by Hart, Joan
“Fafnir,” explained Sigurd. “This is his doing. Dragons hate anything good or pretty. His breath has burnt this. Stay close.”
Cat wasn’t going to do anything else and stuck to Sigurd like a limpet.
The ground became more difficult to walk on with deep ruts looking for all the world like a 4x4 adventure park. The ruts led to a muddy pool. From the other side and leading away to their right ran a huge green/black slime track. Skirting the pool they carefully followed the slime. Sigurd stopping every now and then to test the wind. The track led them to a stonier part of the heath. Huge rocks were scattered about and at one gigantic stone outcrop lay a cave mouth. They stood watching the hole from the protection of two handy boulders. Of Fafnir there was no sign, indeed birds were flying around the heath and were in song. Cat and Sigurd sat, their backs against the stones and waited. Cat found herself telling Sigurd her life story and she had just got to the bit which she had thought exciting when he clapped his hand over her mouth. He whispered in her ear “No bird song. Fafnir returns.”
Cat didn’t want to look. She could feel the evil, yet something made her turn. What she saw filled her with terror. The cavernous nostrils with vicious spikes as long as a man’s arm slid over the crest of the rock outcrop. Below it a huge red mouth filled with immensely sharp and curved fangs and long leathery tongue ‘tasted’ its way across the ground. Legs as thick as oak trees supported a gigantic scaly body, which oozed foul smelling black/green sulphurous slime.
Sigurd, sword in hand, pulled Cat back into the relative safety of the rocks as Fafnir made his ponderous way towards the muddy pool. It seemed to Cat an absolute age before the long body and heavily spiked tail had passed them, for Fafnir repeatedly stopped, looking this way and that, and it seemed to Cat that he was homing in on their hiding place. Fafnir continued, leaving a thick, deep, foul smelling gunge behind. Cat turned to Sigurd more for reassurance than anything else.
“Cat, I have a plan,” Sigurd’s eyes sparkled and Cat couldn’t resist a smile.
As they waited for Fafnir to return Sigurd told Cat of his plan. It seemed foolhardy and dangerous to her, but there again these were supposed to be heroic deeds. She took Sigurd’s cloak, tunic and shoes and stacked them out of sight. She watched as Sigurd, sword in hand,waded waist deep into the foul smelling slime. The sound of Fafnir returning came close and Cat watched as Sigurd knelt then lay fully submerged in the smelly muck. Cat shrank back as pure evil swayed by her.
Suddenly the body of Fafnir arched and out of the slime flew Sigurd. His sword hadn’t penetrated the dragon’s scaly skin at all, instead the sword had bent backwards catapulting Sigurd into the air. Cat watched horrified as Sigurd slammed into one of the rocks nearby and she heard the wind escape from his lungs as he hit.
Roaring in anger Fafnir attacked. The tip of his claw caught Sigurd’s sword and it flew through the air into the thick mess in front of Cat.
“Cat. The sword,” Sigurd shouted as rocks hurled down on him, pushed by the dragon’s leathery wings. Cat caught a glimpse of Sigurd as he dodged behind the bigger rocks then he was lost from her sight, although she could still hear the battle rage.
Gazing for a moment at the foul smelling gunge she made her decision and began to wade in. The smell made her retch but she continued; first on her hands and knees, then on her stomach probing for the sword. After what seemed an eternity her fingers clasped around the hilt. She snatched the sword up shouting, “I have it!” and was promptly knocked down again as Sigurd threw himself on top of her. Together they sank in the slime. She felt Sigurd’s hands over hers as they both held the sword. The ground beneath them shook informing them that Fafnir was approaching. They waited, listening to the sounds of the roars and rumbles getting nearer and nearer until he was overhead, then both rose, holding the sword tightly in their hands, and plunging it into the soft under belly of Fafnir. The shock wrenched Cat’s hand away but Sigurd held firm. Fafnir’s head whipped backwards as blood cascaded out from his heart like a power shower. Head and shoulders arched bringing Sigurd with it, his sword buried deep up to the hilt. Cat hid her eyes as Sigurd was thrown from side to side, his body battered and scraped raw along the rocks. Mercifully he was too far away for Fafnir to get his teeth into play, but the battering to which he was submitted must have been excruciating. When she dared look again the dragon had finished its thrashing. Dazed and bleeding Sigurd braced his feet against the dragon’s body and pulled out the sword. Another cascade of blood followed. With one mighty blow Sigurd cut the head from the rest of the body. One final twitch and Fafnir was dead. Slowly and painfully Sigurd made his way to Cat and stood leaning heavily on the side of a stone. Cat raised her arms.
“Long live Sigurd the Dragon Slayer!”
While Cat went to the muddy pool to wash off the stinking slime from her body Sigurd began collecting brushwood to make a fire. They would need warmth after their efforts. He lit it then he too headed for the pool. They sat together, their hands extended towards the flames feeling the warmth creep into their bodies.
“Look!” Sigurd pointed to Cat’s hand. Three diagonal lines glowed brightly on the face of the Skard ring.
“E A T,” Cat read the runes.
“Eat? Eat what?” Cat said sounding remarkably like Alice in Wonderland.
“Well,” said Sigurd, “What normally happens when we have slain a dragon is that we all celebrate by roasting the heart and eating it.”
“That must be it then.”
The heart lay across the fire skewered by the sword. Sigurd and Cat sat side by side in a comfortable silence listening to the birds singing furiously around them.
“Listen to those birds. Must be singing your praises Sigurd. You know... Sigurd is the greatest.”
“Ha ha haoooooow.”
The laugh turned into a grimace as Sigurd burnt his fingers on the roasting heart. He stuffed his burnt fingers into his mouth to cool them, licking the blood. Then he stood, rigid. It frightened Cat to see him like this.
She shook him “Sigurd, what is it?”
“I can understand the birds. I know what they are saying. Cat, thanks to you and your ring I now know what Regin has in store for me. We know he was going to kill me but that he wasn’t brave enough to face Fafnir for himself. He knew I would overcome him, so he has arranged to ambush me at ‘Muspellheim’. He is organizing the Svart Alfar to help him using their magic. He is making an illusion of a safer way for me to follow then he will kill me.”
“Sigurd Regin is only one of you problems. What about the Andvari curse?”
“You will think of something.”
Sigurd turned and made his way up to Fafnir’s cave.
The rest of the day was spent bringing the treasure from its hiding place to the camp by the stones. Sigurd built up the fire; the day was almost over and a chill had settled in. Cat rolled herself up in her cloak and lay as near as she dared to the blazing fire. She was amazed to see Sigurd doing the same.
“What about Regin? Shouldn’t we take turns to watch?”
“I have alarms set around us.”
Cat peered into the gloom outside the fires glow. A circle of bright amber lights stared back at her.
“Twit Twooooo.”
Cat slept.
It was a troubled sleep. The Andvari curse kept entering her thoughts. She woke, sweating and clammy from her dreams; and she lay gazing skywards watching the millions of stars twinkling above her. What to do to keep Sigurd safe with all the treasure and away from the curse? Cat rose quietly, pulled her cloak firmly around her and tiptoed away from her sleeping friend. Blinking amber eyes followed her. She found a sheltered spot and gazed out into the ghostly grey that heralded the beginning of dawn, and worried about the problem of how to turn evil into good.
It was some moments before she realized that she was not alone. She turned sli
ghtly to face the stranger. He was quite tall but what caught her attention more than anything was his face, which seemed to radiate warmth, peace and serenity. Something made Cat feel that she knew him from somewhere.
“You are troubled my child.”
Cat smiled in spite of herself. She hadn’t been called that since Sunday school days. She found herself telling the stranger a shortened version of Andvari’s curse, her quest and her problems.
“Those are indeed important issues. Have you shared these concerns with anyone else?” Cat shook her head.
“Then it is time for you to do so. For often in sharing your problems, comes a solution.”
The stranger rose and held out his hand. Cat took it. She felt herself rise upwards and as she rose Cat glanced down and was amazed to see herself still sitting on the rocks below. It was as though she had left her physical body behind standing guard. After some minutes Cat found herself standing in front of a huge white marble temple with white steps leading to two huge white doors. The stranger nodded to her. Slowly she climbed the steps. The doors opened smoothly and she went inside. A golden glow surrounded each of the five ‘people’ sitting there; and an overwhelming feeling of love and security made her feel much happier about her situation.
“You are welcome Catriona. What is it you require from us?”
At the mention of her true name Cat looked up in surprise.
“You know me?”
“We know you. What do you want from us?”
Relief flooded through Cat as she explained her problem. When she finished she stood quietly waiting, Then asked “Can you help me?”
“You already have the answer to your problems Cat Skard.” Came the reply.
Cat frowned. “I have a Skard ring, some runes and a piece of amber but I can’t see how they can help.”
Cat held up her hand to show the ring. Flashes of brilliant golden light flew out from the carved runes on the ring, circled around the ‘beings’ and returned to the ring.
“Any evil hates truth, goodness and all things positive. Giving out such a force will protect your friend from any evil to come. The evil found in Andvari’s curse was born of greed and jealousy. Once you, and you alone, have returned the amber stone to Sigurd’s sword and offered it to him in unconditional love and true friendship it will become a powerful force against this evil. The Skard ring is also most powerful for it alone can control Andvari.”
Cat looked down at her ring then up again to resume the conversation. The ‘beings’ had gone and she was back sitting on the rocks looking at the watery sun rising above the mists. She rose returning to where Sigurd slept. She lay down and fell asleep.
Her dreams were troubled once more. She found herself in a dark dank cold cave. Water dripped incessantly from walls and ceiling. She shivered. Ahead the cave divided into two. She took the one which looked the driest. After what felt a very long time Cat emerged from the passage into a wide cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling in great fan shapes, reminding Cat of the ceilings she had seen in her local cathedral. Stalagmites rose up to meet the fans forming huge columns that shone cream in the eerie light looking like huge marble pillars. Cat’s eyes travelled up and down the architectural forms until they came to rest on a small figure at the base of one of the pillars. At first she thought it must be an animal of some sort, but as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she made out the wizen and twisted shape of a dwarf.
“I wondered how long it would be before you would find me.” The voice shocked Cat She had expected a creaky, whispering old voice. Instead she was shocked to hear a strong manly voice come from the ancient body.
“My name is Andvari, a craftsman of old. I have more magic at my fingertips than you will ever know. You are Cat Skard, friend of Sigurd the treasure stealer.”
“He didn’t steal your treasure,” Cat retorted hotly. He fought Fafnir. It was Fafnir who stole the treasure, Sigurd won it fair and square.”
“That may be Cat Skard. But he has also won my curse. So you can say goodbye to your friendship and story of Sigurd the Dragon slayer. Once the curse gets to work on Sigurd he will become as I.”
Cat looked at the pile that was now Andvari and shuddered.
“Is there no way I can change the curse?”
“Only if I decree it so. But why should I? There is nothing you can do or say which will make me change my mind. My magic is strong, The curse stays.”
The dwarf turned, and laughing shuffled off down the tunnel.
“No,” cried Cat. “No I will not let it be so.”
She followed Andvari holding her ringed hand high. The dark dank tunnel became bathed in bright golden light with every corner and crevices lit clearly.
A horrendous scream escaped from the ancient shuffling form in front of her. Andvari tried to find cover, any darkness into which he could escape the penetrating brightness but failed miserably. It appeared to Cat the nearer she moved towards Andvari the more his body writhed in agony. She backed away slightly. She watched in silence as Andvari’s ancient body returned to a more normal state.
“This ring tells me that you will change your mind and withdraw your curse Andvari.” Cat gave no threat just a statement of fact.
Andvari recovered, and rose to his few inches of height. Hatred contorted his face. Slowly he began to change in front of Cat’s eyes. She had never seen anything so hideous and evil.
“Never.”
The sound hissed from the scaly mouth as the forked tongue flicked out towards Cat. Instinctively she backed away, her hand rising to protect her face.
Strong pulsating waves of golden light flew from the ring. It circled around Cat before shooting into the thing which was Andvari.
A horrendous long gurgling scream filled the passage and then silence.
When Cat finally forced herself to look the thing had disappeared and it was dark again. Andvari’s voice came as an echo from the darkness.
“The power of the Skard ring prevails. There will be no curse.” The voice sounded as though it was moving away from her. Cautiously Cat moved closer to where Andvari had been standing. The column of stalactite remained but into the base the rock had assumed the shape of a very small dwarf, Cat sighed and leaning against a column closed her eyes.
A warm breeze fanned her. It smelt of summer days and grass after the rain. Cat opened her eyes slowly then in great joy embraced Grani who breathed all over her. She propped herself up on one elbow and a cheer rang out. The small band of warriors were there too. She was so happy to see them and chatted non stop as they began their journey away from Granta Heath. They rode south for a while until they came to a fork in the road.
“Here we say goodbye.” Sigurd put his hand on top of Cat’s.
“What? Where are you going?”
“To meet with Regin. His treachery cannot go unpunished. Go with the warriors, they are continuing south to the home of the Valkyrie Sigridrifa. Take my treasure with you and leave it there. I will return for it later. You are on your homeward journey Cat Skard.”
“Wait” Cat slipped off her horse and walked over towards Sigurd and Grani. “May I see your sword?”
Slowly Sigurd unsheathed his sword and handed it to Cat hilt first. Carefully Cat took the sword and putting her hand in her pocket brought out the little piece of amber. Carefully she fitted the amber into the space on the hilt. She laid the pieces together then holding up the complete sword in both hands held it heavenwards.
“May this talisman go with you and give you protection in all you do. I give it freely with true friendship, peace and love.”
Pink, purple, white and gold light poured into the sword making it glow like the embers of a fire. The amber melted and flowed into the hilt making a complete fit, and as she held the sword up she noticed that her Skard ring also glowed. She took off h
er ring and slipped it onto Sigurd’s finger. Magically it had enlarged to fit.
“This will keep you safe, oh and don’t worry about the curse. You will not be troubled by it.”
Sigurd looked at her with admiration in his eyes.
“There are many kinds of heroes Cat Skard, and you too are one. I knew you could do it.”
Cat moved away towards Grani’s head and hugged the horse’s neck whispering “The best of all horses”
Sigurd bent down and a hug later was gone.
Homeward Bound
Standing together on the banks of the river Gjoll, transported in seconds, or so it seemed Sharon, Amanda, Kiert and Thor were reunited with their bemused warriors. One moment the group of men had been sitting morosely contemplating the fate of the adventurers, the next Thor and the children were standing right next to them. Warmly they greeted Thor, then Amanda, then Sharon. Kiert came last. For an instant the men stood motionless starring at the huge red scars which crossed his head and neck, then he was submerged by happy men. Reappearing again as they threw him into the air.
“Many a good tale will be told round fires in years to come.” Thor looked on approvingly. “Now though we must strike out for the coast, a ship and home. Strike camp.”
The long journey to the coast was uneventful. After the evening meals the children became favourites as they told of their adventures. A small hamlet came into view. One of the warriors rode ahead, a distant cousin lived there and he was sure that they could stay the night and for once have a hot meal. He returned quite quickly with the news that their approach had been followed and preparations were indeed in hand. Rumours of their exploits had already filtered through and there were many who wished to hear their story. Sitting in the long house resting their backs on warrior’s knees the children tucked in to the delicious food. Ravenously they attacked large lumps of warm hunks of bread, dipping the remains into the thick gravy that lined their bowls. The rich goo dribbled down their chins and they couldn’t have cared less. They slept well into the following day but now they were ready to continue their ride to the coast.
