Ross Lawhead (48 page)

Gád turned to her with a smile and sweat on his brow. “Daniel has succeeded—he has destroyed the vessel that housed my immortality—and it has returned to me.”

“I don't understand.”

“I am mortal now—I'm back in the game. A long time ago I placed my mortality into the body of an undying beast, so that as long as it lived, I would continue to. In this way, I became much like your friends the knights, walking this world, yet always removed from it. Now, with the sands of my existence once again flowing, I can do anything.”

Freya stood, blinking at him. “So . . . we lost?”

Gád shrugged. “Maybe from your point of view, but that's a rather simplistic view to take. This is just the movement from one state into another. It is neither better nor worse—just different.”

Freya stood, confused. “So, what happens now?”

“That is for you to decide. You may attempt to complete the mission that Ealdstan charged you with—to kill me and then return home—or you may simply return home now.”

“I—I don't know what to do,” Freya said, and her eyes went to the body of Swiðgar, still lying dead.

“Do you
want
to kill me?” Gád asked her.

“No!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears at once. “I don't want anyone to die. I just want to go home! Wh-at—what am I going to tell the others?”

“I can help you with that. Follow me.”

6

Freya walked as fast as she dared down the almost pitch-black corridor. The lamp from Niðergeard that she still carried with her seemed to be glowing dimmer now, and she couldn't always make out the ground in front of her.

She thought that she saw two spots of light ahead of her, like two dim stars. She dipped her lamp to see better and watched as the bobbing lights came nearer. She started to see outlines forming in the gloom, like the silvery outlines of a ghost.

“Freya?” she heard Daniel call.

“Ecgbryt, Daniel—” She hurried towards them.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked after Freya released him from a hug. “I found Gád's soul and killed it! It's done, we can go back to Ealdstan and he'll let us go!”

“We don't need to do that. I think there's an exit nearby.”

“Really? How can you tell?” Daniel asked.

“I passed it on the way to find you here.”

“Where's Swiðgar?”

Ecgbryt was already standing over her and peering into the darkness behind her.

“He's . . . back there. Come on, I'll show you.”

Freya led them both back the way she had come, to an intersection of pipes and ducts. And there, in the centre of the crossroads, lay Swiðgar's body, his broken spearshaft beside him, the spear's head still buried in his chest.

“Is he not sleeping?” Ecgbryt asked to himself. “Can he not be woken yet?”

He stepped forward and bent over the body and touched the cold face, then turned to Freya with an expression that nearly shattered her. She was already crying and through her misty eyes she saw a look on Ecgbryt's face like a wounded dog that had been kicked in the belly and it didn't know why.

“How did this happen?” he asked. “This should not have been possible.”

Freya wanted to break down and tell him everything. She took a deep breath and felt her stomach tighten till it was as hard as steel. She heard the words come out.

“We ran into Gád, and they fought. Swiðgar—he fought long and hard; I thought they would go on forever. Then Gád grabbed the spear and shoved it into his chest. And—it was over. I was terrified. Gád came up to me—I wanted to run, but I couldn't.

And he stood over me, and then—then he grabbed at his chest and keeled over. He started spitting up blood and then—I think he was dead. That must have been when you—did whatever you did, Daniel.”

Daniel and Ecgbryt just looked at her with impassive faces.

For a while she couldn't tell if they were buying it or not. She held her breath and prayed for one of them to say something, anything.

“Where is Gád now?” Ecgbryt asked, looking around.

“He's back there,” Freya said, indicating one of the paths.

She continued hurriedly, “Swiðgar wasn't quite dead yet and he walked this way with me, but then he stopped and died.”

“Did—did he say anything at the end?” Ecgbryt asked.

“Anything about me?”

Freya felt a sweat immediately break out. This wasn't in the script. “I don't—no, he didn't. He was really weak, and we were hurrying to get to you. I'm sorry, Ecgbryt, I'm so sorry.”

Ecgbryt turned back to Swiðgar's body.

“Wela,
broðor
, wela. Án bealocwealm þu habbe. Caru ond ánlípnes is min
.” He sighed. “Did I fail you when you needed me most? My hand too slow to rise with yours? Did you want for me in your last moment? Did your heart cry my name, or was thought of me absent? I am sorry that I gave so much cause for you to speak against me in all the years we walked side by side.”

Ecgbryt pulled the body of Swiðgar by its arms out of the rank and reeking sewer water and onto a dry stretch of paving and set about arranging the dead knight's clothing and armour.

“So your dear spear is broken. And where is your shield? Will you not fight again in this world?
Swa, swa
—continue the fight in the next world, and tarry there until I come join you.

“And I vow before you now never again to speak word of our past adventures. The uttering of them will taste always as stale water and dry ash if you are not to share such food of remembrance with me. No more will Ecgbryt drink to the health of dead kings or raise a horn to the memory of forgotten battles. My head will not again be warmed with thoughts of past glories and triumphs, but will be lit only with ideas of future conquest and the defeat of enemies—of returned bloodshed and vengeful violence.

“We have traveled many roads, you and I, long and dangerous roads, but the way always seemed shorter when I walked with you and burdens lighter.” Ecgbryt placed a massive hand around the dead body's belt and hefted the enormous mass onto his back and across his shoulders. “So come with me a short distance yet and I will honour this which you have been left behind. You are not so heavy, for the greater part of you yet has gone on.”

He turned to Daniel and Freya. “I would like to inspect Gád's body myself.”

“No, Ecgbryt,” Freya urged. “You have to help us get out of here first. There might still be yfelgópes around here.”

“Very well,” Ecgbryt said. “Which way did you think was the passage out?”

7

Swiðgar's body, though it would have been almost cripplingly heavy to anyone else, did not slow Ecgbryt down much at all. He walked silently behind Daniel and Freya as they moved down the new passage, which wound on with many curves and corners but was brick and piping all the way along.

This was the way that Gád had directed Freya to go, and she prayed that it wouldn't be another trap. The possibility that it was actually the way home, however, pulled her onwards, walking quickly ahead of the other two, pausing to wait for them at the turns so that they wouldn't lose sight of her. At one corner she paused long enough to talk to them.

“Do you see something up ahead?” Freya asked.

“I can't tell. Yeah, maybe. Something shining.”

As they went farther, Daniel could start to see the ghostly image of a wall in the distance. “We're almost there,” said Freya.

They kept their feet and moved onwards. White light was streaming past the wall—daylight, Freya realised with awe. For the first time in a month or more, they were seeing daylight, projected onto the brick wall of the corridor.

They rounded the corner and had to stop, their eyes dazzled by the light that fell through a large grille. They both gasped and shielded their eyes.

“The sun . . . ,” said Freya, wiping tears off her cheeks.

“It hurts!” said Daniel, surprised.

Ecgbryt flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “I have not seen the sun in over one thousand years. I do not remember that it stung so.”

They moved forward, out of the direct path of the light, and stared up through the grille.

“Can you see anything?”

Daniel jumped up and down a couple of times to try to get a better view. “No, just the sky . . .”

“Feel that fresh air.”

They stayed underneath the grille for several short seconds, fixated, before their fears pricked them onwards.

“Come on,” Freya said. “It can't be far now.”

But the next turning revealed a plain brick wall and nothing else.

They stared at it blankly and it stared back at them, just as blankly.

“It's like a bad joke,” Daniel said.

Freya was in turmoil. Gád had lied to her. She had wanted to believe in escape so badly; she had wanted to put this terrible world and all that had happened to them far, far behind her. But now—now there was no telling what else they'd have to go through in order to get back home again.

“Maybe we can break through the grate,” Freya said. “Maybe we can call out to some—”

A high, piercing scream cut through the air.

“Yfelgópes,” Ecgbryt said. “We need to turn around and prepare ourselves. No good can come from fighting in a corner.”

“Wait,” said Daniel. “Where's the mortar?”

“What?”

“There's no mortar between the bricks. It's just a pile of stacked bricks. I think we can break it down.”

Skittering footsteps and scraping clatter was heard from down the zigzagging corridor. Ecgbryt set Swiðgar's body down, propping it against the wall. He unslung his shield from his back and hefted his axe. He hunkered down, ready to meet any attackers.

“Be mindful,” Ecgbryt said. “I shall protect you as best I can, but I may not be able to halt them all.”

Daniel drew his sword and shoved its point in between the crack of two bricks. It slipped in easily enough, all the way down the long tip. He wriggled it gently from side to side, causing the wall to bulge towards him. “It's coming . . . !”

He pulled his sword back out, and with it, a stream of bricks and damp soil. He felt a hand on his arm and he was yanked backwards sharply, losing his balance and falling lengthways on the ground as the large old bricks fell to a crashing heap at his feet.

Freya was lying beside him. “Thanks,” he said, picking himself up. Dust was billowing around them. The upper half of the wall had given way, turning into a large pile of bricks and dirt. Behind the wall was . . . more dirt. Dark, brown, muddy earth.

“No,” Freya said quietly, despair finally sinking into her heart.

“It's not fair.”

“Never mind, Freya,” Daniel said consolingly. “We'll find—”

“Hold on,” said Freya, climbing forward on the dirt heap. “I can see light.”

“What?”

“Up through here . . . it's—” She thrust her arm into the dirt and pulled. A small clump of mud and grass came with it, revealing a dim blue corner of sky. “Hurry, help me!”

They dumped their packs and leapt forward, clawing clods of dirt away. Freya's fingers dug into a mesh of fine white fibers, which turned out to be the roots of grass that hung like a curtain in front of her. She started ripping through it, tearing it apart as much as she could.

“Ecgbryt,” Daniel said, turning to the knight who still stood, weapons at the ready. “Come on, help us!”

“Not today, young Daniel, young Freya. This is where our paths part.”

Daniel also stopped. “What? Why?”

“Your work under the skin of the earth may be finished, but mine is not. I must toil in the darkness awhile longer yet.”

“No, Ecgbryt—” Freya moaned, the image of Gád stabbing Swiðgar played over in her head. “If you stay here—” she choked.

“I'm not leaving!” Daniel exclaimed. “Ecgbryt, I want to stay with you.”

“Daniel, you can't—”

“Shut up, Freya, this was always the plan. I was going to help you get home and then stay myself. I want to be a knight. I want to destroy evil!”

“Daniel, that's not—”

“I hate the world. Hate it! I'm not going back! I
refuse
!”

Ecgbryt knelt in front of Daniel.

“You must go,” he said. “You do not belong here.”

Those words cut Daniel to the heart. “Don't say that.”

“I would not want you here.”

“I don't care,” Daniel said, eyes hot with tears. “
I
want me here.”

Just then, the first of the yfelgópes rounded the corner at high speed, howling at them. Ecgbryt rose and with a swift motion brought his axe up and into its jaw.