by Anna Ciddor
‘I’ll find it!’ said Dúngal, and raced into the shadows.
Oddo looked at Thora. ‘If we can’t see the Sídaigi, we won’t be able to see their horse,’ he said.
‘But you’re magic. You must be able to see them!’
Oddo shook his head. At that moment there came a thud behind them, as of a spear banging the ground. Oddo saw Thora’s eyes widen. He spun round.
‘You have made your point,’ said the voice of King Yvar. His face loured, shadowed and craggy, in the light cast by the guards’ torches. His long, bony fingers combed through his beard, then twisted and let go. ‘I see I must offer a better reward to persuade you to lift the enchantment.’ He reached out and fastidiously lifted a corner of Oddo’s cloak. ‘Perhaps new garments,’ he said. ‘Yours are not fit for one of your status. Throw this rag on the dung heap and permit me to offer you my own cloak instead. It is woven from silk spun in the Lands of the East.’
‘No!’ Oddo clutched the goatskin and stepped back.
From the other side he felt Thora grab the cloak too. ‘Oddo, this is the goatskin!’
He turned to look at her. ‘So?’
‘So?!’ She leaned forward to hiss in his ear. ‘Make yourself invisible, then maybe you’ll be able to see other invisible things.’
Oddo stared, then glanced back at the King. He was still speaking pompously.
‘. . . a ship,’ he was saying, ‘loaded with any cargo you desire – barrels of wheat, bales of wool, silver . . . gold . . .’
He paused, waiting for an answer.
Oddo just looked at him, then took hold of the goatskin and lifted it over his head.
29
Hurry!
King Yvar and the guards backed away, goggling like three stranded fish. Thora grinned with satisfaction as they disappeared into the longhouse.
The next moment, Dúngal pounded up to her.
‘I can’t find it,’ he panted. ‘I saw a black horse in a stable, but it wasn’t the right one.’ He paused, and looked around. ‘Where’s Oddo?’
Thora chuckled. ‘He’s turned invisible,’ she said. ‘He’s looking for the Sídaigi.’
‘I’m still here, you know,’ said Oddo’s voice.
Dúngal and Thora squealed excitedly.
‘Well, can you see them?’ demanded Thora.
There was a pause. She felt Dúngal grip her arm.
‘I think I can,’ said Oddo. ‘Just . . . faint . . . glimpses.’
His voice faded as he moved away.
‘Find the horse,’ called Thora.
They waited, hardly breathing. A guard came past, shoving them roughly out of his path. Then the torches and human shouts died away.
‘They’re all hiding inside,’ said Thora.
‘They’re scared,’ smirked Dúngal.
‘I wish Oddo would hurry!’
The piglets were squealing at the tops of their voices. Thora glanced down at Hairydog. She was cowering on the ground, whimpering.
‘It’s all right, Hairydog. Oddo’s going to save us.’
Thora bent to stroke the dog’s back, and thought she felt tiny feet scamper across her hand. She shuddered, and hastily stood up again.
There was the sound of running, then Oddo burst into view in front of them, pulling off his hood, and gasping for breath.
‘It’s coming,’ he panted. ‘Quick, Thora, your herbs!’
‘But . . . I can’t see it . . . It’ll stamp on me, crush me! I thought you . . .’
Oddo swung away from her and pulled the goatskin up again.
‘I don’t know what to do!’ he cried. ‘Hurry!’
Thora could feel the ground vibrating as the beast charged towards them. She snatched up her bundle and began tearing at the knot.
‘I can’t undo it!’
‘Hurry!’
She gripped it with her teeth and wrenched hard. The fabric ripped, and Dúngal dived to catch the flowers as they tumbled downwards.
‘Here.’ He thrust them towards her. She could feel his hand shaking as their fingers touched.
There was a thud, thud, thud as if the creature was pawing the ground. Then the sound stopped, and Thora knew the horse was rearing up, its huge hooves flailing above her head. She started to back away, but the wall of the sty was pressing against her legs. She thrust out her hand, the flowers with their yellow centres and white petals nestled on her palm. The ground seemed to explode in front of her. Searing heat streamed towards her.
Then the flowers vanished.
‘Quick!’ Thora reached up, felt the massive neck, bulging with muscle, and ran her hand along the heaving flank. ‘Give me a leg-up. Hurry, I don’t have any more flowers!’
‘What?!’
‘Hurry!’
She grasped the mane, and hauled herself up over the huge, invisible mass. Her leg was half over the monster’s back when she felt it rear. She flew into the air, her arms almost ripped from their sockets. Then she crashed down, every bone in her body rattling, as the creature dropped back to earth.
‘Let go!’ cried Oddo. ‘Get off!’
‘No!’ she screamed.
‘You’ll be killed!’
But Thora was astride now, wild with triumph. She lifted her heels and kicked, hard as she could, at the horse’s flanks. She felt as if her feet were bashing into a wall of iron, but a tremor ran through the creature’s body, and the next moment, it was plunging forward. She felt the flames from its eyeholes stream backwards, burning her cheek, singeing her hair. She could hear Hairydog racing behind them, yipping with excitement.
They sped past the longhouse, scattering a woodpile and smashing through a haystack. Thora shook the hay from her eyes, then saw the wooden gate loom ahead. She had a glimpse of tree trunks strapped across broken palings. Then she felt the muscles gather under her, and the massive horse launched itself at the gate. It hit with an impact that tore Thora’s hands from their grasp, and she screamed as she found herself flying into the air.
30
Treasure
‘I can’t see them any more,’ said Oddo, as the last flicker of the fireball eyes faded into the distance. For an instant he could still hear the thudding of hooves, and Hairydog’s frantic barks, then they too were gone.
‘And the Sídaigi?’ demanded Dúngal.
Oddo looked at the ground and saw a ripple, like a wave receding from a beach. It was the Little Folk pouring after the horse.
‘They’re leaving,’ he said.
There was a pause.
‘The piglets have stopped squealing,’ said Dúngal.
Oddo listened. There was no more stamping or howling, either. The bellowing and bleating trickled to a stop. The hens gave a last rustle and squawk, and settled on their perches.
Oddo heaved a sigh and pulled off his hood.
‘This time they’ve really gone,’ said Dúngal.
‘Yes,’ said Oddo, but he wasn’t thinking of the Sídaigi. He gazed round the dark, peaceful fort. Without Thora, it felt very, very empty.
‘Now we can claim the reward,’ said Dúngal.
Oddo looked at him but neither of them smiled. They were both picturing a girl hurtling into the darkness on the back of an invisible monster.
‘She came here to rescue us,’ whispered Oddo. ‘And she has.’
He bent to scoop up her cloak, torn and trampled into the earth. A single camomile flower slid out and tumbled to the ground. He stared at it, his eyes blurring with tears.
‘There was one more flower,’ he whispered.
When the guards shook his shoulder a few hours later, Oddo was asleep against the pigsty, Thora’s clothing hugged to his chest. He rose stiffly, and kicked Dúngal awake.
‘The King wants to see us,’ he mumbled.
In the longhouse, all the lamps were blazing, and on the white-clothed table golden platters glittered with jewels. The King rose to his feet and regarded them, stroking his long black beard.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘The spell is lifted,’ said Oddo wearily. ‘You will have your eggs and milk again.’
‘Ah.’ King Yvar’s mouth twitched. ‘Then please . . . Eat!’ He gestured to the table.
Oddo and Dúngal sank onto the wooden bench and instantly thralls were flittering around, piling their plates with food.
‘Perhaps someone else could look after your . . . ah . . . belongings,’ said King Yvar.
Oddo started, and realised he was still clutching Thora’s ragged bundle. He laid it beside him, picked up a piece of the fine wheat bread, and took a bite.
‘When you are ready,’ continued the King, ‘we will adjourn to the river and you will select your ship.’
Oddo looked at the uneaten piles of delectables, then glanced at Dúngal. In unison, they gulped their half-chewed mouthfuls, and rose to their feet.
‘We’ll go now!’ said Oddo. The sooner they got out of this fort, the sooner they’d find out what had happened to Thora.
In a few minutes they were seated in the royal longship with oarsmen in scarlet and gold rowing them round the bend in the river. Once again, the cluster of longships in the Black Pool hove into sight.
‘Choose one that’s not too big,’ whispered Dúngal. ‘We don’t have a crew.’
Oddo nodded.
They glided slowly between the wide-bellied cargo ships, and the leering prows of the battle ships. Oddo pointed to the shortest, tubbiest vessel. The furled sail was a cheerful red-and-white stripe.
‘That one!’ he said.
The King’s mouth curled superciliously.
‘The hold shall be filled with furs and wines, oil and gold,’ he declared.
‘As quickly as you can, please,’ said Oddo.
‘It shall be done.’
‘We’ll board now,’ added Oddo. ‘And set sail as soon as it’s ready.’
‘Do you require a crew?’
Oddo shook his head.
The King’s face broke into a broad smile.
‘Of course not. You can command the wind and the waves,’ he chuckled. ‘With this small vessel, you two will manage on your own, hey?’
Oddo drummed his fingers impatiently as the goods were passed down the chain of burly servants and heaved aboard.
‘Look at this stuff!’ said Dúngal.
He took hold of a butter-coloured fur and draped it around his shoulders. Then he held up a gold platter and waggled it so that the gleaming surfaces flashed in the sunlight. But Oddo was watching the last jar of seal oil being squeezed into the hold.
‘That’s it!’ he cried. ‘Hoist sail!’
He glanced at the sky and pointed eagerly down the river, calling the wind. The red and white stripes billowed outwards, and the little cargo ship began to skim across the water.
‘When we get around the bend, we’ll moor her, and go look for Thora!’ called Oddo.
‘And Father Connlae!’ said Dúngal.
Oddo blinked. He’d almost forgotten the priest.
As they swept past the high walls of the fort, the slave market came into view. Both boys fell silent, looking at the miserable rows of men, women and children, standing in chains. From the corner of his eye, Oddo saw Dúngal’s jaw trembling.
‘Wait!’ cried Oddo. ‘Pull up.’ He leapt on shore and held out his hand. ‘Pass me some of that cargo,’ he said. ‘We’re going to buy every one of those thralls!’
In a few minutes there was pandemonium. The captives laughed and cried and cheered as one by one Oddo set them free. Then they vanished down the maze of streets, and the Viking traders were left gazing in bewilderment at their empty market. One of the traders was Captain Snari. He glared suspiciously at Oddo.
‘How did you get all those riches?’
‘Just a reward,’ said Oddo smugly. ‘For my magic.’ Snari scowled. ‘Ah well, better get back to my ship,’ said Oddo.
But as he turned to go, he saw a flash of movement in a shadowed alley. An arm reached out to beckon him. He hesitated, then sidled towards it, his heart pounding. With a flood of disappointment he saw Father Connlae emerge, alone, from the shadows.
Then, in the distance, he heard a muffled bark.
Oddo began to run, his feet flying over the cobblestones. As he passed the priest, his eyes raked the alley. There was another bark. Hairydog scampered into sight. And following behind was someone with short, honey-coloured hair and a huge, proud grin.
‘You made it!’ she shouted. ‘You got out!’
Oddo felt tears pouring down his cheeks as he ran towards her. He was barely aware of Hairydog whirling around him in excitement.
He reached Thora, and grabbed her by the arms.
‘What happened to you?’ His words came out in a croak.
She shrugged, but Oddo stared at the bruises and scratches on her face.
‘When we crashed through the gate, I fell off. The next thing I knew, Father Connlae was bending over me. He guessed I’d go to the fort and he was waiting for me outside. Don’t worry, these don’t hurt any more.’ She pointed to her scratches. ‘I’ve dosed myself with herbs.’
Oddo began to chuckle, and he felt as if he’d never stop laughing. He took Thora’s hand and began to pull her towards the market.
‘Wait! Captain Snari’s there. He’ll see me and . . .’
‘Who cares?’ chortled Oddo. ‘He can’t do anything. I’m Oddo the Wind Master, remember! Come on.’ As they crossed the empty market square he looked round for the Captain. ‘Hey, Snari!’ he called. ‘Catch!’ He pulled a gold bangle off his arm and tossed it into the air. ‘That’s for my friends. Thora and Father Connlae!’
He and Thora exploded into shouts of laughter, and even the priest seemed to understand the joke. He was chuckling as they seized his hands and, half-carrying him between them, raced towards the ship.
Dúngal danced up and down at the sight of them, and Thora leaned over the side, gaping at all the treasures in the hold.
‘You’ve got enough riches there to pay taxes to King Harald every year for the rest of your life!’ she exclaimed.
‘Oh no,’ said Oddo. ‘That greedy swine is not getting his hands on any of these.’
‘Then . . .?’ Thora looked at him, her eyes wide and questioning.
He beamed and nodded.
‘We’ve got a ship now. We can fetch our families, and go where we like!’
‘To the Land of Ice!’ whispered Thora.
‘To the Land of Fire!’ said Oddo.
31
Stormrider
‘But you’re going to take me home first, aren’t you?’ asked Dúngal anxiously.
The other two turned to look at him blankly.
‘I . . . forgot you wouldn’t be coming with us,’ said Oddo.
‘What do you mean you forgot?! That’s what we came here for!’
‘I know. But so many things have happened; we’ve been thralls together and everything. It’ll feel funny leaving you behind now.’
‘Dúngal, of course we’ll take you home, if you want,’ said Thora. ‘And Father Connlae too.’
‘It’ll be easy getting home in a real ship,’ said Oddo, ‘after that eggshell of a curach!’
Dúngal caught Thora glancing at him anxiously.
‘Dúngal was really clever to make that boat,’ she protested. Then her face changed as Oddo and Dúngal burst out laughing, and she realised she was being teased.
‘Come on, what are we waiting for?’ She leapt over the side of the ship. Dúngal started to follow, but Father Connlae stopped him.
‘It is time to say goodbye.’
‘But . . . aren’t you coming with us?’
‘No, my child. I have met some Brothers who are travelling to a new monastery, and my place is with them. But thank you for bringing me home to Ériu, and blessings on each of you.’ He placed a trembling hand on Dúngal’s head.
‘Father Connlae’s not coming,’ Dúngal called to the others.
Oddo and Thora hung over the side of the s
hip and the priest lifted up his hand, resting it on each head in turn. Then he bent down and patted Hairydog. When he straightened up he was smiling, but there were tears in his pale blue eyes.
‘Farewell!’
A few minutes later, the three friends were cheering with excitement as they sailed out of the Liffey and back into the sea.
‘Not far now!’ said Dúngal.
They bounded south along the coast, the high prow rising and falling, the little ship dancing on her way.
‘Hey, what’s the name of this ship?’ asked Thora.
Dúngal and Oddo looked at each other.
‘I forgot to ask,’ said Oddo.
‘Then we’d better name her. How about Gannet?’
‘No way!’ said Oddo, shuddering at the memory of his last shape-change. Then his face broke into a grin. ‘How about Stormrider – and I’ll whip up a storm to drive her home. Hold tight!’
They all hooted as the wind roared, and they flew across the waves.
‘Look at that sea!’ shouted Thora, as the white crests foamed and crashed around them. The sail stretched and the rigging sang. ‘Watch out, here come the Stormriders!’
Hairydog, in the bows, barked excitedly at the spray. But Dúngal frowned. The little ship was heeling too far over.
A moment later, she seemed to stagger, and the sea spilled through the oarholes. There was an ominous sound of water slopping under the deck. Instead of rising and falling with the waves, Stormrider began to lurch sluggishly.
‘What’s happening?’
Dúngal leapt into the hold, and to his shock he landed with a splash. Icy water swirled around his ankles. With this weight rolling inside her, no wonder Stormrider was so ungainly! He grabbed a floating gold dish, and began to bail.
‘Come on,’ he yelled, ‘help me.’
Oddo dropped down beside him. Another wave pounded the ship and they both watched in dismay as seawater gushed between the planks.
‘We’re leaking!’ As the ship tilted, they saw a crack of daylight between the planks. ‘There’s the hole!’
Dúngal grabbed Oddo’s sleeve. ‘Oddo, stop the wind. We’d better head for shore before we sink.’