The Islands of the Blessed

Chapter Twenty-seven ESCAPE PLANS

Jack thought Thorgil would never calm down. She stormed about, kicking straw and swearing bloodthirsty oaths until the drunken warriors began to stir. Skakki kept telling her, “I won’t allow it, little sister. You have my word.”

“You have my word too,” said the Bard. She screamed at both of them.

“How can she be forced into marriage?” said Jack. “I thought Northmen brides had to consent.”

“That’s the ideal situation,” the old man said. “But Adder-Tooth needs a princess to insure his kingship. He has no right to the title.”

“I’ll kill myself before I let that slime bucket near me!”

Thorgil snatched up a knife someone had left on a table, but it slid from her hand. She bent to retrieve it and her knees buckled. She collapsed on the floor. “Curse that rune of protection! Curse it! It won’t let me die!” She thrashed about in the straw.

“Perhaps I could bring her a calming drink,” said Little Half, who had dodged her fists several times.

“Something hot. No wine or mead,” said the Bard. He laid his hand on her forehead and murmured words in the Blessed Speech. She shuddered and lay still.

“We should leave now,” Skakki said in a low voice. He nodded at the iron door, where a few bleary-eyed guards squatted.

“I don’t relish a long, dark walk to the village with a hogboon wandering about,” said the Bard. “It may prefer to feed on full-moon nights, but it’s clearly restless. Only the spirits in the wall are keeping it out. I wouldn’t like to encounter them, either.”

“Would they attack us?” Jack thought about the hogboon slowly devouring the life of the wise woman and Bjorn Skull-Splitter.

“Probably not,” the old man said. “The spirits in the wall are innocent sacrificial victims. They strive to defeat the one who slew them, but if aroused, they might lash out at anyone who came near.”

Great, thought Jack, hugging himself against the growing chill in the hall. The more he learned about spirits, the less he liked them—Jenny Greenteeth, the draugr, hogboons. But there was also the gentle ghost who had stood outside the old Roman house with his two children. Restless spirits weren’t all bad. Perhaps most people noticed only the ones that were.

The dwarf returned with herbal tea for them all. Then he and his brother made comfortable beds of straw in the cleanest part of the hall and fetched sheepskins for the coldest hours before dawn.

Jack fell asleep quickly and slept like the dead until after the sun rose. The workers from the village had already passed through and the servants had opened up the windows. A chill breeze ruffled his hair.

Jack sat up and blearily looked around. The hall had seemed halfway decent in the dim light of the night before. Now it showed itself an utter ruin. Ale-horns were strewn everywhere with gnawed bones and half-eaten trenchers of bread. Servants were turning over the straw with pitchforks and tossing the riper bits into the fire. The warriors were crawling out of their cupboards. To go by the groans, they all had filthy hangovers, and they staggered outside to urinate over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” apologized Little Half, flinching at Thorgil’s murderous glare. “You really must get up so we can put this place to rights. It’s much nicer on the cliff.”

“Oh, leave me alone,” she muttered.

Jack helped her outside. They sat upwind from the warriors on stones overlooking the water. The sun was just breaking over the hills to the east, and the bay below them was still in deep shade. The water was dark blue with a frosting of seagulls.

“My head feels like trolls have been playing knucklebones with it all night,” Thorgil moaned. “Ohhh, everything is moving.”

Jack turned his head sharply and found that his vision was swimming too. “That tea Little Half gave us…” he said.

“What?” the shield maiden said faintly.

“That drink we had just before going to bed. I think it was drugged.”

“You can’t trust anyone in this snake pit,” she said.

“Apparently not.” Jack was annoyed at himself. He should have been more suspicious of Little Half. He liked him because he’d been a friend of Bjorn, but the dwarf was in the service of Einar Adder-Tooth now.

Little Half brought out hot cider and oatcakes. “Traitor,” snarled Thorgil.

“Now, princess, it isn’t as bad you think it is.” The dwarf knelt by her and placed her fingers around the warm cider cup. “Everyone suffers changes of fortune, and sometimes they turn out better than you think. My brother and I felt terrible when Bjorn died, but Adder-Tooth is no worse than most masters.”

Thorgil looked up, surprised. “You’ve had many masters?”

“We’re wandering entertainers. We go from hall to hall, and when one group gets tired of us, we move on. We used to visit Bjorn regularly, but we’ve also worked for Grimble the Sullen, Leif Lousy-Beard, and Ragnar the Ravenous. There aren’t many jobs for a man like me. I’m too small to be a warrior, and my singing voice would curdle the milk inside a cow. But I know how to lighten a dull evening with lively tales and games. I’m also an excellent servant. I give good advice without appearing to do so, and I perform chores a king can’t trust to others.”

“Such as drugging people,” said Jack. His head ached dully and he had trouble concentrating. The dwarf shrugged.

“What does Big Half do?” asked Thorgil.

“He juggles knives, but he usually winds up cutting himself. He does acrobatic tricks. Most of the time he falls flat on his face, and the warriors seem to find that amusing. I’m afraid my brother isn’t the swiftest deer in the herd. Without my care, he would have starved long ago. He also plays Bonk Ball.”

“What’s that?”

“My own invention,” Little Half said proudly. “You need a wooden ball wrapped in leather and a stick of wood called a ‘bat’. A player throws the ball at Big Half as hard as he can, and he knocks it away with the bat. If he misses, it goes bonk on his head.”

Jack smiled grimly. Big Half definitely wasn’t the swiftest deer in the herd if he let his little brother talk him into such a game. “Tell me more about that wall outside.”

Little Half hunkered down and helped himself to one of the oatcakes. “When you ask for anything from a hogboon, it expects to be paid back. The night after Adder-Tooth took over, the hogboon took shape in the hall. I can tell you, everyone dived for cover. Warriors were fighting one another to get into the sleeping cupboards. They knew swords were no use against it.

“‘I have granted your wish, Einar Adder-Tooth,’ the creature said. ‘Now I have come for payment. Each full-moon night I expect a living human left for me on my barrow. If you do not provide this, I will take you in its stead.’ Then it turned into a mist and disappeared through the wall.

“The full moon was just past,” the dwarf continued. “Adder-Tooth asked the Picts about the body that lay in that barrow, and they said it was an ancient king who had also built a haunted tower at the other end of the island. He had buried thirty men alive beneath its stones. Some years later, on his wedding day, relatives of those men slew him and carried off his bride.

“Adder-Tooth reasoned that you had to fight ghosts with ghosts and that thirty vengeful spirits should be enough to fight off one hogboon. He ordered the tower dismantled and brought here. He didn’t need to fortify the seaward side because hogboons can’t travel through water.

“The minute we started dismantling the tower, the voices started. You couldn’t understand the words, but the rage was unmistakable. The horses bolted. Men had to drag the carts themselves. They didn’t complain, though, because fear drove them, and they got the wall up before the next full moon.”

“If hogboons can’t travel through water,” Jack said with a yawn, trying to gather his thoughts, “why didn’t Adder-Tooth simply go to another island?”

“He had always been landless,” Little Half said simply.

“Bjorn’s island, fine hall, horses, and sheep were more wealth than Adder-Tooth had ever dreamed possible. And he could call himself a king. You have no idea how much that means to a third-rate pirate. The first thing he did was hire a third-rate skald to sing his praises.”

Jack saw the third-rate skald stagger out of the hall and collapse with his face in a trough of water.

Little Half stretched his arms and legs as the sun flooded the cliff over the sea. “Once the wall was up, the hogboon battered against it, and the spirits of the dead men battered back. If you thought last night was noisy, wait till you see what happens during the full moon.”

“I have no intention of waiting for the full moon. I’m not staying here,” Thorgil said.

The dwarf laughed. “You’ll get used to the idea.” He gathered up the cups and left.

Jack surveyed the edge of the cliff. It was at least a hundred feet down with no handholds and only a narrow beach at the bottom. The warriors had ambled away, and the villagers worked silently at various chores. Now Jack could understand their gloom.

“We have to find some way through that iron door,” said Thorgil. She leaned against his shoulder. “Curse this dizziness.”

“We’ll ask the Bard what to do,” Jack said, and suddenly froze. Where was the Bard? They hurried back to their sleeping site. Servants had raked it clean and provided fresh straw. The hall was deserted except for guards sitting by the iron door. “Where are our companions?” Jack demanded.

“Them? They were carried out at first light,” one of the men said. “Had a bit too much to drink if you ask me, but didn’t we all?” The other men guffawed.

“They were drugged! What have you done with them?” cried the boy.

“We took them back to the village,” said Big Half, who had been drawn by the commotion. “Please don’t cry, little princess. They can visit you after the wedding.”

“There won’t be any wedding!” shouted Thorgil. “I’m a shield maiden and my kind do not marry. Where’s Adder-Tooth?”

“He left at first light too,” said the guard. “If you’ll pardon me, little lady, you’re far too cute for a shield maiden.”

“If I had an axe, I’d bury it in your thick skull!” screamed Thorgil.

“Feisty little morsel,” the guard said to his pals.

Jack pulled her away before she resorted to mayhem. “We can’t fight our way out,” he said. “We’ll have to use strategy.”

“Like Olaf used to do,” said Thorgil, wiping tears of frustration from her eyes. Jack smiled inwardly. Olaf One-Brow’s idea of strategy was to run downhill with an axe, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Skakki won’t abandon you,” he said. “Nor any of the others. They’re probably thinking of a battle plan right now.”

“I know that, but they’re badly outnumbered,” said Thorgil. “Oh, Jack, what are we going to do? Can’t you call up an earthquake or something?”

Jack wished, not for the first time, that the Bard had taught him useful magic, such as how to knock holes in walls or make everyone go blind. “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry.”

But the morning passed and he wasn’t able to think of anything. Creating a storm wasn’t any good. Farseeing was useless, and besides, it took concentration. Thorgil kept interrupting him. He tried to cast a sleep-spell over a woman plucking a hen, and she asked him if he was feeling ill.

Thorgil’s scheme, which she repeated many times, was to kill the guards and make a run for it. There were five gate guards, Jack pointed out, each one weighing twice as much as they did. They would have to use strategy. She called him a weakling.

At midday they both sat with their legs dangling over the sea cliff. “I’d throw myself off if it weren’t for this wretched rune of protection,” Thorgil said, clutching the invisible pendant at her neck.

“You’re lucky to have it,” said Jack unsympathetically. He remembered how the talisman had made him feel. No matter how grim things were, it reminded you of how precious life was.

“Perhaps I could give it away. I think Little Half would like it.” Thorgil was taunting him, one of her favorite activities when she was frustrated. The only person she couldn’t give the rune to was Jack, and he was the only person who really wanted it.

“The Bard says the rune decides when to go,” Jack said. “It won’t let you do something so totally stupid.”

The shield maiden grasped the pendant and tried to force it over her head. Her hand opened involuntarily. The rune fell back into place. “I hate you,” she said.

“I hate you too,” replied Jack. He was thoroughly tired of her insults.

With a loud cry, Seafarer dropped onto the cliff, scattering the children who were guarding drying fish. The bird immediately fell upon the fish and started stuffing himself. Seafarer! Fly away! cried Thorgil in Bird. Already the warriors were scrambling for bows and arrows.

Fire! said the albatross, after choking down what he had in his beak. Fire! Fire! An arrow whizzed by. Thorgil shielded the bird with her body.

Fly! she screamed.

Fire! shrieked Seafarer, plunging over the edge and swooping away. A flock of seagulls exploded from below and unwittingly formed a barrier between the albatross and his hunters.

“Don’t be frightened, little lady,” said one of the men. “We’ll protect you from that nasty bird.”

“I’m not frightened!” yelled Thorgil, but they grabbed her by the arms and dragged her inside, along with Jack.

Adder-Tooth had returned and was sullenly drinking at a table. “Keep them here where we can watch them,” he ordered. He called for Little Half to bring him more ale.

The shield maiden fumed and cursed, but it only made the guards laugh. One of them tried to chuck her under the chin. She slapped him, and Adder-Tooth shouted for them to leave her alone.

“Do you see how women are treated? Do you see?” Thorgil raged when she and Jack had retreated to the center of the hall. “That’s why I will never marry.”

For someone who wanted a princess, Jack thought, Adder-Tooth hardly looked like an eager bridegroom. The king drank horn after horn of ale. He seemed to have forgotten all about Thorgil’s existence. He certainly did none of the thoughtful things Schlaup did when he was courting Mrs. Tanner. There were no flowers or little treats, though to be honest, Thorgil would only have thrown them in the king’s face. But he should have tried, Jack thought.

“I have a knife strapped to my leg,” whispered Thorgil. “If Adder-Tooth gets close, I’ll kill him.”

That was one solution, Jack mused. No bridegroom, no marriage. Then the guards would kill them to avenge their king. Like most of Thorgil’s plans, it had flaws.

It was clear that Seafarer had been sent with a message, but the bird had been distracted by the fish. Fire, he’d said. Was that a warning? It was impossible to tell. Seafarer’s ability to describe things was limited.

Or perhaps fire was a command. Calling up fire was the first thing Jack had learned as an apprentice, and he was very good at it. He looked around the hall and noted that the floor was covered from end to end with straw. A mountain of peat blocks leaned against a wall. The roof was made of dry turf.

What would happen if the hall burned down? Everyone would run outside. Most were outside already, doing chores near the cliff. The rest—and here the plan made sense—would head for the only source of water, the fountain in the courtyard. Not only would fire distract the warriors, it would divide Adder-Tooth’s forces.

“Stay close to the iron door. Be ready to run,” he murmured to Thorgil. She nodded, instantly alert. She casually drifted toward the door. The guards glanced nervously at Adder-Tooth, not wishing to rouse his anger again. Thorgil sat down just close enough to make them uneasy and far enough away so that it didn’t look as though she was being friendly.

Jack drifted in the other direction. A warrior barked at him to stay away from the door. He sat down next to the peat pile and closed his eyes. He cast his mind down to search for the sunlight of summers past that had sunk into the earth.

The ground below resisted at first, but suddenly it gave way to mud and water. Jack found himself floating in a warm sea, an ancient sea. Long ago this rock had been water, and the surprise of it made Jack stop and look around. Sunlight fell into green, murky depths. Strange fish with large heads and scales like leather armor swam around him. Ancient shores appeared and disappeared. A ripple hung frozen in the gloom, and when he put his hand out to touch it, he found it hard as stone.

He sank down again until light vanished altogether, but he felt the questing life-forms all around him, except that they were not alive. They were the memories of fish. Even here was a host of spirits. They lazily followed Jack, nibbling at his heels.

And then he felt the familiar fire, like a beating heart. He reached for it. Come to me, he called. Come forth. The fire swept upward and Jack fled before it. The fish swam away with red light flashing on their scales and the sea glowing like a sunset cloud. He reentered his body, dripping with sweat. A flame shot out of the mountain of peat and licked across the ceiling.

“Bloody Hel!” roared Adder-Tooth. “The peat’s caught fire! Get water! Get rakes! Push that stuff outside!” But the fire was too intense and the guards couldn’t approach it.

“We must go,” begged Little Half.

Adder-Tooth knocked him sprawling. “Don’t tell me I have to do anything! I’m a king!” Little Half’s brother ran to pick him up.

The fire had by now engulfed the roof and the servants had fled toward the cliff. Next, the warriors bolted. Thorgil tried to reach the iron door, but they grabbed her and ran in the opposite direction. Bits of flaming peat fell all around them.

“Go to the water! Go to the water!” yelled Jack. The warriors were too panicked to listen. Big Half fled past with Little Half in his arms. By now the floor was aflame and there was no possibility of crossing the hall. Jack gave up and followed them.

Black smoke billowed into the sky, but the sea breeze fortunately carried it away from the cliff. Women gathered their children into little groups and men waited by the barns to beat out any flames that might reach there. Last of all King Adder-Tooth burst from the hall, his body covered in ashes and his beard smoking. Behind him the roof collapsed.

The only sounds then were of crying children, bleating animals, and the crackle of flames. The destruction had happened so fast, everyone was too shocked to speak. The fire died down almost as quickly, because anything flammable had gone up like tinder. It was over in only a few terrifying minutes. But the stone walls still radiated so much heat that no one dared approach them. After a while Thorgil said brightly, “Who wants to go to the village?”