Hertha nodded and smiled, bringing her hand up to clasp Calder’s. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Drink,’ said Halvar approaching and handing beakers to them.
Calder gulped at the liquid and kept dragging it down her throat until the beaker was empty. She noticed the purple-robed man speaking seriously with Freyja, who looked flustered. She was trying to make points, but being overruled. There was sunshine peeping through the western windows and a hint of blue sky, and Calder suddenly needed to get away. She passed her beaker to Hertha, patted her on the knee, then rose and strode out of the hall.
The air outside hit her with its freshness and she realised how much the interior stank of smoke and sweat. She breathed in and tried to calm her shaking. The sky was blanketed with low cloud, but in places it was broken, as though eaten away by moths, and sunlight flooded through these holes, spotlighting sections of hillside, here and there setting a mountain afire. There was sunshine on the loch as well, sparkling the rippled surface and colouring it an exquisite blue. She walked down and found a small pebbly beach where she could crouch and study the water. Something jumped and splashed further out. A grebe appeared from some reeds and bobbed before her, oblivious of her presence.
She heard a sound behind and turned to see Punnr. He was carrying a fur wrap and he placed it over her shoulders, then settled himself on a rock a few yards along the shore. Brante was making his way down the slope as well. She picked up a pebble and tossed it into the loch, forcing the grebe to make a rapid retreat. Brante arrived with beakers and a jug.
‘I’ve probably had enough,’ said Calder.
‘A bit more won’t do you any harm.’
She took a beaker and sipped at it as she watched the loch.
‘I’m sorry about all that,’ Punnr said without looking at them.
‘Erland deserved it,’ said Brante.
Calder contemplated the loch. ‘I told Hertha we’d all stick together tomorrow.’
‘All except Erland,’ Brante replied.
‘We’ll keep a wary eye on him. But, if the rest of us stay together, we’ll get through.’
Brante lobbed a stone. ‘It sounds to me like we just have to get to some tower before the Perpetuals and then hold it until we’re collected at dusk. So, as soon as we enter the field tomorrow, we grab Hertha and Vidar and the five of us make for high ground to locate the tower, then speed march direct to it. We don’t stop for anything, we don’t divert and we don’t let those bastard Perpetuals try any stunts. Agreed?’
The other two nodded. ‘Agreed.’
There was movement and they were startled to see Freyja join them on the beach and squat down too. ‘That was an interesting demonstration,’ she said. ‘Not what we were expecting.’
‘Who was the man in the robes?’ Brante asked.
‘As he said, he is called Atilius, Praetor of the Pantheon. He’s important. You’ll learn more after the Sine Missione tomorrow.’
‘Without Mercy,’ said Calder thoughtfully. ‘Why are so many things in Latin?’
‘It’s the way of the Pantheon. They say that the Pantheon first began with Caesar and the Legion. So the rules were drawn up on a Roman basis and Latin is used for all the key events which are common across the Palatinates. We then add our own Valhalla Viking flourishes. Hence, if you join the Horde, you’ll find we’re structured as a true Viking army and we have our Viking customs and ancient Norse names, yet our actions are ordered around major Pantheon ceremonies which are Roman in essence.’ She looked at each of them and they could see she wanted to say more, but was trying to hold back. They waited and eventually she spoke. ‘I’ve just been informed that the rules tomorrow have been changed.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Brante demanded.
‘You will go into the field in pairs – and you are likely to find your companion is a Perpetual.’
‘Shit,’ Brante swore.
‘It just gets better and better,’ Punnr smiled thinly, staring out across the water.
Freyja continued. ‘It’s highly unusual to change the rules. Normally they send everyone into the field together and in that scenario my advice would be to keep it that way, work together and get to the tower. But this time it’s going to be different, so don’t trust your partner. Get yourself on your own as soon as you can and stay that way until you can find another Thrall.’ She cut herself off. ‘I’ve said as much as I should.’
Calder looked at her for several long moments and then said, ‘Tell us this, Freyja, and tell us truthfully. Is the Pantheon worth it?’
‘Yes. I believe it is. If you become Oathsworn, you’ll have many, many occasions when your lives are at risk. Such sacrifice is expected of you. But the rewards outweigh those risks. In the Pantheon there is honour; there is valour; there is adventure; and, above all, there is comradeship. You will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with comrades in arms.’
‘Unity,’ breathed Brante.
‘Yes, unity. Like nothing you find in the real world.’ She let her words sink in, then said in a new tone, ‘But you can still step away. You are not yet Oathsworn. You need only give me your amulets.’
Calder stared out across the loch and thought about her little flat by the banks of the Leith and about Justin in his office somewhere in the city and her mother in Kirkcudbright.
‘I’m in,’ she said.
Punnr looked at her. ‘Me too.’
‘Aye,’ said Brante.
Freyja stood. ‘So be it. Go carefully tomorrow. Don’t trust the Perpetuals. By day’s end you will have aged, you will be wiser – and you may be crueller. But you’re all good enough for this and soon we will welcome you into the Horde.’
The arrival of the Valhalla Caelestis at the castle was understated. No helicopter landing on the front lawn. No underlings rushing to their positions. No procession up the grand steps. Instead a single Range Rover bore him through the dark and drew up at a little noticed side door to the keep. Wearing a hooded cowl over his head, he slipped from the vehicle’s comfortable interior and crossed the few metres of gravel.
A lone figure waited for him. ‘My lord Odin.’
‘Atilius. I might have known you’d be here.’
‘Tomorrow is an important day. I would be negligent in my duties if I wasn’t present to ensure its smooth running.’
Odin brushed past him, ascended the stairs and entered his quarters at the top of the keep. The lighting, heat, bed linen and bathroom fittings were all the best money could buy, but these modern embellishments were subtle. In all other respects, the rooms retained their ancient ambience. Thick stone walls, tiny windows, oak flooring, deep hearths alight with flame, tapestries, rugs, simple wooden furniture.
‘So it begins,’ he said over his shoulder, pulling off his cowl and taking it into the bedroom.
‘It does indeed, lord,’ Atilius replied. ‘The Nineteenth Season.’
‘Is that goddamn Radspakr here?’
‘He is delayed. But will be with us before tomorrow’s events are over.’
Odin strode back into the main room. There was wine and coffee left on the table. He poured a single goblet of wine and drank deeply. ‘Is everything set?’
‘It is, lord. Halvar and Freyja have your Valhalla Thralls in the main hall. And the Perpetuals are in the further wing.’
He took his goblet over to the fire to warm himself. ‘Six Thralls and eight Perpetuals,’ he said, staring at the flames. ‘And at the end I take seven. I assume the sensible money’s on the Perpetuals?’
‘Perhaps, lord, and perhaps not. The Thralls are an interesting bunch.’
‘They’d better make it worth my damn time.’
‘I believe they will.’ Atilius paused. He still stood in the doorway, his purple robes shimmering under a spotlight embedded in the ceiling. ‘The Lord High Caelestis has suggested a change to the usual groupings… to make it more interesting.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Only with your blessing, natu
rally. You are the Valhalla Caelestis. This is your Sine Missione.’
‘And what, pray, has our bloody Lord High Caelestis suggested?’
‘Pairings. One Thrall to one Perpetual. It will add to the tension of the day.’
‘It will add to the number of goddamn unfortunate incidents, that’s what it will do.’
‘Indeed, lord.’
Odin poured another drink and seated himself at the end of the table. ‘Do it. As long as I have seven at the end.’
‘You will, my lord. You may rest assured.’
‘Now bugger off, Atilius. I wish to shower.’
XVII
The vehicles bounced along a stony track in the half light of dawn. The sky was just pale enough to make out the black masses of hills on either side and the headlights captured glimpses of moorland rolling away into nothingness. It had snowed overnight, little more than a dusting, but enough to lend a ghostly eeriness. The going was rough and the vehicles threw their passengers around as they lurched through potholes and forded gushing mountain burns.
The convoy comprised four mud-streaked Land Rovers, and Punnr sat with Calder, Vidar and Brante in the third. They had breakfasted in the hall and Freyja had encouraged them to eat heartily of the porridge, sausages, crumpets and warm wine, but, in truth, none of them had found the appetite to force much down their throats. It had been a subdued affair, lit only by a small fire in the hearth. Halvar and Freyja were studious in speaking with each of them, giving them quiet words of encouragement and patting them on the shoulders as they passed, but their actions only served to heighten the tension. It was obvious that their journey with these Housecarls was coming to an end of some kind that day and the ending was as yet unwritten.
They were dressed in their usual boots and black trousers, along with woollen fleeces and fur hats. In addition, each wore a body length cloak which had been placed upon their shoulders by Halvar and then fastened around their necks with a silver clasp in the shape of the Triple Horn of Odin. That was all. None of them had been provided with provisions, tools or spare garments, and Calder stared out at the cold darkness beyond the windows and fiddled nervously with her Odin clasp.
To their left was a high deer fence which had been running alongside the track for most of the hour they had been travelling. Every mile or so they came to a tower with a gate beneath it. The edges of the towers bristled with wire and Calder doubted such defences were needed simply to stop roaming deer. They were there to enclose something else and she wondered what awaited within.
They reached another of the towers and this time the convoy ground to a halt. Two more 4x4s were waiting just off the track, their headlights illuminating the fence, and Calder thought she could see someone standing at the top of the tower. A figure detached itself from the darkness and pulled open the passenger door. It was a Vigilis, not helmeted on this occasion, but with a thick scarf and a fur hat pulled so far down that they could see little more than his moustache and the black eyes above.
‘Which of you is Brante?’ he asked brusquely, craning his neck to look into the back.
‘Here.’
‘Get out.’
Brante opened his door and dropped to the ground, hugging his cloak around him in the chill. Punnr made to step out as well.
‘Just him,’ said the Vigilis and then stalked along to the vehicle in front. After a few more words they saw one of the Perpetuals alight as well.
Brante looked back at them and nodded grimly. ‘This seems to be where we part company.’ He held the door and the steam from his breath swirled in.
On an impulse, Punnr offered his hand.
Brante grasped it. ‘Whatever they throw at us, stay safe all of you. And let’s find each other in there as soon as we can.’
He slammed the door and the vehicle began to bump away. Punnr watched him from the back window and saw him walking over to the Perpetual before the figures disappeared from his view.
Every mile they came to another tower and they found more vehicles waiting and the procedure repeated itself. A different Vigilis came to the cars and two individuals were ordered to alight. At the third stop their door was wrenched open and Vidar was told to step out. In the growing light of dawn, Punnr saw that the other figure was Ulf. A bleak sense of foreboding rolled through his stomach.
‘Be careful my friend,’ he said to Vidar. ‘That one is a snake.’
‘I won’t take my eyes from him, Punnr.’
A mile further and it was Punnr’s turn to be called. He looked at Calder and felt a surge of reluctance to abandon her. ‘Good luck,’ was all he could think to say.
‘You too.’ She looked fragile and wan, and he could see her pale face watching him as the car bumped away.
Once the convoy had been lost along the track, an intense silence descended. The song of countless miles of empty land muffled by snow. One of the Perpetuals was standing a short distance away, cloak wrapped around him, and the Vigilis who had called them was striding back to a parked car. Punnr heard a noise above him and saw another figure in the tower pointing a video camera right back at him.
Irritated, Punnr headed to the Perpetual. He was of a similar height and build, with scraggy ginger hair and a thin beard, sallow complexion, and calculating blue eyes. He looked Punnr up and down, taking the measure of him.
‘We’re on film again,’ Punnr commented, but the other man didn’t reply. ‘I’m Punnr.’ He held out his hand.
The Perpetual paused, then took it. ‘I know. I’m called Gulbrand.’
Punnr looked at the fence and the land beyond. The growing visibility was beginning to reveal a vast valley cosseted by icy mountain flanks. There were patches of heather moorland, white in the dim light and surrounded by forest. The trees began not far from the fence line, sterile ranks of conifer through which no light could penetrate and under which only carpets of dropped needles would be found. But lower down towards a river, it seemed as though the trees became much less tightly packed and were larger, with vegetation clumped around them. Far beyond the river a single hill struggled from the grips of the forest and on its summit was a tower.
‘What happens now?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ said Gulbrand, but Punnr sensed he knew more than he was choosing to say.
The Vigilis emerged again from the car and walked over to them. ‘Follow,’ he snapped and led them to the gate. He unlocked it, but didn’t pull it open. Instead, he looked at the two of them, his long moustache damp in the morning air. ‘You have until dusk. Be at the tower then and you’ll be collected.’
He lapsed into silence again, one hand still on the handle of the gate. Punnr stamped his feet and listened to the man coughing in the tower above. Then the peace was shattered by a single long mournful horn which reverberated off the distant faces of the mountains. The Vigilis yanked open the gate and herded them through.
‘Go,’ he commanded, waving them towards the forest. ‘Go!’
Calder was the last from her vehicle. She had watched Punnr’s figure disappear from view, then sat rigid in the back as the driver took her a further mile along the track. When he stopped she didn’t wait for the Vigilis, but stepped out into the cold and looked across to where the final Perpetual was also alighting. He stood next to the car and returned her look. With much noise and bumping, the vehicles turned and headed back along the track, leaving the two cloaked figures alone with a Vigilis who emerged from a parked car.
The snow was soft beneath her boots and would soon turn to slush as it melted. She shivered under her cloak and saw a man in the tower leaning forward and aiming a video camera straight at her. She gave him an imperious look and walked across to the Perpetual.
‘Hello,’ she said. He had removed his fur hat and she could see his curly black hair and pimples. No more than a boy. ‘What are you called?’
‘Einar.’
‘And what does Einar mean.’
‘The one who fights alone.’
Calder
wasn’t certain she liked the idea of that. ‘I’m Calder, which I am told means cold waters.’
‘I know,’ he replied stiffly.
The Vigilis approached, gave them their instructions and took them over to the gate. The man above was leaning right over the parapet to ensure he captured their every move on film. Then the horn echoed across the valley and the Vigilis began pushing them through the gate.
‘That way,’ he said, pointing down the obvious path between the ranks of pine, then he stalked back to the warmth of his waiting car, his duty performed.
Calder and Einar began to walk. The trees closed in and despite the growing daylight, they could only see past the first two or three trunks before darkness prevailed once more. The snow was slippery underfoot and their breath plumed around them. On a tree to their right, Calder noticed a camera fixed to the trunk with a large battery pack strapped next to it. It turned as they walked by, following their progress. She didn’t know if Einar had noticed, but she decided not to say.
There was absolute quiet except for the squelch of their boots. No birdsong danced through the branches, no forest resident ferreted in the needles beneath. Even the slight breeze she had felt beside the cars couldn’t pierce this far onto the path. She listened to Einar breathing near her and thought about Freyja’s warning. Get yourself on your own as quickly as you can. But the forest was impenetrable. There was nowhere to go but ahead. She stole a glance at her companion. He looked young and strained and she thought he should be in school uniform. His hands were inside the folds of his cloak and she wondered if he concealed anything.
‘What do you think we should be doing?’ She put voice to her questions.
‘Just keep walking.’
‘Did they tell you much about the Sine Missione?’
‘Only that if we look carefully, we’ll find all we need.’
The Wolf Mile Page 13