A Dynasty of Giants (Viking Sagas Book 1)

by J. A. Snow

  They pushed the little boat into the water and rowed awhile, until they passed the end of the dock and the bigger boats moored there, trying to get ahead of the choppy currents from the traffic going in and out of the harbor.

  “We haven’t any food,” he reminded Kari. “And, nei line with which to fish. What will we eat?”

  Kari’s mind was on the coastline ahead; the rocky line that stretched endlessly southward. “There will be ports along the way,” he said. “We will survive.” For once in his life, Kari let his heart win out over his head. He was going to save their mother at all costs!

  “But, we have nothing to trade!” said Aegir. “All we have is our boat!”

  “Quit worrying,” said Kari. “The gods will see us through. Think of how poor Moder is feeling right now! Would you rather Papi sell us off as thralls too? Don’t fool yourself! He would have nei qualms about it! The only son who ever mattered to him was Logi and Logi is gone.”

  Aegir fell silent. He was ashamed he was thinking more about himself than their poor mother. “You are right, Kari,” he said. “Finding Moder is much more important.”

  “Well, then get back to rowing!” said Kari. “We have a long way to go!”

  Chapter Sixteen “The Road to the Trondelag”

  Logi hadn’t eaten for days. His stomach had finally given up and stopped its rumbling; now there was just a dull ache in his gut as a constant reminder. He had gotten used to the cold that had chafed his face until his cheeks were as red as boiled lobster; the starvation was harder to handle. He had resorted to eating handfuls of snow, on a constant watch for anything edible along the way. The road along the Gandvik seemed endless, with nothing in sight; no huts, no docks, no life of any kind. Had he been foolish again? He wondered miserably. Was this all Odin’s way of testing his endurance? Or was he going to perish here in the far north and never reach the Trondelag? Where was Odin anyway?

  In the early morning, he set out again, after a few hours of tortuous half-slumber under a bush, and he crossed over a frozen fjord, slipping and sliding on the blue river of ice. No sooner had he made it to the other side, he spied what looked like smoke spiraling up in the distance. A fire? His pace quickened with anticipation, his heart fluttered in his chest. A fire must mean another human being and food!! Just over a rise in the rocks he spied a lone campfire and someone sitting next to it. He began to run in his eagerness. “Hello!” he called out. “I say hello!”

  The body moved slightly and the head covered by a hood turned toward Logi. He could not see the face but he could smell meat roasting on the fire. A long arm offering a piece of meat on a stick reached out to him. Logi immediately recognized the green skin of the hand before him. “Dagstorp!” he said happily. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you!”

  The troll watched as Logi devoured the meat and then chewed and sucked on the bare bones to get at every last bit of the juices. “I told you that you would not make it to the Trondelag in the winter!” he said. “But, you didn’t listen to me. It’s a wonder you are not dead! I was expecting to find your frozen corpse along the roadside and I would have roasted you for breakfast!”

  Logi helped himself to another morsel of meat. “It was too late to go back,” he said. “I had to keep going! Odin promised me he would get me through and, look, he has saved me once again! You are here with food, are you not?”

  Dagstorp narrowed his eyes. “How you do go on about this person, Odin,” he said, “when it is I who am saving you! You are an ungrateful boy, do you know that? Why should I worry about you at all?”

  Logi stared at the face of the troll; he was still convinced it was indeed Odin in disguise. In the morning sunlight, however, the creature seemed more human, his features not nearly so grotesque. “I believe you are Odin,” he said simply. “But, if you are not, I thank you for saving me once again.”

  “My name is Dagstorp, not Odin,” snapped the troll. “And, I will thank you to stop trying to make me into someone else! I am quite pleased with who I am!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Logi. “I just keep expecting you to change shape and turn into an old, grey-haired god. Were you always so green?”

  Dagstorp bristled at Logi’s impertinence. “If it is any business of yours, my skin turned green after many years working in the copper pits.”

  “I apologize,” said Logi, “but, I have never seen a green man before. You look quite odd, you know.”

  “Nei odder than you, my giant friend,” replied the troll. “You are quite a sight yourself, you know, with your corn-yellow hair and big blue fish-eyes. But, I don’t belittle you, do I?”

  The troll chewed on his breakfast in silence while Logi warmed his hands over the fire. “How far is it to the Trondelag?” he asked. “How many more days?”

  “You aren’t even halfway there yet,” said Dagstorp. “I am going north; perhaps I will travel with you and see that you don’t starve or get eaten by wolves.”

  Logi smiled and looked over his shoulder. “They are following me, you know,” he said, “but, they keep their distance. I don’t think they want to tackle a giant.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” said Dagstorp. “They have devoured bigger men than you! Wait until you get to the Trondelag! Why you will be a dwarf among those men!”

  “But Odin has given me dominion over them,” said Logi proudly. “They will be under my command, even if they are bigger.”

  “Humph!” said the troll. “We shall see about that! When we get there, you’d better listen to my advice so you won’t get yourself killed!”

  Chapter Seventeen “Casting Off”

  Kari and Aegir rowed far out into the Gandvik, pausing just beyond the surf to raise the mast and secure the kite upon it. Kari held the ropes that controlled it tight in his hands. “I am better with the kite,” he told Aegir. “You stay on the opposite side for ballast and hold tight to the oars.”

  The water was blue and white-capped and vast before them. Aegir wondered how far it stretched beyond the horizon, but he hadn’t time to daydream. They were heading straight into the wind, and his brother was struggling with the kite that remained loose and flapping. “We are not making any headway,” said Kari. “Switch sides with me so that I can catch the draft.” Aegir repositioned himself on the opposite side of the little boat and kept his hands on the oars, while Kari pulled on the ropes to adjust the kite. “It’s not working as well as I had hoped,” he said, when, all at once, the wind grabbed the kite and it ballooned out with a snap. The little boat lurched ahead. “Hold the oar tight against the current until we get on a steady course,” he told his brother. Aegir’s confidence began to grow. They had done it! he thought happily. Perhaps they wouldn’t drown after all!

  The little boat began to move through the water and Kari tried to keep the kite taut each time it wanted to go slack. “We need to stay as near to the shore as we can without getting drawn into the surf,” he said. Aegir took both oars in his hands and sat in the back of the boat using them like a rudder to steer them away from the breaking waves. For hours, they stayed on their southward course, switching positions every time the wind shifted. The landscape began to change the further south they went, now with wide, rocky beaches and tall conifers beyond the sand. They saw no one and passed not a single village; they were still moving very slowly.

  “The kite is too heavy,” Kari complained. “I need to find a lighter material than these animal skins. We could go much faster with less weight.”

  “How far is this Eistland place anyway?” asked Aegir. “Do you think we will make if by nightfall?”

  “I haven’t any idea,” replied Kari.

  Hours passed. By afternoon, they saw in the distance another small boat coming toward them and, as they grew nearer, it appeared to be a fur merchant with his boat laden down with pelts. He saw them and pulled his oars from the water as the two boats neared each other. Kari let their kite go slack so the boats drifted together. “You’re not pirates, are you?” the m
an called out to them. He was an old man with skin that was lean and brown and as leathery as a sea turtle.

  Kari laughed. “Nei,” he said. “We are not pirates.” It was good to see another human being after endless hours of seeing nothing but barren shoreline. “We are on our way to Eistland to find our moder.”

  The man nodded. “I have just come from there myself,” he said. “Does your moder work in the marketplace?”

  Kari blushed at the truth. “Nei,” he replied sheepishly. “We have to rescue her from the thrall-dealers. Our papi sold her to them and we have to get her back.”

  The man frowned. “Those men are not to be trusted,” he replied. “Be careful you don’t end up thralls yourselves!”

  “Are we on the right course, then?” asked Kari. “If we stay close to the shore we will find it?”

  The man paddled in closer and clasped the side of the kite-boat with his weathered old hands. He looked up at the kite quizzically and studied the details of the strange little vessel. “Never seen a boat like this one,” he said. “Did you boys build it yourself?”

  “Ja,” replied Kari. “My brother and I did. It is an experiment to see if we can harness the wind.”

  “Very interesting,” said the old man. “Never seen anything like it. Clever idea. Be careful though. Stay close to the shore until you reach the first inlet,” he said, pointing his bony fingers ahead of them. “When the shoreline turns east you must stay on a straight, southern course to cross the bay. That is where you will find Eistland.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The water in the bay will be rough, the winds too. You might want to lower this kite of yours and row across if you don’t want to capsize. Crossing the bay can be deadly if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Kari nodded. “I thank you for the advice.”

  With that, the old man shoved his boat away and began to row northward. He waved once more to them. “Good fortune finding your moder! May the gods be with you!”

  Darkness was soon upon them. The night was clear and full of stars and the nororijos danced on the water around them. The wind calmed to a gentle breeze. “I’m getting awfully tired,” admitted Aegir. “Perhaps we should beach the boat and find a place ashore to sleep.”

  Together they lowered the kite and laid it down in the boat, rowing until the tide caught them and carried them in, spitting them out on a patch of wet sand. After pulling the boat far enough out of the water to be sure the tide would not steal it in the night, they searched for firewood and built a fire.

  “I’m hungry,” said Aegir. “What can we eat?”

  “We can dig for clams,” said Kari. “I am not used to the sea. My stomach is still a bit queasy. I fear whatever I eat will come right back up, but you should eat to keep up your strength, Brother. Come and I will help you dig. We should stay together.”

  The moon had risen and it took the place of the nororijos, illuminating the air bubbles of the clams hidden beneath the sand like a trail of silver coins scattered on the beach. Digging down with their fingers, they managed to collect a dozen or so, carrying them back to the fire. While Aegir shucked them, and tried clumsily to skewer them on a stick before he gave up and consumed them raw, Kari made a bed of sand on which to sleep. “I wonder where she is by now,” he said sadly. “Poor Moder! She must think we have forgotten her.”

  “What that old man said was true, though,” Aegir said. “We have to be careful we don’t become thralls ourselves! Wouldn’t Papi howl with laughter over that!”

  “I think the time has come to stand up to Papi,” said Kari. “I am not going to take his abuse any longer. I am almost a man now and, after we find Moder, I will have words with him.”

  Aegir was afraid of Fornjot, but he was also afraid of being cast out like his mother had been. “Do you think Papi will throw us out too?” he asked.

  Kari shrugged. He picked up a bit of kelp from the sand and sat there popping the hollow, yellow bulbs mindlessly with his fingers. “I don’t much care anymore,” he said. “You and I are men of the sea now that we have our own boat. It is the first of its kind. We can build another and sell it and do the same until we have established our own business.”

  “Snapp will help us,” said Aegir. “I know he will.”

  “Snapp is a thrall,” replied Kari. “He is bound to Papi for life. You don’t want to risk his life, do you?”

  Aegir did not want to do anything to cause poor Snapp to be punished, but he wondered if it was only a matter of time before Fornjot sold off all the thralls.

  “Let’s get some sleep, Brother,” said Kari, yawning. “We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

  They launched their boat again at dawn. Just as they had done back at home, they swam with it past the waves and then paddled out beyond the current. When they raised the kite it quickly caught the wind and they were on their way again. Kari became more relaxed, now that he was comfortable with the feel of the kite.

  “What could we use in place of the animal skins?” asked Aegir, watching his brother work with the kite. “You said yourself that using leaves was out of the question.”

  “I need a fabric of some kind,” said Kari, looking up at his kite thoughtfully. “It must be something strong but light. We will look around at the marketplace after we find Moder. There must be something we can use that is better.”

  “But, we have nei money,” Aegir reminded him.

  “We will figure something out,” replied Kari, although inwardly he was not so sure. “We will work for it if we have to.”

  The wind had changed direction since the day before, blowing southward and they began to feel a gentle push behind them as the boat picked up a little speed.

  “How will we know when we are heading east?” asked Aegir.

  “I expect by the position of the sun,” said Kari. “It has always set in the west, over the Gandvik, has it not?”

  Aegir wasn’t sure which direction was west. In his mind the Gandvik stretched out in every direction. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Doesn’t it depend on whether it is summer or winter?”

  “Ja,” said Kari. “I suppose it does, at that.”

  “I wish we had asked that man more questions,” Aegir said.

  “We are bound to cross paths with another boat somewhere along the way,” his brother assured him. “In the meantime, as long as the sun stays on our starboard side we should be heading south.”

  Chapter Eighteen “Namdalen”

  Logi and Dagstorp had waited out the last weeks of winter in a cave at the foot of the mountains; travelling through the frozen passes while the snow was deep and the wind was howling would have meant sure death for them both. The troll also educated his young companion in the art of finding burrowing rodents in the snow and pitching rocks with deadly accuracy at birds flying overhead. After a few days in the cave, they managed to trap a deer who had wandered in seeking the green lichens that grew on the shady cliffs and they feasted on its carcass for days, until the meat began to turn.

  The first hint that spring was near was the weeping on the cave walls, as the snow above them began to melt. “Time to move on,” Dagstorp told Logi. “Unless we want to sleep in the mud. We should be able to get through the mountain pass now.”

  And soon they were making their way up the fjord toward a mountain known as Kjolen. The ice river had already begun to melt and it ran down between the clefts of granite, clear and cold and reflective of the blue sky above them. They caught fish with hideous, ugly faces and rich, red flesh, Dagstorp called lax, the likes of which Logi had never seen, and basked in the increasing hours of sunlight that springtime brought with it. Cold was becoming second nature to Logi now; he reveled in the pure mountain air, breathing it deep into his lungs. Despite the lack of food that he had become accustomed to back in the longhouse, his body continued to grow to even more enormous proportions; his muscles hardened, his belly was as taut and lean as a drum. His height had finally surpassed that of his father and grandfa
ther, but he was still a just a boy in a man’s body.

  Logi still wondered when he would meet Odin again. He had long since adopted the notion that Dagstorp, if he wasn’t the god himself, was somehow sent to watch over him, despite the troll’s denial over the matter. They had stopped discussing it altogether, but, in his head, Logi expected to see the great god come riding up on his eight-legged horse at any moment. Yet, day after day, week after week, Odin did not appear.

  The Namdalen Valley at the head of the fjord was an oasis of green, a forest of spruce and silver birch trees still tipped with snow, and, much to Logi’s delight, there was a village there. He had not seen a normal human being since the day he had left the village back in Kvenland and his eyes took in the sight of them eagerly, hoping they spoke the common tongue. They were very large people, with bleached hair and opaque skin, but smaller in stature than Logi and certainly not giants. Several of the people greeted Dagstorp with a friendly wave as they made their way through the gathering of huts and rocky, hardscrabble patches of bare ground already turned under for planting, for the harvest season in the far north was very short.

  “Dagstorp!” called one farmer. “It’s good to see you, my friend! Come and sit with us for a drink!”

  A bulky woman offered them horns of warm honey-beer and wedges of goat-cheese and Logi devoured an entire plate shamelessly. “How long has it been since you have eaten a proper meal?” she asked him with an understanding smile.

  “This is Logi,” said Dagstorp. “He was quite a spoiled boy when I found him along the road. I have tried to teach him discipline since.”

  “Ahhh,” said the woman. “Did your moder not teach you table manners?” It was not said in a derogatory way but it embarrassed Logi nevertheless.

  “My moder fed me well,” Logi replied curtly. “The food on the road with my green friend here has been quite meager. I haven’t eaten real cheese since I left home.”