by Arthur Slade
Then he let out one last desperate howl.
It was answered by another long, mournful howl. Outside, and getting closer.
31.
"We can't beat the larger one," Michael said. We stood, unarmed, staring through the door, out into the night. The howling outside grew louder.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"I think my arm's broken. And I cut my back. How about you?"
"I should be hurting everywhere, but I just feel numb."
Onni was now writhing around and whimpering in front of us. Moonlight flooded through the broken door, outlining him with silver. Bubbles of saliva frothed at his mouth and he opened and closed his jaws like a fish out of water. His hands were still clasped around the shaft of the spear, but he couldn't budge it. The occasional spark appeared in his wound, making him wince.
A shadow fell across him. A hulking figure stood there, eyes glowing red. Skoll had returned.
"Simple-minded humans." The voice was so hoarse it took me a moment to understand the words. "Know nothing, understand nothing. You never change."
The shadow took another step, eyes not moving from us. Skoll's face was in shadows. He stepped into the barn.
The moonlight revealed long grey shoulder length hair. And female features.
"It's Gunnvor," I whispered, shocked.
There was an odd look to her face, like it had been pulled forward and stretched. It was coated with thick hair. Her open mouth revealed long, sharp teeth behind thick lips. She knelt, placed her hand on Onni's forehead and he turned to her. "He's just a child." Her words were still hoarse, but somehow softer. "He doesn't know any better. He can't control himself."
"He was trying to kill us," Michael said.
"You are on our land," Gunnvor said, matter-of-factly. "We have been here much longer than any of you interlopers. And now you come right to my home and attack my child. We should have slain you all years ago."
"We didn't want to come here," I pleaded. "He dragged one of our friends up here."
Her eyes moved from me to Mordur. "Ah, Mordur. Thordy's little helper. Onni didn't touch him." She paused. Sniffed. Looked over at the bags of internal organs. "Lamb livers. Chicken hearts. You wanted to lure my son here and kill him with your little weapon."
"Those were already here," Michael said.
Gunnvor ignored him and bent down and scooped up her son like he was a baby. He had changed slightly; his hair had shortened, making his face look younger but still wolf-like. Without giving him any warning she yanked out the spearhead. He shrieked.
Gunnvor threw the spear down so that it dug into the stone floor. Sparks arced through the air. "You came to kill my child. It has been four hundred years since I last killed one of your kind, but I will not hesitate to start again tonight." She gently set Onni down in a pile of old straw. He reached out to her, but she turned and stepped toward us.
32.
I didn't move. Neither did Michael. There was no point in fighting. We had no spear. No strength. I straightened my spine and faced her. At least she'd see we came from a strong line of Icelanders.
Gunnvor was changing before our eyes. Five long claws grew out of her right hand. She raised it up slowly to strike us. Then she stopped, sniffed deeply and sniffed again. She dropped her hand, pushed us apart and strode by. "One of our kind," she hissed, "one of our kind is behind this." She ran from corner to corner, howling and growling, knocking against timbers so the whole building shook.
"Get out! Get out!" she yelled. "Stupid children. You bring bad luck. Little evil creatures. Get off our land. I'll find your master and kill him."
She picked up Onni, backed out of the doorway and tramped through the thick snow towards her home. I let out a gasp. My body had been wound tight as a knot. The adrenaline in my system grew thinner. My head began to ache and my ankle tingled with pain.
"What was she talking about?" I asked.
"I don't know, but I don't want to stick around and quiz her." Michael rushed over to Mordur. I paused to pull the spearhead out of the floor. There was only a handful of the shaft attached to the point. It took a bit of a tug get it out. I stuffed it in one of my padded pockets.
We tried to revive Mordur, whispering his name and gently slapping his face. I felt his forehead and it was burning with fever. We lifted him under his shoulders and dragged him out of the barn and into the snow. Step by step, we plodded along. My ankle was starting to throb and I found it hard to put weight on it. I glanced towards Gunnvor's house and thought I could see someone in the window.
"Hurry," I whispered. We pulled Mordur down to the edge of the plateau. The air was chilly and clear.
"The lights look miles away," Michael said, pointing at some glowing dots far below us.
I was so tired. Michael climbed to the bottom of a short rock wall. Between the two of us, we were barely able to lower Mordur down. Michael slipped and Mordur was jarred out of our grip, landing with his face partially buried by snow. We hurried over, pulled him out. I brushed snow off his cheeks.
"Sleeping Beauty didn't feel a thing," Michael said. "You need a rest yet?"
I answered by grabbing Mordur's shoulder and pulling. Michael joined me and we continued on. My ankle was getting worse, and Mordur was growing heavier, as if with every step his bones and flesh were turning to stone. For a time we were able to drag him easily thanks to the slope of the plateau.
At the bottom of the path that had taken us to Gunnvor's was another cliff wall, a drop of some six feet, too far to lower Mordur. We pulled Mordur along it for what seemed hours, but couldn't find an easy way down. Finally, we gave up, and collapsed with Mordur lying between us, looking like he was having a lovely sleep. For an absurd moment I thought it was funny.
"I can't go any farther," I admitted, "not without a good rest."
"Me either. We must be off her land by now — she won't chase us here will she?"
"I don't know, but we'll never be able to get Mordur home on our own. My ankle's sprained. We need help."
"Well, we can just wait, someone's got to be looking for us by now. They'll see our tracks."
"What if they don't? We can't just leave Mordur here." I looked around. There was an overhang of rock that would protect us. "Help me move him over there, it should be warmer. You'll have to go home and bring some help. Maybe the police have arrived. Uncle Thordy probably has a sled or a toboggan we could use."
"I can't just leave you here."
"It makes the most sense. You're the one who's still got two good legs. Just help me move him."
It seemed to take forever. We finally pushed Mordur into the corner. "Now go," I said. "You can get help. Go!"
Michael gave me a quick hug, guarding his sore arm. "I'll come back soon, I promise."
I watched him disappear into the distance.
I sat cradling Mordur's head on my lap. Carrying Mordur down the cliff had taken everything I had. Now that we'd stopped moving I could tell how much I had sweated. Perspiration had gathered on my back, soaked my clothes and was turning into ice. I began to shiver. I hugged myself to warm up, but it wasn't enough. I kept moving my fingers in their gloves and my toes in their boots. As long as I could wiggle them, I figured they weren't frostbitten.
I worked at keeping my eyes open. I'd heard stories about a group of cross country skiers back home who'd gotten lost. They finally sighted the ski lodge, but sat down to rest and drifted off to sleep, convinced they would wake up soon and ski the rest of the way. Instead, covered by a blanket of snow, they froze to death.
The moon was high in the sky. Stars flickered and blinked. I felt small, staring up at lights that had been moving in their own secret ways and patterns for millions of years.
Then, for a moment I thought I was hallucinating — I heard a male voice say, "Michael must be long gone now."
33.
I sat straight up. Where had it come from?
"What? Who's there?" I grabbed at a chunk of rock to use as a
weapon, but it was frozen to the ground.
"Don't be frightened, it's just me." A figure appeared from around the edge of the alcove. At first all I saw were two legs in torn pants, then he knelt down and a bearded face, darkened by shadow, looked in. He was smiling.
"Uncle Thordy!" I cried out, relieved. A wave of joy swept over me. "You've found us."
He laughed. "It wasn't hard; you left a well-marked trail."
"But what happened to you? How did — " I took a good look at his clothing. It was torn into rags and he was bleeding from his side. "You're hurt."
This made him chuckle again. "It's nothing. It's healing as we speak. Soon the wound will be closed."
I didn't know what he meant. His eyes were a little glazed over. Perhaps he was in shock. "Uncle Thordy," I said, "we need to get Mordur back home before we freeze to death. Are you well enough to help me?"
"Oh, no. It is you who will help me," he replied, a lightness in his voice like he was saying something funny. "Everything is working out properly."
"Properly? What's that mean?"
"I was waiting. Letting you two take care of the wolf boy. I was hoping you'd kill him, but wounding him was enough."
"What are you talking about? Why would you want us to go up there?"
Uncle Thordy moved ahead so the moonlight fell directly on his face. His eyes were luminous, like they were lit from inside his head.
"Uncle Thordy, what do you mean — "
"Oh, be quiet!" he snapped. "You and your repulsive little family will be rotting in hell soon enough."
I backed away from him, up against the wall. He had gone crazy. Or had I? His eyes were glowing now, getting brighter and narrower by the moment.
"Sorry," he said, softly, "it has been a trying time. But don't worry, it'll all be over for you in moments."
His words were icy. My heart sped up. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this." He grinned. His face changed in the light, grew elongated, morphing into a snout. He bared sharp teeth. "Gunnvor's little brat was eating my meat. Slaughtering my animals. You see, the Onni runt had been hunting on my land. The plateau is where I feed, where my father fed. That is, before your great grandfather killed him. We shifters won't spill the blood of another of our kind. It's a pact we made, many years ago, to preserve our race. There are only twenty of us left. But I was quite happy to arrange for you to kill one."
"But ... but you're my ... you're Uncle Thordy how — "
He was changing even more, hair sprouting out of the holes in his clothing. A sick, dead meat smell wafted through my nostrils. The same smell I'd encountered in Uncle Thordy's house, only stronger.
"Thordy's dead. He died the same day as his wife. His bones are still up there, jammed into a crevice. Only ravens have found them. I assumed his shape, his croft, his life, his name. I have waited a long time to get my hands on your family. To murder two birds with one stone, as you people say."
I was stunned. "You're Skoll," I said, barely able to think. "You carried Mordur up there, didn't you? You left the butcher bags."
"Yes," he admitted, "they have a very distinct smell. Irresistible to a young shape shifter."
"But, Gunnvor's son, he's not dead. And she's not going to go away. You failed."
"No," Skoll whispered, "not after I'm done with you. I'll limp down to the farm and tell them that Gunnvor herself came and tore you limb from limb. Michael and Sarah will believe me and your grandfather is dead, so he won't be any trouble."
The words hit me like a hammer blow. "What? You're lying."
"Oh, yes, quite dead. He fought off my little pin prick for an amazingly long time. I was impressed. And he was good with an axe, too." He touched the wound at his side.
"You attacked him?" I said, feeling an anger spread through my veins. "You?"
"Yes," Skoll said, hissing in my face. "He would have read all the calf skins. He would have known my little secret. I had to stop him. But let's not dwell on the past. Let me tell you what will happen next. I will kill you. Others in these parts are superstitious enough they'll band together and hunt Gunnvor and the runt down. Then this will be my hunting ground, again. As for Mordur, who I dragged so far, he's of no use to me now." Skoll struck Mordur in the chest and Mordur exhaled sharply. He didn't breath in again. "I can always find another hired man. He was as snoopy and headstrong as his father; I would have had to get rid of him soon enough."
"You smell more like yourself now," a voice said out of the darkness.
Skoll jerked his head up; the look of conceit and pride flashed from his face.
A figure appeared from around the corner, covered in hair, eyes blazing with anger. "Tried to hide your stink with perfume. Stealing the form of a human," Gunnvor accused. "You always were a pact-breaker, just like your father. The circle of elders knows about you now. About your plans. You wanted me and my child dead. We'll feed your liver to our children, that's what we'll do."
Skoll narrowed his eyes, his body shifting shape by the second. "I won't fail," he growled, then threw himself at her. Gunnvor was knocked back into the snow.
I couldn't move. I watched as they battled under the moonlight, exchanging blows. Gunnvor dodged a lunge, swiped her claws across his chest and Skoll screamed with all his might. But he was larger than her, more powerful and, even with his wounds, I could see he was winning.
Finally with a great effort he lifted Gunnvor and threw her to the ground. She landed on a boulder, her bones cracking like old branches. She lay motionless.
Skoll turned to me. "Now you," he said, wiping blood from his face with a hairy hand. "Now you."
He took a step and his leg gave out. He fell, then tried to stand. Again he fell. He pulled himself up again, moved towards me with a limp.
Finally I had the presence of mind to jump up. I took one last look at Mordur's body, then I began to run, not even sure where, my feet pounding through the snow. My ankle ached, but I ignored it. Skoll's laughter echoed behind me, a long growling guffaw that turning to a howl.
I kept going, leaping crevice after crevice and charging along narrow paths. I barely kept my footing, winding my way down to another plateau. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him, barking angrily somewhere in the distance.
My eyes were drawn to a falling star burning through the night sky, and for a moment it seemed the heavens were splitting apart.
A light flashed again, this time just ahead of me. Maybe it was a flashlight. Or a snowmobile. I veered towards it.
My lungs were burning, my body drained of energy. Every second step I stumbled.
The light flashed once more, just over a rise in the snow. Was it a trick of the eye. Or was it Skoll's trickery?
It was getting closer now. I ran toward it, hoping for rescuers. Suddenly, the solid ground disappeared from beneath my feet and I fell, landing on soft snow. My breath was knocked from my chest, my heart stopped beating for a moment. My ears filled with silence. I was lying on my stomach, my muscles refused to obey my commands. Skoll would find me here. An easy victim, even with his wounds.
I tried to breath deeply; to stand up.
Suddenly I sensed something else in the crevice with me. Something moving around.
He was here; ready to pounce.
I slowly, ever so slowly, turned my head. There, only a few feet away, was a glimmering form. Familiar, loving eyes looked down on me. A warm smile.
I reached out my hand, whispering, "Hello, Afi."
34.
Grandpa Thursten was alive. Skoll had lied. Grandpa was alive!
He grinned at me, saying, "Wake up, Sleepyhead. You're not finished yet." The cliff walls were visible through him. Stars glistened around his skin. He was dressed in his favourite sweater and tan pants.
"What?" I asked.
He drifted closer, smoothly, as if there were no snow banks between us. His feet were bare. I still couldn't find the strength to get up.
But that was okay. Grandpa was here to save me.
"Grandpa, I can't move."
"Angela Laxness stop lying around," the voice was soft, but getting clearer, "wake up inside." He gestured towards the sky. "You tell her then ... she's not listening to me. It's the red hair that makes her that way. She's your sister, maybe she'll listen to you."
A second smaller glowing form appeared beside him, floated towards me. As it came closer I recognized his face.
"Andrew," I whispered. He looked the same as he had years ago.
He smiled a mischievous smile and, without a word, leaned down towards me, extending his hand. It was smooth, ivory-skinned and yet through it I could see the stars in the sky. He touched me in the centre of my back and I felt a warmth spread up and down my spine. For a moment my mind held an image of Andrew, when we were young, running through the front yard sprinkler on a hot, summer day.
"You're a good big sister," he said. "You always were."
I was able to roll over and sit up. I stared at him, wanting to take in as much as I could. Tears began to well up in my eyes.
"Hug Mom and Dad for me." Andrew faded slowly, waving at me.
Grandpa came closer. "I don't have much time here." He pointed over a short wall of rocks. "Go that way. You'll find safety. Get up, lazybones."
I pushed myself slowly to my feet. Grandpa was growing dimmer. His bare feet were in the snow, but he left no impression.
"Grandpa, what do I do?"
"I don't know. I'm not meant to know. I can hear your grandmother." He paused. "I've missed her for too many years. It's my time to be with her."
He was fading.
"Where are you going?"
"No one gave me a travel guide. I'd love to stay around and haunt some more." He laughed, lightly. He sounded like a voice at the end of a long valley. Far away from me. "I've got to go, Angie. Bless."
