The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4)

by Russ L. Howard

  All preparations for the departure of Raven’s Tongue’s crew have been completed. The Hallers assembled on Copper Head Ridge amidst a glorious chorus of songbirds and gulls, in preparation for seeing them off. Two ravens invited themselves to the assembly and sat perched on the granite megalith overlooking the sea. After Sur Sceaf’s experience with the ravens in the high desert we have all come to regard the ravens as messengers of the gods.

  At Lord Sur Sceaf’s command we Hallers formed a prayer circle around the altar and asked for blessings on the beginning exploration of this land and to bless the seamen with a safe journey to the mainland, so that our Syr Folk Nation, might flourish. Sur Sceaf spoke of the endless opportunities this isle afforded in successfully achieving the goals of the Roufytrof and the Syr Folk.

  Sur Sceaf lit incense and cast bee pollen into the four quarters for their safe and successful mission. Then the Herewardi sent their farewell songs over the sea, praying that Njord would give Turtle Duck and his crew safe passage over the deep. Red Fox sang Sharaka chants and blessings. Hartmut offered up a humble Quailor prayer asking God for his blessing on the sailors and explorers who headed for the bay.

  * * *

  The Raven’s party of six made a beeline for the gorse path and thence to the sea chamber with Turtle Duck leading the way. The excitement carried them swiftly along. The trail down was easy. They passed the remains of the grass beast where the bones were picked clean. Passed the little cinquefoil lined streamlet and hustled along down the gorse trail. As they turned the bend in the path, the sound of the surf filled the air and they could smell the sea tang brewing in the cauldron of the bay. They would have passed swiftly down to their whaler, but for hearing a disturbance within the sea chamber. Strange noises were coming out of the mouth of the chamber, noises like Turtle Duck had never in his life heard. The sound was like that of deep garbled voices.

  Turtle Duck called a halt before the mouth and signed silence, then whispered to Raven’s Tongue next to him. “What is that I’m hearing? Is it boar or bear? Or is it some other monster troll?” He signed in staccato movements for extreme precaution. The men drew their elf blades and axes to prepare for battle. With what, they could only imagine. All they heard were snorts, tossing, grunts, and garbled gibberish followed by shrill cries echoing out of the caverns like the Black Faeries of some haunted dolmens.

  Shark-Moon signed that he would investigate. His father, though apprehensive, signed back, ‘Be careful.’

  The boy crept up to the cave mouth, peeked in, and with eyes wide, signed what he was witnessing. But Turtle Duck, as well as the others had trouble believing what he was describing. With a look of frustration he signed much slower, ‘Awful...Giant...Hairy...Beast...Man!’

  Turtle Duck motioned for his son to come back to his side immediately, then signed to start making loud noises by beating axes to blades. He feared a surprise might cause an unnecessary encounter. It was always best to give an unwanted beast the benefit of an escape route.

  Only moments after they sent up a cacophony of bangs and shouts did a ten foot tall beast man, covered in reddish brown hair spring from the cave. With a blood curdling scream and with extreme speed, strength, and grace, the troll turned to face the wall and scaled the sheer cliff by brachiating straight up as easily as a spider, to disappear over the cliff rim near the tree line. The men exchanged horrified and disbelieving looks.

  “To make such creatures is the works of Loki’s-cyn.” Long Swan said. “I’ve been through every volume of bestiaries and I do not recall anything like unto this.”

  Shark-Moon-Boy replied in stunned disbelief, his mouth moving while the rest of his body was still frozen, “I have an idea there are probably lots of things on this island that we are not going to be able to identify or even recognize. But to me, we just saw one of those wendigos.”

  Upon cautiously entering the sea chamber, they found that their wares had been scattered and rifled through by the beast man. Turtle Duck instructed the men to gather the materials they needed and to leave the rest. “Sur Sceaf will think we vandalized this place, but we must go now if we are to have an advantageous tide. No time to linger. Long Swan, leave him a message in the cask on that rock as to what transpired here.”

  They loaded their boat, making sure to secure the troll hides. Together they took up the anchor and slid the Raven out to sea. Once they were safely at sea and their course set, Turtle Duck sidled up to Long Swan who was seated at his portable writing desk drawing a picture of the beast man.

  “Lore Master, I have a concern. Now that we three tribes are one people, I’m hoping we won’t dilute one another. Much as I love the Herewardi and have embraced many of their ways, I want to stay Cherokee-Sharaka, and I sure as hell don’t want the Quailor forcing their religion down our throats and beating me over the head with their paper god.”

  “That’s a legitimate concern, Turtle Duck, but, I don’t think that is the way it’s going to happen.” Long Swan said.

  As the boat struck the first wave out of the bay, Turtle Duck jostled to keep his footing. He frowned. “I left the Sharaka, because they couldn’t fully tolerate my new found beliefs I had borrowed from the Herewardi, but I am Sharaka by blood. Beliefs can’t change blood. And even if I’ve taken on some Herewardi ways, and that’s how I want it to stay, I will always be a red man to the core.”

  As the sea breeze kicked up, Long Swan pulled his white hood up to shield from the salt spray. El Yid set up the sails, which sucked in wind and sped up the craft. Turtle Duck assigned two crewmen to watch for niccors and other sea monsters.

  “All things change, Turtle Duck, but I am sure your core beliefs will be honored so that you may carry on as you have been. The work you have done among the Sharaka of the coast has been very helpful in drawing all the tribes into one.”

  Raven’s Tongue who had been standing at the bow, walked back to join in the conversation. “Turtle Duck, I had the same concerns and worries as you when I took up my position as chief naval officer under Pyrsyrus and moved my family to Syra-Coos. His kingdom was Herewardi to the heart, but that has never infringed on my being Tlingit. I have never had cause to regret my alliance with the Herewardi.”

  * * *

  It was still early morning when Sur Sceaf and the others returned to the hall. The explorers busied themselves packing tools and food for the day. Flammalf took his mapping supplies. Xelph geared up for collecting plant specimens for his studies in wyrt cunning. Govannon and Herman were energetically laying out their forge and masonic tools. They would be staying behind to maintain the camp, build a fire place, and supervise the chinking of the logs, building of the corrals, and thatching of the roof. Fairchild changed the dressing on Sunchild’s shoulder and had already dressed Elf Beard’s wound with fresh elfwort salve and swaddling. When he was finished with Sunchild, he asked, “Fromer don’t you want your wound dressed too. You don’t want it to putrefy.”

  “Worry about thyself, young warlock. Chust leave me be.”

  Sur Sceaf adjusted his scabbard. “It’s too beautiful a day to be squabbling. Let’s all make it a point to only speak kind words to each other today.”

  Sur Sceaf held his hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun as he scanned the most enticing area to begin, “I think we’ll go down the south side of this mound over to the stream that runs midway through the savannah lands and go through those tall trees.” He pointed. “In that sea of green out there, I see a grove of towering eucalyptus and other groves of trees I cannot fully discern yet. I suggest we follow the stream to see where it leads and discover where the hefty stream dumps into the lake.

  Sur Sceaf said, “We need to mark well where we go. Therefore, anytime Xelph or Flammalf need to make a recording we will stop and wait for them.”

  Sur Sceaf led off and the others fell into fyrd double file formation in the grass around the mound.

  Elf Beard said, “You, Elijah, Fromer, and Hartmut follow Sur Sceaf and the rest of us wi
ll bring up the rear.”

  The grass surrounding the mound was thick and ankle deep. When they had gone about a mile they ran into a wildlife trail which Sur Sceaf followed toward the stream that fed into the lake.

  Xelph declared, “Zrael and our other herdsmen will love these lush grasses.”

  Elf Beard was explaining to Sunchild as they were walking along, the best way to sneak upon an adversary when Xelph exclaimed, “Look at those majestic palm trees, coconuts. The butia and the jubea grow in Witan Jewell, but how in the name of the gods did coconuts get here? They usually only grow far to the south in the lower Kalifornias. Some strange plant magic is at work here. And I plan on teasing it out.”

  Sur Sceaf said, “You’re the plant expert, Xelph. We’ll leave it to you to figure out. All I know is that it’s here, it’s queer, and we’re not complaining.”

  Flammalf used the opportunity to make notes about an agathis tree so as to use it as a landmark on his map. “Eventually we’ll get the leaps and bounds of this land down and can start drawing up the allotments to your liking, my lord.”

  Fairchild sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

  Xelph said, “It’s the leaves of the group of citriodora eucalyptus trees straight ahead.” He pointed, “See that group of tall airy trees at the seventh point on the medicine wheel, the ones with a bluish cast.”

  Fromer coughed, “Smells like a sick room.”

  “I like the smell,” Sur Sceaf said, “and I like the smell of the sea air and grassland mingled with the eucalyptus. All of them are most invigorating. In fact, I am in love with this place.” He turned to the map maker, “Flammalf, are you done with recording?”

  “Yes, my lord, just adding the baobab tree for a marker.”

  Sur Sceaf smiled. “That’s good, because we have a lot of ground to cover, my old friend.”

  They set off once again with a renewed pace for the lake.

  They had only gone ten man lengths when Xelph called a halt once again. Stepping off the path a few paces, to where a broad-leafed tree stood alone. “Take a look at this. It’s a naucleya, and, it too, is a tree of the south lands. By the Elves and all the laws of nature I know, it should not be growing this far north. Nor should it have grown so large.”

  Muryh joined him. Looking up he said, “It’s obviously here, so what do you make of it?”

  Xelph scratched his eyebrow, “I’m not sure, but its evident this land has been here for a while, and by that, I mean some of these trees must be five hundred years old or more. Someone or something has altered all the rules of botany and wyrt cunning I know.”

  Khem who had taken advantage of their stopping to relieve himself, pointed to a large rock and said, “What do you make of this one, Xelph?”

  Sur Sceaf and Xelph made their way around some large rocks from where Khem stood to discover a shoulder high, brilliant red shrub with large saffron yellow flowers.

  Xelph appeared enthralled. “Never seen the likes of it before!” He pulled off a leaf that was thick as a red pepper’s flesh, cracked it in half, and smelled it before handing it to Sur Sceaf.

  “The flowers appear to be yellow camellias,” Sur Sceaf mused, “but I’ve never seen anything like those fleshy leaves.” Xelph took a tiny bite of the leaf. “Not bad. Almost tastes like a black tea flavor.” He shrugged out of his pack, pulled out a small cloth sack and with his knife cut a small branch with leaves and flowers, and committed it to his pack. He then took a leather bound log book from his pack to record. “I need to look where it’s growing.... It’s under the canopy of oaks..., up against limestone outcroppings, and I’ll need to check the soil.” He reached down and dug into the rich soil with his hand, “It looks like clay loam...good for crops.” He dropped the soil and was about to stand up when he exclaimed, “What have we here?” He plucked something from under the red shrub and stood up with a thick, blue, chalice-shaped, mushroom in his hand. “I’m sure Govannon would know what mushroom this is. Any guesses?”

  Khem handled it and said, “Never seen it before. We’ll have to let the wizard take a look at it.”

  Red Fox took it from him and said, “This has powerful medicine.” He held it to his heart. “I can feel the plant spirit in it, but I have never seen it before. It kind of looks like a cort or a russella, but maybe even in the fly agaric clan.”

  “Don’t take a bite of this until I’ve tested it. There are no dumb mushroom hunters, only dead ones.” Xelph stashed it in his messenger bag along with the branch. “I’ll have to do a spore print on it tonight.” Hurriedly, the plantsman shuffled around the ground. “Now, that’s it!”

  “What?”

  “Dung beetles everywhere! There can be no better sign that the soils are fertile than dung beetles.”

  There was a gleam of discovery in Xelph’s eyes that bordered on mania. The plantsman could not be any happier.

  Sur Sceaf examined the turf under foot, “Xelph, please make a note in your journal that these savannah grasses consist of fescue, clovers, and blue grass for the most part.” He bit into a blade of grass. It was sweet. “You were right Xelph; this grass will make great fodder for our flocks and herds.”

  Xelph made his notations and just as he was about to continue he said, “What is that bright yellow up ahead?” They walked up to a patch of large yellow flowers. “By the gods, I wish Govannon was here to see this. These are dandelions the size of a man’s head.”

  As they followed the stream Xelph’s collection bag grew fuller and fuller while Flammalf recorded further landmarks for his map. Periodically Xelph stalled the march to examine another unusual specimen. Soon it became such a joke that everyone was pointing to some plant and growing whimsical as they strolled along.

  Gradually, the stream widened until it ran into a shimmering, sky-blue lake. A covey of quail hit the air in an explosion, setting the men to draw blades before letting out nervous laughter and re-sheathing.

  Sunchild said, “Brave warriors. When it comes to fighting quail.”

  Fairchild resheathed his blade, “Well, who knows in this place? The quail could have six inch talons.”

  Above them flew graceful flocks of pelicans. Sur Sceaf heard the sweet song of birds coming from the nearby trees as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the black cottonwood trees emitting their sweet balsamic fragrances. Looking up he saw green oripendola birds with their sock-like nests hanging from the branches in such profusion it looked like a laundry tree.

  Muryh was busy sketching some diagrams in the clay of the shore line. “If we could harness the water of this lake with some water wheels we could grow crops in this fertile bottom land all year long to rival those of the citriodorans in the south lands of the Kalifornias.” He knelt down near the edge of the water and picked up a ball of mud. “And this mud,” he paddled it with his fingers and thumb, “has enough clay in it to make good brick. I think we’ve solved our road problems, my lord.”

  “I suggest we follow the upper shore line,” Coyote said, “It’ll give us an idea of what kind of game frequents this water hole.”

  Sur Sceaf agreed and they set off again to follow the upper shore line when they came upon a cluster of tracks, Red Fox was mystified and unable to identify them. Most could be identified as familiar ungulates. But one large set of tracks had Red Fox and Sur Sceaf particularly baffled.

  “My lord, it looks like a large buffalo track, but spreads too far to be one.”

  Xelph said, “It looks like an antelope track, but the antelope would have to be eight foot tall for tracks that size.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Mendaka said, “At least we’ll have meat in our larder all winter.”

  “Over here,” Khem called, “Speaking of eight foot tall, this looks like a man’s foot print.” Khem put his foot down beside it as the crew ran over to see.

  “It’s four times the size of your foot,” Elf Beard jested, “And that wide again. My, what a big foot you have, grandma.”

  The explorers g
ave a nervous laugh.

  Red Fox said, “Look there are the same splintered bamboo culms like we found in the sea cave.”

  “Do you think it’s one of those Amerikan giants?” Khem asked.

  “No,” Xelph explained, “They only called them giants because of their great buildings. Fact of the matter is Milkchild has determined from her research that the Amerikans were the same size as us. We are their descendants.”

  “And then what kind of a man eats bamboo?” Red Fox asked, twisting the culm back and forth for closer examination.

  “Obviously, no man that we know, but something ate it.” Xelph answered. “We know that the Pitters gnaw it and you know what a powerful effect bamboo fruit has on their reproductive rate.”

  “That’s what scares me. This might be a giant Pitter,” Sur Sceaf declared. “And if not, just think of what this bamboo could do for the Pitters if they discover it.

  The crew exchanged looks. The mere idea was terrifying.

  “I hate to admit that possibility, because it does have feet like a man,” Red Fox said.

  Mendaka declared, “There is no value in simply guessing. We must go on what evidence we see. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps this is a giant Pitter and perhaps it is another monster troll. One thing is certain; it had to weigh a great deal to imprint the earth so deep.”

  Elf Beard agreed, “I reckon it weighs a thousand pounds or more.”

  Sur Sceaf shook his head. “Its size is irrelevant. The Elf Father has led us here. Of this I am sure. He has told me in my heart and in the stones, therefore, here we must take dominion, no matter what trolls we have to slay to do it. Our forefathers fought frost giants and prevailed. And no matter what their size, we are meant to take this land.”

  Elf Beard piped in “Shape it so, Surrey!”

  The others repeated after him then trekked on.

  At a spot where a small brook emptied into the lake, the grasses beyond grew taller and thicker, making passage much more difficult. Sur Sceaf decided they would take the easier path and follow the crystal stream to see where it led. It wasn’t long before they came upon a large old grey cork oak, with its enormous hoary branches spread against the heavens. Sur Sceaf touched its thick spongy bark and stared transfixed into the twisted branches while his men took advantage of its fine shade. Beyond the oak was an ancient yew tree atop an upthrust of rock. As they approached, Sur Sceaf saw what appeared to be a cave with a roaring cauldron of water spilling over into a brook. The cave was overhung with moss, a tangle of vines, and the gnarled yew roots. Stretched out along the largest root was a large copper head pit viper sunning itself. Upon their approach, the large serpent slithered off into the dark of the cave and disappeared from sight.