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Authors: Greig Beck
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him.
Immediately there was an explosion of movement, as the giant creature coiled and thrashed, its attention totally drawn away from the two small creatures. Arn didn’t wait for an explanation, instead reaching down for Grimson and pulling him roughly out of the way, down along the tree line, to shelter behind some thick trunks. He peered back as the sound of the turmoil was becoming thunderous. He could now see why the giant reptile was reacting the way it did – where its tail had still trailed in the water, it had gone tight. Either it had snagged itself below the water line, or…
The answer revealed itself as there came an almighty tug, and the snake was dragged back some twenty feet towards the river. Whatever had hold of it beneath the surface was big and strong enough to prey on the monstrous snake.
Arn remembered Vidarr’s words in their first meeting, and how he had been told to give the waterway a wide berth. Because of what lives in the lake, the old archivist had said.
As he watched, another twenty feet of the reptile was pulled backwards. Arn stepped out, now confident that whatever was dealing with the snake would certainly hold its attention long enough for them to escape. He looked down along the bank; he still needed the blood-red feninlang flowers.
He sprinted down and grabbed a handful, immediately feeling the oozing sap bathe his injured fingers and delivering the stinging sizzle as it burned into his wounds. There was no fear this time; he knew it was healing him.
With one last look over his shoulder he saw the snake pulled fully back into the river, and then something mountainous humped at its centre, its coal-black body shining briefly in the moonlight, before it sank below the surface. There was nothing to show for the battle, except a few large swirls on the surface.
Arn grunted. ‘Note to self – never cross deep water.’ He reached down for Grimson and lifted the youth, quickly moving back into the jungle.
Chapter 8
Your Job is Not Yet Done
Orcalion lay prone at the feet of his queen, his mind working furiously. He could hear Mogahrr’s long talons raking the wood of Grimvaldr’s throne, gouging deep furrows in the old dark wood as she stared down at him.
‘I wanted the ssseed of Grimvaldr oblittterateddd. Youuu could not give thisss to me. I wanted the Man-Kind, aliiive, and yeett, you could not even bring meee hisss body.’
Orcalion kept his face pressed firmly down on the floor, and spoke into the wood. ‘But I have given you more Wolfen heads in a day than any Panterran has taken in a hundred generations, my beautiful queen.’ He raised his head a fraction. ‘And the castle of the Valkeryn is now yours. Do you not sit now on the throne of the dead Wolfen king?’
She screeched, and many of the Panterran tending to the Queen stopped grooming her putrid body and froze. ‘You thiiink I care for cold ssstone, and empty hallsss?’
Orcalion’s head dropped to the floor again. ‘But I have delivered Grimvaldr the Great and his beloved Queen Freya into your jaws.’
Mogahrr’s eyes narrowed. ‘If not for thattt, piecesss of your worthlesss body wooould be ssscattered over every field to the far horizon.’
Orcalion kept his head down, and swallowed, but his black lips had pulled back into a hint of a smile. He knew the Lygon were charged with securing the rear of the castle – it was about time those blundering oafs felt some of the queen’s wrath for themselves.
‘We Panterran did as you bid, but it was the task of the Lygon to ensure the rear of the castle and the surrounding fields were secure. I’m afraid it was this task that was not done. I only wish now that you had given me this job also, my queen. You would be dining on young royal Wolfen meat now, if it were so.’ His smile widened as he pressed his face into the stone.
The queen’s yellow eyes slid across to Goranx and the other Lygon generals, who stood like a small group of colossus at the rear
Immediately there was an explosion of movement, as the giant creature coiled and thrashed, its attention totally drawn away from the two small creatures. Arn didn’t wait for an explanation, instead reaching down for Grimson and pulling him roughly out of the way, down along the tree line, to shelter behind some thick trunks. He peered back as the sound of the turmoil was becoming thunderous. He could now see why the giant reptile was reacting the way it did – where its tail had still trailed in the water, it had gone tight. Either it had snagged itself below the water line, or…
The answer revealed itself as there came an almighty tug, and the snake was dragged back some twenty feet towards the river. Whatever had hold of it beneath the surface was big and strong enough to prey on the monstrous snake.
Arn remembered Vidarr’s words in their first meeting, and how he had been told to give the waterway a wide berth. Because of what lives in the lake, the old archivist had said.
As he watched, another twenty feet of the reptile was pulled backwards. Arn stepped out, now confident that whatever was dealing with the snake would certainly hold its attention long enough for them to escape. He looked down along the bank; he still needed the blood-red feninlang flowers.
He sprinted down and grabbed a handful, immediately feeling the oozing sap bathe his injured fingers and delivering the stinging sizzle as it burned into his wounds. There was no fear this time; he knew it was healing him.
With one last look over his shoulder he saw the snake pulled fully back into the river, and then something mountainous humped at its centre, its coal-black body shining briefly in the moonlight, before it sank below the surface. There was nothing to show for the battle, except a few large swirls on the surface.
Arn grunted. ‘Note to self – never cross deep water.’ He reached down for Grimson and lifted the youth, quickly moving back into the jungle.
Chapter 8
Your Job is Not Yet Done
Orcalion lay prone at the feet of his queen, his mind working furiously. He could hear Mogahrr’s long talons raking the wood of Grimvaldr’s throne, gouging deep furrows in the old dark wood as she stared down at him.
‘I wanted the ssseed of Grimvaldr oblittterateddd. Youuu could not give thisss to me. I wanted the Man-Kind, aliiive, and yeett, you could not even bring meee hisss body.’
Orcalion kept his face pressed firmly down on the floor, and spoke into the wood. ‘But I have given you more Wolfen heads in a day than any Panterran has taken in a hundred generations, my beautiful queen.’ He raised his head a fraction. ‘And the castle of the Valkeryn is now yours. Do you not sit now on the throne of the dead Wolfen king?’
She screeched, and many of the Panterran tending to the Queen stopped grooming her putrid body and froze. ‘You thiiink I care for cold ssstone, and empty hallsss?’
Orcalion’s head dropped to the floor again. ‘But I have delivered Grimvaldr the Great and his beloved Queen Freya into your jaws.’
Mogahrr’s eyes narrowed. ‘If not for thattt, piecesss of your worthlesss body wooould be ssscattered over every field to the far horizon.’
Orcalion kept his head down, and swallowed, but his black lips had pulled back into a hint of a smile. He knew the Lygon were charged with securing the rear of the castle – it was about time those blundering oafs felt some of the queen’s wrath for themselves.
‘We Panterran did as you bid, but it was the task of the Lygon to ensure the rear of the castle and the surrounding fields were secure. I’m afraid it was this task that was not done. I only wish now that you had given me this job also, my queen. You would be dining on young royal Wolfen meat now, if it were so.’ His smile widened as he pressed his face into the stone.
The queen’s yellow eyes slid across to Goranx and the other Lygon generals, who stood like a small group of colossus at the rear
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