Chapter Seventeen

‘Move back!’ Arthur shouted to Ash, but it was too late. The Jormungand soared out of the lake and straight into the sky. A wave of water crashed into them, sending them toppling backwards. Ash watched in awed terror as the serpent swooped high into the sky then turned and plummeted back to the ground, landing just metres from them. A forked tongue flicked out at her.

She swore loudly; it was the first time Arthur had ever heard her curse.

The serpent looked exactly the same as it had the first time Arthur had come into contact with it. It was about a hundred feet in length and its body was approximately seven feet in diameter at its widest point, narrowing down to a sharpened tail at the end. Scales as large as Arthur’s head covered the huge body, shimmering shades of red and green. It had a wing on either side of its frame – great, leathery, ribbed things with a span as wide as the serpent was long. They were flapping slowly now as the creature stared at them. It was perched on four tiny legs that ended in clawed feet and Arthur recalled again the comparison with a T-Rex he had made on their first encounter. Three ridged fins ran along the serpent’s head. Its mouth was partly open and Arthur could see the razor-sharp teeth that protruded from its jaws, capable of ripping a man in two. Its eyes were golden slits that watched them closely.

‘OK,’ said Arthur in a hushed voice. ‘Just stay calm.’

‘Stay calm! How can I stay calm with that thing looking at us?’ Ash shot back, keeping her eyes fixed on the serpent.

‘It might think we’re just some Wolfsguard. It might not hurt us.’

‘I don’t think it’s that easily fooled. Why else would it be foaming at the mouth?’

Ash was right; bubbles of spit fizzed at the corners of its mouth. This didn’t look good. The serpent was flicking its tongue in and out, as if getting a taste for its prey.

‘All right then,’ said Arthur. ‘On the count of three, we get up and run for it. OK?’

‘Outrun something that can fly?’

‘Do you have a better idea?’ snapped Arthur, a little exasperated. He didn’t look directly at Ash but could see her shaking her head out of the side of his eye.

‘OK then. One … two …’

Just then, the Jormungand opened its great mouth. A screech burst out of its throat. It was like nails scratching on blackboards, teeth biting into ice and chairs squeaking on tiled floors all rolled into one. They could feel the blast of the soundwave hit them in the face and could see the uvula wobbling violently at the back of the beast’s throat.

Arthur turned to Ash and screamed, ‘Run!’

They scrambled to their feet as quickly as they could, and scattering chunks of wet earth behind them, started racing over the grass away from the serpent. The Jormungand snorted and took up the pursuit. Arthur didn’t dare look around; he kept his eyes focused on the space ahead of them and he concentrated on making his legs move faster, faster, faster, as his bag thumped painfully against his back. He could hear the serpent coming up behind them, its claws pounding into the ground as it ran. Faster, thought Arthur, faster!

‘There!’ cried Ash veering to the right. She was heading for a small grove of elm trees at the edge of the field. Arthur turned after her, chancing a glance around at the serpent as he did.

Its legs were too short and its body too massive to keep up with them. Arthur was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the serpent seemed to realise this. It stopped, spread its wings and flapped them strongly, sending gusts of air that washed over Arthur and Ash as they ran. Slowly it lifted itself a few feet off the ground, beating harder and harder until it raised its great bulk into the air. Although this gave Arthur and Ash a good lead on the beast, once airborne it was able to glide rapidly towards them, beating its wings strongly to gather speed. Ash started to look around to see what was happening, but Arthur stopped her.

‘Keep going! Just keep going!!’

His thighs were burning and he felt the beginnings of a cramp in his left calf, but Arthur kept on running. He didn’t move his eyes from the clump of trees ahead. The branches were mostly bare, ready and waiting for spring growth. The grass started to get longer again as they approached the trees, but they didn’t stop, they didn’t falter, they just ran and ran.

As they sped between the trunks, Arthur felt a whoosh of air buffet him. The Jormungand had been forced to turn sharply to avoid slamming into the trees. Once they reached the densest part of the grove, Arthur and Ash stopped running. They bent over to catch their breath and turned back to watch the Jormungand. It had landed again and was glaring at them from beyond the first tree; seeing its prey just out of reach, it roared in frustration. It was too large to fit between the trees, which were packed closely together.

Arthur stood to his full height again, trembling all over. He looked at Ash.

‘What now?’ she said between gasps.

He shrugged, rubbing the oncoming cramp out of his calf. Suddenly the branches overhead clattered violently, like they’d been caught in a high wind. They looked back at the World Serpent to see it shaking its head, dazed. Then it took a few steps back from the trees before running right into them. The beast was attempting to reach them by battering its way through the trees. After just two blows, a handful of trees at the edge of the grove had already been half pulled up by their roots. A third blow would fell them. Arthur watched as the serpent took a few more steps back for its run-up and then turned to Ash.

‘If it keeps going like this, it’ll have knocked all these trees down in minutes. We have to do something!’

The trees at the edge of the grove collapsed to the ground with heavy thuds. The serpent screeched triumphantly; only four or five trees stood between them and it now.

‘Look!’ cried Ash, pointing over Arthur’s shoulder.

Just beyond the clump of trees, behind the serpent, stood a stag. Arthur couldn’t be sure it was the one they’d seen earlier, but part of him felt that it had to be. It stood straight and powerful, its antlers cutting a striking silhouette against the bright sky, its deep-brown eyes watching them.

The deer grunted loudly – a sound Arthur recognised from nature documentaries. The Jormungand turned its head and stared at the creature. The stag made the huffing sound again, as if challenging the serpent, then bolted off in the opposite direction. The Jormungand swivelled around on its tiny legs, distracted from its original quarry, and started off across the field, chasing its new prey.

Arthur gripped Ash’s shoulders urgently. ‘We need to move.’

‘But where–?’

‘The house we passed a few minutes ago.’

‘What about Loki? The Áras?’

‘We can’t do anything about Loki if the serpent kills us.’ This was no time for conversation – the Jormungand could come back any second – so Arthur tore off in the direction of the house. Ash was only a millisecond behind.

As they ran back across the field, there was no sign of the Jormungand. They could hear rustling and roars which seemed to be coming from a nearby chunk of scrubland, but it seemed far enough away for them to relax a bit. Arthur’s calf was still tight so he was glad not to have to sprint as fast as they had only moments before. They were more than halfway across the field and could see the rooftop of the house when–

Roar!

The bellow came from behind them. They stopped and turned to see the Jormungand standing at the far edge of the thicket, screeching up at the sky. They could see fresh blood dripping from its jaws. It spat something onto the ground. The stag that had saved them, limp and lifeless, its body ripped to gory shreds. Arthur and Ash were transfixed with horror as the serpent put one leg on the stag’s body, tore half the carcass away and gulped it down. Then it swung its head around and settled its gaze on them once more.

Without another word, Arthur and Ash started running again and the World Serpent quickly resumed its pursuit, soaring on its great wings a few feet above the ground. Arthur could feel his legs shuddering as he moved, the muscles and ligaments wrenching from the effort. Nausea churned his stomach, telling him to stop or throw up.

But the Jormungand’s flapping was growing ever closer.

We’ll never make it, he told himself, we’ll never make it.

He wanted it to be over; he wanted to give up.

But he couldn’t.

He thought of his friends, of Ash, of her family, of his family.

He thought of the world.

He couldn’t give up.

A tarmac road led up to the house and they headed towards it. A few more seconds; just a few more seconds till they reached the front door.

Keep going, keep going.

Just a few more seconds.

Arthur’s feet touched the tarmac.

And Ash fell.

She tripped on a little hillock of earth and cried out as she crashed to her knees. Arthur turned, just in time to see the Jormungand slam down and loom over her. Before he could react the beast had dug its jaws into the earth around Ash, snapped them shut and swallowed her whole.

Time seemed to stop for Arthur. He was rooted to the spot as a wave of terror, grief and rage rose in him. The Jormungand’s screeching broke him out of the trance. He turned and sprinted the rest of the way to the house, his feet beating on the tarmac while angry and frustrated tears blurred his vision.

The World Serpent – temporarily sated by its second meal in as many minutes – waited a few moments before chasing after him. By the time it did move, Arthur was up the steps leading to the grey house. He fell through the door and kicked it shut behind him.

And then he curled into a ball and cried. Fitful, exhausted, breathless tears.

She was gone. Ash was gone. Dead. Swallowed by the Jormungand.

And he was trapped.

By the time he heard the serpent’s claws scratching on the tarmac outside, his head ached from crying. He whimpered as the beast pulled itself up the steps to the door. It screeched that terrible shriek, shaking the door on its hinges and shaking Arthur into action.

He leapt to his feet. He wouldn’t just give up. Ash wouldn’t have wanted that. She would have wanted him to keep going, to fight, to save her family.

He looked around properly for the first time. He was in the entrance hall and a staircase led upstairs directly in front of him. Whatever the building was intended for originally, it had obviously been used as offices in recent years. It was a large old house with high ceilings and narrow windows. He raced up the staircase, the wooden steps creaking with each footfall. Behind him, the Jormungand crashed into the doorway. But the old door was stronger than it looked and barely shuddered at the blow.

At the top of the stairs Arthur found himself on a long, narrow landing that ran back to the front of the house. There were doors on both sides and a window at the far end, covered with a muslin blind. He ran to it and ripped down the blind. It was an ancient double-hung window with two sliding panes, one on top and one below. The glossy white paint on the frames was thick with old layers. He grabbed the bottom of the lower pane and tried to push it up. It resisted, stiff with age, but a couple of side-fisted punches soon loosened it. He slid it all the way to the top and locked it in place, then leaned out the window.

The World Serpent was right below him, lining up to race at the door again. When it did, the force of the blow shook the windowsill Arthur was leaning on. The Jormungand stepped back once more, taking a moment before battering again.

As Arthur stared at the monster he experienced a sudden blurring in his vision. Suddenly he could see the serpent for what it really was–

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.’