Return of the Ancients by Greig Beck

buried his face in the warm fur of the strange creature that held him, he felt her stiffen and turn her head.
    Eilif let out a long and eerie call. Then she paused, listening. The jormungandr was now so close, Arn could feel the air moving as its huge body hovered over them.
    She lifted her head and howled again, letting the notes echo and stretch inside the cave, and beyond. This time, there was an answer. And not one voice, but many. Arn could hear the sound of approaching hooves, then a huge crash as the webbing over the mouth of the cave was hacked to pieces.
    The jormungandr swung away from them, and even with his weakened eyes, Arn could see the Wolfen who first stepped through the mouth of the cave was twice the size of Eilif. Dressed in his armour, the warrior looked like an enormous medieval statue that had come to life. In his hand he held a sword as long as Arn himself.
    ‘Mighty Strom!’ Arn could hear the elation in Eilif’s voice.
    The Wolfen warrior let out a roar of anger, charging at the jormungandr with his enormous sword raised. He leapt in the air, sailing towards the gaping mandibles, and burying his blade to the hilt in the thrashing, tear-shaped head.
    Roars and cries of battle filled the dark cavern, and for Arn, in his semi-lucid and half-blind state, the rest unfolded in a frenzy of blurred movement and frightening, chaotic noise. The poison of the jormungandr must have been seeping into his brain, for he thought he could feel the mandibles of the beast closing around him, and lashed out with his arm. He felt the impact of his hand on steel, and heard a corresponding yelp of pain.
    ‘No, Arn,’ said Eilif, holding him tightly. ‘It’s my brother Wolfen. We are saved.’
    The pain from the poison was now so great, Arn could only guess that he was dying. He could see her – Becky Matthews, her long hair flowing as she turned to smile at him. But then her face began to change – her nose grew long, fur grew on her features, and her eyes became a silver ice blue.
    The images exploded into darkness, and Arn slumped against Eilif’s chest.
    *****
     
    Strom spread wide his arms and roared – it was both a victory cry and a warning to the monster as it slithered away. He watched it disappear, then spun to yell commands to the other warriors who had fanned out in the cave, or stood at the entrance to keep watch on the surrounding countryside.
    He knelt beside Eilif and placed one large gauntleted hand on her shoulder. ‘Is there any trouble you cannot find, little one?’
    She placed her hand over his. ‘How can there ever be trouble while you exist, my big friend?’ She smiled, then winced in pain.
    ‘Easy there.’ Strom called over his shoulder to one of his warriors, who ran to his side carrying a satchel, from which he extracted several bottles and pouches. He set about treating Eilif’s wounds.
    She pushed his hands away. ‘No, treat the Man-kind first.’
    ‘He can wait. Goran . . .’ Strom motioned to his warrior to continue working on Eilif.
    ‘No!’
    Strom growled with annoyance and looked at Arn. His nostrils flared as he took in his scent. ‘It is as the king said, a Man-kind . . . and not very nice to look at, all hairless like that. I suppose we can cover him up.’
    Eilif felt her anger rising. ‘He has a noble spirit, and he saved my life.’ She looked down at the unconscious Arn, and brushed his long dark hair from his face. ‘And I think he’s beautiful.’
    Strom grunted and nodded to the warrior, still poised with the medicinal salves in his hands.
    Goran pulled back each of Arn’s eyelids. He shook his head and spoke softly. ‘Not the same as a Canite eye – the medicine might restore his eyesight, or he might lose what little vision he has left.’
    Eilif spoke without hesitation. ‘Do it anyway. Without any treatment, he’ll end up as blind as a ground-worm.’
    She held Arn’s head tightly as Goran again lifted his eyelids, and poured a thick, milky