The Wolf Mile

by C. F. Barrington

  ‘And if the structure of the clue is the same as the first one, then the bit about find me beside the carts is the specific directional information once we’ve already found the location. We have to work out the first sentence about day of rest and all is at peace to know the primary site.’

  Oliver finished his bar. ‘Sunday. Day of rest. A church?’ He searched for churches within the one-mile radius and brought them up on a satellite image. ‘Well, that doesn’t narrow the field much.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to go. Time for school and Mum’ll be yelling for me in a minute. Leave it with me, Tyler. I’ll find the answer for you, I promise.’

  After he had gone, Tyler showered, ate a light breakfast, smoked two cigarettes and drank a thumbful of whisky before falling asleep on his sofa dressed only in jeans. Later, as he ate noodles in front of the evening news, his fork was arrested midway to his mouth when the television screen filled with footage of his white-clad self kneeling beside the statue, surrounded by a bristling ring of shields and axes.

  ‘This footage was taken at 2.30 a.m. last night in Princes Street Gardens,’ a female commentator intoned over the film. ‘It is believed to show members of the secretive – and illegal – Pantheon, known as Edinburgh’s Valhalla Horde. The Horde is said to live like ancient Vikings, modelling themselves around the customs of this warlike people, and experts believe they inhabit long-forgotten tunnels beneath the Royal Mile in Edinburgh’s Old Town.’

  The piece cut to the reporter wrapped in an expensive coat and standing in the Gardens in the dull morning light. Next to her was an emaciated older man, with stubble and a woollen hat pulled tight over his head. He looked sullen, but when she turned to him, his face brightened.

  ‘So, Iain, I understand you took the film and, indeed, witnessed much of the activity last night.’

  ‘Aye, that I did. Aye. They just come down from the bridge, chum like. They had swords, shields, axes. So we not gonna mess with them, you know what I mean? Strong lads, aye. It were the Horde, I ken.’

  ‘And did you see what they were doing?’

  ‘Nah, it were pure shan. Sommat by the statue, but they were only there a few moments.’ He grinned and pumped a thin fist at the camera. ‘We canna believe we saw the Horde!’

  The reporter turned back to the camera. ‘A statement from Police Scotland says that they are treating this sighting seriously. But despite ongoing condemnation from both the Holyrood and Westminster governments, it seems the activities of the Pantheon continue unchallenged. Speculation is rife that the New Year marks the start of an annual cycle of violent activities and Police Scotland is warning everyone to take special care if out after dark in the city centre, although they also want to reassure both residents and visitors to the capital alike that there is no evidence of these activities ever jeopardising innocent members of the public.

  ‘A brief survey among commuters this morning shows that this sighting – along with all other such sightings of the Pantheon – is being greeted with the usual mix of either excitement or complacent shrugs. The residents of Edinburgh are very used to these nightly activities during the winter months and sceptical that the government has the means – let alone the will – to do anything about them.

  ‘In the meantime, the big question on many people’s lips this morning is – who is the knight in shining armour? Shani Robertson, BBC News, Edinburgh.’

  Tyler’s blood ran from his face and the noodles were forgotten. There was a knock on the door and Oliver, back from school, pushed his way in. ‘I just saw it. And it’s all over the internet. They were by that statue. You know, The Genius of Architecture.’

  Tyler stood and began to wave a placatory hand. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I won’t tell a soul.’

  Tyler studied him, took in the firmness in his eyes and the integrity in his young voice. ‘You mustn’t Oliver, you really mustn’t. It has to be our secret.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know. Not a word. Wow, Tyler. Amazing! The Valhalla Horde. I always thought so.’

  ‘Please never say anything to anyone or I’m going to be in real trouble.’

  Oliver nodded solemnly. ‘You can count on me.’

  Outwardly, Sveinn retained a regal calm, but few among the Horde were fooled. The first Raid, for all its ease, had turned out to be an almighty blunder.

  ‘Well, thank you BBC,’ he said acidly to his Council when they gathered four days later. ‘Very kind of you to show the precise location of the Asset in such detail. Now the Titans don’t need to spend any time solving that particular clue, they can just sit back and watch us stampede to it on the news.’ No one dared respond. ‘A few vagrants bedding down for the night, by Odin! They should have been rounded up and their phones destroyed. You are fools for the oversight! Asmund, we will need to split Storm Regiment for the next Raid to ensure you have archers in place if the Titans send their White Warrior straight to the Gardens. Or the next thing I learn will be that they’ve obtained the Asset uncontested.’

  The King’s mood wasn’t enhanced by the news that no one yet knew the answer to the second riddle. ‘Let me reiterate the importance of solving these puzzles. In the forthcoming Blood Season, we will face the Sky-Gods in the Grand Battle. Everything that has gone before dwindles into insignificance compared to this confrontation. Our army will find itself dropped into the wilderness of the northern Highlands, possibly several days march from the chosen battlefield. Our deployment, our tactics, indeed our very strength, will be hugely undermined by failure to collect these military Assets. So bring me the answer to this clue.’

  But as the days passed, the combined efforts of Tyler and Oliver were not enough. Tyler spent lonely hours searching fruitlessly online, trying every variation of Sunday and Edinburgh and day of rest and seventh day, but he just ended up trawling through reams of websites for Adventists, churches and even seven-day weather forecasts. He cursed and anger pulsed through him.

  He called in sick for three of his library shifts and spent the days locked in his flat, but during the nights he found himself drawn back to the underground stronghold. It was quieter between Raids, but Brante and Leiv were often to be found passing the hours in the West Hall or one of the vaults, practising their swordcraft, drinking beer or challenging others to games of Hnefatafl, the chess-like game adored by the ancient Vikings. Punnr joined his friend and they talked, but Sveinn had been clear that the riddles could be shared with no one beyond the Council of War, so he was unable to seek Brante’s help. He would take himself off and pace the tunnels, listening to the light traffic above and to the music that sometimes oozed through the walls from bars and clubs that inhabited the vaults further south. Little did these establishments realise the Horde listened to their beats too. He didn’t encounter Calder and he wondered if she slept soundly somewhere out there in the city.

  Radspakr watched him. The Thane kept himself mostly shut in his administrative lairs, but Punnr knew the man’s eyes were upon him. He thought about challenging his lie. He wanted to ram it down his throat, but he did little more than clench his fists and stamp down the tunnels.

  Each night, Sveinn asked Punnr if he yet knew the answer to the clue and each night Punnr saw the disappointment in his king. Sveinn was different on these inactive nights. Quieter, more insular. Older. A man who had witnessed many troubled times and had perhaps lost the ability to find any peace. Punnr wondered what he did with himself up there on the streets during daylight hours. He must be a wealthy man for the Pantheon would have rewarded him generously. Did he idle behind the shutters of a central townhouse or the greenery of a Morningside mansion? Did he have a wife? Did he exercise a dog? Was there someone who called him father?

  So came the day of the second Raid. Tyler waited in his flat until Oliver returned from school, but the boy was downcast and shook his head forlornly. This time there would be no breakthrough. They had nothing. Tyler shut himself in his apartment and slumped
on the sofa. Well, Sveinn and the Council would have to accept it. He couldn’t perform miracles.

  He rose and walked over to the graduation photo. He unhooked his ivory Odin amulet from where it hung over the frame, squeezing it lovingly in his palm, and examined the three of them with their glasses of bubbly, laughing and embracing for the camera. They looked so genuinely happy. Not a care in the world. He ran his finger over his mother’s image and then did the same to his sister’s. He could feel his emotions rising and his eyes glazed over.

  He took a deep breath to control himself. When he refocused he was looking at a face in the crowd behind. A face that must have been there all the time, but one he had never noticed among the celebrating throng. A face that was looking intently at his sister. A face he knew so well.

  XXX

  Sveinn needed only to look at the expressions of his War Council, at the eyes that wouldn’t meet his, to know the solution to the clue had evaded them.

  ‘A change of plan then,’ he said in a voice so guttural it was barely intelligible. ‘If we have nothing to go for, then we must hope the Titans will be fool enough to lead us to a prize instead. Housecarl Freyja, disperse your Ravens on the strike of one. Impress upon them the importance of what they do. Make them press out and up. Let them take risks. Tell them we must find the Sky-Gods tonight at all costs.’

  ‘Yes, lord.’

  ‘The rest of you will stand ready in the Throne Room until we receive news from the Ravens. All will remain armed and helmeted and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Thegn Punnr, if you are lucky enough to get anywhere near one of the Assets tonight, it is vital you memorise not only the clue it gives you for the next location, but also the clue that determined the location of that Asset itself. Understood?’

  Punnr dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  ‘To your stations. Good luck.’

  They dropped down the stairs to the empty Throne Room and dispersed to the Reception areas where their troops were preparing. Bjarke lingered, then double-backed to the Quartermaster’s Office.

  ‘Is there a plan for tonight?’ he asked, having pulled the door to behind him.

  ‘Only if the Ravens do manage to make contact with the Sky-Rats and only if the White Warrior is able to head out,’ Radspakr replied from behind his desk. ‘In which case, if your Bodyguard come into conflict with the foe, you are to brief them to fall back even if it leaves the White Warrior exposed. Is that clear?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Get your head down, you fool!’

  Calder felt Thurmond’s hand on the back of her helmet as he pushed it below the parapet. There were three of them. They lay on a concrete roof above the main entrance to the Scottish Parliament at the far eastern end of the Royal Mile. They dared not move, for Titans had appeared above them on the steel and glass roof of the Main Debating Chamber.

  ‘Looks like five. A scout party,’ said Thurmond. ‘They have a perfect view up there.’

  ‘What are they doing?’ whispered Runa.

  ‘They’ve hunkered down, looks like they’re staying put.’

  ‘So we’re trapped.’

  ‘For now.’

  Freyja had sent her scouts in groups of three in a wide arc, with orders for one from each detail to return to her command-post at the Tron if contact was made with the Sky-Rats. Calder had been deployed with Thurmond and Runa to the furthest eastern position to catch any movement at that end of the Mile. Runa was an accomplished urban climber and the post-modern architectural flourishes of the Parliament Building provided easy pickings, at least at the lower levels. She had dropped a rope for the other two and they had eased themselves into the darkest corner of their perch, pleased with their feat, until the Titans’ appearance far above showed them what true Sky-Gods could achieve.

  ‘We’ll be pricked like three fat pin cushions if they see us.’

  Even as Runa spoke, there was movement from the road below. Half a dozen Hoplites streamed across the Parliament’s entrance plaza and around the concrete ponds. They shot over the road and disappeared into the shadows under the outer walls of the Palace of Holyrood.

  ‘Eyes peeled,’ whispered Thurmond. ‘This looks interesting.’ Long minutes passed, then more Hoplites ran across the plaza. This time there were several dozen of them in two lines, moving fast as they swept over the junction with the Mile and streamed towards Calton Road. ‘We’ve hit the main game tonight, ladies.’

  ‘There,’ hissed Calder. Another group had materialised. Ten in total, shields forming a tight perimeter, within which ran a ghostly figure. ‘The White Warrior.’

  These followed the first group and disappeared up Calton Road. Thurmond had his head half-turned to look above and he could see the five plumes on the high glass roof. ‘Move, you bastards.’ As though in answer to his prayers, the plumes shifted right and sank from sight.

  ‘Have they gone?’ asked Calder.

  ‘Thor knows, but we’ll have to risk it. Runa, get word to Freyja. Tell her to send the Wolves, but make them leave at the South Gate. If the Titans are heading towards Calton, they’ll have the East Gate watched. So the Wolves should weave up from Cowgate, cross the Mile at Canongate Kirk and through the graveyard. One of us will meet them there. Calder, you’re with me.’

  They slithered across the roof, dropped their rope again and lowered themselves to street level. Runa ran a few metres up the Mile, hugging the shadows, and disappeared into one of the tight Closes.

  ‘We’ll cut across,’ Thurmond said, steadying his bow across his shoulder. ‘They’ll have left rearguards along their actual route. Let’s go.’

  They bounded over the street and Thurmond led her down a dark passage, then across an empty courtyard and through gardens. He ran like the wind, his cloak billowing behind him. They reached a higher stone wall and he bent to take her foot. With a heave, she was astride it and dropped an arm to help him up. They jumped down onto Calton Road and pressed into the shadows, letting their breathing subside.

  Nothing stirred. ‘Where are the buggers?’ Thurmond hissed.

  A voice broke the stillness to their left and both of them sank to their knees as three men came down the road, but this group wore jeans and coats and sauntered with hands in pockets.

  ‘She was like a fucking whale,’ one of them said loudly as they passed, no idea they were yards from Vikings. They continued down the road, then made to turn onto a steep footpath that wound precipitously up the wooded slope to Regent Road high above, but they were stopped unexpectedly.

  ‘What the fuck?’ one of them exclaimed and there was a brief altercation in the shadows.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ another said in a more placatory tone. ‘Keep your tits on, we’ll go another way.’

  The three of them emerged onto the road again and walked hurriedly away.

  Thurmond looked to Calder with a twisted grin. ‘I reckon they just disturbed a Titan. So the foe are climbing to Regent Road.’ He thought for a moment.

  ‘Under the rail bridge,’ Calder whispered. ‘Jacob’s Ladder.’

  ‘Full marks. We’ll make a Raven of you yet. Let’s go.’

  They ran stealthily up the road, away from the hidden Titan and under a piss-smelling bridge. Beneath was a steep flight of steps disappearing up into the night. They squatted at the bottom, checking for any movement. None. Thurmond bounded upwards and Calder followed, taking two steps at a time. The climb seemed endless, but finally they reached the broad swathe of Regent Road. It was bright with streetlights and they hunched in the shadow of the top step, letting their breathing slow. A taxi drove by, followed by two cars. Then a moped roared the other way.

  ‘There.’ Calder had caught movement in the trees beyond. Only a shudder, but enough to tell her they were on the slopes of Calton Hill. ‘They’re going up.’

  Thurmond nodded. ‘Aye. And I’ll wager a sack of weregild that the summit’s their destination tonight. Somewhere up there will be the Asset.’ He put his hand on Calder’s shoulder.
‘Get back down. You’ll see an old yew tree we passed as we ran. It marks the back wall of Canongate Kirk graveyard. The Wolves will be coming over that. Meet them. Bring them here. Tell them the Titan White Warrior is on the hilltop.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  He nodded grimly across to the trees. ‘Take down that sentry.’

  Punnr fought his way through the melee of warriors gathering in the Throne Room. Halvar was briefing his Wolf litters, arranging them in one corner ready to exit any of the tunnels if the Ravens called. Punnr came beside him and waited impatiently while he completed preparations. Eventually Halvar became aware of his presence and turned. He was already wearing his helmet, but Punnr carried his, and the older warrior could see the heat in the other man’s eyes. He placed a strong hand on Punnr’s shoulder and guided him away from the Wolves. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you know my sister?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I have a photo of you, taken two summers ago, looking at my sister.’

  ‘You’re gibbering like a crazed fool.’

  ‘Then let me be less ambiguous. You’re standing on the lawn outside St James Church campus, part of Leith College of Art. It’s the day of my sister’s graduation from her foundation course. You’re wearing a suit and holding a drink. You’re in a crowd, but you’re looking directly at my sister.’

  ‘This is nonsense.’

  ‘Her name is Morgan Maitland.’

  Halvar leaned into Punnr’s face, his eyes burning beneath his helmet. ‘This is the night of the second Raid. My Wolf Companies are standing to attention. You are the White Warrior. I’m bloody well not discussing this with you now.’