Return of the Ancients (27 page)

She stepped closer to him. ‘What sort of clues?’

‘I’m looking for something—’

‘Like treasure, weapons or food?’ Her eyes lit up with excitement.

‘Something far more valuable than that, at least to me. I’m on the trail of what happened to my people.’ He started walking again.

She skipped a few steps to catch up with him. ‘I’m going to help. I think I’ll like looking for clues, and finding out what happened to your pack.’

*****

Bergborr stepped back into the shadows.

Neither Arn nor Eilif paid any attention to the dark corridor as they passed it – both were too engrossed in each other’s company.

He stepped out again, knowing they wouldn’t see him.
Why would they?
he thought.
She doesn’t even know I exist anymore – I might as well be vapour rising from a dying fire.
His bitterness boiled inside him
.

He peered around the corner. His mouth turned down in distaste, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

The Slinkers should have finished him. The Man-kind needed to disappear, one way or another. Until then, Bergborr knew that
he
would be no more than an annoyance to the princess.

He shook his head. When the Man-kind first arrived, he had taken Eilif’s infatuation with the hairless creature as being one of simple curiosity. He shuddered. It was turning out to be much more. Moving back into the shadows, he leaned his head against the cold stone wall.

One way or another
, he thought.

*****

Arn and Eilif met Balthazar in the courtyard and he walked them to the castle keep – the most ancient structure within Valkeryn’s walls.

Arn was taken aback by the age-old building. While the walls, towers and castle of Valkeryn were old, it was still formidable and obviously well maintained. But this smaller structure reminded him of the old castles or temples that sit abandoned in unexplored jungles or on miserable hilltops in Scotland.  The hard granite was weathered to a melted smoothness, and where once there were probably sharp spires and ornate carving it was now crumbled and degraded.

Arn imagined it had been a grand hall and set of rooms for the king and his family and perhaps that was about all. Maybe long ago there had been other buildings surrounding it for guards or servants, but now they were either long disintegrated or their bones had been incorporated into the massive edifice that Valkeryn had become.

Balthazaar turned to Arn.

‘In the first days of our empire, this was all that Valkeryn was. The main halls were built over a natural maze of tunnels and caverns that were further excavated down many levels. The lower we descend, the older the artefacts we find.’ He smiled. ‘The problem is, the tunnels are near endless, and the only lighting is what we carry. Without the archivist’s knowledge, a Wolfen could search for a lifetime . . . as Vidarr already has.’

Arn turned to Eilif. ‘Have you met this Vidarr?’

Eilif shrugged. ‘Maybe when I was younger, but I can’t recall him.’

Balthazar chuckled. ‘Not many have. He was old, even when I was a youth. And that was many, many years ago. Some say he is as old as Valkeryn itself, but that can’t be true, can it?’ He turned and winked at Arn.

Balthazar stopped at a huge wooden door, with a ring for a handle and heavy brass rivets, giving it a solid, armoured appearance. He raised his fist and knocked. A deep echo could be heard from within. The echo died away, and they waited. Nothing.

Balthazar looked at Arn, shrugged and then banged his fist once more. He leaned forward until his ear was against the wood. As before, there was no response, other than the lonely echo bouncing around the cavernous interior.

Balthazar took hold of the ring, first with one hand, then with both. The ancient metal mechanism grated and squealed, but eventually turned. He put his shoulder to the door. ‘Give me some assistance; this weighs more than a veldoxer.’

Arn had no idea what a veldoxer was, but guessed it was something heavy. He nodded to Eilif, and the three of them pushed on the door. There was a popping sound as the time-welded seals gave up their hold on the wood, and then the massive door swung slowly inwards, releasing a wave of odours – mouldy paper and mushrooms, or something else long dead.

‘
Phew
.’ Arn had his hand up over his nose. ‘When was the last time anyone saw Vidarr alive?’

Balthazar looked around slowly. ‘Ten years, maybe more – he never leaves. But wait, he’s here. Look.’

He pointed to a torch that was burning at the far end of the entrance hallway, its flame looking tiny in the enormous chamber.

Everywhere Arn looked, there were stacks of papers, books and scrolls, and bottles of things dried or floating in fluids. It resembled a cross between a magician’s workshop and a very disorganised library. He felt a cold draught; the chamber had arched doorways leading away in all directions.

 ‘Vidarr.’ Balthazar looked around, smiling, but tapped his foot impatiently. He raised his voice. ‘Vidarr, it’s Balthazar; I’ve brought someone interesting for you to meet.’

The three of them stood in silence, listening as the echo of Balthazar’s voice died away.

Eilif edged closer to Arn in the gloom. He felt her elbow touch his.

Balthazar was about to call again, when a shuffling sound swept through the silence. They turned, trying to find its source, but it seemed to be coming from all around them. Then it stopped.

‘Is it the young Man-kind?’

Balthazar laughed softly. ‘Perhaps. But you will have to come and see.’ He whispered to Arn, ‘Even though he spends his life within these dark and dismal walls, he misses little. Answer him truthfully, young Man-kind, and he may just help you.’

A small cough emanated from one of the arched doorways, and then the most ancient creature Arn had ever seen shuffled into the dim light. He barely came up to Arn’s shoulder, and he wore a robe that swept the floor behind him.

Arn felt Eilif take a small backwards step, and then she spoke softly into his ear. ‘Loki’s beard, he must be a hundred.’

Immediately the ancient creature responded, ‘I was over a hundred when Balthazar was but knee high.’ The words drew out into a wheezing sound that could have been a laugh. Balthazar bowed deeply.

‘Vidarr, I am honoured that you would join us.’ He straightened and motioned to Arn. ‘May I present a youthful representative of the Old Ones, the human race, the last of the Man-kind . . . Arnoddr-Sigarr.’

Balthazar stood aside, and Arn felt awkward and exposed. He bowed, not knowing what else to do.

‘Arnoddr-Sigarr? Do you know what that name means in our land?’ Vidarr shuffled forward.

Arn nodded. ‘I do now.’

‘And you came to us after falling through a magical doorway?’

Arn remembered what he told Balthazar when they first met. He nodded, and Vidarr grunted softly but didn’t look convinced. He kept his eyes on Arn as he shuffled lightly forward.

‘This door – is it still open now?’

‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It might be; I mean, I certainly hope it is. And if that’s the case, then I expect my people are looking for me.’

Vidarr nodded. ‘Good. A race that cares when a single one of its kind is missing is a good race.’ He pinched Arn’s cheek, then his arm, then poked his chest – performing a quick examination. ‘And this magic door . . . How was it opened?’

Arn shrugged, but stayed still as the little Canite prodded and poked. Truthfully, he didn’t really understand all the science behind the technology at Fermilab, and had no idea how he could describe it to a medieval society of creatures. His explanation might end up sounding like sorcery – something attributed more to the Panterran.

‘
Ah
, it was an accident.’ He looked down at the ground, avoiding Vidarr’s gaze.

Vidarr gripped Arn’s forearm, and turned him sideways. ‘An atomic accident?’

Arn felt his breath lock in his chest, and he stared squarely into the eyes of the ancient creature. ‘How . . . How do you know about atomic energy?’

Vidarr chuckled softly in his wheezing manner and shuffled away towards the rear of the chamber. ‘Lots to discuss.’

He paused, and looked back at Arn silently for a few moments, then said, ‘Man-kind were a mighty race, or so legend has it.’ He paused again, closing his eyes and intoning softly, as if reciting scripture, ‘Not only will atomic power be released, but some day harness the rise and fall of the tides, and imprison the rays of the sun.’ He opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Do you recognise that, young Man-kind? You may have, because it was a human who said it . . . so long ago, that even his memory is now dust. Well, except to old things like me who keep all good memories alive.’

When Arn didn’t respond, he seemed to be a little deflated. ‘A Human-kind called Thomas Edison said it – have you heard of that one?’

Arn nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, of course. He was a great scientist and inventor. The father of the light bulb.’

Vidarr clapped his hands together, seemingly satisfied at last. ‘A great scientist from any species, I think. And did you?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Imprison the sun? Harness the tides?’

Arn pictured the enormous power of the machines he had seen at Fermilab. He thought of the energy of nuclear reactors, and laser power. He saw in his mind mighty dams built to hold back a trillion gallons of water, or steep-stepped canals allowing ships to sail across continents. He then remembered Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Chernobyl. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, yes I guess we did. But sometimes things didn’t always go to plan.’

Vidarr smiled. ‘Do they ever?’

*****

Vidarr led them all to a large round table overflowing with ancient texts. He lit several candles, and shuffled off, returning almost immediately with a jug of liquid and several wooden mugs.

He poured a mug for Eilif first. ‘I was at your birth,’ he said to her. ‘You’ve grown into a strong and beautiful princess. You remind me a little of Queen Freya, and a
lot
of King Grimvaldr.’

He patted her shoulder. Next he served Balthazar.

‘And the Lygon, young Balt – is it true the Panterran have drawn those stumbling brutes from the dark lands?’

Vidarr was probably the only Canite in all of Valkeryn who was old enough to refer to Balthazar as ‘young’. The counsellor nodded gravely.

‘We fear they are literally at our door. Once again, war bares its teeth at us, old friend.’

Vidarr nodded. ‘Then some things need to be discussed, and some things need to be preserved in the event we are overrun.’

Finally, he came to Arn, who could smell the liquid’s underlying metallic odour, mixed with something sweet, something ripe.
Honey, cloves and yeast, maybe
, he pondered.

‘And you, Man-kind – you have come with questions, questions about yourself.’

Arn wondered at the perceptiveness of this little old creature that made him feel like an open book. The questions were on his lips, but Balthazar lifted his mug.

‘To Valkeryn, and the king.’

Arn raised his mug and sipped the heady brew – warm, gritty, yeasty-sweet.
Not bad . . . but not good either
. There was some underlying flavour he couldn’t quite pick out.

 ‘It’s called
yogunburr
,’ Vidarr offered – seemingly reading his thoughts again. ‘I brew it on the rooftops, so the sun can warm the vat. It’s also close to the pidhen roosts; their bodies help in the fermenting process.’

‘Magnificent,’ said Balthazar, smacking his lips. Even Eilif raised her mug in a salute. Vidarr went to pour them a little more.

Arn groaned inwardly; that was the extra ingredient he had detected – decay. He grunted and nodded . . . and put down his mug.

 ‘I do have questions,’ he said. ‘I believe my time was long ago, and the accident somehow threw me forward . . . to your time,
this
time. But there are no traces of humans having been here at all.’ Arn looked across the table to his friends. ‘Balthazar has told me of the legends, about man somehow rising up to the sky, in body or spirit. But I’d like to know if there is anything more substantial? Some kind of records?’

Vidarr sat down, leaned back and laced his fingers across his stomach. ‘
Hmm
, and there are other stories that tell of Man being
released
by a great fire. Perhaps the Great Fire that delivered the very first Wolfen.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I do not know. There are several ancient Man-kind texts and artefacts here, but nothing that provided an insight into the final days of your species.’

Arn sat thinking through Vidarr’s words. ‘Balthazar also mentioned that there are other libraries, other caves.’

The archivist nodded. ‘They are located in a remote and inhospitable region, well beyond the Valkeryn kingdom. Some are still sealed, and strange symbols mark the barriers that cannot be dented by the strongest Wolfen steel. Many generations have tried to enter, but none have succeeded. They must contain great secrets.’

Vidarr rose and leaned across the table, pulling a pile of papers and a stick of charcoal towards himself. He spent several moments scratching, rubbing and shading something on one of the yellowing pages, before holding it up and examining it carefully. Satisfied, he slid it across the table to Arn.

Arn felt a small thrill as he looked at the charcoal image. It was rough, but clear enough – a gauntleted fist holding a thunderbolt.

Could it be?
he wondered excitedly. Could it be the military base at what was once North Aurora, where these very symbols were marked on the outside of the blast doors? If anything was going to be preserved, it’d be in underground bunkers like those.

Arn calculated his distances: Fermilab in Batavia was more than an hour’s bus ride from North Aurora. Mr. Jefferson usually pushed the bus at about forty to fifty miles per hour, so . . . It would be a long and difficult trek through the wild forest, but he had already made it out of the wasteland. He could find it.

 He stared into the ancient Wolfen’s eyes, and held up the picture.