Chapter Twenty-Two

It didn’t take Arthur or Ash long to work out what to do with the dead army. Now that their boat and home for the past thousand years had been destroyed, it should have been a problem. But as it happened, Arthur, Ash and the boy they’d known as Will had visited the perfect place about a week beforehand.

Due to the destruction and inevitable confusion following the Jormungand’s attack, the city of Dublin was more or less closed for business: no shops, museums or schools opened. So the dead army really had no problem climbing over the fake stone wall into the Viking Experience. Arthur, Ash and Max led them around the empty recreation village, showing them the little huts they could live in.

‘As long as you don’t move, just like those mannequins, when there are people about, you should be fine,’ Arthur explained. ‘No one will suspect that you’re real Vikings at all. Just don’t have any wild parties!’

Bjorn nodded and grunted his thanks.

‘We’ll come and visit you,’ promised Arthur.

The entire army stood to attention and saluted the three children. They turned to leave but Arthur had one thing still on his mind.

‘Bjorn?’ he asked. ‘I had a dream. And they said in it that when Loki was to escape it would mean Ragnarok. Do you know what that is – Ragnarok?’

Fear had crept into Bjorn’s eyes at the mention of the word. He sadly nodded.

‘What is it, Bjorn?’

Bjorn opened his mouth and tried to form the words, but only grunts came out. He stood there looking frustrated until Ash had a brainwave. ‘Pen and paper, we need a pen and paper. He can write it down.’

Frantically they patted down their pockets but all they came up with was a soggy piece of tissue in Ash’s pocket – no pen or pencil. Then one of the other Viking soldiers appeared with a piece of burnt stick. Bjorn took the stick and used the blackened end to draw some runes on the ground. Arthur looked at the runes and clutched the pendant in his hand. The other two children looked at him expectantly. ‘It says the end of the world,’ he said, then added with a rueful smile, ‘again.’

Arthur, Ash and Max arrived home a couple of hours later, having retrieved their bikes from outside the Metro site. The Barry family were sitting around the living-room TV when they came in, still in their pyjamas, glued to the news.

‘Have you seen this?’ exclaimed Mr Barry. ‘They’re saying on the news that some giant snake thing attacked the city.’

‘Hold on,’ said Stace, suspiciously eyeing-up Arthur’s tunic, ‘where have you lot been?’

‘Yes, actually!’ said Mrs Barry, tearing herself away from the TV. ‘Where have you been? And what’s wrong with your leg, Max? Is that blood? And Arthur, what happened to your face?’

The three children looked at each other, then at the adults, then told the story they’d rehearsed in unison.

‘We went for an early game of football and a dog took our ball and we chased it, but Arthur tripped and fell and scratched his face and the dog bit Max’s leg.’

‘What?’ shrieked Mrs Barry. ‘Whose dog? I’ve a good mind to call the police –’

‘Calm down, Mom,’ said Ash, as Max said, ‘I’m fine, really. It’s not that bad.’

‘We didn’t recognise the dog, Mrs Barry,’ said Arthur. ‘I think it may have been a stray, and it ran off after we got the ball back.’

‘Well, if you’re certain. But that bite looks like it might need stitches, Max. And probably a tetanus shot as well.’ Max groaned at the thought of an injection. Mrs Barry pointed to Arthur and Ash. ‘You two go and get cleaned up and I’ll take Max to the hospital. Arthur, be sure and clean that cut properly.’

‘Wait!’ Stace stopped her. ‘Aren’t you curious as to why Arthur is wearing that crazy get-up?’

‘No,’ Mrs Barry said, ushering Max back out the door, ‘and it’s rude to call someone’s clothes a “crazy get-up”, young lady.’

Arthur and Ash rushed upstairs before Stace could ask any more awkward questions. Exhausted, they quickly fell asleep on the floor of Ash’s bedroom, huddled together on some spare couch cushions.

As they slept on, someone else, in a different part of the country, was watching the news. She took great interest in the story of the giant snake. The news report was showing the only video footage they had of the scene, taken from the third floor of the bookshop on O’Connell Street on a mobile phone. She hit a button on her remote. The image freeze-framed. She knelt down on the soft-carpeted floor and put her face right next to the screen. Although the image was distorted and pixelated from this close, it was clear that what she was seeing was right. A boy, possibly twelve or thirteen years old, dressed in authentic Viking clothes and throwing a war hammer at a grown man. She vowed to find out exactly who this boy was and everything she could about him.

Arthur and Ash would have slept right through the day if Mrs Barry hadn’t knocked on the door, waking them.

‘Arthur,’ she said, ‘that nice young garda was just on the phone. Your father woke up this morning.’

Arthur sat up straight. ‘He did? Is he coming home?’

‘Not yet, dear. The hospital wants to keep an eye on him for a few more days. But the garda said he’ll pick you up in a while if you want to visit your dad.’

Arthur leaped out of bed, grabbed the hammer and raced across the street to his house. He busied himself by tidying up and taking a hot shower. An hour later Garda Morrissey was at his door. When the garda led Arthur into the hospital ward, Joe was sitting up in bed. His right leg was now in a stiff cast and the swelling in his face had subsided but he was still badly bruised. Arthur hugged him tightly without saying a word. Joe winced.

‘Sorry,’ said Arthur, stepping back.

‘It’s okay,’ Joe said, holding his ribs. ‘I’m just a bit delicate. Anyway, I’m glad I’m still around to feel the hug at all. So, what did I miss?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Arthur replied, ‘just a giant snake almost destroying Dublin.’

‘Same old, same old.’ Joe pointed to his face. ‘You look like you’ve been in the wars yourself.’

‘Oh, this, it’s nothing, I just fell over my own feet while playing football.’

‘So what do you reckon?’ said Joe, this time pointing at his own face. ‘Will I still need a mask next week?’

‘What’s next week?’

‘Hallowe’en.’

‘Oh yeah. I completely forgot.’

Across the city, the real Little Aaron was reunited with his mother. She could have sworn he was in the buggy as she pushed it away from the scene of all the action. Later on, she had joined a group of people watching the news of the serpent in a TV-shop window. The pictures on the screen were shocking, but not as shocking as it had been in real life. When she’d had enough and decided to head for home, she had found that the buggy was empty.

Luckily, some good Samaritan had found Aaron on O’Connell Street and, after some frantic phone calls to the gardaí, her son was back in her arms.

The story of the giant snake soon spread all over the world. The only video footage that existed of it had been taken on low-resolution mobile phones. Eyewitness accounts were featured on every news station in the world. Many of them mentioned the mysterious young boy who’d been spotted on O’Connell Street carrying a hammer.

Arthur, Ash and Max had decided not to fill their parents in on their part in the serpent incident. In fact, they didn’t want to fill anyone in. They thought it was all over until Ash and Max went trick-or-treating to Arthur’s on Hallowe’en.

Joe had been home for two days and life was getting back to normal. Ruairí and Deirdre had called over to see how he was doing. They were just leaving and he was leading them out to the door on his crutches.

‘Thanks for coming, guys,’ he said. ‘Any plans for tonight?’

‘Well …’ started Deirdre, blushing.

‘We’re going on a date,’ finished Ruairí.

‘A date?’ Joe seemed surprised. ‘That’s great! I’m glad to hear it.’

As they walked down the driveway, Max and Ash were walking up.

‘Hello you two. What are you dressed as, Max?’ Joe asked when he saw them.

‘I’m a Viking!’ exclaimed Max cheerfully. He’d made a tunic out of an old black sheet he’d found under their stairs and a pendant and helmet out of tin foil. He also carried a sword he’d constructed from tin foil and cardboard.

‘That’s great, Max!’ said Joe. ‘What about you, Ash? No costume?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t really feel like dressing up this year.’

‘Same as Arthur. He’s in the living room watching TV. Come on in.’

As Joe filled up Max’s goodie bag in the hallway with sweets and nuts, balancing precariously on his good leg, Ash asked Arthur how he was feeling.

‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have a nightmare last night, which was a bonus. And this hasn’t been glowing.’ He held up the pendant from around his neck. ‘So that’s probably a good sign too.’

‘Have you worked out what that hammer is yet?’

It was stored under his bed. ‘No idea. But it helped defeat Loki so it has to be a good thing.’

‘Hey,’ said Joe, swinging back into the room and looking at the TV, ‘who’s that guy?’

An American cartoon had been playing but now the screen was full of Loki’s face. It was an extreme close-up of the younger Loki, unscarred and with a neatly trimmed beard and clean hair. As always, he was grinning.

Arthur, Ash and Max looked at each other.

‘That’s –’ Ash began.

‘My name is Loki,’ Loki’s voice said from the TV set. ‘Right now, I’m speaking to everyone in the world. Everyone can see or hear this message. The entire world.’ His grin disappeared now. ‘Remember that giant snake that attacked Dublin? Well, now you don’t. You will all forget about it: forget it ever happened, forget the eyewitness accounts and the descriptions of the serpent. Just forget. And I want you to forget me too. Forget my face, forget my voice, forget you ever saw me on here tonight. You see, it’s very difficult to be an evildoer if people are expecting you.’

He leaned forward, nearer the camera that was on him, going out of focus as he did. ‘I want you all to forget. All of you. Except three people: Arthur Quinn and Ash and Max Barry. I want you three to remember. Because I want to haunt your dreams. And I want you three to know that sometime, somehow, when you’re least expecting it, I’m coming to get you.’

He sat back again and the camera refocused on him. ‘Well, that’s all from me for now. Goodnight, world.’

The transmission shut off and the cartoon flickered back into life. Arthur looked at Ash; Ash looked at Max.

‘Dad?’ Arthur asked. ‘Did you hear about the giant snake?’

‘What giant snake?’ replied Joe.

‘The giant serpent, Dad. That attacked Dublin.’

‘Oh wait,’ Joe said, smiling, ‘is this some kind of Hallowe’en joke? No, I didn’t hear about the giant snake.’ He waited for the punchline, but instead Arthur turned to his friends.

‘Well, it looks like Loki’s little trick has worked,’ he said. Ash and Max looked at him, worried. ‘But,’ he continued, brightening up, ‘I’m not too concerned. I’ve got two great friends and an army at my disposal. What more could a twelve-year-old boy want?’

Joe looked confused. ‘That’s not much of a punchline.’

‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘no, it’s not. But it’s true.’

And with that, Arthur, Ash and Max burst out laughing.