Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands

by Beck, Greig

  Arn stayed still and silent, just letting his eyes move over the landscape, the water, and the cliff top.

  ‘Is it safe?’ Grimson was right behind him. Arn noticed he already had his shirt off.

  ‘Maybe, Grim, but we’ll be quick and alert, and you keep your eyes on me at all times, okay?’

  The youth nodded. Arn tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I thought you didn’t want to have a bath?’

  Grimson kept his eyes on the water and stepped out of his trousers. ‘I don’t like baths… but swimming is different.’

  Arn laughed. ‘Of course it is. Okay, there’s a small pool over there that looks perfect.’ A dozen feet from the falling water, the froth and spume splashed up onto the moss-covered boulders, pooling at their base to make a series of frothy ponds. Arn guessed they were far too shallow or agitated to have anything living in them, and would be perfect for a quick wash and cool down.

  Before Arn could even unstrap his belt, Grimson quickly had the rest of his clothes off. He looked at the clothing – it was starting to wear through, like his own had days before. Arn was reduced to dressing like his forefathers in a breechcloth, flaps hanging front and back, with his last keepsakes hanging from a pouch at his belt. He kept the soft leather boots, but soon, without replacement soles he would be bare foot. Grimson still had trousers and shirt, but for how long he didn’t know.

  The young Wolfen waded into the largest pool and lay face down, rubbing his head, and then pulling it back to suck in a deep breath and smile. ‘It’s wonderful…’ He lowered his face to drink. ‘… and tastes good as well. C’mon.’

  Arn carried Grimson’s clothes to a dry rock, and kicked off his boots. He stepped back carefully over the sharp boulders at the water’s edge. Rays of light played on his skin, and with the cool spray from the waterfall it felt fantastic. He stepped into the pond, and he too lay down with a sigh. ‘Oh yeah.’

  He ducked his head under the water rubbing his itchy scalp for a few moments before surfacing. He noticed the slick of oil, debris and tiny struggling passengers that had been dislodged from his hair now floating on the surface. He decided, unlike Grim, that drinking from this pond was definitely out.

  He lay back in the water, put his hands behind his head and reflected on his new life. How quickly life’s priorities could change. One minute he was living a coddled life, in luxury that he didn’t even appreciate, where the most important things in the world to him were getting good grades, keeping a lookout for bullies, and trying to impress Becky Matthews. The greatest risk to life and limb was the potential for getting hit by a careless motorist. Now, staying alive was a minute-by-minute blessing. He had been captured twice, tortured, saved, met races of beings – some noble and some morally decrepit – and he had made and lost good friends.

  Good friends. His thoughts turned to Eilif. Had she really existed? If not for the Wolfen lying in the water five feet from him, happily spitting water in the air, he might have answered that question with a resounding no. Still, how could a creature really exist, so strange, so beautiful, so… loving? She still haunted his dreams.

  His reverie was broken by Grimson’s voice.

  ‘I think my mother and father are in Valhalla now.’

  Arn turned his head slightly. The Wolfen wasn’t looking at Arn, but was laying back and talking to himself, nodding as he did so. ‘Yes, I think they killed so many Panterran and Lygon that Odin himself wanted them as his personal guard… no, as his generals.’ He nodded. ‘They were great warriors.’

  Arn kept watching the youth, who seemed unfazed by the possibility that both his parents were dead. He was proud of them, nothing more.

  Grim turned to Arn. ‘But not Eilif – she’s not in Valhalla yet.’

  Arn slowly sat forward. ‘Hmm? What makes you say that?’

  Grimson shrugged and turned his head back and closed his eyes. ‘I know it. A Wolfen can sense these things.’

  Arn grunted, and turned over onto his stomach in the water, resting his arms on a rock and his chin on his hands. He watched the waterfall cascade down and smash against the slick stone. Nonsense, but… He frowned and half turned to look at Grimson. The Wolfen did have extraordinary senses, well beyond his own. Could it be true? He lay back down. No, nonsense.

  Arn tried to turn his mind to the path ahead. He hadn’t really planned what to do if he trekked from one side of the Dark Lands to the other and found… nothing? Where was there to go back to? Valkeryn had fallen. Could he find a safe place to live out his life? Live, perhaps for another fifty years as a solitary and unique being. He snorted. He doubted anyone or anything lived a long life in this place.

  He rolled over and spat water into the air. He could accompany Grim on a quest to find the lost Wolfen tribes. Although even Grim admitted they were nearly as much a myth as the mankind were.

  He sighed, and thought about his last option – try and find his way back to the tunnel in the wasteland. Maybe he could re-enter the door that he had originally fallen through? But what of Grim? He could never take him back. What would become of a wolf-like creature in his time? He was a prince, who would end his days as a lab rat… or a circus freak. He shuddered as he remembered the dream of Eilif being carried away. He’d sacrifice himself before he’d ever let that happen.

  Something dark came over the falls in amongst the cascading water. While he continued watching another of the dark objects came over the lip and disappeared into the frothing water. He got to his feet, and carefully walked to the water’s edge. One of the objects floated towards him. It bobbed and tumbled in the current, finally being forced to the bank. Arn stared, and then bent for a closer look. He reached into the water and lifted it free – it was a fish, or what was left of it. But now it got interesting – it was the carcass of a fish that had been cleaned.

  Arn turned it over; there was a spear hole in the head, and both sides of the fish had been expertly filleted – the meat cleanly removed by a sharp blade. He looked up as another one came over the waterfall. The thought struck him like a thunder clap – someone up top was cleaning fish. The Panterrans ate fish, but shredded the flesh, preferring to dig their sharp claws and teeth into the long silver bodies.

  He took a step back, trying to see up over the fall’s edge. The Wolfen hated fish, but he knew of one creature that ate fish, and cleaned it first. He scrambled back to Grimson.

  ‘C’mon, we got to get up on the ridge. I think we’ve found something important.’

  *

  Arn completed the climb first, rushing over the boulders and steeper cliff banks, lest he miss whoever had been throwing the fish carcasses over the edge. He lay on his belly panting. Watching. Grimson soon followed and he flopped down next to Arn, his tongue hanging out, and a hoarse rasp coming from his throat. Arn didn’t need to silence the youth as the roar of the waterfall still masked their sounds.

  The climb had lifted them above the jungle’s canopy. Strong sunlight poured down on the deep, basin shaped pool that fed the lip of the waterfall. Mist billowed up from the falling water, swirling in the agitated air, and cooling them. Still on his belly, Arn wriggled forward, and peered up over a fallen log.

  Just across on the other side of the wide pond there was a large flat rock, and lined neatly upon it were about a dozen filleted fish, professionally cleaned, each resting on a broad leaf. Beside them were a couple of straight poles Arn assumed were the spears used to catch them.

  ‘I’m not eating those.’ Grimson made more disgusted noises in his throat.

  ‘Shush; we didn’t come up here for the fish, but the fishermen.’ Arn lifted himself a little higher, and then crept forward. He froze as the bushes on the other side of the pond thrashed and then opened. Arn’s mouth fell open – it was woman, followed by a man, both short and olive skinned. Even from where Arn stood, he could tell that neither of them was
more than five feet tall, with slender waists and broad shoulders.

  The woman motioned to the fish, and the man started to gather them up. Both wore a knife at their waist, and were wearing what was little more than a skirt. Both were bare from the waist up. Arn couldn’t take his eyes off the woman, and not just because of her partial nudity. It just seemed strange to him now, after what he had endured – a real person, a real human female person.

  Grimson had crept up beside him, and stared hard at the couple. He lifted his head, sampling the air. Arn stuck out an arm at the youth. ‘Stay here, and I mean it.’

  Grim grabbed at Arn’s arm and held him. ‘Wait.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Are they Man-Kind?’ Grimson held onto him.

  Arn frowned down at the Wolfen, not understanding why he had asked the question. He wondered about the quality of the youth’s eyesight. ‘Of course. Maybe a different race. I don’t know if we’ll even be able to understand each other, but they look human to me.’ Arn stepped out.

  Behind him, he heard Grim’s voice. ‘They look like you, but they don’t smell like you. They’re… different.’

  Arn ignored him and stepped further into the sunshine.

  ‘Hello.’

  The man and woman froze, their black eyes round as they stared. Arn’s skin had burned a deep brown, and his long dark hair fell to his shoulders – he hoped they recognized that he could have been one of them, except for his height.

  Arn held up his hand, palm toward them. ‘Hello. I am a friend.’

  There was no response, and the woman looked briefly at the fish, and then back to Arn. Her eyes narrowed.

  Arn waved his hands. ‘No, no, I don’t want your fish. I come in peace.’ He took another step towards them.

  The woman darted forward, snatched up one of the spears, and held it up, spear tip pointed at Arn. She said something over her shoulder and the male darted forward to gather up the fish pieces. He never took his eyes of Arn as he rolled them into the broad leaf, tucked them under his arm, and started to back into the forest. The woman began to follow him.

  ‘Wait!’ Arn started to wade into the water.

  The woman’s eyes went wide, and she screamed at him. ‘No.’

  Arn pulled up shocked, but his face soon relaxed into a smile as his brain registered the recognizable word. He waved. ‘I just want to talk.’

  He started to wade further out into the pool. He could feel the soft silt squelching up between his toes. The cool water felt pleasant against his overheated skin, and he continued on until it reached his waist. He took more steps and then felt a swirl of water followed by a small pinch on the front of his thigh. He looked down to see a flash of silver-orange, the same colors as the fish the couple had been catching.

  There was another nudge and then a pinch to the side of his leg. Looking down this time, he noticed a small plume of red floating around his legs. Blood? he wondered.

  The woman screamed to him again, and looking up, he saw she was motioning him to go back. Confusion was starting to turn to panic. She was pointing at the water, and waving him off.

  Another pinch, more blood, and Arn realised that the original shout to him when he entered the water was a warning – the fish they had been catching might be good to eat, but they obviously returned the favor by finding people just as tasty.

  Arn lifted his arms, staring down into the clear water. More and more of the orange-silver flashes started to swirl around his legs, their movements getting faster and more excited. Given he wore only his breechcloth, the thought of razor sharp teeth finding a hidden area of his body made his stomach, and lower parts shrivel. He covered his groin with his hands, turned and attempted a fast wade back to the shore. Pinches and nips accompanying him as he slipped in the slimy mud on the bottom of the pond.

  He was closing on the bank, when there came a thud, and a shocking pain at his calf. Arn leapt the last five feet, and lay collapsed on the flat rocks beside the water. The fish had followed him right to its edge and boiled and tumbled in the shallows as though annoyed at his escape. He sat up and examined his legs – small grazes, nips and cuts pitted his thighs, but turning one leg over, he saw a good sized mouthful of meat had been taken from his calf. Luckily, they were all treatable with some of the remaining feninlang root, but he was glad he hadn’t been further out – he knew whatever had taken that last bite was a lot bigger than the smaller fish he had first seen.

  He clamped a hand over the wound and looked to the other side of the pond. The woman stood with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. She waggled a finger in the air and shook her head. Even from a distance, he could tell by her expression she thought him slightly dim. In a flash she turned and disappeared back into the jungle.

  He sighed. ‘Well, you never get a second chance to make a first impression.’

  Grimson came and knelt beside him. ‘And was that a good one, Arn?’

  ‘Not really, no.’ Arn looked at the young Wolfen. ‘Have you ever heard of Man-Kind living in the Dark Lands?’

  Grimson shook his head. ‘No. No they don’t. I don’t think they’re really like you anyway.’ He turned to look at the water’s edge and the fish wrestling and tumbling in the shallows. ‘Now do you know why I don’t like fish – yech.’

  Arn laughed and rubbed the youth’s head. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t dream of taking a bite from a Wolfen prince.’

  Arn opened a leather bag he had strung at his belt, and unrolled the waxy leaf that still held some precious red flowers. He squeezed some sap from one of the fleshy petals, and rubbed it onto his wounds, gritting his teeth as the sap sizzled against his skin.

  Grimson threw a rock at the fish still loitering in the shallows. ‘What now?’

  Arn kept applying the lotion. ‘Now? Now, we find a way to cross the river, and find our new friends.’

  Chapter 16

  Welcome From Hell, Pussy

  Brunig half turned to Durok, one of his Lygon comrades and whispered. ‘There are so many, we can eat some. The old queen won’t miss them all.’

  Durok grunted. ‘I have heard their meat is soft, and they are mostly already skinned. I agree, we can take half for Mogahrr, and eat the rest. But patience, we will wait until they come a little closer so they do not scatter when we attack.’

  Brunig nodded and turned to whisper to the dozen enormous Lygon warriors hidden behind the trunks of the trees. They waited, green eyes focused on the approaching line of creatures, the orange and blacks stripes of their bodies rendering them nearly invisible in the dappled light of the forest.

  *

  Briggs’ Delta force team had rested amongst the crucified Wolfen. Sipping water and eating protein rations, none of them look the slightest bit fatigued, even though they had jogged for almost an entire day through dry desert. The colonel had chosen to rest them in amongst the forest of carcasses so they had their first chance to study some of the indigenous life forms up close.

  The professional killers examined the bodies for strengths and vulnerabilities, noting the musculature, the long teeth, and predator’s eyes. They noted the position of vital organs, and felt the consistency of the flesh. They were satisfied in the knowledge that it was the same density as their own – bullets and knives would pierce them with ease. If the wolf creatures engaged or got in the way, they’d be exterminated. But every one of the soldiers knew the wolves were not the main danger, and the huge creatures that had taken out the Green Berets were the priority threat.

  Briggs had them back on their feet quickly, and within an hour they were in sight of the forest edge. She held up her field glasses, moving the electronic dial for magnification. She smiled, and then pressed a stud, changing the vision to infrared. It was what she had expected – phosphorescent orange outlines of huge bodies in concealment. Good, she t
hought, their first test.

  ‘Well, well, we got ourselves a small war party lying in ambush.’

  Samson pulled his gun from over his back. ‘Orders?’

  ‘We take ‘em head on. Time to show them who the boss really is from now on.’ She lowered the binoculars and half turned to the giant soldier beside her. ‘Give me a wedge formation – you and Teacher lead ‘em in.’

  Samson spun and shouted instructions to the team, and they moved into a triangle, Samson and Teacher in front, a soldier at each of their shoulders, and so on. The sound of weapons being locked and loaded snapped back along the line.

  Samson roared over his shoulder and started to run. ‘Stay in formation – standard meet-and-greet – double time.’

  The wedge went with him. Briggs jogged at their rear, doing her best to keep pace with the long strides of her elite Delta team.

  When the soldiers were just a hundred feet out from the tree line, several huge bodies stepped forward. Any normal human would have been dumbstruck by the sight of the fearsome giants. But the elite soldiers had reviewed the footage of the Green Beret attack so many times, they knew how, who, and exactly what to expect.

  Samson and the team kept up the sprint pace. The lead creature roared, making a sound that rolled across the sand towards them with an almost physical wave of power. It swung a huge club back and forth.

  The Lygon was protected by sheets of hammered iron many inches thick, and wore on its head a heavily studded and armored helmet. It would deflect bullets with ease – as the earlier GBs had found to their misfortune. But this time the Delta force had come prepared – uranium tipped rounds, grenade launchers and enough gas to choke a city block.