The last bit of 'Gone Astray'.
GONE ASTRAY: PART 3
"Sigrun?"
"Yeah?"
"What are we going to do? I mean, really? You know as well as I do that thing will swat us like flies before we can get enough shots into it to kill it."
"Then those shots will just have to be good ones, kid. Take your time, aim for the head. That's what I'm gonna do. One of us has to get a good hit, you'll see."
She paused, glanced out at the bear-beast. It was stirring restlessly. She wondered what had disturbed it.
"Sigrun? How would it be if you hid upstairs and I hit it with a few grenades? Then you could still try shooting it ....if....if it needed doing..." Emil's voice wavered and stopped.
"No way, hero! Both of us get out, or neither. That's just.... What is that?"
Outside, someone was singing.
As they raced for the window, the last notes of the runo blended with the roar of the beast, the noise of crashing masonry, and a single shot.
Before he reached the window Emil knew it was Lalli. He had no words for the sensation that swept over him, but for an instant he felt the impact as if in his own flesh. Sigrun grabbed him as he staggered and almost fell, then they were both crowding the narrow window, staring out at the bodies tangled atop a pile of rubble in a chaos of broken bricks, rotting dark fur and splintered bone, bloodied white uniform and silver hair.
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"Look, Emil, sometimes you've just gotta deal with it. People die. Friends die. And I think Lalli could be dying now."
Outside, the last daylight faded. The wind began to rise, smelling of snow. Sigrun had decided that their chances of surviving the night would be better if they forted up in the top room of the clock tower than if they tried to struggle back to the tank carrying a comatose scout. They had barricaded the door as well as they could, and the coming night promised to be cold enough to offer some protection from beasts and trolls. All they needed to do was survive until morning. Sigrun was carrying some dried meat, she and Emil both had water, and they had found some hardbread and a water flask in the pocket of Lalli's coat. With three bodies huddled together, they wouldn't freeze. But although Lalli's injuries seemed superficial, nothing they tried could wake him. To Emil, his friend seemed to be drawing further away with every moment, his skin pale and waxy, his thin body cold to the touch.
"But what's wrong with him? Nothing's broken; he has a few nasty gashes from that thing's claws, but they've stopped bleeding now, and he's immune so it isn't the Illness! I don't think he's concussed. And he's so cold! Is he bleeding inside, or what?"
"Dunno about bleeding. But I don't think that's it at all. Poor little twig has been really out of it since he came back from that last scouting run. I think he ran into trouble while he was finding us a new route, and overused his magic dealing with it. You saw him when he came back, he was out on his feet."
"I thought he was just really, really tired. And maybe still sick from the driving. His nose wouldn't stop bleeding. And his eyes. But Sigrun - you know perfectly well there's no such thing as magic. That's just silly superstition!"
Sigrun's expression was exasperated. "Yeah, I know you city boys think that. And Mikkel, maybe. The Danes don't use magic, more fools them. Though I would hope he had been around long enough by now to know better. But when one of our folk turns out to have the talent, we ship 'em off to Iceland to be schooled, and they come back pretty useful. My great-grandpa had magic, back in the old days, and one of my cousins has it now. Not me, but I know about it."
"And I know that every now and then one of our mages does something that's more than his body can stand. Or his mind. Seen it happen, out in the field. There was this one Icelandic mage, held off a giant singlehanded for a whole night, kept it immobilised until the soldiers could surround it, kill it and burn out the nest it was protecting. Then she just went to sleep and never woke up. Didn't think Lalli was that bad, so I figured the best thing to do was to let him rest for a few days. I wonder what made him come after us?"
Emil shivered at the thought of how things might have turned out if Lalli hadn't followed them.
"I don't believe in magic. But Tuuri seemed pretty evasive when I asked her if he was ill. Maybe she thought the same as you do? But whatever it is, what can we do to help him now?"
"Not a lot. Try to keep him warm. Give him water if he wakes, a bit of food if he's able to eat. If he lives through the night, as soon as it's light tomorrow I'll go back and bring Mikkel. Even if there's nothing else he can do, he can at least carry the poor kid back to die in a warm bed. And you might try praying. Can't hurt, and might help."
Emil had never prayed in his life. He had no idea how to begin now.
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Emil could hear Sigrun's voice, but her soft murmur was low enough that he couldn't interpret her words clearly. He supposed she might be praying. She had done all she could to secure the old building for the night, eaten a little, and now lay curled on the dusty floor against Lalli's back, her coat opened and partly draped over the unconscious scout, sharing body heat. Emil lay facing her in a similar posture, with his arm under Lalli's head, the still face turned against his shoulder. He felt ready to weep from rage at his own helplessness. He didn't notice the moment when fear and worry drifted into exhausted sleep.
The scent of green plants and water caught Emil's attention at the same moment he became aware of the slight weight in his arms, and realised that he must be dreaming. Strange, he thought. Wherever this dream was, it smelled like springtime. Late springtime, just beginning to move into summer. He could hear a faint rippling of water, and the distant calls of birds. So peaceful. He was in no hurry to open his eyes. He lay still and revelled in the warmth and quiet, the feeling of safety.
There was a sound, faint as a bubble bursting, or a strain of music right at the edge of hearing. Emil's eyes flew open. He was lying on a raft of old, weathered boards, floating in a pool of clear water. A tangle of stems topped with a few flowers stood at the pool's edge. Leaves floated on the water close to his face - he supposed they must be waterlilies. Lalli lay in his arms. His body felt insubstantial, hardly there at all, his pale face almost translucent in the soft light. Something - someone - stood at the edge of the pool, gazing down at them. It looked like a man, in the costume of a nobleman from the old fairytales, but strangely, inhumanly beautiful; it held a strung bow.
Emil couldn't move. He gazed up, and up, at the figure, taking in the vivid colours that still somehow blended into the marshy forest, and the sense that whatever this was, it was real, more real than his own self. So real and immediate that at first he failed to notice the two other shapes, one on either side of it. Once he saw them he would have recoiled in terror, but still he couldn't move or speak. Hunter, lynx and bear gazed down at him, impassive.
This was it, then. He was about to die, torn apart by monsters in a dream of some swampy wilderness. But he was not alone. Lalli was here too. He had to protect Lalli.......
Emil was still trying to force his dream-body to move when the lynx stepped forward and nuzzled Lalli's limply trailing hand. Then somehow melted into Lalli's body. Emil jolted awake, a barely suppressed scream on his lips.
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Sigrun started awake at a sound, realised it was Emil having a nightmare, and carefully rose to make sure the door was secure. All safe and quiet, good. Before lying down she checked on Lalli again, and was relieved to feel his pulse stronger, his body warmer. Even sleeping deeply as he was, he felt, somehow, more like himself. Emil stirred sleepily, clasped Lalli closer to him and slept again. Sigrun smiled to herself. They might yet all make it to morning. It was strange, she thought, how the feel of the night had changed. She felt....protected. Watched over. Still smiling, she lay down, threw an arm over the two sleeping boys, and slept again.
