Steeling his nerve—for Jack knew all the Northmen were quick to anger—he said, “How did you get that?”
“EH?” said Eric, whose ears had been dulled by years of blows and who bellowed all the time.
“How did you get that?” Jack pointed at the scar.
A ragged smile broke out on Eric’s face. “TROLL BITE,” he replied.
“It’s—it’s so big.” Jack’s stomach did a flip-flop as he calculated the size of the mouth that had caused the damage.
“NAW, IT WAS A LITTLE BUGGER. GOT HIS TOOTH HERE.” Eric hauled up a lump hanging on a thong around his neck. It was a fang the size of a billy goat’s horn. Eric, not much on conversation, went back to bailing.
thought Jack as he bent to work.
At last the three ships reached a lonely island, where a small colony existed. Low houses made of turf bulged out of the soil. They looked like small hills.
The warriors traded for freshwater and dried fish. One last time Jack looked at the land as it fell behind them. It was barren and windswept, but to the far west lay a gentle light. It was as though something lay shining beyond the margin of the sea. It was the Islands of the Blessed, where the old gods ruled and where the ancient heroes and heroines still had their dwelling. Perhaps the Bard was there, sitting under an apple tree.
To the east, the direction they were traveling, the sky was leaden. No light there. Jack sighed and felt for the rune of protection. So far it had done its work. He and Lucy hadn’t been murdered. They weren’t shut up in one of those dark Pictish towers. Of course, he was miserable and Lucy wasn’t far from madness, but the rune promised only life, not happiness.
Chapter Fourteen
THE LOST BIRD
The unending water filled Jack with a kind of dread. With each day his home fell farther behind on the trackless waste. Even if, by some magic, he was able to gain control of the ship, he could not ply the oars or reef the sail. He would never find his way back.
Jack felt helpless, like a bug on a floating leaf. Anything could send the leaf spiraling down. Or a sea serpent could rise and swallow the ship. Olaf swore he had seen one on the way over.
Lucy stared at the gray expanse with listless eyes. “I want trees,” she said. “I want it to stop moving.”
“Me too,” said Jack. The seasickness he’d had in the early days came back. The ship slid up and down in a gut-wrenching way. When it didn’t meet the waves directly, it tipped to one side, sloshing the bilgewater over everyone’s feet. Jack understood now why the Northmen’s boots smelled so vile.
At first the wind was gentle but steady enough to fill the sail. The warriors lounged around and played a board game called Wolves and Sheep with movable pegs that fit into seven rows of holes. A peg in the middle was the wolf. Around it was ranged a flock of thirteen sheep. The object was for the sheep to crowd the wolf into a trap, while the wolf tried to devour the sheep. It was an interesting game, and Jack watched it when he wasn’t being sick.
But soon the wind strengthened. Foam began to form on the tops of the waves.
The terrifying Northman loomed over the deck. Everything, from his smelly boots and tree-trunk legs to his ice blue eyes peering out from under a single, bushy brow, spelled doom. Jack knew he had to do something quickly.
“I need complete silence,” he said, inwardly quaking with fear.
“You louts keep quiet!” roared Olaf at his crew. “If I hear one word, I’ll send whoever it is to Aegir’s halls. Anything else?” he asked Jack.
“I want Lucy at the other end of the ship. Feed her sweets or something to keep her quiet. She’s too little to understand. But if I hear Thorgil hurting her, I’ll stop doing magic.”
“Fair enough,” said Olaf, lumbering to the stern to threaten Thorgil.
The wind was stronger now. Waves were beginning to spray over the side. Two of the warriors stopped rowing and started bailing.
What good is that? And how can I do it here, out of sight of the trees and land?
I was telling you about how the life force flows in streams deep in the earth. It is this that feeds the great forests and meadows sweet with grass. It is this that calls forth the flowers and the butterflies that are so like flowers. The deer follow its courses as they browse. The badgers and moles build their homes over it. It even draws the swallows in the midst of the sea.
Come forth,
Sunlight muted. The wind faded—was it leaving him or he it? Dampness flowed into his lungs. Water soaked into his clothes, but it was a clean wetness, not like the bilgewater. After a while he opened his eyes and saw Olaf looking—was it possible?—
I did it,
Jack closed his eyes again. He reached out to the life force and found it everywhere. It swirled in the hidden currents far below, carrying a flurry of creatures that glowed in the dark. Jack had never seen such things before. He didn’t know how he could see them now. He felt the quicksilver movement of a school of fish near the surface. He felt a crow coasting the upper air above the fog bank. Sunlight polished its black feathers.
A crow? What was a land bird doing so far from shore? As far as he knew, crows couldn’t swim. They weren’t like seagulls. He remembered finding one drowned in a farm dam. Its fellows filled the trees, cawing and clacking their beaks as though they were at a funeral. Their behavior had impressed him so much, Jack had waded into the water and taken the poor creature out. He laid it on a rock for the sun to dry—it seemed somehow better for it to rest under the sky. And all the while the other crows sat in the trees, cawing and bowing as they shifted their feet on the branches.
This bird, the one above the fog, must have been blown away by the storm. Jack felt its extreme tiredness. Its wings ached. Its chest labored to breathe. It wouldn’t be able to go much farther. Come down,Jack thought. Come to me.He didn’t know why he was doing this or whether the bird could even hear him. He couldn’t protect himself or Lucy, let alone an exhausted crow. But it seemed terrible to let the creature fall into the sea.
It’s all right. I’ll save you. Come to me.
—and blundered into the sail. It slid down the wet sheet and landed on the deck. The warriors closest to it jumped up as though they’d been stung. “Don’t hurt it!” Jack cried. He staggered across the swaying boat until he had the crow in his arms. It shuddered violently, but it didn’t try to get away.
Jack became aware that Olaf’s eyes were almost popping out of his head. “That’s Odin’s bird,” he said in a voice shrill with alarm. If the warrior hadn’t been so huge and menacing, Jack would have laughed out loud. “It came to you. Out here. Where no crows fly.”
“I called it,” Jack said. He understood at once that this had raised his status in the Northman’s eyes.
“Where did you learn this art?” said Olaf. The bird clacked its beak, and he flinched.
“From my master,” Jack said grandly. “He taught me many things—the speech of animals, the calling of winds. Also how to drive men mad by blowing on a wisp of straw—ow!” The crow had dug his beak into Jack’s hand. “This bird is hungry, and for that matter, so am I. We would like dried fish and bread.”
If he was going to tell a lie, it might as well be a big one, Jack figured. He was gratified to see Olaf hurry to obey. Soon Jack was shredding bits of fish for the crow to devour. When it was satisfied and had finished with a draught of water, the creature crept into a hollow between sacks of grain and fell asleep.
Jack went back to check up on Lucy. “You think you’re so clever,” said Thorgil in Saxon. Jack had noticed she used Saxon when she wished to be particularly aggressive. She knew Olaf did not like threats to his bard.
“I
She leaned against the rudder, her skills unneeded at the moment. The Northmen had unshipped the oars and were stretching their arms and legs. The air was so still now, it barely ruffled the water. “You notice they haven’t lengthened the sail,” she said.
“Why would they?” said Jack. “There’s no wind.” Lucy climbed onto his lap and stared vacantly at the gray gloom surrounding the ship. She sucked her thumb.
“They aren’t rowing, either.”
Something uncurled at the back of Jack’s mind, some menace he couldn’t quite see yet. “So what? Even brainless berserkers get tired.”
Thorgil’s face turned even more sour than usual. Jack knew he was baiting her, and he didn’t care. Just let her try to hurt him!
“You think you’re safe. How long do you think Olaf’s good humor will last if the fog doesn’t lift?”
“It’ll lift when I tell it to,” Jack said.
“I wonder. I wonder how many tricks a real bard would teach a servant. Or did you merely steal one or two of the simpler ones?”
“I’m not a thief!” said Jack, stung.
“You
“Wait a minute,” said Jack as a horrible thought occurred to him. “How long ago was that?”
“Three years,” Thorgil said. “The queen wanted him burned alive, but the king showed him mercy. I wouldn’t have! King Ivar’s gone soft in his old age.”
Jack’s spine turned to ice. “King Ivar… the
“Ivar the Boneless,” murmured Jack, stroking Lucy’s hair.
“He sounds awful,” said the little girl, snuggling against his chest. How thin her arms were! How stretched was the skin over her cheekbones! He realized she had eaten almost nothing since they lost sight of land.
“He
“I won’t let him hurt you, Lucy,” said Jack, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “I was trained by the Bard. Ivar may have thrown him into the sea, but he bobbed up like a cork and came to us.”
Olaf galumphed to the rear of the ship. He pushed Lucy to one side and yanked Jack up by his tunic. Olaf’s face was so close, his eyebrow was blurred and his fishy breath made Jack’s eyes smart. After a moment the giant dropped him into the bilge. “That explains a lot of things,” he growled.
Sven the Vengeful let go his oar and also made his way to the stern. “The queen swore the old troublemaker had cheated the fishes.”
“That’s why she sent the Nightmare to destroy him. When I saw it, I assumed—” Olaf shook his head.
“We all assumed,” said Sven.
“We were sent to terrorize the natives. Let them know it wasn’t smart to harbor enemies of the queen. I was supposed to confirm the death of Dragon Tongue. But I got lazy and didn’t finish the job.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Olaf,” Sven said. “Who could turn his back on such fine plunder? By Odin’s eyebrows, we had fun!”
“Yes, but I should have searched for the body,” mourned the giant.
“I saw the Nightmare,” Lucy said suddenly. Jack put his hand over her mouth. He didn’t want her to reveal that the Bard was still alive. “Don’t shush me!” she cried, clawing at his hand. “It was screaming in the sky. Ice fell all around. I wanted to go home, but Father said no. I cried and cried!” Lucy was sobbing now, beyond speech.
“A Nightmare is no joke,” said Olaf with far more gentleness than Jack thought he possessed. “Its weapon is the mind-fetter that causes the sword to fall from the strongest warrior’s hand. If it—
he prayed.
“I was there. I saw him fall.” Jack bowed his head, hoping to give the impression that the attack had been fatal. In a way, the Bard
“But this thrall is his apprentice. What do we tell the queen about him?” said Sven.
“Nothing,” replied Olaf. “We’ve done our job. We’ve got a shipload of booty. Why upset the applecart?”
brjostabarn,
“Believe me, angering the queen would spoil your chances of joining her court,” Olaf said.
Thorgil frowned. “You always get the better of me,” she said.
She went back to watching the rudder, and Olaf and Sven returned to their posts toward the bow of the ship. Jack ferried Lucy between the baskets and bags to his former perch.