by Anna Ciddor
She pulled a burning stick out of the fire and kindled one of the soapstone lamps. Thora and Astrid lit lamps too, and followed. Thora held the rag to her nose, trying to muffle her sneezes, as the three of them walked in single file along the narrow passage. The burning fish oil in their lamps smoked and sputtered, and the flames cast long, writhing shadows up the walls.
‘Like ghosts,’ thought Thora, and she stopped walking.
Astrid shoved her in the back. ‘Little mousie,’ she jeered.
3
Oddo
Oddo hated cutting down trees. It looked so easy when his father did it. Stroke after stroke in exactly the same place; a steady chop, chop, chop and the trunk would split right through.
But when Oddo tried to use the axe, it was heavy and awkward. Every blow landed in a different place. It took him ages to fell a tree, and all the time he was terrified that he would miss the trunk altogether and lop off his own leg.
He lifted the axe now and tried to swing it the way Bolverk did. But, as usual, it was too heavy for his thin wrists and the blade just skittered along the trunk of the tree.
Oddo’s arms and back were aching and his hands were covered in blisters, before at last, with a creak and a groan, the tree slowly keeled over. Oddo felt a burst of satisfaction, until he remembered that he still had to chop the tree into chumps for the fire and carry them to the house. He grasped the axe again and tried to lift it; but he couldn’t. His arms were shaking with exhaustion. Tears prickled his eyelids. His father would be so angry if he came home without the logs.
‘Oddo, you’re a feckless dollop!’ he would shout.
Oddo looked up anxiously at the sun, now low in the sky. His mother would be waiting for the firewood so she could do the cooking. Oddo slid the axe into his belt and bent to grab hold of a branch. It was only a little tree. He could drag it closer to home. Maybe then his arms would be rested enough to do some more chopping.
He stumbled awkwardly, the axe bumping against his leg, the branches catching on other trees. He heard his mother’s voice calling, as he reached the edge of the wood. She was watching for him in the doorway. Her bronze brooch pins glinted in the glow of the setting sun and the white coif on her head looked pink.
‘Here I am!’ said Oddo, letting the tree fall to the ground.
At that moment his father’s burly figure appeared round the side of the house, an empty bucket dangling from each hand. Hairydog trotted at his heels. Her mouth opened in a grin and her curled bushy tail waggled a welcome. Bolverk dumped the buckets on the ground and stared at Oddo.
‘What on earth are you doing, boy? Where are the chumps?’ he bellowed.
Oddo hung his head and kicked at the tree.
‘Oddo, you’re a feckless dollop!’ Bolverk strode over to the tree. Hairydog followed and pushed her dark, wolfish nose into Oddo’s hand. ‘Well, hurry and chop them up now. Your mother’s waiting.’
Oddo shook his head.
‘I can’t,’ he croaked. ‘My arms are too tired.’
‘Your arms are what?’ Bolverk stared at his son in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I fathered such a weakling,’ he snorted. ‘Give me the axe and I’ll do it, then. You take the buckets and milk the cows. Or is that too irksome for you too?’
Oddo didn’t answer. He hurried to pick up the buckets, his cheeks burning. A light drizzle began to fall and he was glad of the coolness of the first gentle drops on his face. Loud, impatient moos were coming from the barn. The two cows were ready for milking, and the calves, who spent the day in separate stalls, were bawling for their supper.
‘All right,’ called Oddo. ‘I’m coming.’
This was a chore that Oddo enjoyed. All animals were his friends and always seemed to understand what he was saying. When the cows heard his voice, they calmed down. Each cow stood still for him as her warm milk foamed into the buckets. But their calves bellowed with jealousy.
‘Don’t worry!’ called Oddo. ‘I’m leaving some for you.’
He let the calves out of their stall and they hurried across to their mothers, poking their noses anxiously at the milky teats.
The rain began to pelt down just as Oddo left the barn and headed for the dairy. In seconds, his hair and clothes were soaked. The rain ran down his face and into his eyes. It pattered into the buckets of milk. Hairydog, trotting beside him, looked shrunken, with her long hair plastered flat. The ground underfoot turned to slush. Oddo stumbled in a puddle and some of the milk spilled out of the buckets.
‘Go away, rain,’ Oddo grumbled.
As soon as he spoke, the rain stopped. Oddo bit his lip and looked guiltily over his shoulder to see if anyone had heard him. Bolverk and Sigrid had warned him never to order the weather around.
‘Don’t even think about the weather,’ his mother had said.
It wasn’t normal to be able to control the rain and wind, and Bolverk never let Oddo meet other people in case they found out about this strange power. Sigrid had told Oddo how much trouble he caused as a baby. Oddo would cry or babble and the next moment their house would be filled with a downpour of rain or a whistling wind. The rain would drench the bedding and turn their dry floor into a sticky mire. The wind would blow their possessions all over the room and make a terrible muddle. The only way to stop this happening was to tie Oddo’s mouth shut. For the first few years of his life, Oddo had not been allowed to speak inside the house.
This evening Bolverk kept complaining about Oddo being a weakling and a burden. Sigrid fussed about his drenched clothing, making him change into a dry tunic and breeches she warmed in front of the fire. Then she rubbed his wet hair so hard his head hurt.
After supper, Oddo escaped from the house and ran across the paddock, his feet slap, slapping on the wet, young grass. Several times he slipped and nearly fell, but at last he reached the shelter of the wood. He breathed in the smell of damp earth and pine needles. Listening to the rustles and snuffles, he wished that he too could snuggle into a burrow in the ground or a cosy nest in a bush.
Suddenly, there was the glint of lights bobbing through the trees. Oddo felt a quiver of excitement. Was it the people from the house-over-the-hill coming out to do some magic? He crept towards the lights, his heart pounding. Three hooded figures were heading for the burial mound at the edge of the wood. He slipped behind a tree to watch. At the top of the mound, the three figures were framed by the black twisted branches of the birches. Their flickering lamps cast eerie shadows on their half-lit faces. Oddo held his breath. Would they notice him? Would they send him away? Would they cast a spell on him?
He could recognise the figures now. The stooped one was the old witch, Granny Hulda, and the others were two sisters from the house-over-the-hill. Granny took a stick from the younger girl and showed her how to draw a big circle around the grave. As the stick scraped along, little flames sprang out of the ground. Oddo had to press his hand over his mouth to stop himself crying out with excitement. It was happening! He was seeing some real magic!
4
Magic on the mound
When the circle was complete, the girl stood alone inside a low ring of fire. Her sister and Granny Hulda left her and walked back to the house. The girl stretched out her arms. She looked like an eagle with that pointed hood on her head and the cloak flowing out like wings. Under the cloak she wore a long, light-coloured kirtle that glowed yellow in the light of the flames.
Oddo waited. What would happen next? Unexpectedly, the girl sneezed and blew her nose. Then she sat down and hugged her cloak around her. She seemed to be waiting too. Very slowly and quietly, Oddo edged out from behind his tree. Then he froze.
The head, shoulders and arms of a man were rising out of the grave mound behind the girl’s back. The man’s hair, skin and clothes had no colour; just the cold grey of ashes from a long-dead fire. Now a whole body was visible, leaning towards the girl. Oddo wanted to cry out, but no sound would come from his throat.
The ghostly head bent down and spoke i
n the girl’s ear. To Oddo’s surprise, she didn’t take any notice. She sneezed again, then reached up, and pulled off her hood and cloak. Oddo felt sick as he watched the cloak slice through the ghost’s arm. The ghost looked surprised and leaned over to wave his hand in front of the girl’s face, but obviously she couldn’t see it. The ghost lifted both his hands in the air and looked from one to the other in bewilderment. Then he grew fainter and faded out of sight.
Oddo walked forward more confidently now, not worrying about the sounds of leaves and twigs crunching under his feet.
‘Who’s that?’ the girl called out in a snuffly voice. ‘Is that you, Grandpa? I’m your granddaughter, Thora.’
She stood up hurriedly, fumbling to pick up the cloak and put it on. But Oddo could see that the cloak was twisted askew, with the hood poking out the side. It looked funny. Oddo began to chuckle, at the same time moving closer to the magic ring.
‘Oh it’s you,’ said the girl. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are,’ said Oddo. ‘Your cloak’s on crooked, and you thought I was a ghost, but when there was a real ghost there actually touching you and talking to you, you couldn’t see him!’
The girl glared at him, then threw her cloak on the ground.
‘Watch out!’ said Oddo. ‘It’ll catch on fire!’
‘Ha, ha,’ said Thora sarcastically. ‘You’re just making fun of me because I’m a witch. Talking about ghosts and fires . . . Well, I don’t believe you.’
She turned away from him and sat down. Oddo stared at her.
‘But there is a fire,’ he said.‘All around you. Can’t you see it?’
There was a silence, then, slowly, the girl turned back towards him. She stared into his face.
‘What fire?’ she asked. ‘What do you mean?’
Oddo wasn’t laughing any more. He stepped close to the ring of fire and began to walk around, pointing down towards it.
‘It’s here,’ he showed her. ‘Where your granny drew the circle with the stick.’
Thora watched him.
‘I can’t see it,’ she croaked. ‘I’m not very good at spellwork. But you’re not a witch – how come you can see it?’
Oddo looked all around to make sure they were alone. Then he knelt down and leaned across the fire towards her.
‘Spit on your hands and promise not to tell,’ he hissed.
Solemnly, without taking her eyes off his face, Thora spat on her palms and rubbed her hands together.
‘I reckon I am a bit magic,’ he whispered.
There was a pause. They both stared at each other with solemn faces.
‘What magic can you do?’ asked Thora.
‘Not much. I know I can control the rain and the wind, but . . .’
‘What!’ Thora exclaimed. ‘But that’s one of the hardest things! My father can only do it a bit, and my brothers have been trying for ages, but they say it’s too difficult. Can you really do it?’
Oddo nodded.
Thora gave a snort of laughter.
‘This is so silly,’ she said.‘I come from a magic family and I can’t do magic. And you’re Bolverk’s son – the son of a man who hates magic – and you can!’
Oddo nodded.‘It’s a secret, though. I’m not supposed to let anyone know,’ he said.
‘Well, you’ve told me now!’ said Thora. ‘I wonder what other magic you can do? Come in here and see if you can do a shape-change!’ She moved sideways in her circle to make room for him.
‘You’ll burn yourself!’ warned Oddo again.
‘It’s all right. I think Granny seethed a spell in this dress to stop it catching fire.’
‘Slimy seals, can she really do that?’ asked Oddo. He stepped carefully over the low fire and sat down beside her.
‘What am I supposed to do now?’ he asked.
‘Well, if you were a girl you’d wear this cloak,’ said Thora. ‘I’m not sure what the men wear for shape-changing, but you can put on my runestone pouch.’
She undid the belt and tied it round Oddo’s waist.
‘I’ve got a runestone at home,’ said Oddo, ‘but it’s a secret. My father doesn’t know about it. The midwife gave it to Mother the night I was born, to take away her pain, and sometimes when I hurt myself badly Mother lets me hold it. I’m always hurting myself,’ he added ruefully. ‘I’m not very good at farm work.’
‘Well, maybe you’ll be better at spellwork,’ said Thora, in an encouraging voice. ‘Now, sit very still and see if you can go into a trance. Granny says what you have to do is conjure up an animal – it can be a sea animal, or a bird or anything. Then you leave your human body in the circle and go off in another shape . . .’
5
Making plans
When Oddo sat down he felt the icy dampness of the ground under his legs. He stared at the ring of flames, conscious of the dark, whispering night and the gesturing trees around him. The fire danced higher and higher. Behind the light, there seemed to be a soft, golden shadow, barely darker than the flames. Gradually it grew more solid, taking the shape of a huge cat with its back towards him. As he watched, dark dapples appeared along its flank, and on the tip of its short tail. Then it turned to look at him with fierce, slanting eyes, and twitched its long tufted ears.
‘A lynx!’ thought Oddo.
He knew lynxes hunted at night in the mountain forests, but he had seen one only once before, standing over the fallen body of a deer. He felt a tremor of fear. The creature stretched out a paw. Oddo felt as if it was his own arm moving. It seemed as if something inside himself was flowing towards the lynx, merging with it. A moment later he found himself passing through the flames, though he couldn’t feel the heat.
On the other side of the fire, he could see quite clearly, even though it was night. He could see every needle and pine cone on the dark towering pines at the foot of the mound. He could see every twig and pale new leaf on the birch trees.
He felt an urge to run, a great spurt of energy all through his body, and before he knew what was happening he was bounding down the hill. He reached a towering pine tree, crouched, then sprang up at a greenfinch in its lowest branches. The bird flew off in a panic of flapping wings and screeches, and Oddo was left on the swaying limb, slithering and scrabbling to keep his balance.
Then Oddo realised that it was very strange to be leaping into trees. He looked down at his hands. They weren’t hands any more. They were paws with long nails and golden, spotted fur!
‘I’m in a tree, I’ve got paws and I’m covered with fur,’ he thought. ‘I’ve turned myself into a lynx!’
He glanced at the mound. He could see the ring of fire and two faint figures seated inside it. So his real body was still there!
‘How can I get back inside it?’ he wondered.
He looked down. For a second he felt dizzy. Then he launched himself off the branch! He had a flash of terror as the ground rushed towards him, then felt earth under his big soft paws and sprang forward, the powerful muscles in his legs carrying him along in a smooth, effortless flow.
As he neared the fire, it flared up strong and bright. Without a pause, his body plunged straight into the flames. Next moment he found himself seated again inside the ring of fire.
Oddo looked at his hands. They were human again! He turned and saw Thora gazing at him with wide eyes.
‘What happened?’ she whispered.
At first Oddo couldn’t speak. His whole body was tingling and he felt as if his hair was standing up like the ears of a lynx. Carefully, he got to his feet. His bottom was numb and his legs cold and stiff. Shivering, he hugged his arms to his body and looked around. There was no sign of the lynx. Night was fading and the circle of fire was now a mere glow. As he watched, it melted into the ground and vanished.
‘What happened?’ Thora repeated. ‘Did it work?’
‘Couldn’t you see me?’ asked Oddo in surprise.
‘No, you just went all rigid, like you were frozen.’
Oddo felt
his mouth split in a wide cat-like grin. Suddenly he felt so full of happiness and power he couldn’t keep still. He gave a loud whoop and began to run down the slope.
‘Come back here,’ called Thora crossly. ‘You can’t just scud off like that. Anyway, you’ve still got my runestones!’
Oddo reached the bottom of the mound. He skidded to a stop, pulled off the runestone belt and whirled it round his head.
Thora came up to him, panting, and grabbed the belt. The pouch opened and runestones showered around them. One of them bounced on Oddo’s head but he didn’t feel it, he was laughing so wildly.
Thora scrabbled around, gathering up the scattered stones.
‘Do you want me to tell you what happened?’ asked Oddo, standing watching her.
Thora nodded and sat back on her heels.
‘I turned into a lynx,’ he said proudly.
‘What did it feel like?’
‘That was the funny part,’ said Oddo. ‘I didn’t feel any different. But suddenly I could leap into trees and run as fast as a . . . as fast as a lynx! I wish you’d seen me! How come you couldn’t? The birds did! I scared them all out of the tree!’
‘Animals and birds can see magic creatures,’ Thora explained. ‘But I couldn’t see you ’cause I’m no good at magic.’
It sounded as if she was going to cry. Embarrassed, Oddo knelt down to help her pick up the stones.
‘Hey, this one’s the same as we’ve got at home!’ he exclaimed.‘This is the one that takes away pain, isn’t it?’ Excitedly, he laid the runestones in a row on the ground and began to examine them.
‘What do the other ones do?’ he asked.
Thora shrugged her shoulders. She was trying to scoop them up and put them in the pouch.
‘Hang on!’ Oddo laid his hands on top of them. ‘Tell me what they can do!’ he said.
