Nancy - The Islands of the Blessed

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The crowning volume of the trilogy that began with The Sea of Trolls and continued with The Land of Silver Apples opens with a vicious tornado. (Odin on a Wild Hunt, as the young berserker Thorgil sees it.) The fields of Jack’s home village are devastated, the winter ahead looks bleak, and a monster—a draugr—has invaded the forest outside of town.
     But in the hands of bestselling author Nancy Farmer, the direst of prospects becomes any reader’s reward. Soon, Jack, Thorgil, and the Bard are off on a quest to right the wrong of a death caused by Father Severus. Their destination is Notland, realm of the fin folk, though they will face plenty of challenges and enemies before get they get there. Impeccably researched and blending the lore of Christian, Pagan, and Norse traditions, this expertly woven tale is beguilingly suspenseful and, ultimately, a testament to love.

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“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?”

Chapter Twenty-eight

FULL MOON

“You—! You—!” Adder-Tooth was so enraged, he could hardly get the words out. “You aren’t going anywhere!” He took a deep breath. “Someone is responsible for this! Someone didn’t dry the peat, and it went up like a haystack. Was it you?” He grabbed a terrified servant by the neck and shook him until the man passed out. Adder-Tooth dropped him onto the ground.

The king raged around the cliff, raining blows on anyone he encountered, even children. “Someone did this, and when I find out who it is, I’m going to feed him to the hogboon.”

Everyone was silent, and Jack thought the warriors looked slightly ashamed of their leader. It was one thing to lose your temper—Northmen did it all the time—but to blame people for natural catastrophes was foolish. Ships sank in storms, rats ate grain, haystacks burst into flame. These things happened. The warriors were not to know, of course, that this time someone was responsible.

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