Warrior of the Wild(55)

When I reach Soren’s side, I see it. Not the hyggja, but the remains of the gunda. Its head is still mostly intact, though its eyes are glossy. But the middle area, where that mouth was, is gone. Nothing but bones with faint remains of stringy flesh left to see. Bile threatens to rise in my throat as I think of what I’m swimming in.

Instead, I turn my thoughts to Iric. My friend. I’m doing this for him. He deserves to go home to his family, and we can make that happen.

If we don’t die first.

Soren reaches his spear but has to untangle it from some thick grasses. Iric is next to him, helping.

The hyggja disappeared in a direction over Soren’s and Iric’s heads, and I watch that spot with a critical eye, my lungs starting to grow uncomfortable.

I’m struck with a thought all of a sudden. The need to turn around and look over my shoulder becomes so strong, I can’t help but listen.

And when I spin, it’s to find jaws open wide, only feet from my head.

I throw my spear up on instinct—not horizontal as if aiming before a throw, but vertical to get it between those jaws—and thrust upward with as much strength as I can muster while underwater. Teeth barrel into me. There’s a quick sting in my arm as I lurch backward, the force of the beast’s swimming propelling me through the water. Something strikes me from behind, and I think I might have slammed into one of the boys, but I can’t be certain. The beast still pushes me through the water.

Eventually the hyggja changes directions, and the stinging in my arm heightens before I feel teeth dislodging. I tumble backward in a reverse somersault through the water, and a noise comes out of me as my head cracks on the rocky bottom. I don’t see stars, which must be a good sign. There’s only pain in the back of my skull.

But then I feel the hyggja’s fins skimming over my stomach.

I scramble, my eyes closing momentarily as mud and plant refuse are churned up by the beast skimming the lake floor.

I claw my way to the surface. A small burst of red adds to the water as I go, and I look down at my arm. There’s a thin but deep gash, made from a line of teeth, just above my elbow on my forearm.

Below me, Soren and Iric are both spinning to the side as if they’d been knocked askew. But Soren has his spear unstuck, and he manages to get the rope over one of his shoulders.

My head finally clears the water, and I take several deep breaths before plunging back into the fray.

The hyggja is shaking its head from side to side fiercely. Its body spins around, and I get another good look at those teeth. It manages to chomp down on the spear, but instead of breaking the weapon, it sends it all the way through the roof of its mouth, the rope still attached to the tip and now stringing through a hole in the beast’s flesh.

Brown-black blood clouds into the water around the hyggja, and the beast tries to swim off, probably in an attempt to sneak up on us again. All that does is pull my spear taut lengthwise against the top of the hyggja’s snout. And with my rope still wrapped around my shoulders, it pulls me with it.

Feeling the rope through its skin, the beast becomes distracted and changes plans, now trying to free itself.

Soren and Iric take full advantage of that.

They swim right up to the beast, plant their feet firmly on the ground, and thrust with their spears. The hyggja shrieks, turning over, trying to get away, but all it does is tangle itself in the thick ropes, providing more leverage for Soren and Iric, who hold on to their ropes with all their might.

The water fills with mud and blood as the beast turns up the lake’s bottom. It becomes impossible for me to see anything.

I take another break for air, dropping my coil of rope from my shoulders in my haste.

I breathe deeply, yet rapidly, a few times before submerging myself once more, frantically searching for the boys.

After swimming lower, I find Iric trying to direct the hyggja toward the shore, a task which he’s having little success with. He’s embedded his spear deeply into the beast’s stomach, pulling with all his might.

Soren is nowhere to be seen, so I think he’s likely gone for air.

Why hasn’t Iric done the same?

The hyggja still squirms, but its movements have slowed. I manage to grab Iric by the arm and pull. At first, he’s reluctant, shrugging out of my grip, but the second time I reach for him, I think he finally takes stock of the air left in his lungs.

He hands me his rope and propels himself to the surface; the hyggja drags me every which way, rolling, turning, scraping against the bottom. After another tumble, its front fins are sufficiently pinned under layers and layers of rope, and it begins to rely solely on its tail for movement.

Soren shortly joins me, finding the end of one of the other ropes and holding fast.

The hyggja starts to turn toward him, finally getting the sense to go after him instead of keeping at its futile attempts to free itself from all the rope.

I don’t think so.

Hand over hand I pull myself along the rope as quickly as I can until I reach where it connects with the hyggja’s body. I wrap my legs against its body, and inch upward, closer and closer to the head.

More and more blood seeps from the creature, slowing its movements even more. It’s the only reason I’m able to reach those jaws, to wrap my arms around the snout and pin it firmly closed.

Where the hell is Iric?

My question is answered a moment later, when Iric appears back in the water, holding yet another length of rope. It’s the one he attached to the tree along the lake’s edge. He swims right up to the beast—you’d think he’d never shown any fear about it earlier—and ties the end of the rope around several layers of the coils already pinning the hyggja’s fins down.