by Alan Early
‘Will?’ said Max’s voice shyly. ‘I want to go home.’
Loki turned to him in disgust. ‘Are you stupid or something? Don’t you get it yet? I’m not Will.’
‘You look like Will.’
‘There is no Will. There never was. I’m Loki.’
He momentarily transformed to the ancient and scarred Loki form.
‘See?’ he asked. Then he changed back to Will.
Max couldn’t hold it in any more. What with the swim through the water and the terrifying flight above the city and Will not being real, he’d had enough. He started to cry.
‘Oh, do stop crying, Max. Grow up! You should try to enjoy yourself.’ At this Max tried to halt his tears. Loki stooped and put an arm around the boy. ‘You know, one day, when you’re old, if you’re still alive – which, let’s be honest, is looking less and less likely – people might ask each other where they were on the day the world was destroyed. And you’ll have the pleasure of telling them that you were standing next to Loki the Trickster himself. Won’t that be nice?’
At this, Max only cried harder.
The dead man advanced slowly on Arthur. His leathery dark-brown skin stretched over his skeletal form. His cheekbones were high and sharp and his brow was prominent, which caused his black eyes to appear even more sunken than they actually were. His mouth was slightly open, displaying cracked yellow teeth. There was very little hair left of his beard. From the bronze helmet he was wearing, Arthur recognised him as the dead Viking who had been sitting staring at the Jormungand from the bow of the boat. As he walked forward, he stretched the hammer out towards Arthur, groaning deeply.
‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ Arthur said, shielding his head and face with his arms. ‘I need to get out of here and help my friends.’
The dead man stopped and looked at the others in confusion. A couple of them shrugged their shoulders, silently. The man with the hammer moved forward again. He made a guttural, croaky sound. Even though it sounded ugly, Arthur detected no sense of a threat. He looked up at the dead man and realised that he wasn’t going to hit him with the hammer. In fact, he seemed to be offering it to Arthur.
‘You’re giving this to me?’ Arthur asked. He pointed to the outstretched hammer and then to himself.
The man grunted again, thrusting the weapon forwards as if to emphasise the point. Arthur accepted the gift. Strangely, it didn’t feel as heavy in his hands as it had done before. It almost felt like it belonged in his grasp.
‘Thank you,’ he said. Using the hammer as a small crutch, Arthur got to his feet.
‘Did you save me?’ he asked, looking around him at the men. ‘Did you pull me out of the water?’ They looked confused then grunted in a puzzled way. ‘I guess you can’t understand me, huh?’ Just then he remembered the pendant. He took it out of his pocket and hung it around his neck. It momentarily glowed green then faded.
‘Do you understand me now?’ Arthur said. The dead men smiled and nodded frantically. A series of excited throaty sounds came out of their mouths.
‘Can you speak?’ he asked. They shook their heads. ‘I guess being dead for a thousand years would mess up your vocal cords a bit. Okay, grunt once for yes and twice for no. Understand?’
The man with the bronze helmet – Arthur thought of him as their leader – grunted once.
‘Great. So you rescued me from the water?’
The leader grunted again.
‘And the hammer?’ At this they all nodded frantically again. ‘And this hammer’s very important?’ They nodded even more, all of them grunting loudly.
Arthur walked through the men to the end of the boat. They parted to let him explore. Shields, armour and weapons were scattered about. He stood for a moment at the end of the boat, looking out through the hole to the Liffey, thinking. When he’d worked out what was going on, he turned back to face the dead men.
‘You’re the hundred men that were guarding the Jormungand, right?’ he said. The leader groaned once but dropped his head, as if he was ashamed of the job they’d done.
‘But you came back to life because it escaped? Like a back-up plan?’ As the leader grunted once, the men nodded.
‘That’s brilliant. Bet Loki didn’t see that one coming. I’m Arthur, by the way.’
‘Ar-kkkrrr,’ the leader croaked. He slapped his own chest. ‘Be-yr-n.’
‘Be-yr-n?’ Arthur repeated. ‘You’re Be-yr-n?’
The leader nodded and smiled.
‘Oh, I get it now! Like Bjorn. Your name is Bjorn?’
Bjorn bowed his head with a grin.
Arthur pointed straight at Bjorn. ‘So I guess you’re in charge, Bjorn? Like their general?’ At this, Bjorn shook his head and grunted twice. He pointed to Arthur. ‘I’m the general?’ The men all nodded.
Then, one by one, all the other soldiers fell to one knee. They took off their helmets and bowed their heads towards Arthur in deep respect. He looked to Bjorn, who simply grimaced back in what Arthur took to be an attempt at a smile.
‘Well then,’ Arthur announced, walking to the bow of the boat, then turning to face the Vikings. ‘Last time it took Thor and the gods to stop Loki’s madness. If my vision was correct, they can’t help us this time. But my friends are out there with Loki and we have to save them and stop him. I don’t know if we’ll be able to. But we have to try.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Watching the empty street from a third-floor window of the bookshop, the helpful staff member said, ‘There are some kids out there. See? On the giant snake: two boys by the looks of it.’
The refugees were clustered around the large windows, peering out and fogging up the glass with their breath. The Jormungand had wound itself back around the Spire, and Loki and Max were resting on one of the head fins.
‘That’s my brother,’ Ash said. ‘That’s why you need to let me out.’
‘I’m not letting you out. Which one is your brother? The blond kid?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘The blond one is … Never mind, you’d never believe me anyway.’
‘I wouldn’t have believed you an hour ago if you’d told me I’d be seeing a hundred-foot-long snake terrorising the city. But my eyes aren’t lying to me. So tell me, who’s the blond kid?’
Ash took a deep breath and began, ‘He’s the ancient Viking god Loki, the Trickster God, who’s been held captive under Dublin for more than a millennium and now plans on destroying the entire world for his revenge. That giant snake thing is his child.’
The shop assistant just looked at Ash for a minute, gobsmacked. ‘Tch!’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah, right!’
‘I told you you wouldn’t believe me,’ said Ash, turning back to the window just in time to see a helicopter pass by as it flew towards the Jormungand.
Loki heard the helicopter approaching as he lay back on the serpent’s fin. The propellers chopped at the air, making a fwp-fwp sound. It flew from the south, the direction of the Liffey, and hovered in the centre of the street at roughly the same height as the buildings. It was white with a fluorescent yellow stripe edged with blue painted down the sides.
‘Uh oh,’ Loki remarked sarcastically to Max, ‘here comes the cavalry.’
The helicopter hung in the air in front of them, the rush of wind from the propellers making the Spire sway. Max clung on to Loki’s waist, afraid of falling again.
‘Attention!’ a voice boomed from the megaphone attached to the side of the helicopter. ‘This is the Garda Síochána! Please remove yourself and your … eh … giant snake … eh … whatever that thing is from the Spire. Immediately.’
‘And what if we don’t?’ Loki shouted back, using his magic to project his voice so it could be heard over the noise of the helicopter’s engine.
‘Well, then we’ll be forced to remove you by … eh … extreme measures!’
Loki patted the side of the Jormungand’s massive head.
‘Oh puh-leese,’ he said to it. ‘Who do they think they ar
e? Even at your weakest you could dispose of that flying tin can easily. In fact, I think it’s time to unleash our secret weapon.’ He leaned closer to the Jormungand and kissed the top of its skull. ‘Now, let’s show them what you’ve got.’
With that command, the beast opened its vicious jaws and roared. Its long, forked tongue flickered in the air and huge drops of spittle flew out of its mouth and landed on the window of the helicopter. The force of the air being expelled from the Jormungand’s lungs was so great that the helicopter careened backwards, flipping over and over in the air.
The screech ended as the Jormungand ran out of breath. Then it inhaled, looked up to the sky and roared once more. This time, green rays of light shot out of its mouth, as if propelled by the noise itself. The green light soaked into the clouds, turning them a sickly moss green.
Meanwhile, the garda pilot had completely lost control of his vehicle. As the ‘flying tin can’ tumbled towards the street below, the pilot and co-pilot flung themselves out of its doors, crashing onto the pavement with heavy thuds. The pilot landed awkwardly and cried out in pain as a bone snapped in his leg. The helicopter itself crashed to the street mere feet away from them and exploded with a bright flash of orange, knocking them backwards. Red flames and black smoke belched high into the sky as Loki laughed feverishly at the destruction.
The Jormungand wailed at the sky once more as the dark-green clouds sank closer to the earth.
The dead army rowed the boat through the hole in the wall and out onto the River Liffey. The sail just about cleared the crumbling upper part of the gap. Arthur had changed out of his soaking clothes and into a black tunic and brown trousers that one of the Vikings had handed him. The pendant pulsated green on his chest.
‘It’s very quiet,’ he remarked to Bjorn by his side as they sailed the boat towards O’Connell Bridge. Just then a garda helicopter flew over the bridge in the direction of the Spire. From his position on the boat, Arthur couldn’t see what happened but he certainly could hear the roar of the Jormungand and the loud blast that followed shortly afterwards as the helicopter hit the ground and exploded. Arthur watched in awe as thick black smoke rose over the buildings. Then he noticed green rays shooting skywards into the clouds now gathering over that part of the city – thick clouds that looked like they were full of heavy rain. But they were also a deep green, with flashes of light moving through them like shots of electricity, and they were quickly spreading as far as the eye could see.
He turned to Bjorn – he now thought of him as his second-in-command – and said, ‘We have to hurry. I just hope we’re not already too late.’
The Jormungand crawled back down the length of the Spire towards the smoking wreckage. The fire had already burnt itself out, but a thick cloud of dense smoke still rose from the ashes. When the serpent reached the ground, Loki slid off, pulling Max with him. The Jormungand looked around and then focused its gaze on the injured pilot lying on the road. His broken leg was sticking out at a strange angle in front of him and the Jormungand began to advance on him, slithering along the ground on its belly rather than walking on its tiny legs. The pilot started to drag himself backwards using his arms and pushing with his good leg, but the monster was gaining on him quickly. The co-pilot, who had not hurt himself too badly in the jump from the helicopter, raced up to the pilot and grabbed him under the arms, lifting him onto his good leg. The two quickly hobbled to the relative safety of a nearby café. The door shut tightly behind them and the occupants looked fearfully out the window.
‘Ha ha!’ guffawed Loki. ‘Run away, little piggies, run away. Then we’ll huff and we’ll puff and we’ll blow your house –’
He was cut off when a drop of water landed beside him. Max jumped back from the puddle it made. It was more than an ordinary drop – it was huge, the size of an average bucketful. When it hit the ground, it burst with a loud thwump.
Loki looked up at the green clouds.
‘It’s starting,’ he said to himself quietly, almost in awe. More giant drops fell around them. He turned on the spot, waving his arms jubilantly. ‘It’s starting!’
He picked up Max and swung him around. ‘It’s starting, Maxie! The end of the world!’
Before Max could reply, Loki leaped onto the World Serpent’s back, pulling Max along with him. They were in the air again in seconds and the Jormungand once more wrapped itself around the point of the Spire. Loki stood on the top of its head, his arms outstretched triumphantly.
Max peered down at the street below. The few huge drops that had fallen had already soaked the ground. It would only get worse now as the heavens opened. The green clouds showered giant drops onto the city. As Max watched, the streets were flooded in seconds, water rising above the steps of some buildings and slowly starting to seep inside.
The Jormungand roared again. More green light emanated from the scream and soaked into the clouds. Loki was laughing like he never had before.
Arthur had just climbed onto the pavement above the Liffey when the rain started. He was soaked instantly by one giant drop landing next to him. He looked behind him at Bjorn and the others climbing the ladder out of the river. Arthur stretched his hand out to Bjorn to help him over the wall but the Viking shook his head frantically and pointed back at the boat bobbing on the water.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Bjorn grunted and pointed at the dark clouds then at the river. Arthur saw what he meant now. The water level was already rising drastically with the heavy rain. Although he had been standing on the pavement only a short time, already water lapped around his ankles. At this rate, the river would overflow in a couple of minutes which meant that –
‘We can sail down the street to Loki,’ Arthur exclaimed, ‘and attack from the boat. Great idea!’
Bjorn nodded and grunted to his men. They retreated down the ladder to the rapidly rising boat. The second-in-command waited for Arthur, who had started to follow but then suddenly paused.
‘Hold on a second,’ Arthur said, running off. He came to the bottom of O’Connell Street. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner. Smoke was rising from the wreckage of the helicopter but the water would soon put that out completely. No one was on the near-flooded street, although he did see several frightened faces staring out at the scene from second- and third-floor windows. The World Serpent was coiled around the top of the Spire, just like it had been wrapped around the tree on his pendant. From this distance, he could just about make out the tiny figures of Loki and Max on its great head. While Max was clinging on for dear life, Loki was standing up, laughing crazily. Arthur ran back to the waiting Viking.
‘I have a better plan,’ Arthur said. ‘Do you see that street back there?’ He pointed upriver in the direction of Liffey Street. ‘When the water rises enough, sail down that street until you find the cross street that comes out at the Spire – it’s called Henry Street, there should be a sign. Then you’ll be able to sail at Loki from the other direction: a sneak attack!’
Bjorn grinned in agreement then put his hand out for Arthur.
‘No. I’m not going with you. I’ll go up O’Connell Street and distract him so he won’t see you coming.’
The Viking shook his head, worried for Arthur.
‘It’s all right, Bjorn. I’ll be fine. You go. Sail down Liffey Street as quick as you can. Look – the river is nearly halfway up already!’
With one last look at Arthur, Bjorn climbed down the ladder and onto his boat. As the water continued to rise, he started grunting orders at his dead army. Arthur turned away from them and raced back towards O’Connell Street.
By now the water was up to his shins and approaching his knees quickly. He was astonished at how much rain had fallen in a couple of minutes and even more astonished that the huge drops kept falling.
He peered around the corner onto O’Connell Street again. The street was more flooded now but the Jormungand’s position on the Spire hadn’t changed. Loki was still laughing at the mayhem, dist
racted.
Arthur took this chance and ran down the centre of the street – although as the water was up to his waist now it was more a case of wading than running. A handful of tall statues lined the pedestrian area running between the two lines of traffic and Arthur hid behind the first of these. He peered around the edge of the statue. Loki was still distracted by his delight in his own brilliance. This would be a perfect time to make another run for it but the water was chest-high by now and the next statue was too far along to run or wade to quickly.
There was only one thing for it, he realised as he took a deep breath and plunged his head under the water. He couldn’t believe that he was actually swimming up O’Connell Street. His head was throbbing from where the rock had hit him in the cavern and his limbs were tired from the exertion but he ignored all that as he focused on the task at hand. One thing he couldn’t ignore, though, was that he was running out of breath. He could see a statue just ahead of him in the cloudy water. If he could just make it there …
Seconds later, his fingers touched the stone. He thrust his head out of the water behind the plinth and inhaled air greedily. He found that he was just about able to stand on his tiptoes and keep his head above the water, but that wouldn’t last long. As he filled his lungs once more, a movement caught the corner of his eye. From where he was hidden behind the second statue, he was able to see down Middle Abbey Street, which ran perpendicular to O’Connell Street. The movement he saw was the Viking boat – there one second and gone the next – as the warriors rowed strongly up Liffey Street. So far everything was going to plan.
The third statue was the one closest to the Spire. He took a deep breath and swam hastily towards it, hoping and praying that everything would continue to go smoothly.
