Wolfspell

by Anna Ciddor

  Oddo, standing on stool by the fire, was the first to see her.

  ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘It’s Thora! She’s back!’

  All eyes turned towards her.

  ‘Ah!’ said Runolf, and addressed the Sheriff. ‘Let me introduce my daughter Thora. I think I mentioned her . . .’

  Thora marched up to the Sheriff and thrust the chain and goblet at him.

  ‘Is this what you’re after?’ she demanded.

  Everyone seemed to hold their breath. The only sounds Thora could hear were the spitting of the flames and the glug-glug of something bubbling in the cooking pot.

  The Sheriff let out a loud hiss. He sheathed his sword and held out a shaking hand for the offerings.

  ‘Right,’ said Thora. ‘Now you can go away!’

  The Sheriff tried to look dignified as he stalked out, but his henchmen followed in unseemly haste, hopping and hobbling from the room.

  As the door hangings swung behind them, the room rang with cheers.

  ‘Thora!’

  ‘Good old Thora!’

  ‘Thora brought the taxes!’

  Bending to hug the invisible child wrapped around her knees, Thora spied Oddo elbowing his way towards her. She grinned at him proudly.

  Runolf picked up a chisel and banged it on the table for attention.

  ‘Thora,’ he declared, as the shouting dropped to an excited buzz, ‘you have vindicated our faith in you!’

  Astrid tossed her head disdainfully.

  ‘Huh,’ she said, and sniffed.

  But for once her sneering only made Thora feel smug.

  ‘Thora!’ Oddo was by her side now, tugging at her sleeve. ‘How did you get home so quickly? And where on earth did you get that gold and jewel stuff? What happened to the silver?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to look for it yet,’ said Thora, grinning. ‘You see, just after you ran off, Ulf turned up, on the way back from his raid.’ She paused, re-living the moment when Hairydog had dragged her out of the freezing river, soaked and shivering, and some instinct had prompted her to dig the lucky runestone out of her basket. The next moment, she’d seen that glorious dragon ship, red sail billowing, heading up the fjord towards her. The men had called out to her, begging her to help their wounded. They’d drawn the ship up to shore and rushed round doing her bidding – finding the plants she needed, lighting a fire for her – and all the time heaping her with praise.

  ‘Hey,’ said Oddo, waving his hand in front of her eyes and interrupting her reverie. ‘So Ulf turned up – so then what?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Thora, and she tried to make her voice sound casual. ‘I fixed up their wounds, and they paid me with some of their loot! So then, since I had enough to pay the taxes,’ she grinned, ‘I thought I’d come home in the ship and surprise you. We can look for the silver another day, and maybe I’ll keep it and be rich – though I might give a bit to Gyda to make up for tricking her. But Oddo . . .’ Her voice began to tremble as the memory came back to her. ‘When I got on board I found they had people for loot! Men from the strange land – even a boy who looked the same age as us!’

  ‘What for?’ asked Oddo.

  ‘They’re going to sell them as thralls to work for other people! Don’t you think that’s awful?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Oddo.

  ‘And what about you?’ Thora exclaimed. ‘Did you manage to beat Grimmr home?’

  Oddo eyed her solemnly and shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘No?!’

  Then Oddo burst into a fit of giggling.

  ‘It didn’t matter,’ he chortled. ‘The Little Folk took care of Grimmr. They opened the door of his barn so all his goats got out, and now he’s running around trying to catch them! Come and look.’

  A few minutes later, Thora was standing on the other side of the wood, trying to catch her breath and looking round the paddocks for Grimmr and his goats.

  ‘Where are they?’ she asked.

  Oddo gave a hoot and pointed towards the mountains.

  ‘Look, they listened to me! I told them to go up there.’

  Thora looked. Far in the distance she could just make out a running figure. And ahead of him, high on the mountainside, were lots of little moving dots.

  ‘That’ll keep him busy for a while!’ she cried.

  Oddo nodded gleefully.

  ‘In the meantime, I can put all the stones back in the fence. The boundary’s got to be in the right place for tomorrow!’

  ‘What about your leg?’ asked Thora anxiously. ‘Will you be able to walk on it all day? I’d better make you another potion.’

  Oddo screwed up his face and shook his head.

  ‘No thanks, I’ve had enough potions!’

  29

  The ceremony begins

  It was still dark when Oddo stepped outside.

  ‘I’ve made it!’ he thought. He shivered with excitement. ‘I’m really going to light the needfire and save the farm.’

  The Thingmen were waiting, a cluster of dark figures against the lightening sky, and Grimmr was there too, looking tired and rumpled, as if he hadn’t slept all night. Oddo grinned.

  The Law Speaker held up a stick, and an odd-shaped bow with a floppy string.

  ‘With this drill of ash and this bow of alder, you must light the needfire,’ he announced.

  Oddo dumped his ball of tinder on the ground, and reached out eagerly for the ash stick and the funny little bow. He eyed the Law Speaker expectantly, waiting for instructions. Around him the air filled with excited voices as people from other farms turned up to watch.

  The Law Speaker looked back at Oddo but didn’t speak.

  Oddo felt a surge of panic. If no one told him what to do, how was he going to light the needfire?

  ‘This puny little earthworm doesn’t have a clue!’ snorted Grimmr.

  The crowd fell silent, and in the expectant hush, Oddo could hear his heart thudding.

  He looked desperately at the objects in his hands. Did he rub them together, or what?

  Then one of the Thingmen glided towards him. He gestured to the ground where a piece of oak with a notch in its side was lying on a sheet of bark. Silently, he pushed Oddo’s shoulder and tapped his knee. A moment later Oddo found himself down on one knee, his left foot standing on the piece of oak. The Thingman stood the drill with its pointy end in the notch, twisted the bowstring around it, then stepped back.

  Oddo was left with the bow in one hand, and, in the other, a half-ball of wood, pressed against the top of the drill to hold it steady. He frowned at the bow, bewildered, then gave it a tug. The string pulled, and set the drill spinning.

  ‘That’s it!’ A wave of relief flooded through him.

  He sneaked a glance at Grimmr, who was standing with folded arms, glowering. Then he scrunched up his face and yanked the bow with all the energy he possessed.

  ‘Go on,’ he urged himself.

  The drill spun, faster and faster. Sawdust flew from the tip and Oddo gulped with excitement as a thin wisp of smoke began to rise.

  ‘Yes! Here comes the fire!’

  He felt the crowd press closer in anticipation. The smoke grew thicker and one of the Thingmen lifted his arm. Oddo sucked in his breath and blew at the smoke. A tiny red lump came into sight, glowing in the notch hole. The onlookers cheered and Oddo’s heart soared with triumph. He dropped the bow, snatched aside the piece of oak, and stretched out his hand for his ball of tinder. But it was gone! The crowd had trodden on it, scattering it all over the ground. Oddo dived between their legs, frantically scrabbling for the bits of light, dry grass. He grabbed a few wisps and spun back to his ember. But he was too late. The glow had died away.

  Oddo flopped on his heels, sick with disappointment. He scowled at the bits of grass lying on his palm, then clenched them fiercely in his fist.

  ‘This time you’re going to be where I need you!’ he growled.

  He shoved them tightly round the notch hole, then picked
up the bow again. But now the muscles in his arms and back were too tired. When he tugged the bow, his fingers lost their grip on the drill. It slipped out of the notch and clattered onto the bark. Tears of humiliation sprang to his eyes.

  ‘Grimmr was right,’ he thought. ‘I can’t do this!’

  30

  Ring of fire

  At that moment there was a stir in the crowd. Oddo looked up to see Bolverk and Sigrid pushing their way towards him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ trumpeted Bolverk. ‘Why are all these gawpers trampling on my fields?’

  Oddo leapt to his feet. ‘Grimmr the Greedy’s been stealing our land,’ he called. ‘So I went to the Gula Thing to stop him. They said I have to light a needfire and do a land-taking ceremony to get it back. But . . .’ With a choking feeling in his throat, Oddo held out the bow to his father.‘You’re home now, so you’d better do it.’

  ‘Bolverk returns in the nick of time!’ Grimmr sneered. ‘How your little flea of a son imagined he could get a needfire going, I don’t know . . . Why, I’ve heard he can’t even fire an arrow!’

  Bolverk ignored the bow Oddo was thrusting towards him and glowered at Grimmr. He spoke in a low growl.

  ‘Oddo, son of Bolverk the Bellower, grandson of Frodi the Fearless, is no weakling!’ His voice rose to a crescendo. ‘My son challenged you, and travelled to the Thing to fight for our land. That is not the action of a weakling!’ Bolverk pointed at Oddo, his face flaming. ‘Oddo has shown the wits and the bravery of a man. And now he will prove he has the strength of a man! He will light the needfire!’

  Fear and exultation poured through Oddo as he looked at his father.

  He dropped to his knee, picked up the drill, and took a deep breath. Now not only the fate of the farm rested on his shoulders, but his family’s honour as well. And Oddo had a feeling that, in Bolverk’s eyes, dignity and respect were even more important than his land.

  He wound the string round the drill again, then, clenching the bow in his fist, he gave a careful tug.

  ‘Go on, Oddo,’ Bolverk growled,‘you know you can do it.’

  This time, the drill stayed in place and began to spin.

  Oddo tugged harder, gritting his teeth, forcing his tired muscles to work. He sawed and sawed, till his arm was burning like fire, yearning for that first sign of smoke. He could hear his own breath loud and panting in his ears.

  ‘Go on, Oddo. Go on!’ yelled Bolverk.

  And suddenly – there it was. A barely visible wisp of grey!

  Oddo’s arm seemed to pump with a life of its own.

  ‘That’s it! That’s it!’ crowed Bolverk.

  Oddo threw down the tools and jerked the oak out of the way. He wrapped the glowing coal in the soft dry tinder and lifted it in his hands. Frantically, he began to blow. Smoke curled upwards. There was a tiny hiss and shower of sparks, then whoosh, a spurt of flames shot up from the tinder.

  Oddo almost dropped it with shock. He looked round wildly, and the Law Speaker pointed to a ring of stones. Hurriedly, Oddo laid his precious fire in the pit and fed it with the kindling lying ready.

  ‘You have lit the needfire!’ proclaimed the Law Speaker. ‘You may commence your claim.’ He gestured to the bank of the river, and Oddo saw a huge heap of dry branches next to the pile of boundary stones. ‘That is the easternmost corner of the land you claim,’ continued the Speaker. ‘Light your first bonfire there, then proceed around the boundary.’ He turned slowly, pointing out more piles of firewood arranged along the fenceline. ‘Each of those must be lit by the needfire,’ he said, ‘till your whole claim is ringed by fire.’ He handed Oddo a long bough of crab-apple. ‘Now begin.’

  Oddo held the bough over his little needfire, till the end burst into flame. Glowing with a pride as fierce as the flame, he rose to his feet and faced his father. Bolverk was beaming back at him.

  Oddo carried the flaming torch of the apple bough high above his head, and people cheered, just as he’d imagined. Hairydog pattered by his side, her head cocked proudly.

  Oddo bent to light the first bonfire.

  ‘Remember,’ warned the Law Speaker, ‘you must return before the sun sets and before the first bonfire expires. Should you fail, this land will go to the other claimant.’

  Oddo hurried along the river bank. At the next pile of boundary stones, he kindled the heap of firewood and looked over his shoulder. The fire behind him was still blazing brightly. He turned away from the river and took a deep breath. It was a long uphill trek now, up to the high summer pastures in the foothills of the mountains. Oddo set off at a fast pace. People dotted around the fields called out words of encouragement, and he grinned back at them.

  To his right he could see the land where Grimmr farmed, and the hayshed filled with stolen hay. Grimmr was standing in the doorway of his house, gazing down the slope, and the scowl on his face made Oddo glance behind him. No wonder Grimmr was furious! Oddo felt a surge of triumph. The bonfires he’d lit were forming a ring around his land, just as the Law Speaker had said. The sight spurred him forward.

  But as the sun rose higher, and the ground grew steeper, each pile of firewood seemed further than the one before. Oddo paused and squinted up the slope, searching for the next heap of branches. His heart sank when he spied it, so small and distant it looked like a bird’s nest. He felt something hot blowing on his hand and glancing at the apple bough, he saw with alarm that it had burnt down to a short stump. He mustn’t let it die away! Racing up the hill towards the closest tree, he wrenched off a branch and held it anxiously over the needfire. When it caught alight he heaved a sigh of relief and set off, feeling very pleased with himself.

  The glow of pride lasted just two steps. With a clutch of dread, Oddo realised that he’d failed to ask the tree’s permission before he tore off a limb.

  ‘No! Now I’ll have bad luck!’ he groaned.

  Almost at once, his injured leg began to throb. As he set off for the next pile of firewood, he felt the blood oozing through his bandage. With every step, pain shot through his leg. He thought with longing of Thora’s healing leaves and that foul willow-bark brew. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. In the sky, the sun reached its peak and slowly, relentlessly, began to descend.

  Every few minutes Oddo lifted his weary head and glanced hopefully towards the high mountain pastures. Would he never reach them?

  He felt dizzy and confused. On one side of him, among the trees, he seemed to keep glimpsing the shape of a wolf. Was it Grey Wolf keeping him company? Or was it one of the magic wolves he’d made with his wolfspell? His mind was whirling. He had to struggle to remember where he was going and what he was trying to do. He reached another bonfire and found his way blocked by a huge heap of boundary stones. He stared at it, perplexed, before he realised what it meant.

  ‘I’m at the top!’ he cried. ‘I’m halfway round!’ He turned the corner, his spirits rising. ‘I just have to cross this field, then it’s downhill for the rest of the way.’

  But as he shifted weight to his wounded leg, he felt a wave of nausea and pain.

  Thora stood at the edge of the wood and peered into the distance.

  ‘I thought as much!’ she muttered when Oddo came into sight. ‘He’s limping!’

  She watched him stumbling down the hill, wearily shifting the torch from hand to hand. Then she smiled down at the jar of potion she was keeping warm, wrapped in a corner of her apron.

  When she looked at Oddo again, he was dragging his feet as if he were struggling through a bog. The torch slipped from his hand and lay burning on the ground, but Oddo just stood there swaying, and looking at it. Thora glared at the pink glow spreading over the sky, sure the sun had never sunk so fast before.

  ‘Oddo!’ she called, and started to run towards him.

  ‘Halt!’ cried a fierce voice.

  Startled, Thora glanced over her shoulder. A tall Thingman was striding towards her, waving his arms.

>   ‘Halt!’ he said again.

  Thora stopped uncertainly.

  ‘No other person is allowed near the claimant!’ he boomed.

  Thora held up the jar.

  ‘But . . . I just want to give him this potion. For his sore leg,’ she explained.

  To her dismay, the Thingman shook his head. Thora sucked in her breath in frustration and turned back to Oddo.

  The shouting had caught his attention and he was gazing dazedly in her direction.

  ‘Come on, Oddo,’ she yelled. ‘The sun’s setting. Hurry up!’

  To her relief, her words seemed to work like a swig of potion. Oddo turned to look at the sky behind him and Thora could see the shock on his face as he bent down to scoop up the torch. She watched with her heart in her mouth as he began to totter forward again. His face was drained of colour, and there was fresh blood soaking through his breeches.

  Then Oddo saw something that brought a look of panic to his face. He gave a cry and began to run. Spinning round, Thora saw that the first bonfire had nearly died away.

  There was a thud, and a moan rose from the watching crowd. Thora swung back to see Oddo sprawled on the ground, his face in the dirt.

  ‘Oddo!’ she screamed. ‘Oddo! Oddo!’

  31

  Sunset

  Oddo felt something slippery under his hand. He opened his eyes and stared in surprise at a slimy puddle of blood on the ground. There was a ringing in his ears, but he fancied he could hear the distant sound of voices calling.

  ‘Oddo! Oddo! Oddo!’

  Painfully, he lifted his head. A ring of Thingmen seemed to be standing around him, but they ebbed and flowed like waves on a beach. Behind them bobbed other faces, with staring eyes and gaping mouths. And then his glance fell on one face that was wearing a huge leering grin, a face with a bald shining dome. Grimmr’s face!