Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands

by Beck, Greig

  ‘Pull-pull-pull.’ The girl began the chant and the tribe quickly took it up. They separated into two groups, one each side of the flames, some managing to loop their ropes around boulders, or wedge their heels against anything that allowed them to lock the thing in place

  Hissing now came from the mandibles that worked furiously, and its body danced and shuddered. The hissing became a scream, and steam started to escape from its mouth – the giant water creature was being cooked alive. In no time it pulled its legs and claws in and fell on top of the flames, its mottled green body quickly turning bright red.

  Arn dropped the rope and breathed in deeply, inhaling the delicious smell of roasting crab.

  ‘Mmm, I’m starved.’

  Grimson joined him, holding his nose. ‘Phew. You Man-Kind eat some disgusting things.’

  *

  The cooked meat was wrapped in broad, smooth leaves and hoisted up onto their shoulders. Arn had a hundred questions, mostly met with confused looks or shrugs. However, he learned the tribe was called the Panina and the young woman’s name was Simiana. She was clearly in charge of this band of warriors even though she appeared to be the youngest amongst them.

  When Arn asked was it a war party, she had looked bemused and explained – as if to a backward child – that even though there were other races close by, none would think of warring on each other. For what? There was plenty of food, water and land for all. The Panina were a happy and satisfied race, and anyway, Wyrmragon looked over all of them.

  ‘Wyrmragon?’ Arn asked.

  Simiana laughed. ‘Surely you know of Wyrmragon, the one true god.’ She wore a beauteous smile and inhaled as though smelling roses. ‘The god of us all, and you too.’ She turned her smile on him. ‘And who was made flesh for us… all.’ Simiana placed a hand on Grimson’s head, ‘… even you too, young Wolfen.’ She took plenty of time inspecting Grim, running her hands over his fur, feeling his ears, and trying to pull down his lips to see his teeth. Arn could see that Grim wasn’t happy about the examination, but Arn thought it made a nice change not to be the oddity and the one prodded and gawped at by every member of a new race he met.

  ‘We have heard your kind existed.’ Simiana stroked Grimson’s shoulder. ‘Like the Ursa but far smaller.’ She dropped her hand and turned to Arn. ‘And you say he is the son of a ruler… from a kingdom?’

  ‘Yes. Grimson is a prince. Or maybe even the king now if his sister…’ Arn trailed off momentarily. ‘The Valkeryn kingdom doesn’t exist anymore.’

  ‘Yes, our elders tell us that there are some like him that live on the far side of the sea.’

  Grimson’s ear’s pricked up. ‘The Far Wolfen? We seek them. Where is this sea?’

  Simiana pointed. ‘But could you swim over the horizon? There are things in there that would swallow you whole.’

  Arn snorted. ‘Well, there are things on land that would make a meal of you pretty quickly as well.’

  Simiana laughed. ‘True.’ She looked Arn up and down. ‘We will be at our village soon. The king will want to meet you… and the prince of the vanished Wolfen.’

  Simiana strode ahead, berating some of the food bearers for struggling with their packs. Arn and Grimson walked together, Grim’s eyes narrowing as he watched the Panina female bully them back into order.

  Arn also watched the slender woman, but with a greater appreciation for her physical form than her leaderships skills.

  ‘So, this is how we ended up.’ he shrugged. ‘Not so bad.’ He looked down at Grimson who was pulling a face.

  ‘These are not the great Ancients, the masters of this world that our forefathers talked of.’

  Arn shrugged. ‘Maybe not anymore, but let’s hope their elders have records, writings, or something that can tell us more.’ He tore away a piece of the loose cord that was dangling from his huge bundle of meat and used it to tie around his head to keep his hair back. He noticed that many of the natives were watching him, and shortly afterwards, the men had their own hair tied back just he had done.

  Grimson stayed close as they wound their way through the dark vegetation. He continued to study the race of small brown people.

  ‘They are like you, but not like you.’ He snorted as though there was something unpleasant in his nostrils.

  Arn frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Grim tilted his head. ‘They look like you, move like you and sound like you… but they are not.’ He raised his head and sniffed deeply. ‘They smell different. I can sense it.’

  Arn nodded. The Wolfen had exceptional senses and Grimson was also one of the few Wolfen who had a degree of second sight. If he sensed something didn’t fit, Arn knew he should pay attention.

  Arn looked across at Simiana walking out to the side of them. She glanced across her shoulder and smiled. Her features were perfect – olive skin, small upturned nose and large light brown eyes. He smiled back, and continued to watch her. ‘I think she’s pretty fine.’ She giggled and motioned forward with her head. Arn turned just as branch whipped back into his face.

  ‘Serves you right.’ Grimson looked up at him with annoyance. ‘You are not paying attention, Arnoddr – it will get you killed.’

  Arn hoisted the huge pile of meat from one shoulder to the next, grunting under the strain. Even with the moon’s glow giving him an unnatural strength, the weight pressed down as he began to feel the effects of hours of arduous walking that had brought him here.

  Arn pointed. ‘Grim, cut me a long vine will you.’

  The youth walked off a few paces, and in no time returned with about twenty feet of flexible green vine. Arn paused, dropped his package onto the ground and wrapped the wine around it. Then he looped it over both shoulders and hoisted it again. Now the weight sat squarely up on his shoulders like a backpack.

  He exhaled. ‘That’s better. Thought it was going to cripple me.’

  They continued on for another few minutes, and when Arn looked across at the tribe, most of them had found some vine and were now carrying their packs just like Arn.

  ‘Seems you have a lot to teach them.’ Grim said with little enthusiasm.

  ‘Hmm, seems that way.’

  They pushed on as the trees grew even larger, becoming enormous banyans, their gigantic trunks so vast it was hard to tell where one mighty tree started and another finished. The ground seemed firmer from much use, and Arn could smell cooking, leather, and body odor – the smell of group habitation.

  There was an ululating cry from Simiana and rope ladders dropped, making Arn and Grimson jump. Looking up they could see huts, bridges and walkways amongst the canopy –a village in the trees. They’d found the home of the Panina. A home in the sky.

  ‘Tree houses.’ Arn grinned. ‘You live in tree houses.’

  She returned the smile with a shrug. ’It is safer.’

  Platforms came down on pulleys, and many of the warriors climbed on and were quickly hauled back up.

  Simiana motioned to the next platform. ‘King Troglan will wish to meet with you. He will have many questions, I’m sure.’

  ‘Good, so do I.’ Arn and Grim stepped onto the platform and rose skyward.

  *

  The cell was dark. There was only one torch burning along the corridor, and it gave meagre light to the prisoners. Eilif wasn’t bothered by the darkness and knew that dawn would not be far off now. She had managed a little rest, but sleep eluded her, as the Becky Man-Kind had sobbed miserably for most of the night, and in between, had whined to her friend, Edward.

  At one point it had become too much and Eilif had growled at her to be silent, which had only made her sob louder. Her friend had been braver, but he was drenched now, and shivering cold. Just after they had been returned to their prison, Becky had demanded he ask the guards for some more food. The guard had
stared with his luminous green eyes for several seconds, before departing and then quickly returning with a bucket of something cold, wet, and foul smelling. Edward had worn the lot of it. Lesson one: there would be no special favors for Man-Kind in this new kingdom. Lesson two: stop listening to the weak willed female, or she will get you killed.

  Eilif closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Her fatigue dragged her back into a dream. There was another Man-Kind, this one tall and strong with coal-dark eyes. He smiled at her and held out his hand. She reached out to take it. Her own hand was pink and soft and… hairless. She reached up and felt her face, now small and round, teeth tiny and even, not the jagged daggers she now wore.

  She threw her head back and laughed, taking both his hands and spinning round and around together. The sun was on her face and there were green fields, and Man-Kind everywhere. She was with Arn, in his world, his time. It was the most beautiful place in the universe. She reached out again, wanting to throw her arms around his neck, wanting to bring him in close to her. But she couldn’t; something had her wrist.

  Arn pulled away, stepping into a doorway. Wind rushed past her, making her narrow her eyes. The sun disappeared and Arn held out his hand, calling to her, but she couldn’t get to him as something, or someone, held her back. He edged further back through the doorway, but it changed to become a dark maw, purple at the edges and more like a giant wound torn into the darkness.

  She wailed and thrashed, but couldn’t get to him. He was going through now, starting to disappear. She became frantic, and looking down saw there was a rope, a leash binding her wrist. Following it, she saw it was tied to someone else, another Man-Kind, a human girl. The lights went out completely as the doorway snapped shut, and when she looked for Arn, there was nothing but mist settling in the blackness of a cold, dark tunnel.

  She wailed and opened her eyes. She was in the cell, dark, damp, and still tied to the humans. She wailed again and banged her head back into the stone of the wall.

  ‘Stop that. Now who’s making all the noise?’ Becky’s face was twisted in annoyance.

  Eilif grabbed her head and moaned.

  ‘Shut up!’ Becky spat the words.

  Eilif was on her in a flash, pushing Becky back against the wall, her head thudding.

  ‘Edward… get this… animal off… me!’ Becky choked out the words and held an arm across her face.

  Eilif dragged the hand away so she could stare into the girl’s eyes. She bared her teeth, and Edward’s indecision broke and he grabbed Eilif, and tugged.

  Eilif pushed Becky back again with one hand, and also reached across to grip Edward at the throat. She now had them both pinned against the stone wall. She leaned in to Becky’s face, her lips almost touching her cheek.

  ‘Here, you are the animals, you are the freaks.’

  ‘Please.’ Edward whispered, holding the Wolfen’s wrist.

  Becky kept her head turned and sobbed.

  Eilif whispered again to her. ‘You should not have come. The Arnoddr Sigarr is not for you, and you are not for him.’ She pushed them both back hard and released them. ‘Remember my words.’

  Both cowered, with Edward wrapping Becky in his arms. They tried to inch as far from the Wolfen as they could even though they were tied together.

  Eilif brought the rope to her mouth and chewed for a few seconds, easily severing the course fibers. She spat some rope to the floor.

  ‘The Princess of Valkeryn does not wish to be tied to a Panterran pet any longer.’

  Eilif walked to the centre of the cell and stood with her eyes closed. She held up her hands, palm outwards and let her mind roam, to reach out. She could almost feel them – Arn, and Grimson – she had to believe they were alive… it was all she had left.

  ‘Odin keep them safe… and bring them back to me one day.’

  *

  Arn and Grimson were lifted in the rope elevator, Simiana from time to time sneaking glances up at him. He looked across at her. ‘The king is friendly, I hope.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well he is to me… he’s my father.’

  ‘A princess? Of course you are.’ He half smiled; it answered why the tribe had treated her with such deference at her young age. ‘I knew a princess once.’ He looked down at Grim whose eyes burned momentarily.

  ‘You might meet some more.’ Simiana reached out to softly touch his hair. ‘The king has many children, and many wives. He loves us all… and we love him.’ Her hand grasped for a moment. ‘You will too.’

  She reached out to stroke Arn’s long hair, and he caught her hand, squeezed it and let it drop.

  ‘I’m sure we will.’

  She reached out again, determined to touch him. ‘He is a good king and he will want to know where your tribe is from. We know these lands, and of all the Panina tribes in it. There are none like you.’ She looked up at him, her eyes lingering over his towering physique. ‘… none as strong or as handsome as you, strange Arn.’ Her large brown eyes were without shame as she stared.

  Arn gulped and looked away.

  ‘Yech.’ Grimson did the same.

  Having left the elevator, they followed Simiana across bridges, through tunnels dug into the gigantic boughs of the trees, and passed through small gatehouses. The structures were old, but solid, some of them seeming part of the tree.

  At last they came to a large, well-kept bungalow adorned with fresh flowers. A broad balcony was set with a long table and chairs, covered in large bowls of exotic coloured fruits.

  Simiana guided them to one side of the long table, and she sat down at the other, leaving the huge throne-like chair at the head of the table vacant. Grimson leaned forward and sorted through the bowls.

  ‘Any meat?’

  ‘Maybe soon.’ Simiana kept her eyes on the door.

  Grimson dropped the fruit back into the bowl and sat back with folded arms. He grumbled softly.

  At last the door swung open and young woman appeared with trays covered in all manner of foods. They set them down, and the Wolfen looked onto one large platter, and pulled a face. He nudged Arn, and Arn leaned forward to see a plate full of moving… things. He had the impression they were a type of insect as they looked like crickets except instead of legs they had coiling tentacles that thrashed like oily black worms.

  Simiana reached forward to dip her hand into the moving mass and scooped some up, immediately pushing them into her mouth. Arn heard crunching as she chewed. Another tray arrived, this one containing rows of small, cooked animals that looked like rats – thankfully their heads had been removed. Arn tasted one, and found it like a mix of rabbit and anchovy. These were more to Grimson’s liking, and he pushed one after the other into his mouth.

  More flowers were carried out, and then large pots of palms and other strange plants were positioned around the table, acting as both a screen for privacy and also giving the impression of eating in the centre of a garden.

  Once again the doors were pulled back, and this time a small group of males stepped through flanking a brightly adorned man who must have been no more than four feet tall, overweight and slightly bowlegged. A tall wooden crown on his head signified royalty, and his body was heavily daubed with different hues of paint, and he wore a robe that seemed made of flowers all sown together.

  Arn bowed with what he hoped was the right amount of deference, but to him the king looked like one of the people who danced at the head of Rio’s Mardi Gras parade.

  Arn continued standing, but Simiana pulled him down.

  ‘Sit. Troglan will not want to look up to you.’

  Arn sank back into his chair, but couldn’t help but stare. Just like Simiana and all the others in the tribe, the king wore broad moccasin-type footwear. His darting brown eyes regarded both Arn and Grimson for many seconds before he walked toward
them in a curious rocking motion.

  Grimson leaned in close to Arn. ‘Like you, but not like you.’

  Arn glanced at Grim, frowned and turned back gathering his face into the friendliest and most polite expression he could muster. He waited, unsure of the protocol. The new group stopped and just stared… and stared.

  After several minutes, Arn felt ready to burst. He swallowed. ‘Uh, pleased to…’

  Simiana headed him off. ‘Great King Troglan, I present Arnold Singer, and Prince Grimson of Valkeryn.’ She spent the next few minutes giving the king a quick history of their encounter and how Arn had attacked the mugrab by himself, and also lent a hand to pull it from its watery lair, matching the strength of half the tribe.

  The king’s brows flew up and knitted together in turn as he listened. He waddled closer, keeping a watchful eye on Arn, but speaking to Grimson.

  ‘You are a Valkeryn Wolfen. They are no more.’ He turned to Arn. ‘And where do you come from? You are not Wolfen, although you smell of Wolfen. You are not Panina, although you look like Panina. There are none like you in our land.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But, I feel I have seen you before.’

  ‘Seen people like me?’ Arn half rose, excitement getting the better of his manners.

  ‘No, seen you before.’ Troglan continued to stare directly at Arn. ‘Now, where do you come from?’

  Arn cleared his throat, deciding time travel was a subject best kept to himself for now. ‘I am from far lands, on a journey to discover the ancestors of my people. The humans… maybe I’ve found them.’ He turned to smile at Simiana, who had her eyes on the king.

  ‘And the Far Wolfen.’ Grimson added.

  ‘Hu-mans.’ Troglan tested the word, circling the table. ‘In the faraway lands there are hu-mans?’ He grunted. ‘Tell me more of your people.’