Beowulf's Return (Tales of Beowulf) (3 page)

Beowulf nodded, his
face set in a bleak expression. "Of course I do. He still wears the armour
we buried him in. It's Ecgtheow. That is my father."

At that moment Beowulf was briefly aware
of movement below, inside the rampart. Out of the corner of his eye he saw
something big and dark streaking towards the gate.

"The dog! Blast
it!" he cried to Weohstan. "Get the men and prepare to defend the
hall. I'll see if I can stop it."

Sheathing his sword,
Beowulf grabbed both sides of the ladder and slid down from the rampart. Once
on the ground he drew his sword again and ran as fast as he could towards the
gate.

The massive black
creature had come from the shadows beyond the hall and already reached the
gate. It tore straight into the warrior who stood guard behind it, throwing
huge paws up onto the man's shoulders and engulfing his face and neck in its
massive maw. The man's brief, muffled scream ended in a wet crunch as the beast
bit down. As the man fell the dog dropped him and reared up behind the gate.
With uncanny dexterity that convinced Beowulf finally that this was the
transformed Queen, the creature shoved the large wooden bar out of the metal
rungs so that it no longer held the gate closed.

At that point Beowulf
reached it. He raised his sword to strike. At the same time the attackers
outside surged against the gate and it burst open. The gate swept the dog
sideways and Beowulf's blow landed askew, the flat of the blade smashing the
beast across the skull. He saw its legs buckle and knew that at least his blow
had some effect. Beowulf had to jump back himself to avoid being squashed with
the dog behind the gate. A wave of warriors came stumbling through the open
gate and chaos erupted. The defenders came rushing forwards to stop the
unexpected incursion and fighting broke out all around. Beowulf found himself
surrounded by enemies who had piled through the gate.

Close up he could see
them better. He could also smell them. The air was thick with the stench of
decay and putrefaction. Their armour was held together by rust and rotting
leather and clogged with dirt. Their helmets and shield were old fashioned and
made from similar decaying wood and leather. Some had faces that were little
more than dry yellowed skin stretched taught over the skull bones beneath,
others had skin like a normal man but it was a weird pale blue pallor. All had
eyes that were wan and baleful, seeming to somehow reflect the silver
moonlight.

Angry that such
abominations should not only exist, but had invaded the palace of the King of
his homeland, Beowulf stepped forward, driving his great sword straight through
the body of the nearest undead warrior. It smashed the rings of its rusty mail
coat and skewered straight through the thing's chest with a dry, rasping sound.
Beowulf felt like he had stabbed nothing more than a dry husk. The blow- one
that would have been fatal to a living man-had little effect on the creature
who swung its old sword in a counter attack. Beowulf stepped away from the
blow, wrenching his sword out of the revenant and unleashing a backhand swipe
that severed the creature's head from its shoulders.

"Let's see how you
get on with no head," he spat and the creature stumbled forwards then
collapsed onto the ground. Beowulf immediately set to work on its companions,
delivering a series of sword cuts that severed legs and disconnected heads all
around him until he was surrounded by a pile of bodies and body parts.

Through the gates more
of the enemy came. Beowulf noticed among them were now were also men clad in
new chainmail with wounds that still dripped bright crimson blood. Not only
were the
dreag
killing Hygelac's warriors but the dead men were now
coming back to life and joining their ranks. While the King's ranks diminished,
those of the attackers swelled and he and his men were facing ever increasing
odds.

"Beowulf!"

He heard his name being
called and looked over his shoulder. Weohstan stood a little way off, the rest
of Beowulf's warriors and some of the King's thanes gathered alongside him,
formed into a shield wall.

"We must fall back
to the hall," Weohstan called over the top of his shield, as usual calling
it as it was. "The rampart is overrun, the gate breached. We can't hold
them here. We might have a chance in the hall."

Beowulf shook his head.
If the shield wall broke and they turned their back on the enemy slaughter
would ensue.

"I'll try to hold
them," he shouted. "Get the King back to the hall and barricade the
doors."

Weohstan frowned but he
knew better than to contradict his lord. As Beowulf prepared to renew his
assault on the gate, the shield wall broke and the last of the King's men
turned and began to run for the hall as their final defensive position.

The gate butted away
from the wall again and the huge black dog, evidently recovered from the crack
Beowulf had given it, forced its way out. The creature stalked forwards, its
long red tongue lolling out of its mouth and its breath visible in the cold
night air. Two grey eyes fixed on Beowulf. The open gateway was filled with
advancing undead warriors.

Beowulf strode forward
and launched an assault on the nearest of the enemies, cutting them down with
devastating strokes that destroyed their bodies and smashed their bones, giving
them no capability to rise again. He pushed his ways forwards, forcing the
enemy back towards the gate by simply destroying them.

A huge figure loomed
beyond the gate. Through the entranceway stalked the giant walking corpse of
Ecgtheow, Beowulf's father. Beowulf felt a moment of despair. His father had
always been stronger than him, a greater warrior and more dexterous swordsman.
Now on top of that he had risen from the dead. Could he really not only fight
his own father, but hope to defeat him?

He was aware of a
vicious snarl and a movement out of the corner of his eye and knew the dog was
coming at him. Beowulf braced his right leg behind him, dipped his left
shoulder and couched his sword before him.

The beast hit him, jaws
wide and snapping towards his face. Its hot, evil-smelling breath washed over
him provoking an involuntary gag. Beowulf thrust upwards with his sword but
incredibly the beast twisted its body and the blade missed its mark. The dog
clamped its teeth down over Beowulf's right shoulder. The rings of his mail
shirt held, but he could not help gasping in pain at the immense pressure that
the bite put on him. The creature pushed forwards, its own considerable weight
and the controlling hold it had on him forcing him to drop to his knees.

Desperately he tried to
stab the creature but his arm was trapped under its chest. His sword was too
long a weapon for such close quarters fighting anyway. He did not have room to
swing it enough to cause serious damage.

As the creature held
him in a kneeling position the revenant of his father came stalking over, sword
raised, knocking several of its own warriors out of the way as it did so.
Beowulf looked for the first time into the wide, staring, baleful eyes like two
full moons set in the undead man's face and knew that the creature may have the
physical presence of his father and the basic remnants of his fighting prowess
but any shred of his personality was gone. He could hope for no mercy from him.
The
dreag
raised the sword high above its head. It was over.

The dog suddenly gave a
yelp and the pressure on Beowulf's shoulder disappeared. He had no idea what
had happened but he took advantage and rolled away from the creature. As he did
so he heard the swoop of his father's blade as it cleaved the air where he had
just been, embedding itself with a dull thump into the frozen earth instead of
his flesh.

The dog was twisting
its head, trying to reach around at something that protruded from its shoulder.
To his surprise Beowulf saw that it was the hilt of a dagger.

Standing a little way
off was a figure in a dark hooded cloak, the same person he had seen creeping
out of the Queen's chamber earlier. The person's hand was still open and this
was evidently who had stabbed the dog. Where he or she had come from he could
not tell.

The person pulled down
the hood of the cloak revealing the pale, very frightened but equally
determined features of Hygd, Hygelac's Queen. 

Beowulf was astounded.
The last person he would have expected to see in the middle of the battle was
the Queen, and certainly not intervening on his behalf.

"I was hiding at
the edge of the gate," she said. "I could not leave you alone against
these creatures."

Beowulf had no time to
respond as the walking corpse of his father raised his sword for another
attack. Beowulf held his own blade above his head to counter. The blow that
landed was stunning, its power driving the locked weapons down onto the crest
of Beowulf's helmet and giving him a thump that made his ears ring.

The corpse of Ecgtheow
struck again, this time aiming a sideways blow designed to take Beowulf's head
off. Beowulf countered, sword gripped in both hands. The jarring impact sent
him staggering sideways, almost smashing the blade from his grasp. Beowulf
retreated a step, desperate to gain a moment's respite. The power of his
father's blows were incredible. He would not be able to withstand too many
more.

The great black dog had
managed to get its jaws into the knife in its shoulder and wrench the weapon
out. It began to advance on him once more and Beowulf realised he would have to
fight both these creatures at once: an impossible prospect.

"Run," he
shouted to the Queen, who stood rooted to the spot beside him. "I was
wrong about you, I am sorry. At least you can still get away."

At that moment
realisation dawned on him. As she was standing here with the dog, he knew now
that the Queen was not the weaver of this evil magic. With a flash of inspiration
he realised who was. He also knew that the advice he had given the Queen was
also his own best chance of survival. He was strong, much stronger than normal
men, but strong as he was he had never been able to match his father in that
power. The same went for fighting prowess. However Beowulf's mother had been
swift and foot and could run like the wind. This was something he had inherited
from her. His father had never been able to match him at running. Even though
he balked at the idea of running from a battle, he knew that if he did there
was no way his father could catch him.

The dog was another
matter. It would be on him and bring him down before he got too far, then his
father would come and finish him off. He had to do something about the
creature.

With a strange moan,
his father swung his sword again. This time Beowulf sidestepped completely,
turned a circle and jumped towards the dog. He flipped his sword over,  seized
its grip in both hands then drove it downward with all his power. The blade tore
through the dog's right fore-paw and into the ground to the depth of half it's
length, impaling the creature to the spot. As the beast let out an anguished
howl Beowulf turned and sprinted away. As he passed the Queen he grabbed her
hand and pulled her along with him.

"Where are you
going?" Hygd said, her voice filled with concern when she saw that they
were not heading for the hall were the rest of the King's warriors had taken
refuge.

"The temple,"
Beowulf shouted, glancing over his shoulder to see the corpse of his father
beginning to lumber after them, along with a band of undead warriors. The dog
was still thrashing around with its paw skewered into the ground. "I
thought you were behind all this," Beowulf continued. "But now I know
who is."

"I've been
creeping out at night to try to find out myself what is going on," the
Queen panted as they ran, headlong, towards the big wooden building with its
triple spires. "Hygelac would never have let me out so I made up the story
about the nightmares to explain why I was so tired in the mornings. I found
nothing though."

The arrived at the
heavily carved large double doors of the temple of Frey. Beowulf booted the
doors open and pulled the Queen after him inside.

Quickly he closed and
barred the doors behind them then looked around. The interior was silent and
gloomy. Long shadows hung around the edge of the room and on the tiered benches
that lined the room on three sides for worshippers to sit during ceremonies.
The room was lit by a great fire pit that sat in the centre of the room, where
like in all temples, a blaze called the eternal flame was kept perpetually lit.
The altar of Frey stood beside the fire along with a towering, carved wooden
statue of the Lord God. Beside that was a tall wooden pillar reaching up into
the darkness of the ceiling.

His heart sank as he
saw that the building was empty.

Behind them the door
rattled as the undead creatures began battering against it. They were trapped
inside with no weapons and surrounded by overwhelming odds.

Beowulf looked around
once more and realised that the pillar was not in the centre of the room, where
it would have been if it held up the roof.

"The pillar,"
he said to the Queen, whose look of bewilderment showed him she had no idea
what he was talking about. "It's not really a pillar: It's a
seithr
post. There will be a platform at the top for a witch to sit on and cast
spells."

Without further
explanation Beowulf charged across the floor of the temple and threw all his
weight against the tree-trunk like pillar of wood. It swayed a little but no
more. He turned and placed his back against it, bracing his legs before him and
heaving with all his might backwards. This time the pillar moved further,
tilting into an angle accompanied by the sound of cracking and splintering
wood.