Remnant of Power

Chapter Fourteen

Mal

Ragnar had begun to wear a path in the ground from his pacing. The other wolves were lying down, panting. They'd spread out and covered a huge area; they'd been looking for more than a day, but there had been no sign at all of Yoldas.

Mal felt weak and hungry, yet he couldn't wait any longer. He was desperately grateful they that they hadn't found Yoldas' body, but he knew what he had to do next. Immediately. He was desperate to find Yoldas. "I'll go back to the city, then," he said, standing up and brushing the grass from his breeches. "And somehow I'll sneak into the castle and find out if Yoldas is there." He looked at the wolves "Thanks for helping me to look. I'll see you later." He started to march across the grass.

"Come back, Mal." Ragnar's voice boomed in the woodland.

Mal looked over his shoulder.

"It's not safe to go back yet, if you go back in the light someone is bound to recognize you. If the King's soldiers take you now, all will be lost. There will be no hope for any of us."

Mal screwed his face into a puzzled grimace. What on earth did Ragnar mean? He still wasn't even sure it was safe to be standing next to four man-eating wolves without any weapons. He turned around.

"We must wait till it's dark. And we can't stop here, there's still a danger they could see us." Ragnar's rough animal voice still sounded strange to Mal's ears.

"Why could Yoldas even be in the castle? What does the King want with him? What's he done?"

"Yoldas is our father's next eldest son. For two thousand years, the Talahund Chieftain has served as Second-in-Command to the King or Queen of Arvad. When Ulric took the throne after killing his brother, he swore that it was Talahund who attacked his brother's horse. He said they caused his brother Tarlius to fall and break his neck. He banished us from Arvad and declared us dangerous outlaws." He narrowed his eyes and studied Mal. "And now, finally, we have a chance to get rid of him."

"Ragnar." The wolf called Kelten padded up to his brother. Ragnar looked up.

"You've forgotten something." Ragnar raised the patch of hair above one eye that looked remarkably like an eyebrow.

"What?"

"The sword," said Kelten.

Ragnar raised his other eyebrow and nodded. "Get on us, son of men, we have something to retrieve."

Mal grabbed hold of Ragnar's mane and pulled himself onto the wolf. The beast started a slow run in and out of the trees, the other three wolves following; Gared perched precariously on Yxmet. They ran for several more miles, then Ragnar began to speak again.

"Eighteen years we've lived in hiding, Mal. Eighteen hard years. And the food is running out in the valley where we've been hiding. When we've found out where Yoldas is, we'll take you to our father. Together you and he can plan how we'll defeat Ulric." The last sentence came out as a snarl, then Ragnar stopped abruptly, and Mal slipped off, falling against the trunk of a huge oak tree.

"Yes, that's right. That's the tree. Dig down there and you will find your father's sword. Wrapped in a cloth. I'm going to look for a stream. You should be safe here. I can't smell any soldiers, can you brothers?" The other wolves shook their heads, and padded after him.

Mal rubbed his head, and looked at Torun wearily. "Is it just because I'm tired that I'm confused?" the young wolf returned his gaze and pulled a strange expression with his mouth.

"I think you need to ask Ragnar a few more questions." He kicked a clod of turf with his front paw, then bent down and picked a short branch up with his mouth, holding it out to Mal. "Here, you can use this to dig with."

Mal looked at the branch, rolled his eyes, and then bent over and started to scrape the soil away under the oak tree. The other wolves sat on their back legs to watch. By the time Ragnar came back he'd scraped away about a foot of soil, but it had begun to rain. Mal stopped digging as soon as he saw him loping through the trees. He wiped his hair out of his eyes with his forearm. Shit, this was all such a waste of time, he didn't care about a sword, or whatever it was he was meant to be looking for. He certainly didn't care about defeating Ulric, or whatever nonsense Ragnar was talking about. He'd had enough messing around. Surely Yoldas would be in the prison, or in the castle somewhere? They should go there, now.

"Ragnar."

Ragnar stuck his head into the hole.

"Ragnar, I know you think this sword's important." The wolf looked at him. "But I'm really concerned about Yoldas. Wouldn't it make sense to go to the city first, and then come back and carry on digging?"

Ragnar sat back on his hind legs and eyed Mal. For a moment Mal thought he was going to pounce. But he stayed still. "The sword is important, Mal. It is a symbol of who you are. It is a symbol of the authority you possess."

Mal shrugged. He didn't really care anymore if he seemed surly. He was hungry and wet, and desperately concerned for Yoldas.

Torun dropped his front legs into the hole, awkwardly scraping the soil away. He coughed as a lump of soil flicked back into his mouth. "Urgh, Mal, look. There's something there."

Mal ignored him – let the wolf dig for it, he seemed happy enough to do it. Torun carried on enthusiastically, soil flying over the other wolves.

"Mal, Mal. It's here, look!"

Mal turned to Torun, eyes crinkled with frustration. He saw something metal glinting in the soil. Torun awkwardly climbed out backwards, and Mal stepped into the hole. He bent down, and scraped away a bit more of the soil. He stuck his hand in the soil and pulled back a cloth, then grabbed hold of the handle that was revealed beneath it. More muddy soil spattered over them as he wrenched a silver sword from the ground, its pommel studded with emeralds. Wiping the mud off his fingers onto the grass, he turned to Ragnar and held out the sword. But Ragnar shook his head and then bowed it slightly.

"All hail, King Mal."