Chapter Eighteen

After scraping most of the slime off, Arthur and Ash returned to the lake and washed their hands and faces. Ash retrieved her stick from where it had fallen when the Jormungand had first appeared and Arthur picked up his backpack. Then they both lifted their helmets and put them back on. As uncomfortable as wearing the heavy helmets was, Arthur was glad to be undercover once more. They resumed their journey towards Áras an Uachtaráin.

The sun was hotter than it had been and within minutes they were boiling again. The going got easier, though, when they reached the main road. The thoroughfare was a straight line of neat, smooth tarmac slicing right through the centre of the park. Although it left them exposed to view, both Arthur and Ash felt it was worth the risk to get to their destination more quickly and they hoped their disguises would be enough to stop anyone looking at them too closely. The road was wide enough for two lanes of traffic, with space to park cars on either side. Although today, of course, there were no vehicles in sight. A slim structure stood out on the flat horizon, the sunlight reflecting off the white stone column. It was right ahead of them, slap bang in the middle of the road. Arthur couldn’t make out the statue on top of the plinth but Ash was familiar with it.

‘That’s the phoenix,’ she told him. ‘You know – the bird that rose out of the ashes?’

‘Hmm …’ he said thoughtfully. ‘How far do you reckon?’

‘A kilometre, probably less. Then the Áras is just around the corner.’

They walked down the remainder of the deserted road in silence, both deep in thought. With their destination in sight, now was their last chance to turn around, to give up, to run away.

Arthur’s mind turned to Loki. Each step took him nearer to the god and, even though the pendant was silent, he could feel the Father of Lies’ closeness in his bones. What would he do when they came face to face? How would he stop him? Could Arthur actually kill someone – even Loki – if he had to? The Norns had warned him that killing a god was a terrible thing, no matter who that god was. Could Arthur do what Odin hadn’t? Could he end Loki’s life?

Yes, he thought. I could. If I was forced to it, I could. But the question is, should I?

‘Nervous?’ Ash asked in a croaky voice after a while.

Arthur didn’t answer her. He just took her hand and walked on in stolid silence.

The phoenix statue loomed larger. It was on the centre of a roundabout in the middle of a six-way crossroads. The second turn-off to the left led to the Áras, Arthur remembered from Ash’s plan, and to Loki. They were heading slightly uphill and couldn’t see the main road beyond the roundabout. But when they reached the crest of the slope, they both gasped.

Members of the Wolfsguard were everywhere, charging about, barking orders at each other. Some were in their wolf shapes, but most were back in their human forms. In the distance a high, intimidating fence cut straight across the road and into the trees on either side. Wolves were snarling and barking at the wild animals on the other side of the boundary, warning them to stay back, while members of the guard in human form were securing a large hole in the barrier. They were hastily erecting new segments of the chain-link fence to close the gap.

‘They’ve managed to get the stampede under control then,’ murmured Ash.

Arthur looked at her and realised he was still gripping her hand. He let it fall, wary of being spotted. He somehow doubted that the Wolfsguard went around holding each other’s hands. He stood for a moment gazing up at the phoenix. The carved bird was soaring out of stone flames, reaching for the skies. He tried to take inspiration from it, but the closer he got to Loki, the more he wondered would he rise triumphant again or go down in flames.

He looked back at the mayhem ahead of them and braced himself.

‘Ready?’ he said.

‘As I’ll ever be.’

‘Stay calm,’ he whispered inside his helmet to no one in particular. ‘Just stay calm.’

Suddenly a pair of guards surged up from the first turn to the left, carrying a roll of fencing between them.

‘Outta the way!’ shouted one.

Arthur’s heart thudded against his ribs as he waited for their inevitable discovery. But the guards clearly hadn’t looked closely at them; they were too focused on getting to the fence to notice the ill-fitting uniforms and small stature of the two supposed guards. Arthur didn’t mind: it proved that they would pass muster if no one looked too keenly.

With hearts still beating frantically, they took a moment to watch the guards hurry towards the fence. Most of the animals seemed to have moved away from it, finally chased off by the wolves. Only a couple of wild cats and a monkey lingered by the boundary. A lion was roaring in response to the wolves’ snarling, clawing at the wired fence. A couple of the guards were thrusting electrified prods through the gaps at the lion, shocking him any time he got too close for comfort, although this only seemed to enrage him further. The panther was much quieter, striding backwards and forwards along a section of the fence and watching each guard. A chimp swung from a nearby tree, pulling acorns off the branches and shooting them through the gaps. One soared right down a barking wolf’s throat, blocking its air passage. After a few seconds of violent hacking, the wolf coughed the acorn back up and it landed on the ground covered in white mucus.

‘Quick,’ muttered Arthur behind his helmet as soon as his heart rate dropped. ‘This way.’

They scurried off to their left, up a long straight road that led through a wide, white gate. They quickly came to a crossroads. The road they were on, stretched on in front of them, then curved right some distance ahead. The road that cut across it ran in a straight line from left to right.

‘Do you think we should head straight on or go right? Both roads seem to lead to the Áras,’ said Arthur.

‘That’s right,’ said Ash. ‘According to the map, the road in front leads round to a couple of sheds and garages, which I would bet are being used by the Wolfsguard now. But the way to the right will take us straight to the front of the house.’

‘Great,’ muttered Arthur. ‘We can knock on the front door and see if they invite us in for tea!’ But he agreed that it was best to avoid the Wolfsguard as much as possible, and so he followed Ash as she took the road to the
right.

The avenue leading to the front of the Áras was lined with trees and they walked close to the edge of the road so they could hide if necessary. A plaque stood in front of each tree, detailing when it had been planted and by what foreign dignitary. It was quieter down here, but Arthur and Ash weren’t the only ones walking the road. They spotted a group of guards coming towards them and quickly ducked into the cover of some bushes, waiting for them to pass. Despite the fact that their disguises had gotten them overlooked so far, Arthur didn’t want to risk any closer examination by the wolves and he hoped the guards, who were deep in conversation, had not noticed them or their sudden disappearance.

As the group came nearer, Arthur and Ash could hear their conversation. The guard in front, who was carrying a rolled-up piece of fencing tucked under one arm and had a barrel of a chest, was talking.

‘… nearly under control now anyways, but still!’

‘I can’t believe I missed all the fun,’ whined another, lighter-framed guard.

‘Aye,’ said a third. ‘Typical that it happens on my shift off.’ He turned to the first one. ‘So didja get de bloody kids who released them?’

‘Yeah, we got ’em. Of course we got ’em. We chased after ’em. Led us right to dere hideaway! Turns out dere’s a hundred kids hidden there. Straight to de camps for dem!’

The gaol! Arthur sensed Ash stiffening next to him. He was glad they’d hidden in the bushes now. If they had risked passing the guards, the wolves might have noticed their reactions. He thought of all of Ash’s rebels being captured by the Wolfsguard, squeezed into boats and brought to the camps, taken away from their little hidden home to endless days and nights of pain, of hunger, of torture.

The group of guards passed right by the bush but didn’t so much as glance in its direction.

‘Arthur–’ Ash gasped as soon as they were out of earshot.

‘I know.’

‘Arthur, the gaol.’

‘Come on then,’ he said, trying to sound braver than he felt and helping her out of the bushes. ‘The only way to help them now is to stop Loki once and for all.’

They stepped out from behind the bushes and resumed their journey in the direction of the Áras, keeping close to the tree cover all the while.

Ash walked a few steps ahead of Arthur, her arms wrapped around her comfortingly with her stick clenched tightly in one hand. She hadn’t said anything since they had left the guards behind. Neither had Arthur. He felt bad for the people at the gaol, he really did. But he knew that they didn’t have time to mourn. The element of surprise was key. They’d lost enough time dealing with the Jormungand and in order to have any chance of saving everyone they had to keep going. He looked at her shoulders, hunched over as she stared at the grass, walking quietly forward.

Arthur glanced behind and in front of them. There was no one in view. Taking a chance, he caught up to her, grabbed her by the arm, turned her around and pulled her against him, closing his arms around her tenderly. She rested her visor on his shoulder and he felt the convulsions shudder through her as the tears poured out.

‘We have to keep going,’ he said in a gentle tone. ‘You know this. We can’t stop.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ she said, snuffling and pulling back from him. He gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

‘We can do this, Ash.’

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘We can.’

‘I know.’

Arthur nodded, then let go of her and they resumed their journey. Soon the great structure of the Áras appeared between the trees on their left.

Arthur had seen pictures of the president’s home and had a clear vision of how it should look. He imagined the long central building and the main entrance flanked by four columns beneath a central pediment. The walls would be painted a pristine white, the surrounding gardens and lawns would be neatly trimmed and impeccably kept, and the Irish tricolour would flap proudly in the wind over the entrance. But this wasn’t what met them as they reached the avenue leading up to the front door. The Áras itself had been painted a lurid neon green. The paintwork was uneven and the shade shifted all over where layers had been poorly applied. Words as high as Arthur were scrawled in red across the left-hand side of the building: ‘Long Live Loki’. A mural as tall as the structure itself balanced it out on the other side. It depicted a grinning Loki in crimson washes, wearing a crown and giving two cheesy thumbs-up like a gameshow host. Stone steps led up to the front door but were partly covered by a temporary wooden ramp. The lawn in front of the Áras was a mess. All the flowers and plants had been ripped out by the roots and were strewn about the place, shredded to bits and ground into the muddy earth. The fountain in the centre of the lawn was spitting out green sludge and the flag over the pediment was also green, with one word inked onto it in bold red letters: ‘Loki’.

‘Oh–’ Ash began.

‘Look!’ Arthur cut her off.

The tarmac driveway in front of the Áras was occupied by somewhere between fifty and a hundred members of the Wolfsguard. They were lined up in three straight rows facing the building and standing to attention, with feet and arms by their sides and batons or crossbows slung over their shoulders. From their stance, they were obviously waiting for something or someone.

Arthur and Ash were right at the edge of the tree cover now. There was nothing between them and the Áras but the lines of the Wolfsguard. They hunched down behind one of two thick trees that flanked the entrance to the gardens, peering cautiously around it to see what was happening.

‘What do you think’s going on?’ Arthur whispered.

‘Shh,’ said Ash, nodding forward. ‘The door.’

He turned in time to see the front door of the Áras swing open. The guards all clicked their boots at the sound, standing even straighter as somebody stepped out.

‘Hail, General!’ the guards barked as one.

Arthur couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Not only was the general Drysi, but she was walking!

She was wearing a black uniform similar to that of the guards. Her flak jacket was trimmed with bright-green edging and she wore crimson high-heeled boots that thunked against the wooden ramp as she made her way down to the drive. A sword in a scabbard was strapped to her waist and hanging down by her legs. She stopped in the middle of the tarmac, facing them all.

‘At ease!’ she said in a booming, stern voice. ‘Now listen well. We have intruders!’

There wasn’t as much as a murmur of surprise among the well-trained soldiers.

‘And I don’t just mean the intruders who caused that stampede,’ Drysi went on. ‘The Jormungand has fallen and the culprits are somewhere in the park. Most likely they are on their way here.’

Drysi swivelled and marched to one end of the first row. She turned and strode along the line.

‘We are the Wolfsguard, sole defenders of the mayhem and destruction that Emperor Loki creates.’

She trailed a finger along each guard’s chest as she passed, straightening flashlights on flak jackets or wiping smears off visors.

‘Our single purpose in life is to serve him. To do what he needs us to do. And what he needs us to do is ensure we are strong enough, powerful enough, organised enough and ordered enough. Order. That is the motto of the Wolfsguard. Order within Chaos.’

She reached the second row and moved through the ranks, continuing her inspection, her movement crunching the gravel.

‘We must be Order so that Loki can be Chaos. If we are chaotic and fail in our responsibilities, do you have any idea what will happen?’

She stopped then, halfway through the second row and right in the middle of them all.

‘Do you know?’ She paused, waiting for an answer, but the Wolfsguard remained silent, as if they knew better than to interrupt her. ‘Well, allow me to educate you. If we weren’t ordered, humans would become ordered. They would rise. They would be the ones causing the mayhem. They would attempt to stop our great leader.’

She walked through the ranks again, her voice softening.

‘Of course, they could never stop him. But they would try. They would think themselves brave and strong. When they’re not. They’re weak. And we need order to keep them weak.

‘Look what happened today. Order fell. Some lazy guards allowed a few children to cause all that chaos. But we regained order and then look what happened. The animals are locked up securely, as are the children. All the children. That victory came from …’

She came to the edge of the line and clacked her heels together defiantly.

‘… order.’

Drysi strode quickly around in front of the troops once more.

‘So you will ensure that order is maintained. Go out and find these new intruders. Find them for your fallen brother, the World Serpent. Find them for the chaos they have caused. Find them for Wolf-father Loki. And when you find them, bring them directly to me.’ She smiled to herself, an expression that sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. ‘I want to deal with them myself.’ Her eyes flickered towards the end of the avenue and, for a brief moment, Ash was certain they had fallen on her. ‘Dismissed!’

The rows of guards turned as one to the right and marched off while Drysi strode quickly back up the ramp towards the Áras. Once the sound of the soldiers had receded into the distance, Arthur and Ash crept out from their hiding place.

No one was left in front of the Áras now.

‘There are no wolves guarding the front entrance,’ mumbled Ash. ‘That’s a little strange. Surely Loki would have someone on guard at the front of his palace, especially if he knows we’re here. My spidey-senses are tingling. It looks like a trap.’

‘Probably is,’ agreed Arthur.

‘So we go around the back? Find another way in?’

‘No. We go through the front door.’

‘But didn’t you see the way she looked right at us? Like she knew we were here?’

‘Of course I did. It’s possible she could sense us.’

‘And despite that you still want to go through the front door?’

‘If we’ve lost the element of surprise it doesn’t matter any more. We’re here. I came here to see Loki – and to defeat Loki – and that’s what I’m going to do.’

‘What about her, though? The lovely general? She could be waiting for us inside with a bunch of guards.’

‘You’ve forgotten something, Ash. They’ve lost the element of surprise too. We know there’s a trap. We know she’s waiting for us just beyond that door. Anyway, Drysi’s a puppy-dog. We can take her and any guards she has with her. Don’t forget we have this.’ He pulled the hammer out of his bag and dropped the backpack on the ground. ‘It’s more than a match for a few of Loki’s wolves.’

He offered a hand to Ash. ‘You coming?’

‘I guess so,’ she said, taking his hand, squeezing it once and dropping it again.

They walked up the deserted avenue, eyes darting left and right searching for any signs of movement, and took the steps up to the front door. Arthur tried the handle. It clicked open without a problem. He nodded to Ash, who grasped her stick protectively in front of her. Raising his hammer, Arthur pushed the door slowly inwards.

The corridor they were faced with was painted white, with thick Celtic-knot carpeting on the ground. Huge modern paintings hung on either side of the long corridor, with real crystal chandeliers hanging from the plasterwork ceiling. The corridor was empty, except for Drysi, who was striding towards the far end of the hallway, her back to them.

Arthur and Ash stepped inside and quietly pushed the door shut behind them.

‘Well, well,’ said Drysi at the click of the door, stopping but not turning. ‘Arthur Quinn and Ash Barry. I thought that was you.’