Nancy - The Islands of the Blessed

The creature screamed a long, shuddering cry that shook the air. The moon became very bright, but it was a dead light and had no power against the rune. The hogboon began to come apart, peeling away like the filth one finds in an abandoned cellar: cobwebs, dust, corruption. Shreds of it came off and were blown away by a breeze rising in the east. The last fragments swirled around the standing stone and disappeared.

Jack lay stunned on the cold hillside. The damp of early dew soaked into his clothes. Equally stunned, Thorgil stared up at the round, white moon, now turning west to drown itself in the sea. After a while she said, “We really need to find something sharp to cut these beastly ropes.”

They did find something sharp—several things, in fact. Bones, white with age, were scattered about as though they had been tossed there by a careless hand. Among them lay a throwing axe, a sword with a pommel inlaid with jewels, and a dagger. They used the dagger to cut the ropes, and if the bones were ancient, the dagger was as keen as if it had been forged yesterday.

Jack freed his hands, and after that things became easier. “Don’t cut yourself,” warned Thorgil as he sliced through the rope tethering them to the standing stone. “Some old weapons are smeared with poison.”

Once they were free, they scrambled off the barrow and climbed to the top of a nearby hill. “I didn’t see those bones and weapons earlier,” Jack said.

“Neither did I.” Thorgil leaned against him.

The thought occurred to Jack that those things had been wrapped up inside the hogboon, and he wiped his hands on the damp grass. “The sword is beautifully made. Do you want it?”

“Do you?” she asked.

Jack liked her leaning against him, and not just for the extra warmth. They had decided against traveling in the dark, for neither of them was sure of the way. “The Bard told me of swords that should only be drawn when you want to kill someone,” he said. “There’s a kind of charm on them. If you pick one up, you have to kill the next person you meet, even if it’s a friend.”

“Olaf told me that story too,” she said. They sat quietly until Jack saw a faint light in the distance. It wavered back and forth, sometimes disappearing altogether, but coming steadily nearer.

“Thoooorgilll! Jaaaack!” called a voice.

“It’s Skakki,” cried Thorgil. “We’re heeere!” She jumped up and down, but of course no one could see her at that distance.

They shouted back and forth until Jack could see Big Half at the head of the group, with the Bard holding out his staff to provide light. Big Half’s face was mottled, as though he’d lost a game of Bonk Ball. Behind him came Skakki and Sven the Vengeful. Thorgil hoisted up her skirts and ran down the hill to fall into Skakki’s arms. “You have no idea what happened here!” she said. “The hogboon came out and tried to take the rune of protection. And the rune ate him all up! It was glorious!”

“Whoa! Little sister, start at the beginning. When Big Half came galumphing into the village, he said you were going to be sacrificed. We came as quickly as we could. Big Half was afraid to go out again, but he agreed to guide us with a little encouragement.”

“I helped,” said Sven the Vengeful, smacking a big fist into the palm of his hand.

“We must be grateful to him,” the Bard chided. “He didn’t have to tell us anything. My stars, lad, it’s good to see you! I should have known better than to drink that tea Little Half served us. I must be getting careless in my old age. I see you managed the fire at the hall.”

Jack and Thorgil told him everything that had happened, and the old man said that when Adder-Tooth and his men had almost reached the hall, Big Half bolted and ran for the village. “It was very brave of him. He was absolutely terrified the hogboon would get him.”

“I couldn’t let anything happen to the pretty princess. Besides”—Big Half’s voice quivered—“Little Half called me a stupid ox.”

“There, there,” said the Bard. “You were very clever to run away. Now we must hurry back to the village. Others are waiting, and we have unfinished business with Adder-Tooth.”

“What about those weapons on the barrow?” Jack said, pointing.

“Leave them for the sun to find,” the old man said with an expression of disgust. “Ill fortune clings to weapons found in darkness.”

It was now nearing dawn. The voices of lapwings and larks arose, and a hen harrier hawk gave its whistling cry. As the light strengthened, the moon sank into ever-deepening shadow over the western sea.

A mob of villagers and warriors had gathered just before the cluster of turf houses. “Adder-Tooth betrayed us,” a man shouted.

“He’s been doing human sacrifices,” a woman cried. “My cousin disappeared, and we all thought he’d drowned.”

“He went down the hogboon’s throat,” another woman moaned. “Who knows how many others did?”

“We will no longer serve such a master,” a warrior swore. “We were aware that he used sei�er, which no honorable man resorts to, but we knew nothing of the sacrifices.”

“You’ve stirred things up a bit,” the Bard said to Big Half.

Jack saw that the villagers were armed with scythes, hoes, and axes. The warriors had swords and spears. It seemed a decent enough army. They had dragged the third-rate skald with them, and the poor man was almost fainting with terror.

“Warriors always do that,” the Bard said privately to Jack. “They don’t want to miss out on a chance to become deathless poetry, though what that poor creature writes won’t last a week.”

By now the sun had risen. The creatures of the day had emerged in the wilderness beyond the village, completely unaware of the war brewing in their midst. A haze of midges hovered over a marsh. Bumblebees crept into the sunlight and waited for its warmth to permit them to fly. Caterpillars crawled along leaves. Flowers opened their petals. It was a world unnoticed by the angry humans, but Jack was keenly aware of its presence.

“Adder-Tooth will expect us to join him,” said the warrior who had spoken before. “Instead, we’ll kill him and those filthy pirates who came with him.”

“Hear! Hear!” roared the villagers, brandishing their farm tools.

“We march! Are you with us?” the warrior asked Skakki.

“Of course,” said the young sea captain, “but I think strategy is called for. Adder-Tooth’s wall is too strong for you.”

“Piss on the wall! We’ll tear it down!” The villagers were really getting into it.

“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.