M. Lachlan: Wolfsangel

He tried to sound confident, but he put more faith in the witch’s powers than he did in his own sword skills.

There was another thump, closer now, and a terrible howl. The witch turned her head in its direction. The tunnel was too narrow, Feileg was sure, for the wolf to get through. That would allow the witch to work safe from its jaws.

Feileg looked down at Adisla. ‘You will have your prince back,’ he said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No. I have seen. I have seen. Kill her, Feileg, kill her before it is too late. We can fight a monster; you cannot fight a god.’

‘She is our salvation.’

‘She is our death, eternally and again and again, you and me, Bragi and more, torture and horror without end. Always she looks for death in the jaws of the wolf. Kill her. Kill her before he does.’

‘Adisla, my love,’ he said, ‘the wolf is here. He has come. He could keep us in here for ever. I am no swordsman, and already a mighty warrior, a man brought up to arms from his earliest years, has proved no match for him. The witch must help him. Can you speak to him again? Can you calm him and allow her to work her magic on him?’

‘He is death, always death. He was a breath from killing me in the north. Do not bring him here, Feileg, do not bring him.’

‘He is here,’ said Feileg.

Adisla gave way to terror and just shook in his arms.

The noise was still closer, a deep and angry growling but coupled with something else. Feileg, who had eaten countless times with his wolf brothers, recognised it. It was the sound of tearing flesh, of joints coming apart, of bones being pulverised. And then there was a third sound, an occasional pitiful whine, like a wolf caught in a hunter’s trap. The monster was wounded.

‘She will save us or she will die.’

‘If she dies by his teeth then we are lost. It is what she wants. Strike at her, Feileg, strike at her.’ Adisla was pulling at his shoulders. She was raving, thought Feileg, driven mad by what she had endured.

The witch was still staring ahead, the spear shaft raised. Feileg wondered if she meant to strike Adisla with it but couldn’t summon the will. Another thump, much closer, and with it that grizzling note of agony. Feileg stumbled as best he could back to the tunnel.

There was a wave of breath, hot and fetid, which hit him like a fist, driving him back into the cave. The snapping jaws of the beast were no more than three paces from him. It was forcing its way through, so desperate it was smashing its own body in the attempt.

This was Feileg’s chance to kill the beast. It was momentarily stuck, its back legs scrabbling at the ground, its shoulders crunching and cracking in the narrow gap, its head twisting and straining forward. He raised the Moonsword but could not strike. His mind went back to the escape from the beach, to the water. Vali had saved his life. It was more than that though. The prince had been his double, the person he could have been but for a twist of the Norns’ thread, and now he felt bound to him.

He fell back. ‘Use your magic, witch,’ he said, gesturing to the tunnel. ‘Use your magic or I will kill you both.’

Still the witch said nothing, did nothing. He raised the Moonsword above his head as if to hit her but even then she didn’t move, just stood holding that spear as if about to strike at an unseen enemy.

Feileg turned to Adisla. ‘When the wolf gets into the chamber, I will occupy it. You circle around and get out into the tunnel. It will be stuck in here for a time. If you can speak to him then do. After that she will cure him or she will die.’

‘Kill her, kill her.’

There was no more time. The wolf had made it and smacked onto the floor like a fish onto a slab. It seemed boneless, almost: only its back legs were moving and one of them seemed dislocated at a terrible angle.

‘Go!’ said Feileg. ‘Go!’ He pulled Adisla to her feet.

She swayed and would have fallen, but Feileg, from somewhere, found the strength to support her, taking her arm over his shoulder and plunging towards the tunnel. They made it only a few paces before collapsing.

The wolf was writhing like a hooked eel on the floor of the cave, the witch still immobile with that spear in her hands.

‘Death and agony, always and for eternity,’ said Adisla.

Feileg shook his head. ‘This, for eternity,’ he said and hugged her to him. ‘The love you sent to me when we parted at the pool, the love we share now. Go, Adisla, and go with that love.’

He looked at the wolf. Its body was reforming. There was a sound like someone cracking a joint of mutton and the shoulders became recognisable again. It stretched out its forelegs and they too snapped back into shape.

‘You’ll die.’

‘I am not afraid to die. I am more afraid to live if I cannot save you. Go. Go! You once risked your life by setting me free, now I do the same for you. Go!’

The wolf breathed in and there was a tearing noise as its lungs pushed its ribs back into position.

Adisla squeezed his hand and kissed it.

‘Leave here,’ she said.

‘ I will come back to you. I vow it.’ He shoved her into the tunnel.

‘Feileg!’ Adisla’s arms stretched after him, but he had gone back and she had no strength to move.

The wolf had got to its feet, complete and whole. In the small cave Feileg realised just how big the animal was, its green eyes the size of shield bosses and its teeth a hand span each. It towered over Feileg and the skinny body of the witch. It looked at Adisla in the mouth of the tunnel, at the torture rocks and at the witch. Then it fixed the witch queen with a hard stare and drew back its teeth. She was unmoved, just staring ahead with that spear raised.

Feileg saw what he needed to do. He had hated Vali, resented him for tying him and for being loved by Adisla. But hadn’t it all been for the best? Without Vali he would have never known what it was like to be loved, to feel a kiss returned or see an affectionate look in a woman’s eye. His destiny had been tied to that of the prince, and though it would have been simpler to cut him where he stood, fighting was not the way forward. He’d had enough of that.

Feileg put down the Moonsword at the monster’s feet.

‘Prince,’ he said, ‘come back to yourself.’

The wolf hacked and coughed and words began to form. ‘I am here.. I am here… I am known to you… I am…’

It seemed to be having difficulty framing its thoughts.

Feileg spoke. ‘This lady, this child, she is your cure. Bow down before her and do as she bids. Her magic is famous in all known lands. Let her help you, Vali. For the love you have known. For Adisla, relent.’

The wolf lowered its head and bowed down before the witch queen.

For the first time Feileg saw the terrible child move. Her head turned towards him and her gaze met his. Feileg felt those spider claws scuttle across his brain again as a rush of thoughts and sensations. He saw what a fool he had been. The wolf was all that was standing between him and what he wanted. With Vali gone, Adisla was his, her past cut away, her future free. He thought of his disgust at seeing the prince gnawing at those bodies on the ship, Vali’s slaying of the brave Bragi, his murder of the hunters. Why should he be cured? He had forfeited that right with his murders.

Feileg took up the Moonsword and struck.

Adisla screamed as the bright arc of the sword flashed through the air to sink into the animal’s flank, but the blow was inexpert and poor. The wolf rounded on Feileg, driving its teeth into him, ripping away the flesh from his side and smashing him to the floor. The animal threw back its head, opened its jaws and swallowed the meat down. Adisla was too weak to move.

The witch smiled. The next stage was now plain. It was more than a spell though; it was an expression of something eternal, powerful and undeniable — like a rune, she thought. Yes, a rune. She stroked the piece of leather with the thumb of one hand while the other still held the spear shaft.