The Islands of the Blessed

“Listen to me,” Skakki urged. “Those stones are haunted, and you shouldn’t touch them. Adder-Tooth himself will open the gate if you pretend you’ve come to rebuild.”

“That’s the coward’s way! The thrall’s way! The worm’s way!” sang the warriors. “We take the path of honor!” They had worked themselves into such a frenzy that they refused to listen to anything Skakki had to say and set off at once.

“That’s the idiot’s way,” grumbled the Bard.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Big Half said.

“No, you wouldn’t. You have far too much sense.” The old man patted him on the back, and the man blushed at the praise. “Those fools will guarantee that Adder-Tooth keeps his gate closed. They’ll bluster and threaten outside, and Adder-Tooth will bluster and threaten from within. Afterward, when everyone’s worn himself out, I’ll solve the problem of the wall.”

They had a leisurely breakfast. Eric the Rash got a peat fire going, and Eric Pretty-Face toasted fish on skewers. The other crew members gnawed on rusks and onions, washed down with ale. Because Schlaup was so terrifying, he had been confined to the ship and wasn’t there. Rune kept him company so he wouldn’t feel lonely.

“Schlaup doesn’t know Adder-Tooth tried to kill Jack and Thorgil,” the Bard warned everyone, “so keep the story to yourselves. When Schlaup gets really, really upset, he shape-shifts, and that’s the last thing we need now. You can call them, Eric Pretty-Face.”

Everyone automatically covered their ears. “HEY, RUNE AND SCHLAUP! WE’VE GOT GRUB! COME AND GET IT!” bellowed the Northman. This was followed by a loud splash, and soon they saw Schlaup swimming with Rune sitting on his back. He came ashore and shook himself like a huge dog.

“Thank Freya I’ve got my feet on solid ground again,” said Rune, hobbling over to the fire. “I was frozen into position sitting on that ship.” Schlaup enthusiastically greeted everyone.

“WHAT WASN’T I SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM? I CAN’T REMEMBER,” said Eric Pretty-Face.

“Just don’t say anything,” the Bard said.

The encounter with the hogboon had taken its toll on Jack. His head kept nodding, and finally the Bard told him and Thorgil to take a nap. It was late afternoon before he awoke.

“Where is everybody?” he asked, sitting up and brushing sand out of his hair. Only the Bard and Schlaup were sitting by the fire.

“I thought it best to let you sleep,” said the Bard. “The others have gone ahead. Don’t worry. With Schlaup’s help, we’ll catch up with them.”

“What’s been happening?” Jack said, with a glance at Schlaup.

“Seafarer has been drifting back and forth with messages,” said the old man. “As I predicted, there’s been a fine show of temper on both sides, and nothing has been accomplished. When it gets dark, we can start working on the wall.”

“When it gets dark? But—”

“Night is the very best time to find unquiet spirits,” the Bard said heartily. “Well, Schlaup my lad, do you think you can carry both of us?”

The giant grinned. He perched Jack on his neck, cradled the Bard in his arms, and set off, falling into the long stride trolls were famous for and could keep up for hours. Jack had heard of trolls following giant Jotunheim elk until the animals fell down with exhaustion. Schlaup had no trouble finding his way through the village, either, for he was tall enough to see over the roofs. When he came to a wall blocking his way, he simply kicked a hole in it.

They traveled at a great rate and soon saw the villagers and warriors gathered outside the wall. By now long shadows were stretching across the heather. Thorgil ran out to greet them, dressed in men’s clothes again, followed by the stallion she had tamed.

“Schlaup! I’m so glad to see you! You’ll never guess what happened—”

“Not a word!” the Bard said sharply.

The giant crouched down to let his passengers alight. “Nice horsey,” he said.

“Isn’t he?” exulted Thorgil. “I’m going to name him Skull-Splitter in memory of—”

“Thorgil!” roared the Bard. “Send that beast back to his herd and stop causing trouble!”

She laughed, totally unrepentant. “They want to leave before dark,” she said, pointing at the villagers and warriors. “Skakki has been arguing with them.”

There was a shouting match going on, and Skakki appeared to be on the losing side. The villagers had already picked up their makeshift weapons and were starting back down the trail. The warriors soon followed, with the skald hurrying to keep up with them. “No deathless poetry today, I see,” said the Bard.

Skakki threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can’t talk sense into them. You’d better go along to protect them, Eric.” Eric the Rash gratefully trotted after the fleeing villagers. The Northmen all knew he was afraid of the dark and would be useless anyhow once the sun went down.