Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper (21 page)

The sea serpent flops around on the steps leading up to the doorway. It is about one foot long, with no wings, no legs, no mutations and it misses the water: it misses its home.

Arthur blinked and looked down again. The Jormungand was still there, the gigantic and monstrous beast it always was. It was getting ready to bash the door again and if Arthur was going to act, now would be the time. He really didn't know what he was doing, but some instinct was driving him. At least, he assured himself, if I'm on the beast's back it can't eat me.

Well, I hope not anyway.

He climbed onto the windowsill and swung his legs over the edge. He had to crouch in order to fit himself underneath the upper pane. He looked down at the World Serpent, directly below his feet, and tried to estimate the distance. It was an eight-, maybe nine-foot drop. Not safe, but no more life-threatening than waiting in the house.

He shut his eyes and pushed himself out of the window.

And he landed right on the Jormungand's back.

The serpent reared upwards, screeching. Arthur turned himself around to get a grip of the fins along the beast's head. Suddenly, the Jormungand's wings spread out. Arthur held on tighter, anticipating what was about to happen.

The serpent leapt into the air. Its wings beat fiercely pulling it higher and higher. Arthur felt his legs slipping from around the Jormungand's body. He shifted his weight forward as much as he could and clasped the fin tightly, spreading his legs apart as far as possible and gripping with them to balance on the serpent's neck.

As the beast climbed further into the sky, Arthur gazed with wonder at the world below. He could see zoo animals stampeding in the distance and wolves trying and failing to round them up. He could see the rooftop of the Áras through a gap in the trees. He could see the flooded city beyond the park walls, hopeless and lifeless. Then they soared through the gap in the clouds and, for as far as he could see, the sky was blue.

It was blue. Blue and healthy and wonderful.

Soon they were flying so high that his ears popped, while oxygen was getting so thin that his breathing became ragged; his straining lungs pulled shallow breaths in and out rapidly. Then, without warning, the serpent bucked its entire body violently. Arthur lost his grip on the fin and found himself sliding down the creature's back, down towards the ground. As he went, his arms scrabbled about, looking for purchase but finding none. As he reached the slimmer part near the tail, he threw his arms around the serpent's body, squeezing as tightly as he could.

All of a sudden, the serpent swerved down towards the ground. They burst back through the cloud cover, the earth rapidly rising to meet them. And then something caught Arthur's eye.

Most of the Jormungand's scales were green or red or a mixture of the two. And all the scales were shiny, glistening in daylight like glitter on a Christmas card. Except now Arthur noticed a small area of scales on the serpent's back that weren't glossy at all. Parts of them were dull and black: diseased-looking. But this wasn't any ordinary infection – the blackness formed symbols and shapes, lines and criss-crosses. Arthur thought back to the dream where he had seen Loki create the Jormungand. The god had plucked an ordinary sea serpent out of the water and then traced runes on its back with his own blood. The marks he could see were those runes – the infection of Loki. Suddenly the pendant flared against his chest. And, just like that, Arthur figured out how to stop the World Serpent permanently.

The Jormungand pulled out of its dive sharply just before it hit the ground. Arthur couldn't hold on any more and slipped off the beast's back, hitting the ground hard and tumbling along it. When he finally came to a stop he sat up, momentarily dazed, and rubbed his head. They were back near the lake and the serpent was coming his way.

Arthur got to his feet. The beast soared straight at him, opening its jaws to roar its victory.

‘Here goes,' he said to himself, crossing his fingers and toes for good luck.

He ran straight at the beast and threw himself into the mouth of the World Serpent.

It was so dark that Arthur wasn't sure if he was alive or not. And if he was dead then this had to be hell because the stench was so awful. It was like boiled cabbages strained through dirty football socks and topped off with a generous seasoning of dog poo. After being swallowed, he had felt constricted, as something slimy pressed in on him from all angles. Then that tightening gave way and he landed somewhere with a splash.

Arthur reached out into the gloom, feeling the warm and moist softness of the serpent's stomach lining. Then his hand rubbed off something else and he recoiled in shock. His fingers felt it out again tentatively; it was more solid than the first surface, mostly dry and wrapped in … fabric!

‘Ash!' he said loudly, grasping the fabric and shaking the shoulder he'd found.

There was no response.

‘Ash!
Ash!
' He shook her more urgently. ‘Please be alive.'

Suddenly, almost so faint he thought his ears were lying to him–

‘Hmm?'

‘Ash! Ash, wake up!'

‘Ar … Arthur?'

‘Yeah, yeah, it's me!' Although he couldn't see her, he pulled the shoulder towards him and then wrapped his arms around the body that followed, squeezing tightly. ‘Are you hurt?'

‘Hurt? I don't think so. What happened, where …?' Her voice trailed off groggily.

‘Well … I don't know how to say this but … we're inside the serpent's belly.'

‘
What?
'

Arthur found a flashlight clipped to the Wolfsguard's flak jacket. He switched it on, momentarily blinding them both. When their eyes had adjusted to the brightness, they peered around.

They were surrounded on all sides by red fleshy tissue: the stomach sack. Ash pushed a hand against the lining. It was partly translucent and they could make out the tightening muscles beyond. It was almost elastic to touch and she knew it was impossibly strong without even testing it. Despite how large the serpent was, they were still cramped tightly together. The remnants of some the Jormungand's less digestible diet over the last few weeks were squeezed in beside them, including the empty uniform of one of the Wolfsguard and even an old, twisted bicycle. Ash grimaced when she realised she was lying on top of the remains of the stag and pushed herself off it, only to find herself standing in a black, foul-smelling soup.

‘Ugh!' she moaned in disgust.

‘Watch out!' warned Arthur. ‘That's stomach acid. Bile. Don't stand in it for too long or your feet will start to burn.'

She leapt on top of the old bicycle and regarded Arthur.

‘I kind of remember the serpent swallowing me,' she said. ‘I thought I was done for. I guess I passed out. It got you too?'

‘Not quite.'

‘Then how–?'

‘That's not important right now. We don't have much time. I don't know how much air is in here but I'm guessing very little. I'm getting us out of here.'

‘How?'

He pointed over their heads, through the stomach lining, to the serpent's strong back muscles. Right above them the flesh was an unhealthy dark green, seeping pus and ooze into the rest of the body.

‘See that?' Arthur said. ‘That is Loki's infection. It's what turned the serpent into a monster.'

‘
Eew.
'

‘Eew exactly. I'm betting that the scales are too tough to treat from the outside. And anyway, everyone knows that the best way to treat an infection is to deliver the medicine straight to the source.'

‘You're going to give the serpent an injection?'

‘Not quite,' he said, taking the pendant from around his neck and reaching up towards the infection. His hand pushed against the side of the stomach, stretching it enough so that he could almost reach the infected spot – almost but not quite. Ash pushed her way next to him and reached her own arm up, pushing with him through the elastic tissue.

They were inches from it …

Centimetres …

Millimetres …

And then …

The pendant touched the infection.

There was a bright flash of green light around Arthur and Ash, and for a moment they were totally blinded. When their sight came back, they found themselves standing in the same position, arms raised, pendant in hand. But they were back in the field near the lake, safe and sound.

And covered in a thin, stinking layer of stomach slime.

‘Where's the Jormungand?' Ash said, lowering her arm to pick a glob of mucus from her shoulder and flick it away.

‘There it is.' Arthur pointed through the grass. The serpent was there, no more than one foot long, flopping about on dry land. It was back in its original form, finally free of Loki's infection.

‘Wow,' murmured Ash.

Arthur gently picked the serpent up in his two hands. He walked to the lake and then let it slide into the water. They watched in silence as the creature happily swam away.

‘I could see the truth,' Arthur muttered, half to himself.

‘Huh?'

‘I saw the serpent as it really was, just for a split second.' He turned to Ash. ‘Like how I saw the tree splitting. The Norns told me that I'd be able to see the truth like Odin. Because of my eye.'

‘So what does that mean?'

‘I don't know. But if it helped us defeat the Jormungand then maybe, just maybe, we have a fighting chance after all.'

‘No.'

The word escaped Loki's lips involuntarily, little more than an exhaled breath.

He had felt it, a loss deep inside him. It was like forgetting a treasured memory, only much more painful – and much more primal – than that. A part of him was gone. Not simply dead, but gone. And it left a gap in his soul that he knew would never be filled again.

‘You!' he barked at the Wolfsguard closest to his throne. ‘Summon my granddaughter. Bring me Drysi.'

After scraping most of the slime off, Arthur and Ash returned to the lake and washed their hands and faces. Ash retrieved her stick from where it had fallen when the Jormungand had first appeared and Arthur picked up his backpack. Then they both lifted their helmets and put them back on. As uncomfortable as wearing the heavy helmets was, Arthur was glad to be undercover once more. They resumed their journey towards Áras an Uachtaráin.

The sun was hotter than it had been and within minutes they were boiling again. The going got easier, though, when they reached the main road. The thoroughfare was a straight line of neat, smooth tarmac slicing right through the centre of the park. Although it left them exposed to view, both Arthur and Ash felt it was worth the risk to get to their destination more quickly and they hoped their disguises would be enough to stop anyone looking at them too closely. The road was wide enough for two lanes of traffic, with space to park cars on either side. Although today, of course, there were no vehicles in sight. A slim structure stood out on the flat horizon, the sunlight reflecting off the white stone column. It was right ahead of them, slap bang in the middle of the road. Arthur couldn't make out the statue on top of the plinth but Ash was familiar with it.

‘That's the phoenix,' she told him. ‘You know – the bird that rose out of the ashes?'

‘Hmm …' he said thoughtfully. ‘How far do you reckon?'

‘A kilometre, probably less. Then the Áras is just around the corner.'

They walked down the remainder of the deserted road in silence, both deep in thought. With their destination in sight, now was their last chance to turn around, to give up, to run away.

Arthur's mind turned to Loki. Each step took him nearer to the god and, even though the pendant was silent, he could feel the Father of Lies' closeness in his bones. What would he do when they came face to face? How would he stop him? Could Arthur actually kill someone – even Loki – if he had to? The Norns had warned him that killing a god was a terrible thing, no matter who that god was. Could Arthur do what Odin hadn't? Could he end Loki's life?

Yes, he thought. I could. If I was forced to it, I could. But the question is, should I?

‘Nervous?' Ash asked in a croaky voice after a while.

Arthur didn't answer her. He just took her hand and walked on in stolid silence.

The phoenix statue loomed larger. It was on the centre of a roundabout in the middle of a six-way crossroads. The second turn-off to the left led to the Áras, Arthur remembered from Ash's plan, and to Loki. They were heading slightly uphill and couldn't see the main road beyond the roundabout. But when they reached the crest of the slope, they both gasped.

Members of the Wolfsguard were everywhere, charging about, barking orders at each other. Some were in their wolf shapes, but most were back in their human forms. In the distance a high, intimidating fence cut straight across the road and into the trees on either side. Wolves were snarling and barking at the wild animals on the other side of the boundary, warning them to stay back, while members of the guard in human form were securing a large hole in the barrier. They were hastily erecting new segments of the chain-link fence to close the gap.

‘They've managed to get the stampede under control then,' murmured Ash.

Arthur looked at her and realised he was still gripping her hand. He let it fall, wary of being spotted. He somehow doubted that the Wolfsguard went around holding each other's hands. He stood for a moment gazing up at the phoenix. The carved bird was soaring out of stone flames, reaching for the skies. He tried to take inspiration from it, but the closer he got to Loki, the more he wondered would he rise triumphant again or go down in flames.

He looked back at the mayhem ahead of them and braced himself.

‘Ready?' he said.

‘As I'll ever be.'

‘Stay calm,' he whispered inside his helmet to no one in particular. ‘Just stay calm.'

Suddenly a pair of guards surged up from the first turn to the left, carrying a roll of fencing between them.

‘Outta the way!' shouted one.

Arthur's heart thudded against his ribs as he waited for their inevitable discovery. But the guards clearly hadn't looked closely at them; they were too focused on getting to the fence to notice the ill-fitting uniforms and small stature of the two supposed guards. Arthur didn't mind: it proved that they would pass muster if no one looked too keenly.

With hearts still beating frantically, they took a moment to watch the guards hurry towards the fence. Most of the animals seemed to have moved away from it, finally chased off by the wolves. Only a couple of wild cats and a monkey lingered by the boundary. A lion was roaring in response to the wolves' snarling, clawing at the wired fence. A couple of the guards were thrusting electrified prods through the gaps at the lion, shocking him any time he got too close for comfort, although this only seemed to enrage him further. The panther was much quieter, striding backwards and forwards along a section of the fence and watching each guard. A chimp swung from a nearby tree, pulling acorns off the branches and shooting them through the gaps. One soared right down a barking wolf's throat, blocking its air passage. After a few seconds of violent hacking, the wolf coughed the acorn back up and it landed on the ground covered in white mucus.

‘Quick,' muttered Arthur behind his helmet as soon as his heart rate dropped. ‘This way.'

They scurried off to their left, up a long straight road that led through a wide, white gate. They quickly came to a crossroads. The road they were on, stretched on in front of them, then curved right some distance ahead. The road that cut across it ran in a straight line from left to right.

‘Do you think we should head straight on or go right? Both roads seem to lead to the Áras,' said Arthur.

‘That's right,' said Ash. ‘According to the map, the road in front leads round to a couple of sheds and garages, which I would bet are being used by the Wolfsguard now. But the way to the right will take us straight to the front of the house.'

‘Great,' muttered Arthur. ‘We can knock on the front door and see if they invite us in for tea!' But he agreed that it was best to avoid the Wolfsguard as much as possible, and so he followed Ash as she took the road to the
right.

The avenue leading to the front of the Áras was lined with trees and they walked close to the edge of the road so they could hide if necessary. A plaque stood in front of each tree, detailing when it had been planted and by what foreign dignitary. It was quieter down here, but Arthur and Ash weren't the only ones walking the road. They spotted a group of guards coming towards them and quickly ducked into the cover of some bushes, waiting for them to pass. Despite the fact that their disguises had gotten them overlooked so far, Arthur didn't want to risk any closer examination by the wolves and he hoped the guards, who were deep in conversation, had not noticed them or their sudden disappearance.

As the group came nearer, Arthur and Ash could hear their conversation. The guard in front, who was carrying a rolled-up piece of fencing tucked under one arm and had a barrel of a chest, was talking.

‘… nearly under control now anyways, but still!'

‘I can't believe I missed all the fun,' whined another, lighter-framed guard.

‘Aye,' said a third. ‘Typical that it happens on my shift off.' He turned to the first one. ‘So didja get de bloody kids who released them?'

‘Yeah, we got 'em. Of course we got 'em. We chased after 'em. Led us right to dere hideaway! Turns out dere's a hundred kids hidden there. Straight to de camps for dem!'

The gaol! Arthur sensed Ash stiffening next to him. He was glad they'd hidden in the bushes now. If they had risked passing the guards, the wolves might have noticed their reactions. He thought of all of Ash's rebels being captured by the Wolfsguard, squeezed into boats and brought to the camps, taken away from their little hidden home to endless days and nights of pain, of hunger, of torture.

The group of guards passed right by the bush but didn't so much as glance in its direction.

‘Arthur–' Ash gasped as soon as they were out of earshot.

‘I know.'

‘Arthur, the gaol.'

‘Come on then,' he said, trying to sound braver than he felt and helping her out of the bushes. ‘The only way to help them now is to stop Loki once and for all.'

They stepped out from behind the bushes and resumed their journey in the direction of the Áras, keeping close to the tree cover all the while.

Ash walked a few steps ahead of Arthur, her arms wrapped around her comfortingly with her stick clenched tightly in one hand. She hadn't said anything since they had left the guards behind. Neither had Arthur. He felt bad for the people at the gaol, he really did. But he knew that they didn't have time to mourn. The element of surprise was key. They'd lost enough time dealing with the Jormungand and in order to have any chance of saving everyone they had to keep going. He looked at her shoulders, hunched over as she stared at the grass, walking quietly forward.

Arthur glanced behind and in front of them. There was no one in view. Taking a chance, he caught up to her, grabbed her by the arm, turned her around and pulled her against him, closing his arms around her tenderly. She rested her visor on his shoulder and he felt the convulsions shudder through her as the tears poured out.

‘We have to keep going,' he said in a gentle tone. ‘You know this. We can't stop.'

‘Mm-hmm,' she said, snuffling and pulling back from him. He gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

‘We can do this, Ash.'

‘Mm-hmm.'

‘We can.'

‘I know.'

Arthur nodded, then let go of her and they resumed their journey. Soon the great structure of the Áras appeared between the trees on their left.

Arthur had seen pictures of the president's home and had a clear vision of how it should look. He imagined the long central building and the main entrance flanked by four columns beneath a central pediment. The walls would be painted a pristine white, the surrounding gardens and lawns would be neatly trimmed and impeccably kept, and the Irish tricolour would flap proudly in the wind over the entrance. But this wasn't what met them as they reached the avenue leading up to the front door. The Áras itself had been painted a lurid neon green. The paintwork was uneven and the shade shifted all over where layers had been poorly applied. Words as high as Arthur were scrawled in red across the left-hand side of the building: ‘Long Live Loki'. A mural as tall as the structure itself balanced it out on the other side. It depicted a grinning Loki in crimson washes, wearing a crown and giving two cheesy thumbs-up like a gameshow host. Stone steps led up to the front door but were partly covered by a temporary wooden ramp. The lawn in front of the Áras was a mess. All the flowers and plants had been ripped out by the roots and were strewn about the place, shredded to bits and ground into the muddy earth. The fountain in the centre of the lawn was spitting out green sludge and the flag over the pediment was also green, with one word inked onto it in bold red letters: ‘Loki'.

‘Oh–' Ash began.

‘Look!' Arthur cut her off.

The tarmac driveway in front of the Áras was occupied by somewhere between fifty and a hundred members of the Wolfsguard. They were lined up in three straight rows facing the building and standing to attention, with feet and arms by their sides and batons or crossbows slung over their shoulders. From their stance, they were obviously waiting for something or someone.

Arthur and Ash were right at the edge of the tree cover now. There was nothing between them and the Áras but the lines of the Wolfsguard. They hunched down behind one of two thick trees that flanked the entrance to the gardens, peering cautiously around it to see what was happening.

‘What do you think's going on?' Arthur whispered.