.
‘We have to climb it,’ Bran said.
The rock stretched as far as the eye could see before them, behind lay the barren land edged with mist, and beyond that the frozen river of the dead.
‘How?’ Kaelia asked.
The Vallesm pounced at the wall, clinging on by its claws. Red liquid oozed from where the wolf’s claws impaled the seemingly hard surface. Kaelia touched it, rubbed her fingertips, and sniffed.
‘It’s blood.’ The wall crumbled when she scratched it. ‘This isn’t rock.’
Bran tested the wall, his fingers piercing the surface like the Vallesm’s claws had. ‘It’s the bones of dead hellhounds and beasts, piled high and compressed over the centuries.’
‘We’ve really got to climb up it?’ Kaelia shuddered.
‘You do if you want a chance of finding your grandmother’s spirit and seeing if your mum is here.’
Kaelia fought the urge to throw up as she plunged one hand in the wall, blood squelched around her fingers, oozing over her hand. It was cold yet gloopy.
‘Think of it as a fun day out rock climbing.’ Bran was already catching up with the Vallesm, which was surprisingly adept at climbing.
Kaelia grimaced and followed suit. ‘Minus the safety ropes.’
Each time Kaelia sunk her fingers and toes of her boots into the wall, the metallic tang was released. Blood made her fingers sticky, staining her skin. They were halfway up the wall when Kaelia sensed something behind her.
‘Move!’ she screamed. ‘We need to move.’
Bran stopped mid-climb and peered past Kaelia. His face paled. ‘Hellhounds!’
Ferocious barking shot up the wall of bones and blood. The hounds were a blur of black fur and glowing, red eyes, as a dozen launched into the wall, expertly climbing upwards. The Vallesm howled and shot up the remainder of the wall at such speed its claws barely made an indent. Kaelia, Bran’s overcoat flapping heavily behind her, willed herself to move faster but she couldn’t match the speed of the Vallesm. Above her Bran was already hot on the heels of the wolf and his feet disappeared over the top of the wall. Even through the leather of Kaelia’s boots, the Hellhounds breath burned. She made the mistake of looking down and lost a foothold, left clinging on by her fingertips.
‘Hurry!’ Bran’s head reappeared over the top of the blood wall. ‘They’re closing in, move quickly!’
‘I can’t!’ Kaelia struggled to regain her footing. Tears pricked her eyelids, fear twisting her insides into a knot.
‘You must!’
Kaelia bit her lip. I must be strong, she told herself, I can do this. I have to. With a surge of fresh determination she resumed climbing with vigour but a hound was upon her, its breath singing the bottom of the burden that was Br
an’s overcoat. Their snarls neared, a hound snapped at her from the right, another from the left, and Kaelia screamed. A blur of grey-white fur shot through the hounds, knocking the few closest to her from the face of the wall. The falling hounds howled until they hit the ground far below and were silenced.
‘Move, Kaelia!’ Bran bellowed.
The Vallesm yelped. A hound sunk its teeth into the wolf’s back. Although the hound was half its size again, the wolf refused to be beaten and tore a black-furred chunk from the hound’s neck, killing it instantly. Six hounds remained, their red eyes shone menacingly as they circled wider, attempting to close in on the Vallesm. Kaelia tried firing but her light wouldn’t respond. All she could do was climb and hope the Vallesm followed.
She scrambled over the top of the wall and peered back down. The Vallesm almost reached the top when a hound caught the wolf’s tail and shook it. The mighty wolf howled, and struggled to keep a claw-hold. Another hound bit at the wolf’s side, then another, and another.
‘Do something!’ Kaelia screamed. She clutched at Bran. ‘Don’t stand there doing nothing, save him!’
‘Let it sacrifice its life for you if it wants to.’ Bran’s face was expressionless. ‘It can die a hero.’
‘No!’
Bran turned away, concealing a satisfied smirk. ‘We must move on. The carcass of your pet will keep the hounds occupied for a while.’
Kaelia ran at him and pummelled his back with her fists. ‘I will not leave him, I cannot abandon him!’
Bran spun around. ‘What’s so special about the fur-ball?’
‘He’s not just a creature to me, he’s a friend!’ Kaelia sped back to the edge of the wall and, without hesitation, clambered back over it.
‘No!’ Bran raced after her. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t risk your life for an overgrown dog!’
‘I told you. He’s my friend and I won’t let him die!’ Remembering The Thorn of Isandr, given to her by Harriet, Kaelia drew the small blade from the waistband of her jeans and slid back over the edge, scuttling sideways to the Vallesm.
A hound crawled across the bone face to her, teeth snapping. Kaelia knew she needed to allow it to come close. The smell of rot and wet-dog hung in an invisible blanket around the creature, suffocating Kaelia, its breath burning her face. The hound’s fur was coarse and wiry, rough to the touch as Kaelia plunged The Thorn of Isandr into its chest. The hound howled. It struggled but Kaelia determinedly twisted the blade, drawing it out as the hound lost its claw-grip and fell.
‘Bloody hell,’ Bran complained. ‘All this effort for a Vallesm.’ He raised both hands above his head, calling up a ball of violet light and dropped to his knees, instantaneously bringing his hands down, sending the light surging down the face of the wall.
The hounds stiffened, flames blazed from their eyes before the redness dulled. Kaelia prodded the hound nearest her experimentally; it didn’t move. It was rigid to the touch, stone-cold. She quickly scuttled across to the wounded Vallesm and stroked it gently. The wolf moaned but rubbed its cheek against her hand. Together, they climbed to the top and collapsed at Bran’s feet.
‘What did you do to the hounds?’ Kaelia panted.
Bran shrugged. ‘Killed them, I suppose.’
‘How come your powers work here but mine don’t?’
Bran shrugged again. ‘Come on, get up.’
‘The Vallesm needs healing but I can’t do it.’
‘Don’t look at me. I can’t heal, only bring back from the dead.’
‘You’ve never turned five hellhounds into statues before but you did pretty well,’ Kaelia pointed out. ‘You can at least try to restore him.’
Bran huffed but crouched next to the wolf. ‘Don’t you dare bite me,’ he warned. ‘Or I’ll snap your neck.’
The wolf growled but kept its mouth closed as Bran radiated violet light against its blood soaked furred chest. It jumped up, shaking its fur as soon as Bran removed his energy.
‘See?’ Kaelia beamed. ‘You saved him.’ She hugged Bran tightly. ‘We could make a hero out of you yet!’
Bran muttered something under his breath and strode off. ‘I did it so we can leave this place.’
Kaelia winked at the Vallesm. ‘What do you reckon, can we trust him now?’ She hurried after Bran.
The Vallesm, following, growled quietly.
* * *
Eighteen
Tall, leafless trees formed a gnarled screen around an elaborate, golden, building. Its roofs rose in tiled flames into the sky, ornately patterned with gold and brass swirls that smouldered with embers of a dying fire. Kaelia and the others stopped at the curve of the old trees, edging through the twisted, bare limbs.
‘Hel’s palace.’ Bran pointed at golden gates shut tight before a sweeping staircase leading up to the front doors. ‘We need to open those gates.’
Kaelia laughed. The gates stood alone, no wall adjoined them. ‘We can go around them!’
Bran shook his head. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of soil and threw it to the left of the gate. The soil burned up, disintegrating before their eyes. ‘There’s a protection spell creating an invisible wall. Like I said, we need to open those gates.’
‘You know an awful lot for someone who has never been here before.’ Kaelia’s eyes narrowed. Beside her, the Vallesm growled.
Bran turned on his heel. ‘It’s a good job I do else you and pooch here would be no more than frazzle right now. Are you coming or not?’ He stalked over to the gates and studied them.
Kaelia rolled her eyes at the Vallesm, which simply stared back, before joining Bran at the gate.
‘How do we open it?’ she asked.
Bran shrugged. ‘Am I supposed to know everything?’
‘Keep your hair on.’ Kaelia poked the gate, and realising they weren’t about to burn her hand off, or anything similarly frightening, pushed against the cold bars. The gilt iron refused to move. ‘Blast them open,’ she told Bran.
‘Yes, that’s exactly the way to sneak in.’
Kaelia plonked her hands on her hips. ‘What else do you suggest? Shall I try picking the lock with my knife?’ She brandished The Thorn of Isandr. ‘Or would you rather I used my teeth?’
‘Hilarious, aren’t you?’ Bran reached out and grasped the gates with both hands.
‘That won’t work, smartarse,’ Kaelia scoffed. ‘I tried pushing them and they didn’t budge.’
The gates groaned softly and opened inwards.
Kaelia stared at Bran. ‘How did you make them open?’
Bran ran a hand through his hair, looking as surprised as Kaelia. ‘I have no idea.’
Kaelia marched bravely through the gates. ‘I hope you can open the front doors as easily.’
Bran swallowed nervously. ‘Something doesn’t feel right.’
They raced up the twelve steps leading to gilt doors. The only audible sound was their footsteps and the soft pad of the Vallesm’s paws. Gargoyles hung from the building, stone eyes blankly observing them.
Kaelia pushed at the doors and wasn’t surprised they wouldn’t open for her. ‘You try it,’ she told Bran.
Bran reached for the large, golden handle and turned it down. The door clicked and swung open.
‘Are you sure you’ve never been here before?’ Kaelia pushed in front of Bran and stepped inside.
Bran didn’t answer as the Vallesm pushed roughly past him too. He watched Kaelia and the wolf cautiously tiptoeing into the gloom.
Kaelia realised Bran was lagging. ‘Hurry up,’ she hissed. ‘We need you.’ She waited until Bran joined them before pressing forward. ‘I don’t know what you’re looking so scared about, you’re even more powerful here than you are in our world.’
Bran nodded tightly. ‘I’m here. I won’t leave you.’
The vaulted ceiling of the wide, long corridor they were in was intricately adorned with relief images of warring creatures and gruesome scenes. The colours used in the artwork were aged and cracking, flaking t
o expose bare stone, adding menace to the dark imagery. The walls, stretching three times the height of a two-storey building were laden with framed paintings. Kaelia leant closer to the framed painting nearest to her.
‘Who are these people?’ she asked.
‘Who do you think?’ Bran snapped. ‘Most of Hel’s lovers and the people she cares for.’
Kaelia whistled, taking in the display. ‘That’s a lot of lovers. It’s quite slutty really!’
Bran held a warning finger to his lips. ‘Keep your voice down.’
‘Well it is!’
Bran’s eyes were scornful. ‘If you were divine, the same as Hel, you’d have loved a lot too.’
‘Why are you defending her?’
‘I’m not!’
‘Yes, you are!’
‘No, I’m bloody well not. Be quiet. We don’t know who is listening.’
Kaelia shrugged. ‘You’re really touchy, what’s wrong with you?’
Bran shook his head and stomped off down the corridor. Kaelia trailed behind. The portraits intrigued her. The style for each painting appeared to be the same to her untrained eye. Who had painted them?
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said a childish voice behind her.
Surprised, Kaelia looked nervously for Bran but he had disappeared from view. She spun around. The Vallesm pressed its solid warmth against Kaelia and her hand thoughtlessly dropped onto the wolf’s soft fur. She swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry. The pre-teen child standing before her had strawberry blonde hair cascading in ripples over her shoulders and down her back. A shimmery, full-skirted dress glimmered in the gloom and her feet, clad in pale gold satin pumps, were surprisingly clean.
‘Who are you?’ Kaelia asked.
‘I’m the artist.’ The girl gestured at the paintings on the walls. ‘Do you think they’re good? People say I paint in a style similar to one of the great masters.’
‘Which one?’
The girl’s forehead creased. ‘I can’t remember, it’s such a long name and I forget.’ She smiled, displaying straight, pearly teeth.
Fingers of a shiver stroked Kaelia’s spine and she shuddered. ‘What’s your name?’
Mortiswood: Kaelia Awakening (Mortiswood Tales) Page 27