Jack of Ravens

6

Church emerged from a manhole cover onto a hellish street. All around buildings blazed out of control. The heat seared his lungs and smoke choked his throat. Burned bodies, their identities, even their sex, unrecognisable, lay amidst piles of rubble. Searchlights washed back and forth across the night sky against the backdrop of the interminable drone of bomber engines.

Church futilely tried to get his bearings. A fire engine sped into the street, bell ringing. The fire team leaped out to perform their individual responsibilities with well-oiled efficiency.

One of the firefighters ran up to Church. ‘Oi, mate — you all right? You get caught in the blast?’ Before Church could answer, the fireman’s gaze fell on Llyrwyn. ‘Bloody hell. What you doing with that?’

Another bomb fell a couple of streets away, and they both ducked to avoid flying debris. When they rose, the fireman was looking past Church with mounting terror.

Loki was rising from the manhole further down the street. At first it was difficult to tell whether the god was closer to man or beast, for it moved slowly and menacingly on all fours, its grey hair streaming behind it. Its pupils were golden and filled with a wild frenzy, and its lips were pulled back in a snarl from pointed teeth.

‘What the bleedin’ hell is that?’ the fireman said.

‘Get out of here.’ Church thrust him away.

Loki broke into a lupine lope, accelerating with each step. When it leaped with a ferocious roar, Church threw himself to one side. The god continued to the fire engine and with one swipe of its talons tore the side of the vehicle wide open. The firemen who had been directing a gushing hose towards one of the burning buildings dropped it and dashed away. The hose snaked around and the full force of the water hit Loki in the chest. The god flipped over backwards and was driven against the burning house. The wall rocked and then came crashing on top of him.

Church had his chance to flee, but he was distracted by cries from one of the houses just being licked by the conflagration that was rapidly leaping from building to building. The firefighters were distracted trying to wrestle the thrashing hose under control.

Church dashed to the house and kicked open the front door. The interior was already thick with smoke and the heat was intense.

‘Anyone there?’ Church called. A weak, coughing voice answered from the kitchen. An elderly woman was sprawled on the floor next to the open trap door leading to the cellar that she had been using as an air-raid shelter. Church scooped her up in his arms and carried her out into the night. Two firemen took her from him and carried her away.

Church had lost his advantage. Loki rose up from the burning pile of rubble, showering bricks and mortar across the street. Flames licked all around the god, so that it resembled the Devil in some medieval painting.

Powerful muscles bunched in its legs as the creature propelled itself across the street towards Church. A chilling howl escaped its mouth as Loki transformed fully into an enormous grey wolf. The beast’s slavering jaws just missed Church’s neck. Church managed to swing his sword enough to clip the wolf’s haunches. As it went down, he threw himself upon it.

But instead of grasping wolf fur, he found himself sprawling on a nest of writhing snakes. Their heads rose as one, snapping for his face. Church threw himself off them, venom sizzling on the back of his hand.

As he scrambled to his feet, he heard a voice calling, ‘Church! Over here! I can help!’ Jerzy stood further down the street.

Church ran towards him as Loki began to reconfigure into another shape. ‘How?’ Church gasped.

Jerzy smiled. ‘This is the punch line.’

From high overhead came the whistling of a falling bomb. The firemen were already taking cover, but there was nowhere for Church to run. Behind him, Loki was loping in his direction.

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet gave way and Church plummeted into the dark. The fall was only around ten feet and he landed hard with a splash. The stink told him he was in the effluent of one of the Victorian sewers, its integrity already damaged by the blasts.

The bomb hit a split second later. The explosion stunned him even in the depths of the sewer, but the fall had saved his life. Choking and spluttering, it took him a few moments to scramble out over the debris thrown into the hole.

A crater lay where Loki had been. Further along the street some unrecognisable shape was lowering itself into the manhole from which Church had exited the underground system; disappearing into the dark to lick its wounds, ready to return another day.

Jerzy was nowhere to be seen, but Church didn’t think for a minute that he had died in the blast. Some other power was at play here. In his jacket pocket, Church felt the cold, malign presence of the Anubis Box. With the skull destroyed, it had been a victory. A great one.

One of the firemen rushed up, bleeding from a shrapnel cut on his forehead. The others were unharmed. If Loki hadn’t driven them back, they would have died in the bomb-blast. A confluence of coincidences that were not coincidences.

‘Blimey, mate, are you all right? Talk about luck!’ the fireman said. He turned up his nose. ‘You really smell like shit, though.’