The Sea of Trolls

Jack with murder in her eyes. Bold Heart squawked and scrambled out of her path.

“Oh, Jill! Sweet Jill! Give us a kiss, Jill! How nice you’ll look with ribbons and flowers in your hair!”

“My name isn’t Jill!” Thorgil raised the crutch to hit Jack and fell over with a jarring thud. Her eyes rolled up in her head. She passed out on the icy stones.

Oh, heavens, what have I done? thought Jack. He knelt at once by the fallen shield maiden and tried to see whether she was still breathing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Thorgil,” he cried. “Please, please, please wake up. I won’t do that again.”

Thorgil sank her teeth into his hand. Jack yelled and pulled back. He was bleeding! “You pile of sheep droppings! You kindaskitur!” he shouted.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She grinned.

Jack trembled with rage, wanting and yet not wanting to hit her. “Yes, it hurts,” he said.

“So we’re even.”

“We’ll never be even,” Jack said, “but we can call a truce. I know”—he held up his hand as Thorgil tried to interrupt—“berserkers never sign truces. But we’re on a quest, and Olaf said we should work together.”

At the mention of Olaf, Thorgil’s face became solemn. She looked at him for a long moment, and her eyes became suspiciously damp. “You’re right,” she said at last. “I’ve behaved dishonorably. You have my oath I will not try to hurt you again.”

Thorgil’s apology was so unexpected, Jack stared at her. Was she joking? Was this another trick? “I hope you aren’t an oath-breaker,” he muttered, expecting her to fly at him again.

“Thorgil Olaf’s Daughter is not an oath-breaker,” she replied gravely. She didn’t even try to hit him.

Jack forced the wound on his hand to bleed and washed it in the icy river. He kept watching Thorgil and wondering at her sudden change of mood. “You know, it’s the duty of all members of this quest to keep up his or her strength.”

“That’s true,” she admitted.

“You should eat. And if you took some of the poppy juice—as Olaf commanded—you’d be able to keep walking.”

“I will eat one dried fish and take one drop of poppy juice,” she said. “When the dragon comes, I’ll at least have the strength to stand and fight.”

Jack glanced up at the cliffs. He didn’t see any smoke, but he knew their time had run out. If the dragon didn’t find herself another elk, she had a dandy snack sitting just below her nest.

Jack got Thorgil to eat two dried fish and take two drops of poppy juice. He retied her splint, frowning at the puffiness of the flesh over her ankle. “Why is pain so important to you?” he asked.

“I told you. Odin loves those who can endure it.” Thorgil clenched her teeth as Jack eased the splint into a firmer position. “Pain gives you knowledge.”

“Joy gives you knowledge too.”

“Only about foolish, trivial things. When Odin wanted the lore that would make him leader of the gods, he had to pay for it with suffering. He was stabbed with a spear and hanged for nine days and nights on the tree Yggdrassil.”

“That’s just plain stupid,” Jack said.

“Your god was nailed to a cross. It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Anyhow,” Thorgil went on, “Odin needed even more knowledge to gain power over the nine worlds, so he had to drink from Mimir’s Well.”

“Mimir’s Well? That’s where we’re going.”

“If we survive and if we can find it.”

“Aren’t you the cheerful one,” said Jack.

“I’m only being realistic. Odin wasn’t allowed to drink until he sacrificed something of great importance. He tore out one of his eyes and threw it into the well,” Thorgil said. “They say it’s still there.”

“Tore out an eye?” Jack felt sick. He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing, but the Northmen probably thought it was normal, like trimming your toenails.

What are you doing today, Odin old boy?

Oh, I thought I’d rip out an eye after lunch.

Jolly good.

“Wait a minute,” Jack said. “Can’t you, you know, just dip a cup into Mimir’s Well?”

“You have to sacrifice something of overwhelming importance before you’re allowed to drink,” Thorgil explained patiently. “It could be your right hand or your tongue. You can agree to die horribly later or see your firstborn devoured by a wolf.”

Jack bowed his head, appalled. Rune hadn’t mentioned this feature. It wasn’t Jack’s idea of a quest at all. You expected to walk a long way and to endure cold and hunger. You might have to fight trolls (to be exact, he’d expected Olaf to take care of the trolls). Nobody said you had to tear out an eye.

“Don’t worry,” Thorgil said. “We probably won’t find the well. Rune and Dragon Tongue didn’t.”

“I didn’t know Dragon Tongue came here,” said Jack. “If he couldn’t find it, we don’t stand a chance.” And Lucy doesn’t stand a chance either, he thought with a pain over his heart.

“It isn’t a matter of cleverness,” Thorgil said. “Rune says the path is guarded by Norns. They choose who finds it.”

“Norns? Wonderful. Something else in this wretched place that wants to stomp on you or bite off your leg.”

“Oh, no!” Thorgil was shocked. “Norns keep the tree Yggdrassil alive. Without them, nothing would exist.”

“So what are they? Huge, horrible trolls?”

“They’re women,” Thorgil said. “Well, they look like women. That’s what Rune says, though he hasn’t seen them. They show up when you’re born and decide what kind of life you’re going to have.”

“I guess they were in a rotten mood when I came along,” Jack said. He loaded up the water bag and supplies.

“Me too,” Thorgil said gravely.

As they neared the ice mountain the air grew steadily colder. When the wind came from that direction, it actually hurt to breathe. Jack wrapped his cloak over his nose. Only his body heat kept the water bag from freezing solid.

Bold Heart shivered and his feet sparkled with ice crystals as he tried to hook his claws on to Jack’s shoulder. “Poor old fellow,” Jack said. “I’ll bet you’re sorry you ever met us. I’ll carry you for a while.” The crow sank gratefully into the bag, and the boy slung it around his neck.

I feel like a donkey in a lead mine, Jack thought as he trudged along. I’m loaded up with stuff. I’m hungry and cold. All I’ve got to look forward to is more work and a nasty death. The Norns certainly don’t love me. Oh, I’m really in luck now! Thorgil wants to lean on me.

Perhaps two drops of poppy juice had been too much, or perhaps Thorgil, in her starved, weakened state, couldn’t handle it. She staggered and clung to Jack. Her eyes kept closing, and he feared she would fall over right there. He couldn’t possibly carry her. He could hardly stand himself. I am the most miserable, Norn- cursed boy alive, he thought as Thorgil reeled into him again. Things couldn’t possibly be worse.

But he was wrong.

Chapter Thirty DEATH FROM THE SKY