Tenfold

by Mark Hayden

  ‘Get up, get up,’ said Vicky to Lloyd.

  I still hadn’t looked behind me, nor could I afford to. I really hoped that the axe-wielding Gnome would get up soon, because I was feeling very exposed.

  The Svartálf raised its sword and shouted something in the Germanic language that Lloyd had used to open the doors to Niði’s Hall. It said it twice, I think.

  ‘Nej! Nej!’ shouted Lloyd. No No. I got that much at the start; the rest of what he said was loud, impassioned and incomprehensible.

  The Svartálf spoke again, and again Lloyd said, ‘Nej!’ this time with a finality that I couldn’t miss.

  Then the Svartálf dug in its heels and the horse broke into a gallop, lowering its sword so that it could cut us down like wheat before a scythe. I aimed at the horse and fired.

  The bullet broke through the creatures’ Anciles with a flash of energy and it struck the Hell-horse in the chest. That should have been that. It should have broken every synapse in its brain, disrupted every nerve in its body and killed it like submersion in a bath of neat neurotoxins. Nothing. Shit. I stood up and fired at the Svartálf. Ditto. Time to panic.

  ‘To the right!’

  If we could avoid the Svartálf’s sword, we might stand a chance. I swapped the Hammer into my left hand and drew my machete, probably pointless, but you never know. I scampered to the wall and risked a look behind. It was not good.

  Lloyd had hurt more than his arm. He was trying to stand on a clearly broken ankle and reach his axe, which had skittered well away from him along the tunnel. Vicky was desperately trying to help him to his feet, and instead of hugging the wall next to me, Desirée was standing in front of them, singing.

  The Hell-horse was nearly on me. The rider was focused on the group ahead and didn’t swap his sword arm, so all I had to face was a galloping horse with a red hot spike in its head. I went en-garde with the machete and tried with all the life in my body to put some magick, any magick into the blade. The most powerful magick I’ve encountered is that of Nimue, water nymph. Not much use underground, but it was all I had. I thought of spring flowers, sweet breezes … and the horse veered its spike away from me at the last moment, and I chopped at its shoulder.

  I didn’t make contact. Something turned the blade away at the last moment, and I missed. The hind quarters caught me a glancing blow and slammed me into the wall. I bounced back, falling down as my bad leg gave way, and I looked left with my heart in my mouth.

  Desirée stood firm in front of Lloyd, who’d collapsed back on to the floor, with Vicky on top of him. The Svartálf raised its sword and delivered a cavalry slash at Desi. Oh no.

  She made a circle with her right hand, never missing a beat of the psalm she was singing, and a disk of blue light appeared. The blade slashed through the circle, and I heard the crash of metal on metal as it was deflected away from her head. The blue light flashed off, the horse jumped over the prone couple and Desirée collapsed in a heap.

  I got up and ran to them. There was blood welling out of Desirée’s jacket. She’d been slashed in a line across and down from her right breast. It was bad, but she was alive. For now. I glanced ahead. The Hell-horse and rider had disappeared, and it struck me that they were too big to turn round easily in this tunnel. We had a few seconds to do something. Anything.

  ‘Get me up,’ said Lloyd. ‘I need that axe.’

  ‘Desi!’ said Vicky.

  ‘Vic, first aid. Now,’ I said, pushing her to her friend.

  I moved to Lloyd, braced my back and lifted him to stand on one foot. Slinging his left arm over my shoulder and bending forwards, we hopped to get the axe. He stooped, picked it up and leaned against the wall. I leaned next to him.

  ‘It hurts, Vic,’ said Desirée. ‘God help me, it’s bad.’

  ‘What the hell?’ I said to Lloyd.

  He wiped his mouth. ‘It’s my grandfather,’ he said. ‘The old chief.’

  ‘What???’

  He gestured down the tunnel. ‘That Svartálf is my grandfather. The body we buried must have been my father. No time to explain now. I need a wall, something for them to run at. In the open, like this, they’ll cut us down one by one. What was going on with your gun?’

  ‘I need to have words with Hledjolf. It seems that his ammunition only works on humans.’

  Lloyd gave me a look that said it all.

  His arm wasn’t badly hurt, not really, but his ankle was completely useless. He touched the wall and said, ‘They’re coming round again. From the same direction. We need to get back to that junction. I need them running at me, and your only hope is to get some of my blood on one of those bullets.’

  ‘Do you need a knife?’

  You’d think I’d asked his mother out on a date. ‘It has to be spilt in combat. Just get me down there and have a bullet ready.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘About a minute.’

  I limped over to the girls. That Hell-horse had done nothing for my left hip. ‘How bad is it?’ I asked.

  Vicky’s hands were shaking. She’d opened Desi’s clothes and examined the wound. The Svartálf’s blade hadn’t hit an artery, but her friend was bleeding badly. Vicky was trying to get some tape out of the first aid kit, which was the right thing, but we didn’t have time for the right thing.

  ‘Help Lloyd. We need to get to that junction. I’ll take Desi.’

  ‘Wha…?’

  ‘Now.’

  Vic struggled to her feet and went over to Lloyd. I looked in the rucksack for something soft. Aah. It looked like Tennille might save her daughter’s life from a distance. Tucked in the bottom of the rucksack was a woolly scarf. Perfect. I grabbed it, balled it and shoved it on to the wound. ‘Hold that,’ I said to Desi, moving her hand into place.

  Her eyes came into focus. ‘Vic?’

  ‘Hold tight. We’re moving. Help me if you can.’ I rolled her, lifted her and got her to her feet. ‘Come on, Desi. You can do it.’

  I didn’t so much help her as drag her down the tunnel. Lloyd was already in place, propped against the wall facing me. I had absolutely no idea what he was doing except making himself a brilliant target, but he was the only one with any clue about what was going on. Vicky came to help, and we got Desi out of the firing line. Unless the Hell-horse came round the other way, in which case she was doomed.

  ‘Incoming,’ said Lloyd. ‘Ready, Conrad.’

  I ejected the clip from the Hammer and took out one round. Behind me, I heard the sound of surgical tape being torn. From the left I heard the sound of hooves. I dodged to the corner and peered round. The Hell-horse had come to a stop about thirty metres away, giving it enough distance to build up a head of steam. Now that Lloyd had the axe, the Svartálf knew that it couldn’t just charge. Lloyd might not be mobile, but one blow from that axe would finish off anything on two legs or four.

  The volcanic rider, allegedly the Gnomish chief, spoke again. Lloyd growled and lifted the axe. That was weird. He was holding it with his left hand, and it was obviously a two-handed weapon. With ease, he waved it in front of him, the red runes leaving an after-image of Lux in the air. The Hell-horse took a step back. I wouldn’t want to charge that axe, either.

  The Svartálf leaned forwards and whispered to his mount, patting him on the neck. Again, it would take more than a pat on the neck to get me charging a mad magickal axe-wielding Gnome. Oh. They weren’t words of encouragement and a pat. They were a Work of magick.

  The red-hot spike on the Hell-horse’s head grew until it was about seven feet long. Gnomes have long arms, but even with the axe, Lloyd’s reach was not that long. The Hell-horse’s neck bowed with the extra weight of iron, until its rider dug in and spurred it on.

  I took a step back to provide what little cover I could for the girls, and watched the Hell-horse charge, its iron horn aimed at Lloyd’s heart. He raised the axe. Even with his strength, he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to parry that spike, and he didn’t even try. He just leaned to the right a
nd let the Hell-horse drive its horn through his left arm.

  Vicky screamed. The iron tore through flesh, but when it hit his blood, something happened. The rock behind him boiled, and instead of snapping or slipping, the red hot horn drove through the rock then stuck. Stuck fast.

  The rider pitched forward and lost his grip, tumbling off and rolling into the wall. The Hell-horse whinnied and shook itself, but its head was fixed.

  What happened next will haunt me forever. Lloyd grinned. He reached under the horn and took the axe in his right hand. He moved his grip close to the head of the axe and, in one quick movement, chopped off his left arm, just above the spike. Behind me, I heard Vicky retching. I couldn’t take my eyes off the arm pinned to the wall. Black blood was running down the stone. Blood. Gnome blood. Shit. That was my cue.

  Lloyd stepped to his right and dropped his grip to the end of the handle. He swung the axe at the Hell-horse and buried it in the creature’s head in a flare of Lux. With a cry, he fell to his knees and collapsed.

  I was running to the wall, but the Svartálf was getting to his feet.

  ‘Conrad! Get his Ancile down,’ said Vicky.

  The creature could have finished off Lloyd easily, but the Svartálf dodged round the horse and came for me. His skin was a shifting, cracking crust of coal, and he was on fire inside. This close, I could smell the sulphur and see flames in his eye sockets. I also realised that Lloyd could well be right. The creature was hellish, yes, but it had the height and proportions of a Gnome, not a human.

  I couldn’t turn my back on him to get the blood. I had one round in the chamber, and I fired at his heart. As soon as I’d raised the gun, Vicky had started to send scythes of air at the Svartálf, all of which bounced off his Ancile. When the bullet pierced it, his Ancile collapsed long enough for the blast of air to stagger him back.

  In a close match, victory comes in the margins. I turned round, and the hours of practice I’d had in Gravesend with Smithy paid off. I didn’t drop the next round when I wiped it in the blood. I didn’t fumble when I pressed it into the clip and turned round.

  The Svartálf’s Ancile was back in place, and he was coming for me. He was close. It was death or glory, so I aimed for his eye and squeezed the trigger.

  22 — Where there’s Life

  The Svartálf’s head snapped back and he dropped his sword, clutching his head. I thumbed out another round, ready to anoint it with more of Lloyd’s blood, then I stopped. The fire under the Svartálf’s skin dimmed and crusted over. He sank to knees and raised his head, still clutching one eye with his hand. His coal face changed subtly, from pure carbon to charred flesh, and the fire in his left eye flickered and became a pupil with a brown cornea. He parted his lips, and I saw the pink of healthy flesh inside his mouth.

  A noise of gargling fire, came from his throat and he collapsed to the floor. The hand fell away from his eye and he lay still. The sword had stopped glowing, too, and was now bare metal.

  ‘Is he gone?’ said Vicky. My ears were ringing from the shots, and I hadn’t heard her come over. In this tunnel, without ear defenders, I’d have been deaf if I hadn’t also practised a mini-Silence recently. I may not have much magick, but you do what you can. As I said, it’s all in the margins.

  ‘I hope so. You check Lloyd, and I’ll watch the Svartálf.’

  ‘Lloyd’s alive, and his arm’s been cauterised. I’ll put him in the recovery position.’

  Lloyd groaned and said, ‘Don’t bother. I could murder a drink, though. Give me a minute.’

  ‘What about the Svartálf?’ I asked.

  ‘Gone,’ said Lloyd. ‘You don’t need to stand guard.’

  I holstered the Hammer and went to check on Desi. Vicky had done a good job with the tape and a dressing, but it was already going red in places. The bleeding had been slowed, but not stopped. Before the fifth horseman of the Apocalypse had ridden for his last charge, Vicky had propped Desi’s head up on a rucksack. She’d seen the whole thing.

  ‘Do I get a medal?’ she said.

  ‘If I have anything to do with it, yes.’

  ‘That makes it all worthwhile, then.’

  ‘Where’s there’s sarcasm, there’s hope. Well done, Lieutenant.’

  ‘It hurts. Really bad. Raked all my nerves.’

  ‘Hang on.’ I rummaged in the first aid kit and found the good stuff, the OxyContin tablets I’d saved from when my leg was in bits. I gave her two and a drink of water.

  ‘Give us a hand,’ said Lloyd to Vicky. She stared at his stump and looked slightly sick. ‘That wasn’t a joke, love, I’ve still got a broken ankle.’

  ‘Sorry. Here.’

  The Hell-horse had ended up as a sort of sculpture. The iron spike was still embedded in the wall (and still stuck in Lloyd’s arm, but we’ll draw a veil over that). The rest of its body had collapsed in a heap underneath it. Vicky gave Lloyd a hand, and he pulled himself up, using the spike to steady himself. With a grunt, he pulled the axe from the Hell-horse’s body and tossed it to the ground. Vicky put her arm round his waist and helped him over to us. When he got near, he hopped to the wall and slid down into a heap. ‘About that drink?’

  ‘Islay Malt?’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Present from my girlfriend,’ I said, taking out the replenished hip flask.

  He examined the engraving and grinned. ‘To teamwork,’ he said, and took a healthy pull.

  Vicky and I drank too, echoing his toast. When I’d finished, Desi said, ‘I’m good, thanks. Those pills are amazing.’

  The pills would help her cope, but they wouldn’t do anything for the wound. I leaned over to Vicky and whispered, ‘Is there nothing you can do to heal her? There’s plenty of Lux about.’

  She shook her head, choking back a tear. ‘I did a quick heal on Lloyd’s hand, but there’s too much damage. When I healed that lion bite on your arm in Wales, I had access to an open Ley line and only had to patch some muscle. This is different. I’d kill one of us if I tried it.’

  ‘I hate to rain on our own parade,’ said Lloyd, ‘but you do realise we’re still trapped down here?’

  ‘Any other life?’

  He checked the floor. ‘No. Just the Dwarf, down below.’

  ‘Good. Anyone mind if I smoke?’

  ‘Yeah, we all do,’ said Vicky. ‘But we’ll let you off if you sit over there and pass the Thermos. Whisky’s good and all that, but I need a coffee and a flapjack more.’

  We needed a moment. Just the one. I took a good look at Lloyd. If anyone was going to go into shock, it should be the one who’s just performed an auto-amputation. He seemed fine. Perhaps Gnomes feel these things differently. I decided to avoid the obvious questions.

  ‘Lloyd, that all seemed to kick off when you struck the ceiling,’ I said.

  He gave me that look again. The one that says And what did you bring the party? Rubber bullets?

  He swallowed some more water and looked up. ‘It all goes back to Crete, and I’m not talking where I went on my holidays.’ He looked at me. ‘When you said we were still going north, I thought you were using a compass. Then I saw the look on Vicky’s face, and I knew you were a Navigator.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘All Gnomes have a bit of it, but only a few can do it properly. Dead reckoning by the Earth’s magnetic field and other things. I suddenly remembered the legend, and the only way to find out was to check the roof. That’s where the Work is built in. And I was right. Niði has built himself a Labyrinth.’

  ‘Of course. Knossos. The Minotaur. Are you saying that was a real thing?’

  He looked at Vicky. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Never been big on legends, me. That’s one of the downsides of the Invisible College; we tend to look for evidence, not stories.’

  ‘Big mistake,’ said Lloyd. ‘There are two legends: the human and the Gnomish. The human legend has Theseus, the Minotaur, Ariadne and all that. The Gnomish story is different. I reckon the human version is a
bout Zoogeny, creating unnatural creatures. To us, it’s all about metal.’

  ‘It would be,’ said Desi, trying to keep up despite the opiates working through her system.

  ‘Our version has a Dwarf, a Dwarf who gave the secret of iron to humans.’ He held up his hand to forestall interruption from the girls. ‘I know, I know. Humans want to believe they found it for themselves. Can we agree to differ? Good. King Minos invited the Dwarf to Knossos, but he wouldn’t pay the price for the Dwarf’s secret and tried to kill him. The Dwarf couldn’t get off the island, so to protect himself, he built the Labyrinth and hid underneath it.’

  ‘Are you saying the Dwarf was the Minotaur?’ asked Vicky.

  Lloyd shook his head. ‘No. We say that the Minotaur is from a different story and got merged into this one. In our version, Minos filled the Labyrinth with spiders.’

  Vicky flinched back. Spiders are second in her phobia hierarchy. After tunnels. She tries not to think of the two together.

  Lloyd didn’t notice and carried on. ‘Theseus killed the spiders and liberated the Dwarf. Our legend also has details about how the Labyrinth works, and when I used my axe to knock the ceiling, I realised that it was true. I also disrupted the part of the Work that was keeping us and the Svartálf apart from each other. That was unfortunate, but we’d have had to deal with them sooner or later.’

  Vicky gave him a dark look, then pointed at me. ‘I am not letting this get out. It’s bad enough that people call him the Dragonslayer. I am not having him known as “Conrad Dragonslayer, the new Theseus.” That would be unbearable.’

  ‘Hear hear,’ said Desi.

  ‘No danger of that,’ I said. ‘I would never have abandoned Ariadne. After all…’

  ‘… A Clarke’s Word is Binding,’ said Vicky. ‘Yeah, yeah, we know.’

  I wanted to deal with something else before we got back to the Labyrinth. ‘So, Lloyd. About your Grandfather? What was going on there?’

  He looked grim, and for the first time, he rubbed the stump of his arm. ‘Can you get my fleece?’