A blast of hot air hits me like a wall.
‘The tent is coming down!’
The man’s voice yells again and I’m dragged backwards. Above me, a massive section of canvas flaps like the sail of a ship. Flames flicker at its edge, turning the night sky orange. The wind whips it away and it snaps and crackles before landing on another tent. Sparks instantly catch and turn to flames. The whole place is burning down.
Panic courses through me. I run in one direction and then stop, unsure which way to go. Maybe Karl is down in the field trying to stop whatever’s happening. I turn and fight against the flow of people. Among the fleeing visitors are pale-faced Valkyries and bedraggled dwarves and elves. A huge man wearing antlers helps a heavily pregnant woman stagger down the path. An elf girl is crying hysterically and he wraps his other arm around her and sweeps her along too.
The ground is slick with mud and ice and my boots slide around beneath me. A man lies on the slope at the entrance to the field, receiving mouth-to-mouth from the Russian lady, who is wearing tiny antlers on her head and has fringing over her eyes. At first I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The display area is shrouded with smoke and dotted with tiny bonfires from discarded firebrands. I can’t see clearly, but it looks like dozens of figures are fighting one another. The ravens on stilts, the Norns and frost giants stand high above the rest, picking over the smoky earth like alien creatures. In the distance the sky glows orange: it’s not just the bonfire in the ring of skulls, the Viking ship is ablaze too.
The speakers are pumping out music, only now they play eerie instrumental sounds suitable for the aftermath of an apocalypse – the end of Ragnarok. Abandoned handbags and phones stick out from the churned-up snow. There’s even a boot. The sound of fighting drifts out from the field and somewhere nearby a man groans. I swallow a tear and wipe my nose on my sleeve. I thought I could do this. I thought I could save the circus and make Odin proud of me, but I couldn’t. I’ve failed.
A figure limps towards me through the smog. Karl’s head is bleeding, his face weary. He sees the flames and the thick plume of smoke behind me and makes a muffled choking sound. ‘The tents . . . are they on fire?’ I nod and tears fill his eyes. ‘Nei!’ he mumbles in Norwegian, and then swallows before saying, ‘Please, I am ready to listen to you.’
28
HE TRICKED ME
K
arl nods without saying a word, his expression tight and anxious. His eyes flash with doubt when I tell him about the wager again, but the tremor in his voice makes me think he’s not sure what he believes any more. ‘So we need to make Ulva confess?’
‘Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but –’
He waves away my concerns. ‘I think I saw her by the ring of skulls.’
I peer into the smoky display area and hesitate, not sure I can face the dead. Karl coughs and wipes his mouth, then says, ‘Not that way. It’s not safe.’ We turn right and trudge around the edge of the field. I’m grateful for the bright floodlights.
Karl doesn’t try to make conversation, seemingly lost in his own dark thoughts, and I don’t either. I don’t want to think about what’s happening out there in the smoke and chaos and I can’t bear telling him about Sandrine. The image of her lying there like a broken bird brings a sob to my throat. I have to stop more people getting hurt, but how? How can human beings be anything but powerless against the gods? A hot, nauseous feeling comes over me and I glance towards the slope. The woman is still giving the man first aid, which means the last visitor hasn’t left. I can’t give up.
When we get to the Viking ship, Karl gestures at me to stay back. A dense wall of flame roars into the sky, the heat ferocious. A wooden shield crashes down in a hail of sparks and the head of the dragon looks like it will be next. I cough on black smoke, my eyes stinging, and hold my arm up in front of my face.
We walk a little further, then he points. ‘There!’
Ulva is in her wolf mask, crouched over a cloaked figure on the ground. The bonfire in the ring of skulls blazes behind her, turning the sky crimson. She looks bigger, almost twice the normal size, the outline of her body dark and hazy. I wipe my eyes in disbelief. She’s still human, but it’s as if she’s been overlaid with the image of a wolf.
We run towards her and she turns her head and growls, her eyes flashing pale behind the mask. Neither of us moves or says a word. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, I whisper to Karl, ‘We need to get the mask off her.’
He steps forward and the wolf snarls viciously as Ulva springs at him, knocking him onto his back. She pins him down, her hands on his shoulders. I watch transfixed as she throws back her head and lets out a guttural howl.
‘Martha!’
The sound of my name snaps me awake. Karl shouts again and I lunge and tear the mask from Ulva’s face. At the same time he rolls over and she tumbles onto her back. She beats him with her fists, but somehow he manages to stand up, hoisting her with him. We each hold one of her arms behind her back. She thrashes and writhes and the mask falls from my hand. She’s so strong; we won’t be able to hold her for long.
‘You need to tell us what happened to Nina!’
Ulva twists her head around and glares at me, her eyes bloodshot. Without the mask, the image of the wolf has gone, but there’s still something ferocious about her.
Karl reaches into his pocket and pulls out the carrier bag with the harness inside it. Ulva sees it and goes limp, as if the fight has left her. Karl opens the bag. ‘Can you explain this, Ulva?’ She lowers her head and I’m not sure if she’s about to cry or launch another attack.
Something moves at the edge of my vision and I glance at the ground. The snout of the wolf mask snarls and I want to kick the hideous thing. Instead I pick it up, run forward and hurl it onto the bonfire. It goes up instantly, its fur fizzing and crackling around the edges before the whole thing turns to flame. Thick green smoke snakes into the sky and the image of a giant wolf’s head appears, howling and writhing as if held by invisible bonds.
Then it’s gone.
Ulva blinks as if she doesn’t know where she is. She mumbles something in Norwegian, then sees me and asks, ‘What happened?’
Karl takes her hand. ‘You don’t remember anything?’
She touches her head. ‘I remember being in the procession but . . .’
Karl picks up the bag and holds it out to her. ‘Do you remember this? Do you remember what happened to Nina?’
Ulva wails, ‘I didn’t mean to do it. We were arguing and I . . .’
Karl glances at me and back to her. ‘What did you do, Ulva?’
‘I pushed her.’ She says it as if she can barely believe it herself. ‘I killed Nina.’
Karl wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. ‘Shush now, it wasn’t your fault. Everything’s going to be OK. It’s over, I promise.’
I wipe away a tear of relief. Ulva confessed. I unmasked Nina’s killer. Loki will leave the circus and no one else will get hurt.
The noise of fighting and shouting has stopped. Apart from the eerie music and the crackle of flames, the night is quiet. It’s really over. I throw my arms around Karl and Ulva and tears of relief turn to joy. I hug them and grin, realising that I did it. I won.