The Bones of Giants

by Christopher Golden

  “Thank you, but no,” Abe told him. “You did your job. We’re not sure when we’ll be back.”

  “Or if,” Hellboy said, but so low that he didn’t think anyone else heard him. He had been unable to stop the words from coming out, but he didn’t want Pernilla to hear him saying it.

  “Good,” Gustaf said. “I wish you luck, but I do not want to come back here.”

  The man trotted back to the helicopter and climbed in. The rotors began to spin almost immediately, and moments later the machine began to lift off the ground, the air beating against the cracked road. Hellboy stood between his friends, watching Gustaf fly away, leaving them there in the midst of this dead community.

  “We don’t even know the name of this village,” he observed.

  “That’s because everybody around here who could tell us is dead.” Abe turned up the collar on his jacket. It was colder now that they had come further north, but not nearly as cold as it would be if their journey took them above the Arctic Circle again. And Hellboy had a feeling it would. Already there was a sensation in his right hand, a kind of tremble to Mjollnir that was becoming familiar. The hammer seemed to draw him further north, like a dowsing rod to water. If you believed in dowsing rods, that was. Hellboy wasn’t sure he did.

  Pernilla had wandered off toward the delivery truck. Now she stood in front of it, gazing at the rubble of the decimated building and around at the empty streets of the village, parked cars and houses with walls caved inward.

  “Where are they?” she asked as Hellboy and Abe approached. “You said this place was full of bones, but I don’t see any. No trace of the people at all. Where have they all gone?”

  Hellboy shrugged. “Kinda noticed that too. I wasn’t going to mention it.”

  “I’m more concerned about the whereabouts of your so-called bodyguards at the moment,” Abe noted. “Weren’t they supposed to meet us here?”

  “Yeah. Let’s get the truck ready. Make sure there’s gas and everything. Then we can eat something, stock up at the market. If they haven’t shown up by then, we’ll go on without them. I’m sure they’ll catch up before long.”

  Abe and Pernilla agreed to that plan, but while they went about their business, all three of them were restless and anxious. Hellboy noticed that the others spent as much time as he did glancing quickly over their shoulders and peering up at the windows of empty houses or into the ravaged interiors of those quaint-looking homes. Despite Hellboy’s statements to Wilton, it had been the Nidavellim and not the BPRD who had located this place. Brokk and Eitri had sent a messenger with word of it, and of the ghosts here. The village was haunted, and even though they could not see the spirits of the dead, Hellboy and his companions knew they were there. It made them feel like intruders at best, and thieves at worst. They were going to steal the truck, after all, not to mention whatever additional food, clothing, and blankets they could add to their supplies.

  No one would know or care but the ghosts of the dead.

  Hellboy assuaged his conscience by telling himself that they were going to avenge these people, who had no use for such things now. But he still felt like he had been caught doing something very wrong. Robbing the dead was the work of vultures and other carrion beasts.

  They unloaded all of the stock from the back of the delivery truck, things meant for this village and the next and the one after that. None of it was ever going to reach its destination unless they delivered it themselves, and there were, unfortunately, more pressing matters at hand. Then the truck was loaded up again, with their gear and the supplies and bedding they appropriated from the market and the houses around them.

  When Hellboy had stowed the last of the packs—this one very gently, as it contained explosives—he turned to find Pernilla standing just behind him. Abe was a few feet away, in the middle of the street, gazing around at the buildings again.

  “Not that I doubt you,” Pernilla said, “and maybe it’s late to be asking this question, but do either of you know how to start a car without the keys?”

  Hellboy rested the war hammer on his shoulder, though the burden of never being able to put it down had lessened somewhat. He was becoming used to its weight, a fact that disturbed him more than a little.

  “Abe can hotwire a car,” Hellboy replied.

  Pernilla raised her eyebrows and glanced over at the amphibian. Abe turned toward them, expressionless.

  “A friend of ours taught me, another agent at the Bureau. But I’ve only ever done it once, and then it was luck and desperation and my fear of things with tentacles that made it work.”

  “Come on, Abe. Liz is a better teacher than that,” Hellboy prodded. Then he smiled at Pernilla. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The keys are in the ignition. Whoever our delivery man was, he didn’t intend to be away from his truck for very long.”

  That solemn fact erased any good feeling they might have dredged up, and all three of them became uneasy again. Hellboy wanted to put the haunted village behind them.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “The dwarves can catch up.”

  “You said that before,” Abe noted, “but how do we know where to go from here? Despite his size, Thrym has not exactly left giant footprints to follow.”

  Mjollnir trembled in Hellboy’s hand as he raised the hammer and pointed north with it. “A little birdie told me we’re headed that way.”

  Abe was still for a moment, those wide eyes gazing back at Hellboy. At length, he strode up to the driver’s side of the truck and opened the door. He began to climb in, then paused and looked back at Hellboy and Pernilla.

  “Let’s go, then, before Thrym gets so far away that you can’t feel him anymore. Or before I decide to go home.”

  Pernilla sat between them in the cab of the truck. Abe was behind the wheel. Even without the hammer in his fist, Hellboy’s right hand made driving difficult. It was a tight fit with the three of them up there, but Hellboy knew he would get claustrophobic, even a little nauseous, bouncing around in the rear enclosure, and though Pernilla offered to ride in back, they figured she would be even less comfortable there than squeezed between them.

  The truck rolled through what remained of the village, and Hellboy con­sidered it very lucky indeed that they were on the north side of the river. If they’d been to the south, they would have had to drive a hundred miles or more in either direction to find a bridge. The one that had existed here previously was nothing more than stumps on either bank now, the pieces of it having been swept away with the current.

  The Nidavellim warriors were waiting for them at the northern edge of the village, where the last of the houses were spread sparsely along the roadside. Brokk, Eitri, and three others were ranged across their path. Abe braked and put the truck in park but did not shut off the engine. Hellboy rolled the window down but didn’t bother to get out.

  “Where were you guys?” he asked.

  The Nidavellim gazed at him. Eitri stared a moment at the pendant around Hellboy’s neck—he kept doing that and it was starting to tick Hellboy off, but now wasn’t the time to call him on it—and then they approached the truck with caution.

  “Garm did not attack you?”

  “Who’s Garm?” Hellboy asked, though the word rang true in his mind.

  “The hound of Gnipahellir.”

  “Say that five times fast,” Hellboy muttered.

  But beside him, Pernilla sighed and covered her face with her hands. “Are you saying that Garm is…”

  Hellboy had a feeling she was about to say something else. Maybe real. But what she said, after some hesitation, was “… alive?”

  Brokk and Eitri nodded gravely.

  “Who’s Garm?” Hellboy asked again.

  “He has gathered the corpses of the villagers,” Brokk told Pernilla, his focus on her. “Thrym sucked their lives from them, the essence of them, and ate some of their remains, but most of their corpses he left behind. Garm has gathered the dead into a hall at the center of the village. Your… ,”
he paused, searching his mind for the word. “Your helicopter landed very near the spot.”

  “That explains a lot,” Abe noted.

  Hellboy leaned forward and rested his head on the dashboard. “Who’s Garm?” he asked.

  Pernilla used both hands to push back her raven hair and held it there, as though she might tie it back. She closed her eyes and when she spoke it was as though she had grown suddenly very tired. Hellboy thought she probably had.

  “Garm was the wolf-hound who lived in a cave and guarded the entrance to Niflheim. A horrible beast who killed Tyr during Ragnarok—and I can’t believe I’m talking about this as though it were all true.”

  Hellboy noticed Abe and the Nidavellim all staring at her oddly. How could she question what was true with Brokk and Eitri standing right there? A sudden image flashed through his mind, of a slavering beast tearing off the sword-arm of a valiant warrior. Tyr. That was Tyr, he thought.

  Then he frowned. “I… remember. But Garm didn’t survive. Tyr killed him before he died.”

  Abe glanced over at the Nidavellim. “Apparently not, since he’s here, rounding up dead people like a squirrel gathering up nuts for the winter.”

  “But why is he here now, then? This isn’t a coincidence. Thrym is resurrect­ed, and then Garm, who’s also supposed to be dead, shows up? Who’s next, JFK?”

  Brokk cleared his throat and rested his hand on his war hammer. “We have discussed that ourselves. Garm is not a husk as Thrym was. He must have survived between worlds or been trapped somehow here on this plane. It might have been nothing more than Thrym’s passing by that roused him or drew him here, but it might have been the spell of the Svartalves. Magic that powerful always spreads.”

  “Wonderful,” Hellboy muttered. “Just what we needed. Thrym’s the Pied Piper for lost monsters. Let’s just catch him and put him back in the ground before more of these beasts start showing up.” He glanced at the Nidavellim. “You guys have any idea what other things might have survived Ragnarok?”

  They shook their heads.

  Hellboy sighed. “All right, get in the back. Abe, turn the truck around. We can’t just leave the big mutt here to feast on whoever happens to wander into this place next.”

  Chapter Twelve

  With all the gear in the back of the truck there was barely enough room for Brokk, Eitri, and the other Nidavellim, and they grumbled as they climbed aboard. Hellboy ignored them. Things were pretty tight up front, too, and Pernilla hadn’t squawked about being trapped between him and Abe. If she could deal with close quarters, so could they. Otherwise, they could walk.

  Of course, it might have just been that they didn’t want to be eaten by the giant wolf-hound. But the Nidavellim were proud warriors, and Hellboy figured none of them would admit to being scared of Garm. At least not yet.

  Abe drove back to the center of town, and a kind of tremor went through Hellboy. A number of things were responsible for the strange frisson of anxiety he felt then. Part of it, he realized now, was Mjollnir. With the tug of Thrym’s presence to the north almost crackling through the hammer’s grip, he had missed the way it seemed to grow warmer as they approached the village center the first time. In addition to that, though, was the simple fact that he did not like to go backward. It was one thing to want to return somewhere, but he had always hated having to do work over again, or to backtrack because a job had not been finished correctly the first time.

  Like this one.

  The truck rolled into the middle of the village and Abe parked it, maybe on purpose, within a few feet of the place they had driven it away from, only with its nose pointed in the opposite direction. Abe slipped out of the cab and stood with his arms crossed. He sighed as he glanced around at the buildings. Pernilla got out behind him and turned to Hellboy, who clipped the door with the war hammer as he stepped out. The passenger window cracked from the impact and Hellboy swore.

  “Let’s get this done as quickly as possible,” he said. “I don’t know if Thrym called Garm up on purpose somehow to slow us down, but if he did, I’d rather not give him the satisfaction.”

  Eitri was the first of the Nidavellim to climb out of the back. They appeared to have had some trouble with figuring out how to open the door from the inside, but they managed. He had his twin daggers ready, brandished in either hand, and as the others climbed down they also pulled out their weapons.

  Brokk was last. He gripped his war hammer—this sort of shrunken version of Mjollnir—and stepped up beside Hellboy.

  “What is your plan, thunder-bearer?”

  Abe did not even turn to look back at the Nidavellim as he replied. “He doesn’t have a plan. We’re going to go through whatever doors the place has, some windows if we can reach them, and kill the monster.”

  Taken slightly aback, Brokk turned to glance up at Hellboy. “A direct assault then?”

  Hellboy slung Mjollnir onto his shoulder. “It isn’t brain surgery.”

  Brokk nodded with satisfaction. “A direct assault. Worthy of Mjollnir.”

  “Glad you approve,” Hellboy replied dryly. Then he looked over at Eitri. “Pick a couple of your guys to stay here with Miss Aickman, just in case any other myths decide they want lunch.”

  Pernilla spun around, a frown creasing her forehead. “What makes you think I’m staying here?”

  Hellboy opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. He gave her a sheepish look, unsure what to say. If he told her it was because he figured she would be safer that way, she’d probably accuse him of being sexist. And maybe she’d be right. He hadn’t really thought about it enough to judge.

  “Well, for one,” he began, “you’re not as durable as the rest of us.”

  She seemed about to rebut that, but then glanced around at the dwarves and at Abe and finally back at Hellboy, and she said nothing.

  “Not to mention that you’re the only one not armed,” he added.

  Emotions warred in her eyes. Hellboy tended not to respond to the sorts of things he saw going on in people’s minds, the difficulties they wrestled with, but that did not mean he did not notice them. Pernilla had insisted she come along on this expedition and she did not want anyone treating her as though she were dead weight or excess baggage. He figured that was because she feared she might be just that.

  The truth was, he was glad to have her along. Her expertise had already proven useful. And, as far as company went, she was a lot more pleasant to be around than a troupe of grim-faced dwarves looking for something to kill.

  He started slightly when Pernilla stepped toward him, finger pointed at his waist. “You have the hammer. I don’t imagine you are going to be using that cannon.”

  Hellboy glanced down and saw that she was pointing to the enormous pistol that hung at his hip, a temporary sidearm offered to him by the Swedes until he could permanently replace the gun he had lost. The leather of the holster creaked slightly when he moved, but he had grown so used to the sound over time that he often forgot it was there. He wanted to ask her if she had ever fired a gun, especially one that size, but the look on her face stopped him.

  Hellboy reached his left hand down, unsnapped the holster, and slid the pistol out. She took it from him, tested its weight, sighted along the barrel, and the let it dangle at her side.

  “Which building is it?” she asked Brokk.

  The Nidavellim had watched this exchange in silence. Brokk pointed just up the street, to a squat stone building with large doors set into its face like a barn.

  Pernilla turned to Abe. “Let’s go.”

  Abe smiled and walked beside her. Hellboy hung back, let them get a ways up the street, and motioned for the Nidavellim to wait as well. After a moment he turned to Eitri.

  “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I will see to it,” Eitri replied with a respectful dip of his head.

  “Good.”

  Hellboy started down the street, his hooves thudding dully on the ground. The Nidavellim fell in behind
him, and Hellboy did not like the feeling. It was fine having them along. They were battle-hardened and determined, but they acted like puppies with a new master, and it was getting on his nerves.

  When he reached the massive doors to the stone building, Abe and Pernilla were waiting.

  “Quiet in there,” Abe whispered.

  “Yeah,” Hellboy agreed. There were windows on the second story, but none in front. On the side, though, he could see a pair of very high windows. “It was probably an assembly hall. Maybe the local flea market or something.”

  “Could have been religious,” Abe observed.

  “Could have been anything. What do you call those buildings people used to have where ranchers could bring their cattle to sell them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Could have been one of those.”

  Abe raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt there are a lot of ranches around here.”

  Hellboy shot him a dark look but Abe was impassive. Pernilla let the gun dangle at her side but already it seemed as though it was too heavy for her. Hellboy tried to pretend he did not notice. The Nidavellim stood ready for battle, weapons in hand, eyeing the front of the building.

  “How do you want to handle this?” Abe asked.

  “The three of us through the front. I’ll take down the door. I’ll split the munchkins up and send them around the side.”

  Abe nodded and both of them looked at Pernilla. After a moment she nodded as well. Then Hellboy strode to the Nidavellim and instructed Brokk and Eitri to split their group in two, with Brokk taking one of them around one side of the building, and Eitri leading the remaning two the other way.

  “When you hear the door go, come quickly,” he told them.

  “It will be done,” Brokk assured him.

  The Nidavellim split up and in moments they had disappeared around either side of the building. Hellboy went up to the massive doors again. He ushered Abe and Pernilla backward, raised the hammer, and brought it down in one swift, impossibly devastating blow. The wood splintered and the door cracked off its iron hinges. One side tore with a shriek of metal and dangled sideways in its frame. The other side fell back into the building and landed on the wooden floor inside with a crash.