The Islands of the Blessed

“Quick, before he wakes,” murmured the Bard. “Hold his good wing close to his body.” Jack obeyed, and all the while the slow music of the old man’s voice wove itself around them like a vast, shining coil. The Bard grasped the other wing and flexed it with a quick movement. There was an audible click. Seafarer shrieked, but his eyes stayed closed. He lay on the floor, sound asleep.

“That went well,” the Bard said briskly, dusting off his hands. “I’ll let him rest awhile. You might turn Thorgil on her side, lad. She’s facedown, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s got a straw up her nose.” 

Chapter Five A SCREAM IN THE DARK

Thorgil did have a nasty bruise in the morning, but what annoyed her more was not remembering the sleep-spell.

“Some people can do it and others are unable to resist the magic,” the Bard explained.

“I can resist anything,” the shield maiden protested.

“We’re all aware of that, but the sleep-spell is out of your control. It’s just how things are. You couldn’t fly, no matter how hard you flapped your arms.”

“Olaf used to say that when I tried to make poetry,” Thorgil said. “But after I drank from Mimir’s Well, I could do it as well as Jack.”

“That’s what you think,” said Jack. He was delighted by Thorgil’s failure. He remembered the music of the spell perfectly and was itching to try it out on a black-faced sheep.

“Well, I’m not giving up,” she said. “Think how useful it would be to send your enemies to sleep—though it lacks honor to slay a sleeping man.”

The Bard shook his head. “Your motives, as usual, are appalling. Kindly tell Seafarer that he isn’t allowed to fly for a few days.” The bird had retreated to the alcove after being awoken, and they could hear him grumbling inside.

Thorgil knelt and spoke to the creature. “He isn’t happy about staying here. He says he must go in search of a mate.”

“Where’s he going to do that?” inquired the Bard.

Thorgil translated. “He says he saw lady birds south of here that were almost the right shape. They were a little small, though.”

“Almost? Wolves are almost the same shape as lambs. Did he have any success?”

“No, but he’s hopeful.”

“Well, explain that his wing is extremely weak and he’ll have to wait. Now, I need you two to gather plants in the meadows. I want comfrey, feverfew, mint, and valerian. If you run across henbane, I can use that, too. Mind, you keep it separate from the rest. Mugwort is always welcome. Look for it on sandy soil.”

Jack fetched collecting bags, and soon they were walking through fields to the wild lands that lay beyond the village. The air was warm, and villagers were already planting stands of peas and beans for winter. Thorgil found a patch of wild lettuce and Jack gathered comfrey. By now they were at the edge of the hazel wood.

“Phew! It’s hot,” exclaimed Thorgil, throwing her bags down among the bluebells. She lay flat on her stomach by a stream and splashed water into her mouth. “Mmm! This tastes as good as mead!”

Jack shared out oatcakes left over from breakfast. “The Bard says we’re going to Bebba’s Town in a few weeks.”

“I know. We have to buy grain. Isn’t the light through those leaves marvelous? And those butterflies are like white flowers fluttering in the air.”

Jack braced himself for one of Thorgil’s good moods. “I wonder how we’ll get the grain back. The road is so full of potholes, you couldn’t possibly drive a cart over it.”

“The Bard says we’ll hire a ship,” the shield maiden said, sitting up. “Just think of having a deck beneath our feet again, the waves crashing against the prow, the wind howling about our ears! Do you remember the color of the sea in a storm, all gray and green with the foam blowing off the crests of the waves? You could almost see into the halls of Ran and Aegir,” she said, naming the Northman sea gods. “Do you remember?”

“Yes,” said Jack.

“Well, you don’t seem happy about it.”

“Who could be happy about drowning? It’s the only way you can visit Ran and Aegir.”

“That’s not the point!” the shield maiden cried. “It’s the beauty of those colors! And the cold spray in your face. And the slosh of water around your boots. And the feel of the ship keeling over in a sharp wind. Olaf used to hand out coins when we were in danger of sinking, so we’d have a gift for Ran when we came to her halls. The sea kingdom isn’t as glorious as Valhalla, but it isn’t bad, either—”

“Thorgil,” said Jack.

“Yes?”

“Stop babbling.”

“I’m not babbling,” she said, too happy to take offense. “Perhaps we’ll hire a knorr in Bebba’s Town. They’re not handsome, but they hold a ton of supplies and they make the loveliest sound all night—knorr, knorr, knorr. A drekar would be even better.”

“If the villagers saw a drekar, they’d run for the hills,” Jack said.

“And so they should! A dragon ship full of berserkers—what could be prettier?” Thorgil smiled up at the sunlight, shining green through the leaves.

“In my opinion, a barge loaded with grain.”