Stones of Power- Hellstone & Maelstrom

by Jenna Grey

  Polly did understand that. Now she’d had time to think about it. It looked as if Winchard was out of their way for good, and on his way to the place Bert had shown them if he wasn’t already there. That thought was enough to bring a little smile to her face.

  “I just wish he’d been able to tell us where Gaunt is,” she said.

  Bert took a sip of his tea and gave a sigh of pleasure.

  “I really don’t think he knew anything,” he said. “He was terrified of what I showed him. I do think he would have told us if he’d known.”

  “Could my uncle have done something like this?” Polly asked. “I mean, could he have caused all this catastrophe with his magic?”

  Bert looked thoughtful for a moment and then said:

  “I could have done this. I don’t see why he shouldn’t know the same demons to call.”

  It was such a matter of fact statement, such a throwaway comment. Polly glanced across at Jack to see what his reaction was to such a damning confession. He seemed totally oblivious, staring out of the window, seemingly more interested in the rain lashing against the glass than their discussion.

  “But those sightings of the serpent by the warehouse ‒ they had to be Jormungand,” Liam said. “There’s not much doubt he’s had a hand in this.”

  “Of course he did,” Bert said. “That survivor more or less said that they saw something under the water, under the viaduct. Jormungand could easily have caused those bridges to collapse.”

  “It’s what else he can do that worries me,” Jack said. “I have a feeling that Hel and her family haven’t finished with us yet.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Blaine was right; Hel hadn’t finished with them yet. Through the night the building shuddered until the impact of more earthquakes, some just minor tremors, but others that were bad enough to loosen plaster from the ceiling and almost throw them from their feet. Polly couldn’t help but wonder what was going to be left of the city by the time this was over.

  Dawn finally came, a bright, golden dawn, casting a glow over the water and making it look quite beautiful. Polly hadn’t even tried to sleep, giving the spare camp bed to the boys and letting them take turns on it. She was desperately hungry, but couldn’t face eating the biscuits Jack had magically produced from somewhere. Her stomach was a tight knot of misery, and the thought of any kind of food made her feel nauseous – the unopened pack of biscuits was a good sign that they all felt the same.

  They stood, looking out of the window at the devastation as the sun crept higher and more and more of the disaster revealed itself. The water stretched as far as they could see, only the tops of the taller buildings standing out above the water line. Lambeth Palace was completely submerged, its library nothing but waste paper now, Far far worse, only the top floors of St Thomas’ Hospital stood above the water line.

  “They evacuated St Thomas’, didn’t they? I mean if there was any risk at all, they would have at least moved patients up to the higher levels, wouldn’t they?” Polly asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Cobra would have evacuated as many as they could, but they never expected this kind of devastation. There will have been an awful lot of casualties. I wish I could say otherwise,” Blaine said.

  Polly couldn’t answer him, her throat paralysed, her brain shutting down. The enormity of what was happening was just too much for her, too much for anyone to take in.

  “Oh my God,” she heard Finn say, and Polly forced her head around to look at what had provoked that reaction.

  There were shapes in the water, hundreds of shapes, bobbing along with the current – bodies, all lying face down, as if they were trying to see what was beneath the water, such a terrible sight.

  “I wonder what the final death count will be?” Finn asked, his gaze following one of the bodies as it drifted out of sight.

  Jack didn’t answer for a moment, lost in misery.

  “Tens of thousands, more, I have no idea,” he replied. “If it’s any consolation, and I really don’t think it is, the water level seems to be dropping fast. A lot of it has gone done into the fissures caused by the earthquake.”

  “Pretty certain that wasn’t any kind of altruism on Hel’s part,” Finn said, “just an unforeseen side effect, but I suppose we should be grateful for it all the same.”

  Polly rounded on him, furious.

  “Grateful? Grateful? Where were the Powers That Be while all this was going on, what were they doing? Why didn’t someone step in to stop this happening, to help us defeat the bitch? Don’t you dare ask me to be grateful for anything!”

  “Polly,” Bert said, “We are dealing with arcane forces here far beyond our understanding. The Powers That Be haven’t deserted us; they are doing all they can, I know that for a certainty, but Hel has more power than you can possibly imagine; she has the entire force of Helheim behind her, and she is not so easily defeated. We must have faith that somehow this will all come right.”

  Polly just glared at him.

  “You tell that to the families of all those corpses out there, or to the people that have lost everything they possess. You tell them that it’s all going to come right. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

  Liam was about to open his mouth to answer, but Jack cut in before a full-scale slanging match broke out.

  “We should listen in and see if we can get any news,” he said, “I’ve still got some life left in my battery.”

  “Good idea,” Finn said, and went to make them all some Cuppa Soup, from the twenty or so boxes Jack had in the cupboard. Polly had a feeling that most of Jack’s meals could be prepared with a packet and a kettle.

  Jack turned on his laptop and surprisingly did manage to get a newscast; the images on screen were remarkably clear, considering. Most of the news was given over to emergency information: what to do, where to go, how to deal with the emergency if you were in the affected areas. There was the usual news footage of survivors, the terrible scenes of carnage, but they knew all of that already. Then came the comfortable lies they had all expected.

  “An enquiry has begun into how this tragedy could have occurred. The Met Office has declined to give a statement at this time, and their spokesperson has refused to comment on allegations that this disaster could have been avoided if accurate information had been passed on in good time. Some reports seem to indicate that there was an explosion, or several explosions at the Thames barrier, which destroyed most of the centre section. This has given rise to speculation that terrorists may have used the extreme weather conditions to coordinate an attack on the barrier. Some eye witness reports suggest that a type of underwater device may have been used to cause the damage. Witnesses have reported seeing something moving under the water, perhaps a missile of some sort, that may have been responsible for the extensive damage to the barrier. Official sources are denying that there is any connection.

  “Well, that confirms it,” Jack said.

  “Jormungand, that―” Liam said, but he never got to finish the sentence.

  There was a terrible rumble that seemed to fill the whole world, a dreadful vibration that made the floor beneath them shake so violently that it knocked Polly from her feet. She screamed as a heavy metal filing cabinet flew through the air, missing her by just a few inches.

  “Earthquake!” Jack called. He grabbed hold of Polly’s arm and flung her under the large, solid oak desk. “Get under the doorway,” he yelled to the others. Polly huddled under the desk, her hands over her head, thinking that this surely was the end of the world. It seemed to go on for an eternity, the whole building shuddering as if someone had put it in a blender. Polly felt as if she was shaking apart, her whole body jittering around, her teeth rattling. It seemed to go on for an eternity.

  Then the shaking stopped, just stopped as if someone had flipped a switch and there was nothing but a terrible silence.

  “Everyone okay?” Jack asked. There were a few dazed nods. Polly’s ears were ringing; it felt as if her
brain had been put through a blender. She walked to the window, which was amazingly still intact; her whole body was buzzing, her nerves jangling. She looked out onto a nightmare scene. Fires raged across the city, smoke blackening the sky. It was a vision of Hell, a scene from any disaster movie Polly had ever watched. She could never have imagined in her wildest nightmares that one day she would see it for real.

  “How the hell did we ever come to this?” Jack asked.

  Another explosion rocked the building, and across the river, they could see a vast plume of black smoke spiralling into the sky, the structure below a great conflagration, flames licking upwards and outwards.

  “A gas main’s ruptured by the looks of it,” Jack said. “There are going to be plenty more of those.”

  Polly stood and watched the black smoke curling into the sky. The only sounds that broke the pall of silence that hung over the place like a shroud were the sound of ambulance and police car sirens.

  “Looks as if the water level is going down,” Liam said. And it was clear now that it was, slowly but surely draining away, the water finding its way back out again as the tide turned.

  As it receded, the sight that met their eyes was something that Polly would never forget. The mud was littered with bodies: men, women, children, dozens and dozens of them, animals too. They lay in the filth of the river bed, among the usual detritus that you would expect to find at the bottom of any river, old bikes, old bits of rusted metal, all of the discarded junk that nobody wanted. She couldn’t help but wonder how many death certificates were going to be written out in the next few days.

  “We need to know what’s going on,” Jack said, pulling his laptop from under an overturned filing cabinet. It had been mangled to scrap metal.

  “My phone might work,” Finn said. It did, and as soon as Polly saw the images she wished it hadn’t. The pile of rubble on screen was hardly recognisable, but she did recognise it from the great clock face that lay atop the mountain of bricks and stone - Big Ben. As the water receded, the mud-covered debris emerged; it was nothing more than shattered piles of stone and splintered wood.

  “This is the end of life in England as we know it, at least for a very long time,” Blaine said. “It’s going to take decades to recover from this. I honestly don’t know where we go from here.”

  “Now, now, no defeatist talk,” Bert said. “We can still win this. We just need to get back home and draw up our battle plan.”

  Blaine shot an angry look at Bert.

  “You don’t understand, Bert. Hel knew exactly where to hit us. The Medway viaduct was more than just a bridge over the river. It connected us to the rest of the world: transport lorries containing food, essentials from Europe use it all the time ― it’s a main artery and severing that is going to cause chaos. Then this on top. God only knows how it’s going to affect our economy. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a stock market crash to beat all crashes over the next few days. It’s a terrible fact, but the rest of the world, while seeming to have sympathy with us, are going to let the pound drown along with the rest of London. We are well and truly fucked. So, Bert, it’s not a case of winning, we’ve already lost.”

  Bert gave a weary sigh.

  “I do appreciate what you’re saying Jack,” Bert said. “I do understand the gravity of the situation, I really do, but there is far more at stake than even that. I’m sorry to say that we’re talking about the end of the world here, not just Britain. Ragnarok. The end of all things and that battle is still to be fought.”

  Jack looked as if someone had punched him.

  “Could they really do that, destroy the whole world? Why would they? I thought that Hel just wanted freedom for her and her brothers, what good would it do them if there was no world for them to be free in.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t matter to them what state it was in,” Bert replied. “It would still be better than what they have now. The legend of Ragnarok tells that there will be a terrible battle between the gods and the world will drown in water, Jormungand will cause waves to crash, the sun will become black while the earth sinks into the sea; the stars will vanish, and flames touch the heavens.”

  “But it says that the earth rises up again out of the ruins, new and fresh, doesn’t it?” Liam said. There’s still hope for us.”

  “You’re right, there has to be,” Jack said. “I refuse to believe that it’s going to come to that. As soon as the water recedes you can go home. I might be able to get you out of here later today with a bit of luck. I’ll call in some favours and arrange transport for you. Seeing as you’re our best, if not only hope of sorting this mess out, I think that gives you some sort of special privileges. You’ll be safer in your own home anyway. Then, God only knows what we do.”

  “What about you?” Bert asked. “What will you do?”

  Jack grunted a laugh that held about as much humour as a funeral soliloquy.

  “Oh, my flat is probably completely flooded out. I’m on the first floor, but it’s close to the river, I doubt I got away with it. I might be able to salvage some clothes and other personal bits and pieces. I can camp here for the time being.”

  “Oh Jack, I’m so sorry,” Bert said. “You’re more than welcome to come and stay with us if it helps. We don’t have a lot of room, but it will be better than that camp bed.”

  Jack thanked him with a smile and a shake of the head.

  “No, I need to be here really, I have to try and help if I can. I want you to get back home and find some way to stop this because God knows, that bitch isn’t going to stop until we make her stop.”

  “We’re not dead yet,” Bert said. “Trust me. We can still do this. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”

  Jack gave him a defeated look.

  “Course I do. Just make sure that on the way back home you stop off and fill your tank with petrol and stock up on canned goods, bottled water and loo rolls before people realise just how fucked we are. Then batten down the hatches and start praying.”

  Jack managed to get them transport later that day, an army vehicle transporting personnel out of the area passed almost directly by the spot where they’d abandoned the Volvo. It was a horrific journey, travelling through a world that Polly no longer recognised; wrecks of cars littered the streets, tossed haphazardly against one another or against the side of buildings where the sudden rush of water had assaulted them. There were still bodies inside some of them; she supposed they just hadn’t had time to clear them all away yet. Shop windows were gone, the glass washed away on the surge of water, the contents of the shops strewn across the pavement. Mothercare had been gutted, the prams and children’s clothing lying in a strange heap in the middle of the road, toys torn apart by the force of the water. Outside the electrical shop, huge fridge freezers and washing machines spilt out through the gaping cavity that had once been the front of the shop.

  Someone had managed to clear away the cars from the centre of the road to make it passable, and army personnel were bumping the vehicles out of the way as they edged their way through. The water was still a couple of feet deep, and they waded through what looked like raw sewage. It smelt like it as well; the terrible stench that hung in the air was making Polly feel nauseous.

  Then she saw a sight that stole all of her senses for a moment. The open piece of ground, a little higher than the water line, was covered with bodies, hundreds of them, some in actual body bags, some covered with sheets, others with old curtains, some with dustbin bags, whatever could be found to hide the corpses. They lay, row after row, for as far as she could see.

  “Oh dear God,” Liam said.

  “I don’t think he’s listening, mate,” one of the squadies said. “Or if he is, he doesn’t bloody well care. What the fuck is he doing to let this happen?”

  Polly wished she had an answer for him. Bert had sacrificed his fingers to get help from the higher powers, but even though they had helped, how could they stand by and let this happen? She felt a terrible
rage, a fit of righteous anger that they hadn’t done more to help. They were all as bad as one another, with their petty squabbling and selfishness. Was Odin, even if he did exist, any better than Loki or Hel? She wished she could do away with the whole lot of them.

  Once they got outside the immediate flood area, the roads seemed passably clear, and they finally reached their car. They had enough petrol from the can to get them to the first service station to find that there was already a long queue at the pumps with people filling up. It hadn’t taken long for people to realise just how bad things were. She, Bert and Finn went to get food and water, while Liam waited with the car. The supermarket was in chaos, people scrambling for food and water like animals. The shelves were emptying faster than the staff could restock them, and it was pretty certain they wouldn’t be getting any more deliveries in for some time.

  They filled a couple of trollies with tins of beans, stewed meat, fruit and canned vegetables and as much dried fruit and nuts as they could get their hands on. The bottled water was already almost gone, but they got what they could, and they could boil rain water if the worst happened. The loo rolls had already vanished, so they got some kitchen towels, and paper napkins left over from Christmas, with pictures of Santa and holly on them, which were better than nothing. Polly already knew that she would never be using them.

  Polly went straight up to their room and locked the door when they got home, leaving the boys to unpack the groceries. She changed from the too-big clothes that Jack had given her, pulling on a dress, not even bothering to put on underwear. She suddenly felt that none of it mattered, everything was a triviality in comparison to the madness happening around her. She didn’t even care that much what happened any more, because it was all going to be bad. She lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in a fugue. Somewhere in the cloud of thought, there was just one point of clarity. A bright, startlingly clear thought that kept surfacing.