Ragnarök
Keeping the pup in her arms, Ylva got to her feet and moved to the centre of the workshop as she listened to the wolves circling the building. They didn’t howl any more. Instead they sniffed. And scraped. And Ylva imagined the huge black wolf burying its nose in the snow at the base of the wall, searching for her scent. Searching for a way in.
‘What do you want?’ she shouted.
Bron stood beside her, an arrow in one hand, and his bow in the other. He turned on the spot, watching the walls.
Thump!
They both jumped as the door rattled in its frame.
Thump!
Ylva felt the impact shake the whole building. Dust fell from the roof beams and glittered in the lamplight.
‘Go away!’ Ylva shouted. ‘Leave us alone!’
Bron nudged her to attract her attention. He put a finger to his mouth and shook his head, making it clear he wanted her to be quiet.
‘What are they doing?’ Ylva whispered.
The boy clamped his jaw tight and looked at the pup in Ylva’s arms.
Thump!
This time the sound came from the back of the workshop.
Thump!
At the side wall now.
‘They’re throwing themselves against the wood,’ Ylva breathed. ‘Looking for a way in.’ And when the next thump was followed by a sharp crack, Ylva knew they had found one.
She spun around, axe raised towards the wall close to the window where she had looked out at the beasts. There was another thump, and a ripping sound as one of the boards split. It splintered inwards, and another hard thump snapped it completely, throwing the broken piece of wood into the workshop. It skidded across the straw-scattered dirt floor and stopped close to where Ylva and Bron were standing.
They looked down at the chunk of smashed wood, then up at the gap in the wall. It was no wider than Ylva’s hand, no longer than her arm, but they knew it was the start of something bigger.
A black muzzle pressed through, sniffing the air inside the workshop.
The wolf turned its head sideways to look into the room. Ylva saw only one of its golden eyes.
Bron lifted his bow and pulled back the string, but as he released his hold and let the arrow fly, the wolf withdrew. As if it had known what he was doing. The arrow sailed across the workshop and disappeared through the gap in the boards. It didn’t even touch the sides.
Immediately, the wolf was back, teeth snapping at the splintered wood, tearing at it, trying to make it wider. Bron took another arrow, drew back his bowstring, and fired, but the wolf retreated once more.
And then the others were throwing themselves at the wall again. Over and over, so the workshop was a nightmare of thumping and splitting and growling.
Bron stood with his bow ready, but Ylva backed away from the gap in the wall. She held Freki tight to her chest and gripped the axe, glancing at Bron to see that he only had a few more arrows left in his quiver. Even if every shot hit its mark, he wouldn’t have enough to kill every wolf. And Ylva was beginning to doubt that arrows would even stop them. They were too big. Too fast. Too clever.
‘Don’t waste your arrows,’ she told him.
Bron stopped with his bow drawn and ready, aiming at the gap in the wall. The planks around it groaned and cracked under the continued assault. Soon they would split and the wolves would be inside. He hesitated and looked at Ylva, then at the pup in her arms. His eyes widened as if something that was bothering him had suddenly become clear. ‘The pup.’ He lowered his bow and grabbed Freki by the scruff of the neck.
‘What are you doing?’ Ylva kept tight hold of the young wolf, but Bron pulled harder.
‘No!’ Ylva shouted. ‘I won’t let you have him!’ She kicked out, catching Bron in the shin, making him let go of the pup and stumble backwards.
At that moment, the wall finally gave in. With a loud crack, the planks split and the huge black wolf tumbled into the workshop in a flurry of teeth and fur. It crashed into Bron, knocking him to the floor, and sent his bow spinning across the workshop.
The wolf scrambled to its feet and whipped around to face them like Fenrir facing Thor at the end of the world, and in a fraction of a second, Ylva took everything in.
The wolf, with its head down, its teeth bared, and its eyes blazing. More wolves surging forward to enter the workshop through the broken wall. Bron lying on the floor, with his bow out of reach. And herself, with her axe in her hand, ready to battle a pack of wolves.
But she knew her axe would be no match for a whole pack of wild animals.
Without thinking, she stuffed the axe into her belt, snatched the oil lamp from the nail beside her, and threw it at the wolf.
The lamp spun end over end as it sailed across the workshop. It went over Bron’s head and came down directly in front of the black wolf, hitting the ground with a crash, breaking open, and spilling oil into the straw. There wasn’t much left in it, but some splattered on to the wolf’s front paws and burst into flames.
The animal yelped in fear. It rose up as if it were going to walk on two legs, then jumped back, turning in a circle before hurrying out through the gap in the wall.
But Ylva knew that once the wolf was in the deep snow, the flames would be gone, and the beast would come back. She had to stop it. She had to stop them all. She was hardly even thinking as she hurried to the other lamps, hurling them one by one at the gap in the wood. She threw them in a frenzy, as hard as she could, smashing them against the wall, splattering oil in all directions. Most of it splashed across the rotten wood, catching light and burning in streaks. Some fell to the straw where it sprouted in miniature bonfires. But some of it hit close to the half-barrel of oil that Ylva had used to fill the lamps and light the fire.
Flames erupted around the barrel, devouring the fuel Ylva had spilt earlier. They snaked up the sides of the container, found their way inside, and the oil ignited in the blink of an eye. It flared up like a giant lamp; a blaze of orange and black rose from the open barrel. It reached up to the ceiling and spread outwards, the flames rolling over one another.
The heat was intense. Ylva felt it smother her as she stumbled backwards, raising her hand against it. Freki panicked and squirmed in her arms, desperate to break free and escape the nightmare of heat and light. But Ylva held him tight.
‘Get up!’ she shouted at Bron.
He was still on the floor, close to the barrel, but there was no time to get to his feet, so he pushed himself backwards in the dirt, snatching up his bow as he went. Fiery rain dripped from the ceiling, spattering over his furs. It ignited on his body, burning his arms, and within seconds, he was aflame and panicking.
Ylva ran forwards and grabbed the back of his collar with one hand. She planted her feet firmly and dragged him away from the worst of the fire. She let go of Freki, and rolled Bron over and over to smother the flames on his furs. When the worst of it was out, he jumped to his feet in panic, swatting at himself as if he were still burning. Smoke rose from blackened patches on his furs.
‘We have to get out.’ Ylva pulled him further away from the searing inferno and shoved him towards the front of the workshop.
Coming to his senses, Bron hurried to the door and threw off the drop-bar. Ylva went to the workbench and got down on her knees. She reached under and grabbed Freki by the scruff of his neck. She dragged him out, despite his protests, and hurried to meet Bron by the door.
As soon as he opened it, a surge of cold air blasted into the room. There was a great whoosh! as the fire fed on the fresh oxygen, and the inferno rolled across the ceiling like an ocean of flames drowning the workshop.
Ylva and Bron stumbled out into the snow and staggered towards the stable before they turned to watch the workshop burn. By now the entire building was engulfed. The heat was incredible. Orange light illuminated the blizzard, and the smell of oil and woodsmoke was thick in Ylva’s nostrils.
‘Look.’ She pointed deeper into the abandoned village, where the light from the fire reached far enough for them to see into the white flurry of the snowstorm. There, the dark shapes of the wolves slipped along the fronts of the decaying buildings. They ran in panic towards the village gates, and Ylva knew they would escape into the valley, terrified by the fire.