Runestone (71 page)

Then, as mysteriously as it began, the sound was gone, decreasing rapidly in volume as it continued to move on to the east. They looked at each other in wonder.

“What was it?” asked Nils. In the back of his mind the episode seemed like the passing of a huge living thing, howling in rage as it went. It had conjured up for him the tales of Norse mythology and the supernatural monsters that threatened the earth and humankind. Nidhug, the great dragon of Nifl-heim. Was this to be the end of the world?

There was no reassurance in Snake’s remark at just that moment.

“Strange things must live here!”

T
he party had begun to regain some confidence by the next morning. The storm had passed on, and the day dawned bright and sunny. To Nils, his fears began to look a little foolish. He wondered about the rumbling, roaring sound that they had heard. Maybe, though, it had not really been so bad as it seemed at the time. That must be it. It was hard to take such things seriously in the bright sunlight of a new day. Birds were singing and the breeze murmured gently in the willows, answered by the whisper of the river in its own language. It was good.

No one spoke of the frightening experience of the evening before. They loaded the canoe and shoved out into the river again. It was not long, however, before the incident was recalled forcibly. They had gone only a few bowshots’ distance downstream, around a bend of the river, when Snake suddenly gasped and pointed.

“Look!”

On the west side of the river there was an opening in the timber that came down to the water’s edge. Not a natural gap in the trees, but a newly torn pathway, perhaps a hundred paces wide. They could see where it came over a hill some distance from the river. From that point all trees were gone, twisted off at the ground to leave only jagged stumps. Some were as thick as a man’s outstretched arms could reach.

Nils shuddered. It was easy to imagine some gigantic creature crawling from the river, destroying everything in its path. But wait, had the sound not moved
toward
the river? Maybe it had come out and then returned by the same path. Was it now hiding directly
beneath
them? His skin crawled at such a thought. The dream … no, this did not seem …

“Look! Across the river,” Dove said, her voice tight with emotion. “Where it crawled out again!”

All eyes turned toward the distant east bank, where the path torn by the giant Thing resumed, in exact alignment with the one on this side.

“It
crossed
the river!” said Snake. “Did it swim?” There was a moment of silence before he added another question to the one that still hung unanswered in the air. “Or did
it fly?”

No one was paddling or even guiding the canoes. They drifted, staring in awe at the evidence before them on either side of the river.

“Should we land?” Nils asked Odin. The thought of what might lurk in the dark waters was not a comforting thing. A creature so big, larger than the greatest whale ever seen! And the trees … What had happened to them? Did the monster
eat
huge trees? He could remember no specific tales about the dietary preferences of Nidhug the dragon. It had, however, gnawed off the roots of the giant ash tree Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. But surely, that was only a story … was it not?

“Let us go on,” Odin suggested. “There is no reason to stay here on its trail. It may come back!”

They drifted on, and the newly torn pathway through the forest was quickly lost to view. It was some time, however, before they all breathed easily again.

That night, far downriver, they slept the sleep of exhaustion. Nils doubted that he would rest well, and dreaded the possibility that his dream might return. But it did not happen.

   It was the following afternoon that they saw a cluster of lodges on the shore. No more than four or five, it appeared at first, but then, as they drifted on around a long point of land, more appeared. Then still others.

“A city!” Nils murmured, half to himself.

There were rumors, gleaned from people they had encountered farther north, of a “big camp” at the junction of two rivers. Another big river was to join this one, it was said, and between the two, “many people, big lodges.” Their communication, limited to hand signs, had exchanged basic ideas. In no way, however, had there been any inkling of a population center like this. It was still distant, lying in the haze over the river, but he could see earthen terraces, large mounds that appeared to be manmade structures, and a variety of large buildings.
A city!

Most of the earthworks lay in the delta between the two rivers. He could plainly see the large river that joined the one on which they traveled. It was nearly as large, and seemed to flow in from the west.

The other canoe drew alongside.

“Wolf,” Odin called, a note of concern in his voice, “I am made to think that we should not go there!”

Nils was startled. Odin had seldom hesitated to approach anyone openly. Such an introduction had usually been respected in their travels. What was different here?

“Why?” he asked, surprised.

“Let us talk later,” Odin said quickly. “Cross over, now.”

He did not even wait for an answer, but thrust his paddle into the stream and with a powerful stroke or two guided the craft into the current. Nils followed. Odin was quite correct on one point. If they intended to avoid the city below, they
must cross now, before the current carried them into the waters around the city itself.

By the time they crossed the main current and neared the east bank, they were almost exactly opposite the city’s levees and earthworks. A few boats moved along the river, their occupants apparently engaged in fishing. They would not pass closely to any of them.

“Now,” Nils spoke to Odin. “What is it? Why are we over here?”

“No reason, maybe,” Odin said. “But I am made to think so. People who build such things are very powerful. We are too few to defend ourselves. My sister … your son … I thought it would be safer.”

It seemed logical, now that he thought about it. They had no way of knowing the temperament of whatever king or lord might rule over such a place. To satisfy their curiosity might become quite a dangerous thing. Norsemen were accustomed to meeting other nations from a position of armed strength. Odin, by contrast, knew the dangers of being too vulnerable in such a meeting.

“It is good,” agreed Nils. “Let us go on.”

He had a certain degree of disappointment. It would have been an exciting thing to walk the streets of that city, to look more closely at their structures, talk to their leaders. Well, maybe that could come later. It was apparent that a longship, possibly even a
knarr
, could sail up this river to dock at some of these earthworks. He would speak of this with the Erick-sons. If they made contact soon, maybe they could return, even this summer.

The city was receding behind them now. Beyond a wave or two from other boatmen as they drifted past, they had had no contact at all. The clusters of dwellings were fewer here, and by midday they saw hardly any. It was late in the afternoon that they came to a small group of thatched lodges, and Odin suggested that they pause here for a little while.

“They can tell us of the people upstream, maybe,” he noted.

The canoes nosed in, and they were met by a group of people on shore, who approached cautiously.

“They seem friendly,” noted Odin, as he raised his palm in the hand sign for a peaceful greeting.

It was obvious that no danger would be likely from a party traveling with a woman and child, so these people showed little suspicion.

“You are traders?” signed one of the men.

“No, only travelers,” Odin signed in reply.

The people from the huts seemed mildly disappointed, but beckoned them ashore.

“Where are you going?”

Odin shrugged, indicating some doubt.

“How far to the big salty water?” he signed.

The others laughed. “Many sleeps,” one signed. “Many moons, maybe.”

“Many
moons?”
Nils asked aloud. “Is that what he said?”

“Yes. I will ask him again.”

“Maybe not moons,” signed the man in answer to the repeated question. “But many
sleeps
.”

“It may be farther than we think,” Nils observed aloud.

“True. But they may like to tell it bigger than it is, too,” Odin answered.

“Ask about the city,” Nils suggested, and Odin did so.

“Yes, very big,” the man answered.

There followed a rather unsatisfactory hand-signed conversation, in which very little information was gained. They gathered that the people of the city were of a different nation, who were sometimes dangerous. Beyond that, the skills to explain were lacking.

“Can they tell us of the Thing that broke off the trees?” asked Nils.

Odin relayed the question, and the man nodded excitedly.

“Yes, yes … in the storm!” he signed.

“They know about it,” said Nils. He turned to the man and used hand signs. “What creature is this, who eats big trees?”

There was laughter from the others.

“The wind,” their spokesman signed.

“No, wind would not do that,” Nils protested.

“Yes, yes! Wind-spirit,” the others insisted. “Very powerful!”

The man moved a forefinger in a rapid circular motion, pointing to the ground.

“Does he mean a whirlwind?” Nils wondered aloud.

“A special wind?” Odin signed the question.

“Yes, eats everything!”

“But not an
animal?
” Nils signed.

The man looked doubtful for a moment, then shook his head.

“Not animal,” he signed. “Wind-spirit.”

At least it was somewhat reassuring. The dreadful fear of unknown creatures from the bottom of the river was abated somewhat. A wind, even a devastating whirlwind, was one thing. A giant serpent or dragon or some unknown dweller in the slime was quite another.

“Let us ask him more about downstream,” Nils suggested. “Not how far, but what is there?”

Odin nodded and signed the question.

“More river … towns … peoples.” The man used the sign for tribe or nation.

“Danger?” asked Odin.

“Some,” the other shrugged. “Always, some.”

“What people?” Odin signed.

The other man repeated the people or nation sign, and then made several signs that were unknown to the travelers.

“We are called River People where we came from,” Odin told him.

It was apparent that this meant little to the others.

“All people here are river people, maybe,” Nils said. Odin agreed.

“Which of those you told us of would be dangerous?” he asked the man.

The answer was a quizzical look, followed by one of the signs already used, but unfamiliar. It consisted of placing both palms on the forehead and pushing the hands up and over the top of the head, as if combing the hair backward.

“I do not know this,” Odin signed. “Hair?”

“Yes,” the other nodded, “cut … hair.”

“The People Who Cut Their Hair?”

“Yes. Cut very short.”

“Where are these people?” Odin asked.

“Downstream, many sleeps.”

“At the salty water?”

“No, not that far.”

They resumed travel, somewhat reassured about the whirlwind. Nils had a strong suspicion, however, that nothing else they had learned was very reassuring.

T
hey saw no more of the wind-creature that had wreaked such a trail of destruction through the trees along the river. Nils could not help but wonder what might happen to people whose lodges or towns chanced to be in that path. A force that could devour great oaks and sycamores would hardly pause for mere humans and their lodges. The deeply banked earth lodges of the People, so strange to him at first, now seemed a thoroughly practical answer to such dangers.

The others spoke of this recent event very little. It was a danger that had been avoided, and there was no point in discussion. The escape itself was a thing for which they were grateful. However, had they known of the deadly wind, what could they have done?