by J. A. Snow
And, then everything drifted into blackness.
Chapter Ten “The Blizzard”
“Where is Logi?” Fornjot demanded to know, when the boy was not at the breakfast table the next morning.
Kari shrugged. “He was gone when I woke up this morning, Papi,” he said. “He probably went into the woods again last night, searching for Odin.”
Hildi began to cry.
“Shut up, Woman!” shouted Fornjot. He shoved his trencher aside. “Do you mean to tell me that boy has gone back into the woods when I forbade him to go? What else do you know, Kari? Tell me now, or I will whip you within an inch of your life!”
Kari shuddered. “I am only guessing that is where he went, Papi,” he said. “I was asleep; I never heard him come to bed last night.”
Fornjot clothed himself against the freezing temperatures outside and sheathed his axe. “Will he be in the same place where he nearly drowned before?” he asked.
Kari nodded, terrified of what his father would do when he found his brother. “That is where he believes he has found the Yggdrasil.”
Fornjot lunged through the door into the cold, treading through the layer of snow that had fallen the night before, all the way to the edge of the woods, leaving a deep trail with his enormous wooden clogs. When he once again found the old tree, and did not see Logi anywhere, he panicked and, with his axe, began to break through the ice that lay on the surface of the water.
“Logi! Logi!” he called out. “Where are you, Son?”
Frantically, without thinking to remove his cloak, he plunged into the frigid lake, searching desperately for Logi, alive or dead. The water was calm and so cold his body began shivering intensely but he dove under the broken pieces of ice and surfaced again and again, finally crawling back onto the shore in defeat. “Logi!” he called out again in the eerie silence of the woods. There was no response, only the cry of a great snowy owl that was perched in the ash tree above Fornjot’s head, staring down at him with its penetrating yellow eyes. Krek-krek! it barked at the angry jarl in an all-knowing manner, for the bird already knew the fate of the jarl’s favorite son. Krek-krek! it taunted again.
Fornjot’s wrath was kindled and he shook his axe at the bird above him angrily. “Get away, you stupid bird!” he shouted.
Krek-krek! said the bird once more, clicking its tongue against its beak mockingly.
Fornjot could no longer contain himself. Despite the trembling of his body, he raised his axe high in the air and began chopping away at the trunk of the tree to get at the annoying bird. Chunks of wood began flying through the still forest air as he laid bare the pulpy flesh beneath the bark. Sweat beaded on Fornjot’s forehead and, at the same time, his torso and limbs were turning blue from the cold, but the more he swung his axe, the angrier he became. The tree trembled and the leaves shook from the upper limbs, but the snowy owl held on, digging deep into the branch with its long talons. Finally, the trunk heaved and split with a deafening crack before it fell to the ground, landing in the snow with a loud thud, taking a dozen other trees in its wake. Just as it began to topple, the great snowy owl fluttered its wings and flew away.
Fornjot sank to his knees in the snow, rolling up into a fetal position and sobbing like a child. The carcass of the mutilated tree lay beside him. Oh, how he hated that tree and all that it represented, Odin, the Yggdrasil, all the gods and goddesses of Asgard! They had nei right to take his son, the only son he cared about, the only son he felt was worthy of his name. How he hated that damned lake! He tried to stand but his legs buckled and collapsed beneath him just as an icy wind began to stir in the woods. The trees around him began to rustle and bend; the powdery snow on the ground began to swirl around him. Before he could take cover in the trees, rain began to fall, a frozen, icy rain, pelting his face like a thousand lashes. Blinded by the ice and wind, he hunched his shoulders and bowed his head to stay on the path toward the longhouse. The wind coming down from the mountains began to blow harder and stronger until Fornjot could no longer remain upright against its force; he fell down once more in the snow, huddling in his wet cloak, shielding himself from the onslaught of the daggers of ice slicing through the air. He closed his eyes. His flesh was rippled in goose-flesh. His muscles began to go rigid and his heartbeat slowed.
“Logi!” he called out again, weakly, his speech becoming slurred and raspy. “Where are you, Son?”
Chapter Eleven “Dagstorp”
Logi awoke alongside a strange dirt road where he had apparently been sleeping, nestled between the exposed roots of a large tree. He looked around, not knowing where he was for a moment, then he remembered; he was on the northern road on his way to the Trondelag, where Odin had promised he would have dominion! But, once again, he could not remember how he got there. He shivered in his damp clothes and his bones yearned for the comfort of a fire, but he hadn’t the time to spare. He had to keep moving. He could only go forward; now that he was so far from home, there was no going back.
The storm had subsided temporarily; a fresh layer of snow covered the ground in its wake. Logi had never been so cold in all his life; he closed his eyes and turned his face eastward, toward the tiny slice that was the rising sun, glistening down on him with barely enough warmth to take the chill from his body. He began walking along the sunny side of the road, tucking his hands inside his cloak and breaking into a jog to hopefully dry out his clothing in the moving air.
The line of trees that bordered the woods soon retreated away from the road as he walked along the shore. North, north, he kept saying to himself. Odin said to go north. The terrain became more barren the further he traveled, with only snow-covered bushes and rocks. Leaning against one large rock, tilting his face toward the morning sun, was an ugly troll with green, scaly skin and enormous hands and feet. Starting at the sound of Logi’s footsteps in the snow, the creature turned toward him, staring with his deep-set black eyes; his large, pointed ears pricked at the boy’s presence and he sniffed the air with his bulbous nose. “You stink like wet fur,” said the troll indignantly.
Logi was sure it was his friend, Odin, in disguise. “You can’t fool me,” he said with a smirk. “I know who you are.”
The troll stood up, stretching out his clumsy arms and wiggling his feet to wake them. Looking up at Logi, his face grew even more grotesque, with slimy snot weeping over his upper lip. “Who do you think I am?” he asked.
“Why, you are Odin,” replied Logi. “That is why you are so ugly! Only Odin could create such a hideous creature as yourself!”
The troll’s eyes darkened. “Hideous, am I?” he snapped. “See if I help you find your way, you stupid boy! I’ll wager you don’t even know which road to take! I think I will just let you freeze to death.”
Logi retracted his previous statement; obviously, he had offended the creature. “I’m sorry. I meant nei disrespect,” he said mockingly. “I am on the road to the Trondelag. Your direction would be most welcome.”
The troll began rooting around in the snow with the toe of his foot until he found a small stone, then he looked upward and eyed the sky for a target. With one swift pitch, he brought down a black crow that was flying overhead. “Be nice to me,” he said, “and I might share my breakfast with you.”
Logi yearned for a warm fire to thaw his frostbitten extremities and a portion of meat for his growling stomach, but he wasn’t about to bow down to a troll! “I apologized, didn’t I?” he said. “Do you know the roads ahead? Is it best to stay near the shore of the Gandvik?”
They went about clearing the snow away from a spot near the rock. Logi broke off some branches from the nearby bushes and made a small pile of kindling, then he scratched a small rock against the bigger one, until it produced a spark.
“I hate the wintertime!” said the troll, wiping the disgusting slime from his face. “I’m coming down with a nasty cold already.”
Logi sat down and huddled against the rock, reaching for the warmth of the tiny fire with his out
stretched hands. “Is this where you live?” he asked the troll. “Next to this rock?”
“Do I look stupid to you, Boy?” asked the troll. “I live in the forest in a very cozy den. I got caught out in the snowstorm yesterday, just as you did.”
“I’m not even sure how I got here,” said Logi. “Very strange things have been happening to me lately.”
“Where are your parents?” asked the troll. “Shouldn’t a boy your age be at home with his family? You’ll die out here in the wintertime, you know!”
“Nei,” replied Logi. “Odin has promised me that I will be the jarl of the Trondelag, that I will rule over the giants there.”
The troll finished plucking the pinfeathers from the bird then he shoved a pointed stick through its body and held it out over the fire. “Do you know how far it is to the Trondelag?” he asked. “You’ll never make it in the wintertime.”
Logi shook his head. “Nei,” he said, “I have made it this far. Odin will guide me.”
When the bird was sufficiently charred all around, the troll shared a few tiny bites with Logi, for it was a small morsel to begin with. He shook his head. “Don’t know this Odin person. But you don’t know winter in Kvenland if you think you’ll reach the Trondelag alive! Why are you all wet, Boy? Are you trying to catch your death?”
“I went swimming in the lake,” said Logi.
“Swimming?” asked the troll. “In this weather? You must be soft in the head!”
“It’s a long story,” replied Logi. A few bites of meat had awakened his stomach and he eyed the sky for another bird but the skies were empty.
They sat side by side, leaning against the big rock, silently watching the fire die out. The troll stood up then and picked a bit of meat from his teeth. Before he departed he gave Logi one final piece of advice. “Beware of the wolves,” he said simply. “Find yourself a big stick to defend yourself if you have to. Stay on this road and don’t venture into the woods. There are all kinds of evil there.”
“But, I don’t even know your name!” Logi called after the troll.
“Dagstorp!” the troll called back just as he disappeared over a rise in the road. “I expect we will meet again.”
Chapter Twelve “A Cold Welcome”
Fornjot wiggled his toes and fingers to be sure he was still alive and not a dead corpse waking up in the afterlife. Shaking off the layer of snow that covered him, he tried to stand but weakness overtook him and he fell back to the ground. His body ached clear through to his bones. His face was hot and his legs were weak and trembling; his sight was blurry. Slowly he tried to stand again, taking a step, and then another, until he was inching his way toward home, thinking only of the warmth of the fire pit in the longhouse.
Back at home, Hildi had, for once, slept through the night peacefully, without the disgusting snores of the man she married vibrating in her ears. When she awoke, and discovered Fornjot had not returned the night before, her heart leapt with joy. Maybe the gods had finally answered her prayers and done away with her cruel husband once and for all! Before she could rise from her bed, however, Kari came running to her with concern in his eyes.
“Moder!” he said. “Papi never returned last night from the woods! Do you want me to go search for him?”
Hildi sat on her cot and ran a crude comb made of bone through her hair, tying the strands up at the nape of her neck. “You must have food in your belly before you go out in the cold,” she said, secretly hoping the boys would go off and find better things to do. “Stoke the fire and I will make you something to eat.”
While Kari was putting the kindling on the embers from the night before, Aegir joined him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Papi did not come home last night,” he said to his little brother.
Aegir shook his head. “Good. Perhaps they both drowned,” he whispered.
“And you would like that, wouldn’t you?” asked Kari.
“Ja,” Aegir replied, matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t miss either of them.”
By then, Hildi had come into the room and she overheard her sons’ conversation. “I am sure your papi will return,” she said, without concealing her regret. “He always does. Bad weather won’t stop the giant of Kvenland! He is probably holed up in the village drinking warm mead and has fallen asleep waiting out the storm.”
Just before they all sat down to eat, they heard the high gate squeak outside. Someone was entering through the palisade! Before Kari could get up and open the door, Fornjot burst into the room, and rushed immediately to the fire, where he fell to his knees, rubbing his frozen hands together over the flames. “My gods!” he said in a shaky voice. “I have never seen a blizzard like that one! Blinded me completely, it did! I thought I’d never find my way home!” He threw off his wet cloak. “Kari,” he said shakily, “fetch me a dry robe.”
While Kari did as he was told, Hildi kept her eyes on the food in the pan so her husband would not see her disappointment in his arrival.
“Is my family not relieved to see me?” asked Fornjot, speaking to his wife. “I could have easily died out there!”
“We are glad you made it home safe, Papi,” said Kari diplomatically, returning with the dry robe. “We would have come to search for you, but the storm was too strong for us.”
Fornjot’s eyes narrowed as the realization came upon him; his family hadn’t worried about him at all! He stared at Hildi and his sons for a moment before he remembered. Logi was gone! Drowned in the lake, most likely, or eaten by wolves. What had he left to live for? An insolent wife and two ungrateful sons! Anger stirred in him, white-hot anger that quickly escalated to rage. He staggered across the room in his weakened state but not so weak that he couldn’t grab Hildi by her hair, jerking her around to face him. “Is that why nei one came to look for me? Were the three of you hoping I was out there dead somewhere? Is that the thanks I get for feeding you and keeping the snow off your heads all these years?”
He slapped her then, with all the force he could muster, and she yelped like a dog who had been kicked. Kari rushed to come between them. “Don’t take it out on Moder!” he screamed. “Just because Logi has done something stupid again!”
With his one hand still holding onto Hildi’s hair, Fornjot flung his other hand toward Kari, knocking him down. Kari did not cry out; instead he retreated backwards into the corner of the room, where Aegir stood shivering with fear. They had surely awakened the beast now! They had never seen their papi so angry!
“Logi was worth more than all three of you put together!” Fornjot said in a raspy voice, anger seething through his words. “What a pathetic bunch you are! None of you would be here if it weren’t for me!”
He finally let go of his wife’s hair and collapsed again by the fire and Hildi, her face still smarting from the sting of her husband’s hand, brought him a trencher of warm mush, handing it to him with trembling hands. “I could not send the boys out to look for you in such a storm, Fornjot,” she said calmly. “Would you have us lose all three of our boys?”
“Shut up, Woman,” he said icily. “I’ll hear nei more from you.” He took the trencher from her and tilted his head back to let the warm mush run down his throat, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. “I want to be left alone now,” he mumbled and stretched out his massive body next to the fire.
Hildi went about her chores and stayed out of Fornjot’s reach the rest of the morning, as if nothing had happened. She had grown accustomed to her husband’s cruelty which seemed to know no bounds. Kari and Aegir ate their breakfast in silence and escaped to the boathouse as soon as they had finished to watch the thralls and to work on their own invention. Snapp was the first to notice the bruise forming on Kari’s face. “Your papi is in a bad mood?” he asked.
“Ja,” Kari answered glumly. “It seems he has lost his favorite son.”
“Logi is gone?” asked Snapp in surprise.
Little Aegir joined the conversation. “He never came home from the woods and we almost lost Papi in
the blizzard too.”
“It was a bad one,” said Snapp. “I thought the winds would take the roof off the boathouse. If Logi was out there in it all night, he has surely frozen to death by now.”
Aegir shook his head. “Too bad Papi didn’t suffer the same fate,” he said. “He will be in a nasty mood now that he doesn’t have Logi to spoil.” He looked at Kari quizzically. “What is it about Logi he loves so much? We are the good sons, the ones who give him nei trouble!”
“Logi was the oldest,” said Kari solemnly. “And the bravest. Perhaps Papi thinks we are weak.”
Snapp objected. “You have all the brains in the family! You both are worth a thousand of your brother!”
“I don’t want to talk about Logi anymore,” said Kari. He showed Snapp what he was holding in his hand. “We have an idea,” he said. “And we need your advice.”
Snapp looked at the small kite in Kari’s hands. “I know nothing of kites,” he said. “Ask me anything about boats and I will tell you.”
Aegir held out his newest miniature boat and smiled at his brother. “We have an idea to build a boat with a kite to harness the power of the wind.”
“A boat with a kite, you say?” asked Snapp, with the sparkle of intrigue dancing in his eyes.
“We tried tying my kite to my brother’s boat and sending it across the Gandvik. It was all rather clumsy,” said Kari. “The kite caused the boat to capsize every time because we couldn’t control it.”
“We thought if the kite was built right into the boat, with twine to turn it into the wind, it would work much better!” said Aegir excitedly. “Can you help us?”
Snapp was interested. “Let’s take a look at what you have come up with.”
Chapter Thirteen “A Wolf Escort”
Logi trudged along the shoreline for hours. Even though the sun had risen, it remained low on the horizon and provided him very little warmth; its narrow rays barely peeked over the mountains to the east and sparkled provocatively off the snow, teasing him with promises of comfort it had no intention of fulfilling. The wind whistled in high-pitched notes, bending and buffeting the snow-laden trees in the nearby forest so that they appeared like strange, white creatures against the winter sky. The waters of the Gandvik were frozen all along the shore and Logi had no auger or line; he had never been much of a fisherman anyway. Fish for supper seemed out of the question; it was beginning to look as if anything for supper was out of the question!