Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands

by Beck, Greig

  Arn smiled, slowly feeling that the greeting was turning into an interrogation.

  ‘My people are the friendliest people in the world, and we live beyond the wasteland. I travelled a long way, and found my way to Valkeryn.’

  ‘Just for discovery? This is a gamble for any race. There must be something well worth finding to travel so far across a desert that has never been crossed, and into such dangerous lands. Are there many more hu-mans there?’

  ‘Well, yes and no, but I believe this is a clue to their whereabouts.’ Arn pulled out the fragment of ancient parchment that Vidarr had given him. The faint lightning bolt and fist inked onto the map were still vivid.

  Troglan traced it with his long finger, while Simiana looked over his shoulder. She whispered to him. ‘Just like in the metal caves.’

  ‘What? You’ve seen it.’ Arn shot to his feet, making the king jump back. The guards crowded in front of him, pointing their spears. Simiana held up a hand, and pushed Arn back down into his seat.

  The king came out from behind his Praetorian guard. He still held Arn’s map in one hand. He looked away as if becoming disinterested.

  ‘This image drawing – we might have seen it before.’ He leaned closer to Simiana and whispered. She nodded and turned to Arn.

  ‘It is customary, when meeting the king, to offer him a gift.’

  ‘A… gift?’ Arn repeated.

  She nodded.

  ‘Uh, okay.’ Arn’s mind worked furiously. ‘I bring you the gift of knowledge.’

  The king’s small brown eyes remained bored. ‘And…’

  Arn groaned, feeling at his belt. His hand closed on his only possession. ‘And this.’ Arn pulled out his penknife, the only object left from his own time. He handed it to Simiana, who offered it to the king on an open hand.

  He lifted it carefully, feeling its weight. To Arn’s surprise, he then put it in his mouth, feeling the steel with his teeth. Removing it, he set about pulling and picking at it. He held it out to Arn.

  ‘Show me what it does.’

  Arn got to his feet, once again rising to his full height and making the king cower slightly. The guards watched him carefully as he approached. Arn lifted his hands. ‘Take it easy, boys.’ He slowly reached out for the knife.

  Simiana crowded in close, placing a hand high on his shoulder, and watching intently as Arn used his thumb and forefinger to carefully lever out the largest blade.

  The silver was now tarnished and the blade’s edge somewhat blunted, but the king’s face lit up in wonderment. Arn continued to pull out tools – the small saw, magnifying glass, tweezers and corkscrew.

  ‘It is a multipurpose tool. It can cut things, saw wood, clip nails, and even remove splinters.’ He bowed slightly and held it out. ‘I give this great gift to you.’

  Troglan reached out to take it, and Arn swapped it in his hands for the scrap of ancient parchment. Troglan didn’t notice, his focus solely on the small utility knife. He held it up, showing it left and right to the guards. He ran a finger down the blade, feeling the sharpness, and then set about closing and then reopening all of the instruments.

  Simiana looked up at Arn, grinning. ‘It is a wonderful gift.’

  Arn raised his eyebrows. He was happy to have delighted his new hosts, but sorry that his last link to his old home was now gone.

  The king handed the knife to a guard, and his face became serious. ‘Such a wonderful device. The tribe that built this must be very powerful.’ His eyes lifted to Arn. ‘Do the other hu-mans in your tribe know where you are now?’

  Arn shook his head. ‘No, I think I am lost to them.’

  ‘Lost.’ Troglan nodded, his smile appearing once again. ‘Lost... only for now I think.’ The king turned and waved towards the door to his wooden palace and immediately three women that, to look at, could have been Simiana’s sisters, returned holding three goblets – one for the king and one each for Arn and Grimson.

  The king’s large cup was crusted with what looked like pieces of polished metal. If steel was prized, no wonder his knife was considered such a hit. Arn’s and Grimson’s cups were made of more modest wood.

  Troglan took his cup and raised it. ‘Juice of the wild sunberry – very rare, very delicious.’ He lifted it to his lips and drained the nectar. Arn discretely sniffed at his, shrugged and did the same. Grimson following suit.

  Delicious was right – sugary, golden and electric on the tongue. Arn smacked his lips, and the king smiled warmly.

  ‘Good. Now, we should eat, rest, and then later this evening we can talk some more… maybe about the image drawing.’ He looked across to Simiana. ‘After all, if my favorite daughter approves of you, then I approve of you.’ The king half bowed, and started to turn away.

  Arn also bowed, feeling pleased his gift had left him in good standing with the king, until he caught sight of the look that passed between father and daughter – sly, satisfied and conspiratorial. As the royal group left, two of the two guards smirked as they backed away.

  ‘I don’t trust him.’ Grimson said as Arn finished his drink.

  ‘Definitely strange… but, what choice do we have?’

  Chapter 30

  We Wolfen are Not Dead Yet

  Teacher’s eyes felt gritty. Morning was coming, and they had given up any chance of sleep, trading it off against moving quickly to achieve their objective. Strangely, when the moon had risen, they felt as if they had all been given a shot of adrenalin and steroids, or military go-juice that allowed them the extra energy to keep ploughing on.

  But now, with the moon sinking below the horizon as dawn approached, they had felt the fatigue come down heavily upon legs and backs. Teacher sucked in a deep breath; they were Delta, they would go on, indefinitely if need be.

  In the predawn darkness, they moved silently on new trails beaten down through the thick jungle. Each of the elite soldiers wore night vision goggles, with Weng, their best tracker, out front. He had already reported that there were two groups, the one in front most likely being the Singer youth. He guessed that the larger group, who were a mix of large and small non-human biped creatures were after him as well – from their experience to date, he didn’t expect they were some sort of rescue party.

  From time to time Weng or Teacher called a halt. If Teacher held up a fist, the team knew to freeze, slow their breathing, and listen.

  Teacher concentrated. Other than the normal sounds of a jungle going about its eat or be eaten business, there were no sounds of pursuit. He turned his head slowly, and let his eyes move over the dark jungle – he had that feeling. After a while he dropped his fist, and they continued.

  After another few hours, Don Brown caught him up and whispered. ‘Boss. Someone or something on our twelve o’clock – been there for a few miles now.’

  Teacher didn’t turn and kept looking directly ahead. However, he let his eyes shoot skyward. After a few minutes he saw it – a figure, the size and shape of a man, moving along the thick limbs about fifty feet above the ground. He grunted; they were good, silent, and agile – definitely a hunter.

  ‘Got it. Any others?’

  Like Teacher, Brown stared straight ahead. ‘Nope, just our special friend in the trees.’

  ‘Okay, let’s keep moving forward until we know what their plans are.’

  ‘Could be a spy boss. I can take him down – wing him, then we could have a chat.’

  ‘They’re definitely tracking us. But for now, just keep watching. If he or she looks like they want to play rough, then I want you to stun them… load a Taser bolt.’

  ‘You got it.’

  *

  Sorenson heard the sound of the group pushing through the jungle a few hours back. Even though they probably thought they travelled in silence, the amount of noise they made indicated
they had to be something other than Panterran or Lygon, and definitely not Wolfen.

  He’d been close to the Lygon and Panterran camp, which had been stirring in the predawn mist when he had detected the sound of the group’s approach. He was tempted to wait and see what happened when the new group blundered into them. But something nagged at him, insisting he intercept them… or at least get a better look at them. He spun back, racing along the branch highways, and looped around to come up behind the noisy group. He would stay just behind their heads, so he could look down on them.

  At first he was amazed, and then thrilled – Man-Kind, fully grown, covered in soft-looking armor and with all manner of things that hung from their belts. Each had black sticks held out in front of them. Most had some type of mask over their eyes. He stared hard – they had to be tracking the Arnoddr – they could be his friends, and therefore potential Wolfen allies.

  He shook his head. They made more noise than a herd of binox. He remembered how small the Arnoddr’s ears, eyes and nose were – no wonder their senses were inferior. He started to ease down towards them. They would need help to navigate this world. He could not allow them to blunder in on the war party – they would be massacred.

  Sorenson scaled down to another limb, now only thirty feet up and just to the left of them. He kept his eyes on them, planning to drop down and let them walk up to him, so as not to frighten or startle them. He doubted they would cause him any troubles, given none of them even came up to his chin.

  Just as he readied himself to drop down onto another branch, one of them spun, pointed his black stick at him, and immediately Sorenson felt a sting in his thigh. A thousand hot nettles stung at him, locking his muscles and causing his jaws to clack shut. He slid from the branch and hit the ground.

  In an instant he was surrounded. If he could have moved his face he would have smiled, relieved – it seemed the mankind were not so defenseless after all.

  *

  Teacher jerked his thumb. ‘Get him up.’

  Doonie and Brown each took an arm and lifted the Wolfen.

  ‘Jesus, he’s heavy – must be solid muscle.’

  The Wolfen shook his head, blinked and worked his jaw, feeling his chin with a hand. He reminded Teacher of a boxer who had been knocked to the canvas. His eyes cleared and he straightened – tall, close to seven feet, and formidable looking. Nothing like the old Wolfen, Balthazaar, they had encountered back in the forest.

  He half bowed, and when he straightened again his eyes were on Teacher. They were deep green and their intense gaze bored into him.

  ‘I hoped you would come.’ He leaned his head forward. ‘Are you here for the Arnoddr?’

  Teacher remembered that was the name Balthazaar used for Arnold Singer. The Wolfen waited, his eyes never leaving Teacher’s face. The Delta leader pushed his rifle up over his shoulder.

  ‘Lower your weapons.’ He stuck out his hand, and the Wolfen smiled, looking down at the open hand.

  ‘Yes, just like the Arnoddr.’ He grabbed it and squeezed. Teacher did his best not to wince.

  ‘I am Captain Jim Teacher, DeltaForce, here to find Arnold Singer and get him home. Do you know where he is?’

  ‘You are the warrior class of the Ancients.’

  ‘We are soldiers, and if you mean Ancients as in mankind, then yes, we are their warriors. We do not have a lot of time. Do you know where the boy is?’

  The Wolfen tapped his chest with a fist. ‘I am Sorenson, son of Stromgard, once defender of the great king Grimvaldr…’ His eyes grew dark. ‘… who I failed.’

  Sorenson sucked in a huge breath, his chest swelling. ‘The one you seek is in the company of the young prince, Grimson. He is being tracked by a war party of Lygon and Panterran assassins. The war party is just along this track. Arnoddr and Prince Grimson are perhaps a day and half ahead of that. I seek them also, to join their quest and offer my protection.’

  Teacher turned to look in the direction of the war party, then to the rapidly lighting sky. ‘Can we go around them?’

  The Wolfen thought for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Yes.’ He stepped in closer to Teacher. ‘But why would you, Jim Teacher? You are noisy and they would soon hear you, or pick up your trail. Then you would constantly have them at your backs. They hunt well in the dark.’

  Teacher nodded, knowing the Wolfen was right. He would be wise not to underestimate these beings again. Eventually his Deltas would need to rest, and the last thing he needed was a large group of giant Lygon ambushing them out of the dark.

  ‘I agree. We have the element of surprise… for now.’

  The Wolfen nodded. ‘Their eyes are better in the darkness. So when it is light… attack.’

  ‘Can you lead us to them… without them hearing?’

  ‘No. They will hear you before you get close. They also travel with one of my own kin… a traitor. His name is Bergborr, and he is a good tracker. He will find you. Better if I draw them out, lead them back along the trail… for you to ambush.

  Teacher nodded. ‘Works for me.’ He held out his hand again and Sorenson took it. This time there was no smile, and the Wolfen bared huge teeth. ‘Kill them all.’

  Teacher held the gaze. ‘Fight or die.’

  Sorenson released his hand. ‘Fight or die – yes, spoken like a Wolfen.’

  *

  Sorenson dropped from the branches and walked lightly along the path to the Lygon camp. His footfalls were unheard by the huge guards who were more interested in making sure they didn’t miss out on the food being portioned out for breakfast. Further in, Panterran moved in and out of the large orange and black bodies that jostled each other as the camp roused itself in readiness for the day.

  Sorenson could see the Panterran called Orcalion speaking to Bergborr at the far side of the camp, while other Panterran huddled in groups whispering, undoubtedly voicing their displeasure at the lack of comforts, or of the odors of the huge Lygon. Sorenson walked ever closer, only stopping when he stood before the pair of massive guards, their backs turned and necks straining to see in at the cooking fires.

  ‘No need of food in Hellheim, brainless beasts.’

  The Lygon swung around, their luminous eyes going wide. Surprise and confusion stunned them momentarily before they reacted in the only way they knew how – they attacked. Both lifted huge weapons, but, as Sorenson expected, surprise was his.

  The Lygon were powerful, but slow. The first Lygon swung his weapon, but the Wolfen stepped in underneath the moving mace. Sorenson’s blade flicked out, easily passing through the fur and neck muscle. He fell back, surprise on his face as his life spurted away in a hot red fountain.

  The second Lygon managed to swing his axe, the massive blade sinking three feet into the earth. While the great beast tugged at it, it would have been easy to take his head, but Sorenson’s job was done – he leapt back and started to run, yelling as he went.

  ‘For the Valkeryn Wolfen.’ He turned to look over his shoulder. The camp was roused and small and large faces were twisted in surprise and anger. One at the rear, the dark Wolfen’s, burned with hatred. They charged after him.

  Sorenson sped back along the track, praying to Odin the warrior Man-Kind were ready… and as skilled as he hoped.

  *****

  Alf Doonie held up a small matt black box, reading numbers off the tiny screen. ‘Coming in fast, multiple signatures, big bodies – all biological, but plenty of iron.’

  Teacher edged in behind the trunk of a tree. ‘Hold until we have line of sight targets, and then fire at will. Kill shots only – no prisoners.’

  ‘I heard that.’ Alison Sharp snapped a full magazine of uranium tipped rounds into her HK416 and hunkered down low behind a cluster of fern fronds.

  Sorenson burst into view, sprinting past them and then skidding to a sto
p. He turned, planted his legs and held his sword ready.

  ‘For Valkeryn!’

  The horde came screaming after him, a boiling mass of teeth and claw and luminous green eyes filled with a blood lust that none of the Deltas had ever witnessed in anything human.

  ‘Fire.’

  Shots rang out, and huge bodies fell hard. Some of the Panterran in amongst them were obliterated by the high caliber bullets.

  In a matter of minutes it was over. Teacher held up a hand. ‘Hold fire.’

  Smoke rose from gun barrels, and from the small red wounds where the hot tipped bullets had entered iron, flesh or bone. Sorenson walked forward his sword held out. He stepped up on and over bodies. His searching became more frantic as he delved into the jungle at the edge of the pathway, or back along the trail.

  Teacher got to the feet and spoke over his shoulder. ‘Doonie, anything on the scope?’

  The Delta looked down at his device. ‘Just our wolf friend – otherwise, all clear.’

  After a moment Sorenson came back in. His face was troubled.

  Teacher met him. ‘Did we get them all?’

  ‘No, not the ones I wanted.’ He turned slowly looking out into the jungle. ‘All the Lygon are dead, and most of the Panterran. But two are not here – the queen’s confidant and the dark Wolfen, Bergborr… and I have an old score to settle with him.’

  ‘Great.’ Teacher half turned. ‘Simms, Brown, Weng, go to thermal and do a perimeter sweep – we might have missed some.’ He turned back to the Wolfen. ‘Will they track us, or cause us problems?’

  Sorenson seemed to think for a moment, and then shook his head. ‘I do not think so. Both lack strong sáál. More than likely they will try and flee home. Let us hope the jungle takes them both.’