Runestone

by Anna Ciddor

  Turn into bones.

  Only we don’t want that. What else rhymes with stones?’

  ‘Moans?’

  Thora frowned and shook her head.

  ‘I know!’ said Oddo. ‘How about

  Magic from the ground, magic from the air,

  Touch this tool and stones, leave your power there!’

  ‘Good one!’ said Thora.

  She set the oil lamp on the ground next to the stones and held out the bunch of May lilies.

  ‘We’ll lay these round in a circle. They’re supposed to make a spell stronger,’ she said.

  She scooped up a handful of pine needles from the ground and sprinkled them on the lamp. They smoked and sputtered in the hot oil. Then she began to clap slowly, chanting in time:

  ‘Magic from the ground, magic from the– Come on, Oddo, join in. You’ve got to do the spell.’

  Oddo knelt down and waved his hands through the scented smoke, saying the words while Thora clapped the rhythm.

  ‘Now,’ asked Thora, ‘which rune are you going to make?’

  ‘I reckon the easiest was the one that looked like sled tracks, with a crooked line joining them,’ answered Oddo.

  The first stone he tried to carve was too rounded, and the tool just slipped off its surface. The next stone was better. The tool bit in easily and carved a nice straight line. But then the point went in too deep. The stone shattered and the tool stabbed into Oddo’s hand.

  ‘Ow!’ He dropped the bits of stone on the ground and began to suck at his palm.

  ‘Don’t!’ cried Thora. ‘You need the blood for your magic.’

  ‘There won’t be any magic,’ said Oddo crossly.‘I can’t do it. I’m hopeless at this sort of thing.’

  ‘No you’re not, you just haven’t found the right stone yet.’ Thora looked at the stones that were left. ‘Here, try this one. It looks like the kind Arni uses.’

  This time, Oddo managed to scratch a rough wobbly rune. He held it out proudly.

  ‘There!’ he said.

  Thora chewed on her lip.

  ‘I’m not sure if the crooked line is going in the right direction,’ she said.

  ‘Too bad!’ said Oddo. ‘I’m not doing another one!’

  The cut in his hand was still bleeding. He rubbed it against the rune till the whole stone was smeared with red.

  ‘Is that finished now?’ he asked.

  ‘I guess so,’ said Thora.

  ‘Good.’ Oddo stood up and looked towards the sky.

  ‘It’s late!’ he cried. ‘I’ve got to hurry!’

  He grabbed up the tool and the runestone, and ran off through the wood. The berry basket lay forgotten on the ground.

  9

  Casting a spell

  When Oddo arrived home, panting and out of breath, his mother was waiting for him at the front door. Her round, rosy face puckered up in exasperation.

  ‘What on earth have you been doing?’ asked Sigrid. ‘Where are the berries?’

  To Oddo’s dismay, his father appeared in the doorway behind her.

  ‘Have you forgotten your chores again?’ Bolverk demanded angrily. Then he saw the tool in Oddo’s fist.

  His voice rose to a bellow. ‘What have you been up to with my bradawl?’ he roared. ‘Useless feather-finger, you can’t even use an axe, let alone a bradawl! Give it back at once.’

  Nervously, Oddo held out the tool. At the same time, he slid his other hand behind his back and let the runestone fall to the ground. He didn’t dare to think what his father would say if he saw it! At that moment Hairydog ran up to welcome Oddo home. She began to sniff at the ground.

  ‘She can smell the blood!’ thought Oddo. He twisted round and grabbed her by the long hairs at the scruff of her neck.

  Bolverk ran his finger over the tip of the bradawl, examining the dust that came off on his finger.

  ‘You’ve been using this on stone!’ he trumpeted. ‘And blunted it, of course!’ He shook the bradawl in his big fist. ‘You didn’t think it was enough to laze away your time all afternoon? You had to wreck my tools as well?’

  Oddo couldn’t look at his father’s furious frown or his mother’s disappointed face.

  ‘Well, you can forget about supper,’ Bolverk continued. ‘You can clean up this bradawl instead! Happen the next time you think on doing something stupid you’ll remember your empty belly and be a bit more responsible!’

  So now Oddo huddled in a corner sharpening and polishing the bradawl, while his parents sat at the table eating their supper in awkward silence. A delicious smell of barley and onion stew filled the room and Odo’s belly growled in hunger. Every now and then Hairydog rested her chin comfortingly on his knee.

  At last Bolverk loosened his belt and gave a contented sigh. Picking up a hunk of bread, he mopped a few streaks of gravy off the platter and raised it to his lips. Then he glanced at Oddo under scowling, bushy brows.

  ‘Hmph,’ he closed his mouth and waggled the bread at Oddo. ‘Here, you’d better eat this. If you really went all night without food, you’d most likely fade away.’

  Oddo hurried to his father’s side and ate quickly, rubbing his face clean afterwards with the back of his hand. Bolverk brushed the crumbs from his neatly plaited beard.

  ‘Shall I put the bradawl away, now?’ asked Oddo timidly. ‘It’s sharp again.’

  Bolverk grunted and nodded.

  Hairydog got up to follow Oddo.

  ‘Stay!’ yelled Bolverk. The dog slunk back to the corner.

  Outside, a fierce, cold wind was blowing. Oddo’s tunic billowed wildly. His lamp flame sputtered and writhed. Bent over and stumbling, Oddo growled at the wind to leave him alone. Instantly, he was surrounded by a pool of calmness. In the wood the branches still shook and the leaves still twirled, but no wind blew where Oddo walked. He felt a tiny glow of pride. Thora had said that changing the weather was really difficult, but he could do it easily!

  Inside the shed, the lamp made black shadows dance around the walls. Oddo dropped the bradawl into the tool chest and headed back to the house. At the front door he paused, and crouched down to look for his runestone. His fingers sifted through the pile of pine needles and wind-blown leaves, finding plenty of stones. But none of them was his runestone.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ he thought. ‘I need a nose like a dog. Then I could sniff it out!’

  Suddenly, a thought struck him.

  ‘I wonder . . .’

  Oddo put his ear to the door hangings and listened. He could hear his parents murmuring to each other. They sounded comfortable and settled. He laid the lamp on the ground and scraped a large circle round himself in the leaves. Then he squatted down to gaze into the flame. He conjured up a picture of Hairydog in his mind and concentrated hard. Nothing happened. He glared at the lamp. Suddenly the flame gushed up and fire began pouring like a stream down the mark he’d scraped through the leaves. In a moment he was ringed by a high wall of golden light. Beyond the flames, the shape of an animal emerged. The shape of a puppy!

  Oddo felt himself melting. He flowed across the ground and through the flames. Then he thickened and swelled up again into a solid shape with a head and neck, body and limbs. He found his head bending. His nose snuffled at the ground and poked at the leaves, finding smells from blood and cow dung, fresh milk and sheep’s wool. Suddenly he found himself running over to the house and breathing in the earthy, grassy smell of the turf blocks it was built from. Then he cocked his leg and piddled on the wall!

  He sniffed at the puddle before he moved off again, his nose pressed to the ground. He was following the salty smell of the blood now. He pawed at the leaves, scraping them away. Ah, here was the runestone at last! A growl of satisfaction buzzed in his throat. But then a more interesting smell wafted his way. It smelled like something good to eat and it was coming from inside the house. He turned from the stone and began to trot towards the doorway.

  Suddenly a man’s voice rang out behind the door hangings. The pupp
y skidded to a halt. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the shape of a boy squatting behind a blazing barricade. Trembling with fear, his eyes screwed shut, he turned and threw himself into the great, leaping fire. For a moment he felt as light and airy as the flames. Then the weight of his real body returned. He opened his eyes. The runestone was lying at his feet. Quickly, he scooped it into his fist and stood up. Bolverk burst through the doorway and gave his son an angry glare.

  ‘No use asking you to check the animals are safe for the night,’ snapped Bolverk.‘Most likely, you’d open the door and invite the wolves inside!’

  He stumped off.

  Indoors, Sigrid was rinsing the supper bowls in a bucket. She shook her head sorrowfully at Oddo.

  ‘You’d better go to bed now,’ she said.

  Oddo put the oil lamp on its stand, sat on his earthen sleeping bench and began to untie his shoes. He glanced over his shoulder. Sigrid was still watching him. He had to find a way to slip the runestone into his parents’ wooden bed before Bolverk returned.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sigrid pick up the bucket of dirty water and carry it outside. This was his chance! Scudding to the bed, Oddo thrust the runestone under the mattress. There was the whooshing sound of the bucket being emptied, and approaching footsteps. Oddo leapt into his own bed and pulled the cover over his shoulders just as Sigrid appeared in the doorway. To his dismay, he saw Hairydog cross the room and begin sniffing at Bolverk’s mattress.

  ‘Here, dog, come here,’ hissed Oddo. Hairydog took no notice.

  Then Bolverk came in and Oddo lay still, his eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

  ‘Stop mucking up my bed, you stupid tike,’ growled Bolverk to Hairydog.

  ‘She’s not stupid,’ thought Oddo. ‘You are.’

  At last Oddo heard the familiar creak of his parents’ bed and the rustle of their mattress. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. Yes, both his parents were lying down. Oddo held his breath. Would Bolverk feel the lump of the stone through the mattress? No, there were no complaining groans.

  The house grew still. Soon the loud burble of Bolverk’s snore filled the room. But Oddo lay awake, his heart pounding.

  ‘I’ll never get to sleep!’ he thought. He was too excited. It was going to be a long wait till morning, to find out if the spell had worked!

  10

  Odd one out

  Thora and her family gathered round their firepit chatting excitedly. Runolf clapped his hands.

  ‘Attention! Time to commence!’ He bowed towards Ketil. ‘Youngest first.’

  Everyone grew quiet.

  ‘I’m not the youngest!’ Ketil declared angrily.‘She is!’ He pointed at the baby in Finnhilda’s arms. Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

  ‘Come on, Ketil, Baby can’t do magic yet,’ said Edith.

  ‘Actually,’ said Finnhilda quietly, ‘I think she can. Somebody hand me a twig.’

  Runolf bent down and picked up one of the bits of broken branch lying on the floor.

  ‘Now put it in her fist,’ instructed Finnhilda.

  Runolf held the twig close to the little pink hand. The baby’s fingers closed around it and held on tight.

  ‘Watch!’ said Finnhilda.

  For a moment nothing happened, then, to everyone’s delight, a bud appeared on the end of the twig. As they watched, it unfurled and grew into a leaf. Everyone cheered and laughed.

  ‘And now, Ketil, your turn has come.’ Runolf looked towards his youngest son, but there was no sign of Ketil.

  ‘Tush, where is that child vanished to?’ he asked crossly.

  At the other side of the fire, Thora felt a gentle tugging at her kirtle. Guessing what was happening, she stepped quietly backward. She couldn’t see anything but she felt a little figure brush past and stand in front of her. Everyone else was twisting and turning, looking for Ketil and calling him.

  ‘Here I am!’ Suddenly, the little boy lifted off his goatskin hood and appeared in front of Thora, grinning perkily. Everybody cheered again.

  ‘Well done, Ketil, you really tricked us!’

  Now it was Harald’s turn. The little boy stood very straight, puffed out his chest and turned to face the wall. He took a big breath, growled loudly and shook his fist. Slowly, a crack appeared and a piece of wall fell to the ground. Harald bowed. Everybody else clapped. Thora looked sorrowfully at the hole in the wall and felt the cold wind blowing through.

  ‘What are you going to do, Erik?’ asked Finnhilda.

  Erik placed a twig on the table, then, on each side of it, he laid a large leaf from Granny’s herb collection. The room was silent. Then Erik spoke:

  ‘Twig to body

  Leaf to wing

  Make butterfly

  From tree branch spring!’

  The dry, dead leaves quivered, as strength and life seeped into them. Gradually, they formed into wings. In a moment even Thora could see a brown and green butterfly fluttering on the table. The creature managed to rise into the air for a few seconds and circle clumsily. Then it fell apart. The body became a twig again, the wings changed back to leaves, and they dropped to the ground.

  ‘Persist with that spell,’ said Runolf, ‘and one day it will stand you in good stead.’

  ‘My turn next!’ called Edith excitedly. ‘Granny, can you tie a blindfold round my eyes?’ She twisted her little wand between her fingers and jigged up and down.

  ‘Hold still!’ said Granny.‘You’re as wiggly as a fish on a hook. There now!’

  ‘Okay. Everybody spread around the room,’ Edith ordered. ‘Are you all ready?’

  With her eyes covered, Edith stepped forward, holding her wand straight out in front like a divining rod. First, she headed towards Runolf. When the wand was just about to poke him in the stomach, she called out confidently ‘Father!’

  ‘It is indeed!’ cried Runolf.

  Now Edith turned and headed towards her mother. One by one, she worked her way around the room, heading straight towards each person and calling out their names. At last, she had found everyone except Thora. She turned slowly on her heels, a bewildered look on her face.

  ‘Is Thora still in the room?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Astrid.

  ‘Well,’ said Edith, ‘that’s really strange, ’cause I can’t feel her.’

  She pulled off her blindfold and looked for her sister. Everyone else was staring at Thora too. Thora felt herself blushing. There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the room.

  ‘Oh well, my turn now,’ said Thora in a shaky voice. She’d been dreading this moment ever since the game had started. She was the only one in the family who couldn’t do real spellwork. There was only one thing she could think of to do. She placed the griddle on the fire and lifted up an egg. Bowing her head with embarrassment, she cracked the egg over the pan and waited. Everyone else waited too. The clear part of the egg gradually turned white.

  ‘There,’ announced Thora, lifting up the griddle and trying to sound triumphant. ‘It changed colour!’

  Nobody laughed or cheered. They just stared at her.

  At last Astrid spoke. ‘That’s not spellwork,’ she said scornfully. ‘Anyone can do that. Even farmers.’

  Thora felt tears burning in her eyes, but nobody was looking at her any more. They had all turned their attention to Astrid. Thora dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron-dress. Astrid was making a big production out of her preparations. She was putting on her cat-fur cloak and tying on her pouch of runestones.

  ‘I’m going to do a shape-change!’ she announced. Everybody moved back to give her room to mark out the magic circle. Then she sat down and gazed blankly. Thora followed the direction of her eyes and concentrated hard. Edith gave a cry and pointed, but try as she might, Thora couldn’t make out the slightest shape or movement on the empty floor.

  ‘Oh, can I pat it?’ asked Edith. Everyone crowded around, patting and cooing at something that Thora couldn’t see.

  ‘Come on, Thora, come and pat t
he kitten,’ called Ketil. But Thora shook her head.

  ‘Okay, Astrid, that’ll do,’ said Arni.‘You’ve had a long enough turn.’

  ‘Oh!’ wailed Ketil and Edith as the kitten apparently disappeared and Astrid stood up again.

  ‘Well, what are you going to do, fish-brain?’ Astrid asked her older brother.

  ‘I’m going to make a runestone for uncovering hidden things,’ said Arni, ‘The next time Ketil puts on his goatskin hood, we’ll be able to find him!’

  Everybody laughed.

  ‘No, that’s not fair!’ squealed Ketil.

  Arni fetched a stone from the pile that lay ready in a corner and pulled a chisel out of his belt. Ketil grabbed onto his arm but Arni shook him off. Ketil sat down in a huff. Carefully, Arni began to carve the rune.

  ‘Take care you do it the right way round!’ Runolf warned.

  ‘Why?’ asked Thora, thinking of the runestone Oddo had made. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Arni, ‘If it’s done wrong, it’ll do bad magic.’

  ‘Everybody knows that!’ snorted Astrid derisively.

  Thora felt sick. In her mind’s eye she could see the wobbly little rune Oddo had made – back to front.

  While Arni finished his neat, hook-shaped rune, Thora edged quietly backwards and lay down on her bed. Nobody would notice that she’d stopped playing, and even if they did they wouldn’t care. They’d be happier without her. She made them feel uncomfortable. She could hear Ketil bellowing in anger and everyone else laughing and teasing as they tried out Arni’s runestone. Thora wrapped the fur cover right up over her ears and tried to block out the sounds of the party.

  11

  Back-to-front magic

  Gradually, Oddo became aware of early-morning sounds: the thud of a bucket of water being dumped on the ground; the scrape of a fire being poked back to life; the rhythmic thump of dough being kneaded. Suddenly he remembered that this morning was special. He sat up and looked across the room. To his amazement, Bolverk was still lying in bed, snoring loudly. Oddo couldn’t remember waking earlier than his father before, ever.