by Hart, Joan
“Sharon reckons we ate one of your goats last night. But you still have two pulling your chariot so we can’t have eaten it.”
Thor’s laugh rumbled around the children like thunder around the hills.
“We DID eat my goat,” Thor put his arm around Amanda, “but my hammer contains great magic and by touching the carcass and skin with it the animal comes back to life.”
Thor pulled his hammer out from its holder and held it in front of him.
“Meet Mjollnir. He is one of three special talismans that I have to help me: Mjollnir, my belt ‘meginjardir’ which when worn doubles my strength, and these my iron gloves which help me throw my hammer in battle. Watch.”
Thor put on his gloves, picked up Mjollnir and threw it away from him with a mighty heave. By this time the whole party had stopped to watch the spectacle. The hammer flew straight until it disappeared from the viewers’ sights. Minutes passed until, as one, the party ducked as Mjollnir returned like a boomerang straight into Thor’s outstretched hand.
“Wow! Cool!” Amanda was dead impressed, as were all the children. Then a thought struck her. “Hey, I’ve got one of those!” She scrabbled frantically under her chin, triumphantly pulling out the necklace with the tiny replica of Thor’s hammer on it.
“This has magic powers too!” beamed Amanda, pulling it nearer to Thor. “This allows me to know right from wrong and good from evil.”
“Then we will make a good team.” Thor beamed back, whiskers sticking out all over his face. “A good omen for our journey. Children, into the chariot.”
Thor moved to one side to allow all four children into the front of his chariot. Then, with a triumphant “On Tanngnost, on Tanngrisnir[2]”, they were off.
2 Tooth-grinder, Tooth-gnasher
The Dark Ones
By late afternoon the rolling countryside had changed again. Bit by bit it gave way to a wide, flat expanses of fenland. It was so flat; the sky seemed to dominate the scene. It had a beauty all its own, a wild beauty that took your breath away. They watched as small, puffy clouds scudded across the wide blue expanse, the sun still caressing the scene.
Thor urged the goats onwards but for some reason they were reluctant to continue and move sideways in the traces. Again he tried and although they moved forward it was at a much slower pace. Thor began to realize that something was not quite right. At his command the warriors drew their swords.
Evil crept upon them; they felt its presence, which was at odds with the wild beauty they were seeing. The two huge goats stamped uneasily. Then, very slowly, the scene before them changed. The vibrant colours drained away until all that was left was a grey, dead wasteland. Where once green trees had stood now hard, gnarled dead ones lay like grotesque tombstones. A wind got up and moaned through the dead branches, blowing a scummy froth around their legs and there came an unmistakable smell of rotting and decay.
Cat turned to her friends and saw mirrored there her own white face and wide, frightened eyes. The sky darkened and the wind grew colder. Reluctantly, the girls moved forward with the warriors. Jagged rocks and crevices rose and fell about them.
“There.” Kiert pointed several metres away on his right. “I saw something move. There!” Warriors and children alike scanned the way in front, straining their eyes in the gloom.
“Svart Alfar,” came the cry.
At Thor’s command the party moved forward, shields up forming a barrier around the chariot, swords at the ready. The way became difficult as the ground underfoot turned boggy. The weight of the chariot was proving too much for the ground to support and it began to sink; so much so that Thor was unable to get enough momentum to rise away. Men sank to their knees in what was becoming a stinking mire. No sooner had they pulled one leg from the clinging bog than bubbles of gas and mud burst over them as the other leg was sucked down further,
Floundering and breathless, the children were becoming scared. There came a frightened scream and all eyes swivelled towards the sound. The ground behind Sharon (for it was she who had screamed) seemed to be coming alive. Boulders sluggishly moved apart from one another, slits in their surface looking like hooded eyes. The oozing black fenland heaved upwards, dripping as it rose, forming a huge hole and from its depths came the reason for the scream: gigantic, prehistoric looking, frightening creatures of the soil.
Oblivious to everything else around her, Cat found herself mesmerized as the creatures headed relentlessly towards them. A fierce yank of her arm brought her back to the moment as she and her friends were pushed into the protection of Thor’s upturned chariot.
“Stay there. Kiert, look after them.”
The girls obeyed. All around they could hear the sounds of fighting. Screams of men and creatures rent the air, sending shivers down their spines. Cat put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. It was really too horrible.
She opened them again some time later as a hand tapped her shoulder. It was Kiert.
“The fighting has moved further away,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. I’m going to check.”
“Please be careful, Kiert. Don’t do anything silly.” Kiert nodded. He quietly crawled towards the outer edge of the upturned chariot, waited a few moments and then crawled out. The girls held their breath. Nothing happened. No shout, no sound of any kind. Then the chariot rose above them, moved to the left and tumbled noisily to the ground. The crouching girls jumped to their feet realizing they had been found. Groping for her friends’ hands, Cat pushed her shoulders back, held her head up and forced herself to gaze at the hideous forms in front of her.
A gurgling, slimy voice entered her brain. “There is no one to help you now. Look around you.”
A glance both left and right told Cat that this was true. They were surrounded. She could hear the sounds of fighting but they were some way off now. She could also see that Kiert too was captured, but the blood and his dishevelled appearance told her he had not made it easy for them. His face registered anger, the gag in his mouth making it difficult for him to breathe as still he tried to free himself.
Her gaze returned, finally taking in the creature before her. Besides being huge it was long with a segmented body, slightly flattened and brownish in colour. Each segment had a pair of legs jutting from it. The long antennae caressed Cat, the mouth dripping with saliva, blood and bits of skin. It made Cat feel sick but she gritted her teeth and remained still.
Intense pressure on both hands reminded Cat she was still holding on to her friends. She turned her head in order that she might give a reassuring look to them and froze. Coming towards and towering above them came... an enormous spider. It stopped directly in front of Amanda, its beady eyes focusing on them. Gigantic hairy legs shot out and at their ends were vicious claws. These proceeded to hack at the straps holding their swords then the three swords lazily swung in an arc towards the spider.
Once disarmed, a crowd of slightly smaller creatures bundled the girls up in sticky threads and carried them towards the open and dripping mouth of the fen.
“Noooooooo!” The cry died away as the four children and their captors disappeared down the hole and the earth closed in on top of them.
After what seemed like ages in the close, dark, peat-smelling tunnels, the raiding party turned into a low-ceilinged dank cave. Faint lights came from the walls as here and there large glow-worms illuminated the space with an eerie pale glow. The children were unceremoniously dumped in an untidy heap and their captors scurried away.
Winded, the children lay still for a few minutes, catching their breath. Then hands roughly pulled them to their feet as the sticky bindings were pulled off. Upright, with their eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, they came face to face with the Svart Alfar.
A stubby finger poked Amanda in the ribs.
“What have we here?” whined one
revolting looking elf, its stubby finger continuing to poke at Amanda.
“Do that again and you’ll find out!”
Amanda had found her breath and her temper. Cat could see that her friend had had enough of being lifted, rolled and bundled around and the prodding was the last straw. The hideous face thrust itself close to Amanda; she could smell its horrid breath.
“Aaah. Poor little human child is annoyed. Doesn’t like being pushed around. Doesn’t like being picked on.”
The finger continued to prod.
“Argggghhhhh!”
The elf screamed in pain, tears in his eyes. He hopped around in circles, first shaking his fingers then cradling them with his other hand.
“I told you,” said Amanda, “don’t poke.” She advanced on the suffering elf, but before she could inflict more damage a snaking vine sprang from the floor and lassoed her so that her arms became pinioned to her sides. Kiert, who up to then had enjoyed Amanda’s outburst, struggled in the hands of his elven captors, but the unguarded Cat and Sharon sprang towards Amanda, hands tearing at the vine. Seconds later they too found themselves tied tightly. The more they struggled, the tighter the vine became. The struggling Kiert, desperate, now tried his hardest to free himself, but the elf magic proved too strong. Cat felt the breath slowly being squeezed out of her body. She tried to slow her breathing down and quell the fear she felt rising in her. The vine pulled tighter. With a last effort, Cat called out:
“Swords of Cat Skard come to our side!”
Three swords materialized from the gloom and began their journey towards her. Hope began to grow in Cat.
“Amanda, Sharon, our swords... Hold on!”
Frantically Cat freed an arm and, bit-by-bit, she tore the vine until above her head she could see the swords hovering. She reached up, fingers just touching the edge of a hilt. If she could only stretch just a little bit more...
“I don’t think so... do you?”
Despair flowed over Cat in waves like the sea over sand. The swords had begun to travel back the way they had come.
“No. I really don’t think that is a good idea at all.” The voice came nearer. Vines moved a fraction enabling the children to see the owner of the voice.
“Four children who have been sent to change our world and no one in sight to help them. You do know most of your friends will be feasting in Valhalla tonight, don’t you?”
The cruel face split into a grin of enjoyment as the owner watched the children’s’ faces crumple.
“Nebelung’enled.”
Vines trembled, turned brown and withered away. Cat moved slowly towards her friends; shakily they formed their triangle, and then broke away to include Kiert in their embrace. For the first time in his life, Kiert did not push away with embarrassment, but took strength from their embrace.
Tears glistening in their eyes for the loss of their warrior friends, the four turned to face the new speaker. Being slightly taller than the other elves he looked them straight in the eyes. Black matted hair cascaded lankly down each side of his face. Untidy, bushy eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead and his moustache and beard formed a dark circle around the cruel mouth.
“I am called Fjalar. I am known for my magic powers. You have been given the name of Skard – a great honour for one so young. Where did you steal such a powerful name?”
“She hasn’t stolen it,” Amanda stepped forward, ready for another fight.
“Amanda.” Cat put her hand out to restrain her friend and heard Fjalar take a sharp intake of breath as he saw her ring.
“You say you have been given the name of Skard. Prove it. Tonight you will entertain us here. Your lives depend on your skills, Cat Skard. Tell a good tale and by that symbol of everlasting fame on your finger you will go free. Fail and you die.”
Cat Skard
“A poem. A poem. First a poem.”
Jeers and calls followed Cat as she was pushed roughly into the centre of the cavern.
“Come, Cat Skard. Show us your poetic magic.”
Cat’s brain was working overtime; she knew she must calm herself and try to remember those poems they’d done at school but all she could hear was Harry muttering in class: “Sissy, wimpy stuff. What good is learning this?
“What good?” thought Cat. “Harry, I’ll tell you what good if I ever get out of here.” The cavern became quiet. Facing Fjalar, Cat sat as she had seen the Skard on the very first visit. Desperately she searched her brain trying to remember poems she had read at school. Nothing came to mind in fact her brain seemed to have shut down in fear.
“You can do it Cat,” whispered her friends.
Cat forced herself to calm down, she would have to make something up. She took several deep breathes and then after some moments in a small voice Cat began...
The mistletoe is a baleful plant
It caused the death of our Baldur
He was our golden God of Youth
Alas he is no more
The Gods received promises from everything
Not to harm our golden boy
Alas the mistletoe was forgot
No longer did it bring joy.
Baldur felt sure that he was safe
So a challenge he did employ
Inviting all the Gods to fight with him
His life to try to destroy.
But Fjalar noticed Baldur’s blind brother
Was careful not to take part
Fjalar whispered to the God Loki
How Baldur could be taken apart.
So Loki fashioned a spear made from the mistletoe
Fjalar gave it to the brother showing him how to throw
The spear once thrown flew straight and true
Through the clear blue sky
Pierced Baldur quickly through the heart
And Fjalar watched him die.
Murmurs around the room seemed to Cat to indicate enjoyment.
“Now a story, Cat Skard,” Fjalar demanded, adding slyly, “one we haven’t heard before.”
“That’s unfair,” protested Sharon. “How are we supposed to know which ones you’ve heard?”
“Quiet!” Like a whiplash the word was spat out. “Remember, your lives depend on this.”
Cat settled and began:
“Once upon a time there was a young Viking boy named ‘Nog’. Although he looked just like any other boy he had special skills. Like Fjalar he could do magic and was being trained as a powerful Skard. One day Fjalar , feeling particularly evil gave Nog a task to test these skills. He had to fight a formidable dragon to retrieve a magical, golden egg. Bravely, Nog accepted the challenge.
The night before his task Nog sat down to think about this trial. What he needed was a great deal of wisdom. He looked through an old spell book once owned by Frost Giants and stolen by Fjalar. There he found just the right potion. When the blood of a wise owl and the drink mead were mixed together then wisdom came to those who drank it.
Magic words conjured up the potion and Nog took a sip. In a moment he knew exactly what he must do to overcome the dragon.
The following day in front of all the black Elves and Fjalar Nog walked towards the entrance of the cave. To one side of the entrance, crouched over the egg was the dragon. His scaly wings were wrapped around his body, his slitty yellow green eyes glared at Nog. He was a monstrous black, scale covered lizard, with a huge spiked tail and to Nog he looked enormous.
Nog took a deep breath. He cleared his mind; this was his only chance. He raised his arms repeating a special incantation out loud.”
Cat’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Nothing happened. Nog lowered his arms and the Elves began to laugh. The laughter changed abruptly as before them Nog began to change shape. Now a golden casket ho
vered in the air before slowly making its way towards the cave.
The golden light and movement caught the attention of the dragon. Slowly it unwrapped its wings and laboriously lumbered towards the cave, Fjalar moved to follow but was barred by an explosion of flame and heat at the cave entrance.
Deep inside the cave Nog changed back and stood waiting for the dragon. He didn’t have long to wait. The huge body filled the cave as the dragon stopped a few feet from him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying Dragon?” asked Nog.
The Dragon’s huge head nodded.
“I don’t think you’re a true dragon,” Nog guessed, as he took a step towards the beast. Large tears dropped from the evil eyes, and the huge head shook from side to side.
“Are you a man?” Another shake.
“Giant?” No.
“Dwarf?” No.
“Elf?” A nod.
Nog took another step forward and gazed into the watery eyes.
“If you can stop your fire for five minutes then I think I can help. Come forward a little more so that I can walk around you.”
The dragon obeyed, moving slowly as space was difficult to find. He stood, head held low, mouth closed to prevent flames escaping.
Nog waived his hands and a beautiful haunting song began to fill the cave; low at first but with each phrase growing stronger and stronger. It mesmerized the dragon. Its eyes closed, and its body swayed with the rhythm.
Nog stroked the coarse scaly body then plucked a knife from the air. It had a long thin silver blade with carvings etched into its surface. Strange shapes glowed on the surface of the hilt and as the music grew louder so the glow intensified.
Slowly Nog cut deep into the dragon’s dark skin until he found pink flesh. From there he hacked his way towards the tail until a line of pink flesh travelled the length of the body.
Dropping the knife Nog scaled the dragon’s back. He grasped the mound of dark flesh by the head and, with a great heave began to peel the dragon.
