Leif looked at Carathuk. The White Bear-man towered above them. Glancing at the distance from his elbow to the tip of his finger, Leif judged the White Bear-man to be about ten of those lengths tall. Long silver hair hung to his shoulders and merged into a coat of fur covering his backs and arms. A full beard hung to his collarbone, joining the fur. Lack of fur on the White Bear-man’s chest and belly exposed rippling muscles.
“By Odin’s beard, it is a frost giant,” Halvar said. He kept his hand on the hilt of his long knife. “Skipper Leif, from now on you’ll be known as the greatest Viking yet. You have found Jotuunheimer, the land of the jotuun.”
“If this is indeed Jotuunheimer,” Leif said to Halvar, “what does this make this man?”
“The jotunn were the old gods,” Halvar answered, “before Odin and the Asgardians.”
“Where the jotunn covered in fur?” Leif asked Halvar.
“Not that I know of,” Halvar shrugged. “How do you know its fur, skipper?”
Bjarte spoke up: “The hair and beard grow into the skin, continuing as one fur coat covering the rest of his body. Apart from the height, he appears to be a man.”
The White Bear-man lifted the spear in both hands. Halvar Jarl, Kanute, and Eluf all had their long knives drawn. The Bear-man saw this. He plunged the tip of the spear into the ice. He removed a knife from a sheath hanging on a leather shoulder strap and set the blade in the ice. He turned the palms of his hands toward the party.
“Carathuk is showing a gesture of peace,” Draskawindit said.
“Place your weapons into the ice,” Leif said. “Now!” Leif ordered when the crewmen didn’t respond right away. Leif set his own knives into the ice, forming an arc in front of his feet. The sound of steel cutting into ice continued until a ring of weapons encircled the party.
“Show your open palms,” Draskawindit said. The Vikings and the Beothuk turned their hands outward.
Carathuk saw the gesture and raised one hand.
“Carathuk accepts our peace offering,” Draskawindit said.
Carathuk pointed to his skull and clenched his fist.
“Carathuk says that it was a good decision to lay down our weapons,” Draskawindit said.
Leif wondered about this. This Carathuk was outnumbered at least five to one. If it came to it, would Nogwinto choose to fight alongside the Vikings? If he did then the odds would be six to one. Then Leif saw the leather strap mounted midway on the shaft of the sacred stone spear. The strap led into a sling. Even though the tip of the spear was suck in the the ice the sling was near Carathuk’s hand. It was only a matter of the giant reaching out and being able to wield that long spear. Leif had seen how Carathuk had impaled the white bear on the flatlands. He didn’t want to be skewered on the end of that shaft.
Carathuk rubbed his belly. Draskawindit remained silent. She didn’t have to explain the gesture for hunger.
Carathuk continued rubbing his belly. He would point to himself with one hand and point to the top of the ice tower.
“Carathuk says to follow him into the Tower of the First Ones.”
“Who are these first ones?” Leif asked Draskawindit.
“I think we should ask Miakmoo,” Draskawindit replied.
Nogwinto opened the drawstring on the sack and pulled the skull out. Draskawindit put the question to Nogwinto. Nogwinto put the question to Miakmoo. Leif felt a force growing from the giant and reaching toward the skull. It was as though a great hand pushed the air away from Carathuk.
Miakmoo spoke: “The First Ones were the first men to live on the Ice Field. They built the ice tower in the center of the hidden lake and the caverns that reach under the Ice Field, pierce the wall, and bridge the water holes in the flat lands.”
“Are the First Ones still living there?” Leif asked.
“The First Ones died out many thousands of winters past,” Miakmoo said, “The First Ones made a breed of man they named the Second Ones. I am Carathuk, the last Second One to live in the Ice Tower.”
“What did the First Ones name this land?” Leif asked.
“Zardokazon, land of frozen water,” Miakmoo answered.
Leif had one more question: “Can we bring our weapons into the Ice Tower?”
“You can bring weapons into the tower, they must be left at the entrance to the ice tunnel.”
“Fair enough,” Leif nodded. The party pulled their knives out of the ice at the same time Carathuk removed his spear and knife.
Five Vikings, one monk, and two Beothuk followed the Last of the Second Ones into the tunnel. Blocks of carved ice rose straight from the side then arced to meet overhead.
The tunnel opened up into a circular room. A yellow glow spread from deep within cylinders of ice lining the walls and lit up the inside of the Ice Tower.
Carathuk walked to the edge. Leif looked down at a shaft cut into the ice that must have been at least a thousand stikas deep. In the center of the abyss, the ice bridge ended in a stairway that spiraled down to the bottom.
Carathuk walked out on the bridge. He turned and waved, gesturing the party to follow. Nobody moved.
“It seems sound enough,” Bjarte said, bending down the touch the bridge. “It seems to be filled with liquid. I can feel it vibrating from the core.”
Leif pulled off his glove and set his bare hand on the bridge. The ice was warm to the touch. Water moved under the top layer. His fingertips tingled as water passed under Leif’s hand.
Thirty
Ground Floor
IN the middle of the shaft, were the bridge ended, the party stood on the edge. They looked downward at the stairs that protruded from the bridge and spiraled to the bottom of the tower.
Carathuk turned to face the party. Miakmoo spoke and Draskawindit passed his words into Norse. “Carathuk says there is another way to the bottom.”
Leif thought about this. His people were tired and hungry. They were worn thin from scaling the Ice Wall. A faster way to get to the bottom of the tower would be welcome. “Tell Carathuk we wish to take the other way,” Leif said.
Carathuk knelt down. He set the palm of his hand on the floor of the bridge. The top layer of ice melted away and widened into a circle. A shaft of swirling water led straight down through the column supporting the ice bridge and the stairway.
Leif looked at the shaft. “What do we do now?” he asked. How in hell would they get down to the bottom without getting killed?
By the change in the way the air pressed against his bare skin, Leif knew that Carathuk was passing mind waves to Miakmoo. “Carathuk wants to speak with the one called Bjarte.”
“Bjarte.” Leif nudged the monk when he saw him hesitate. “You’re wanted on deck,” Leif said.
“Very well,” Bjarte answered. He stepped up. The mind waves passing from Carathuk to Miakmoo continued. Leif felt a fluttering on his skin as if it were the tapping of countless tiny fingertips. The feeling built until it grew into the stinging of a massive swarm of bees.
Just as the pain became too much to take — Leif saw the others rubbing their exposed skin, eyes wide with fear — the feeling stopped.
Miakmoo spoke to Bjarte. Leif strained to listen to the raspy voice of the spirit skull. He caught a few words here and there. Leif was sure of it, Miakmoo spoke to Bjarte in Latin.
Bjarte listened closely. When Miakmoo finished he said to the others in Norse, “The shaft we’re seeing that falls to the bottom is a portal or window through the liquid core of the ice — what Carathuk says the First Ones call the Water of Flame. The portal provides a quick way of navigating the tower.”
Draskawindit passed the Beothuk words to Nogwinto. Nogwinto looked down the shaft. “Hmm,” he grunted, shaking his head.
“According to what Carathuk says the shaft is completely safe,” Bjarte said. He looked around.
When Leif saw that not one member of the group accepted Bjarte’s word he asked, “How do you know this?”
“Ahem ...” Bjarte cleared his throat t
hen continued, “the body falling into the shaft need only reach out and touch the Water of Flame making up the walls of the surrounding shaft. The Water of Flame will sense the weight of hands being pressed against it. Acting upon this pressure, the Water of Flame will bend, flex, and harden to accommodate the falling body.”
Bjarte looked around. When he saw the confused looks on the others faces he simplified: “When the water feels hands against it, it will come as close as the outstretched hand will allow. Pressing harder against the water will slow the fall. Easing up against the water will make the body fall faster.”
“And to stop the fall?” Leif asked. He was sure everyone in the party wanted to know the answer to that question.
“Pressing against the water with full force will stop the falling body,” Bjarte replied.
“That is good to know,” Leif nodded and smiled. The other members of the party still seemed uneasy with this whole thing. You could see the fear and disbelief in their faces. Leif, certain he would never get any one of the group to try the shaft, decided he’d be the first to go.
Leif stood by the edge. He looked down the shaft. A wave of dizziness passed over him and he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. The water swirling down the sides of the shaft corkscrewed and shrank to a pinpoint in the distance.
Leif fought to keep his balance. If I keep looking down this hole I’ll fall for sure. The moment he finished the thought he fell forward. As Leif dropped he saw the swirling water closing in. Remembering what Bjarte said, Leif reached out. The water touched his hands and he pressed back with all his strength. He came to a stop.
Leif looked up at the rest as they group peering over the edge.
“The First One’s science appears to be functional,” Bjarte said as if he were recording the results of an experiment.
“You are the bravest captain I’ve ever known,” Jarl nodded his head repeatedly.
“Skipper Leif has survived the passage to the underworld,” Halvar said. He’d gone from calling the home of the First Ones Jotuunheimer to the Land of the Dead.
“Captain Erikson’s name will live on in the sagas,” Eluf said. Eluf would see to it and probably throw his own name in there at every chance.
“I want to go next,” Kanute said. He stood at the edge, poised to jump over the side.
Draskawindit smiled, her furrowed brow relaxed as she exhaled deeply.
Nogwinto stared, his jaw dropping.
Carathuk and Miakmoo remained silent.
Leif eased up on the wall of water. He began to slide down. Leif pressed against the water to slow his descent. He eased up when he grew accustomed to falling down the shaft.
Leif had fallen past two of the upper terraces that ringed the tower. He pressed against the water and slowed to a stop. He peered down an opening leading to the third terrace from the top of the tower. This must be how the different sections of the tower were navigated. What would need to be done to go back up? Leif wondered. He’d find out soon enough once he put the question to Bjarte.
Leif pulled back. Keeping his eye on the ground floor as it moved up toward him, he pushed and pulled back with his fingertips. When the next to the last portal slid by his feet Leif pressed hard against the water and eased into a gradual stop.
Thirty-one
Story Time
KANUTE, true to his word, was the next to slide down the shaft. He smiled as he stepped out of the portal. “Skipper, it took guts to do what you did,” he said as he shook Leif’s hand.
Jarl came next, careening down the edges of the shaft, gaining speed by holding his hands close and pushing hard until his body became a blur. He eased into perfect landing. “If only we had one of these on that cliff,” he said.
Halvar slid down the shaft. He stepped out of the portal and looked around. “Perhaps this is not the underworld,” he said.
Eluf, the last crew-member to come down, kept a slow descent through the entire fall. He walked out of the portal, staring at his hands. “This will make a good tale to tell my grandchildren,” Eluf nodded.
Nogwinto came sliding down next. The Beothuk mastered controlling the rate of fall quickly, speeding between floors and slowing at each floor. He muttered, “Carathuk mammateek good.” A combination of his tongue and Norse.
Draskawindit slid down and stood next to Leif.
Bjarte came last. The rest of the party watched through the transparent ice and water as the monk adjusted the force of his outstretched hands and eased down the shaft. “A unique experience,” he said, stepping out of the portal. “The First Ones were in a class of engineers unmatched by any civilization in recorded history.”
Carathuk appeared in the portal. Leif couldn’t remember seeing him come down. He reasoned that the Second One knew how to use the shaft so well he could probably reach speeds matching the fastest bird of prey on a dive.
A sea wall made of ice, encircled the lake. Stairs led to a landing spanning the perimeter. Upright cylinders dotted the shore, lighting the stairs leading down to the lake.
Carathuk led them to the nearest cylinder. He set his hands on the floor. The cylinder lowered. A plate of roasted meat and vegetables sat over an open flame that rose out of the top of the cylinder. Shimmering waves of heated air fluttered around the base of the plate.
Bjarte put a question to Miakmoo: “What material is the plate made from?”
Miakmoo answered, “The plate, like all things in Zardokazon, is fashioned from the Water of Flame.”
“Everything we see here is from this Water of Flame?” Bjarte asked.
“It is not just what you see around you, the Ice Field running up to the Ice Wall as well as the wall itself is made from the Water of Flame.”
Bjarte continued asking questions. “What happened to the First Ones? Why did a race of people so advanced die out?”
“Hold on, Bjarte,” Leif said. “Ask Carathuk what happens when he talks to Miakmoo through these mind waves.”
Bjarte asked the question in Latin.
Miakmoo answered.
When Miakmoo finished Bjarte said in Norse, “If the question is one that is in recent memory, Carathuk can find it in his thoughts. If the question is part of memories long past, searches through the sub conscious memory must be carried out.”
“When Carathuk pushes these mind waves around why do I feel like my skin is crawling off my bones?” Leif asked.
The answer came back: “The sensations you feel on your skin are minute changes in air pressure caused by increased blood flow to the frontal lobe.”
“You must make this simple,” Leif told Bjarte.
“When Carathuk thinks hard to recall distant memories, his mind sends out waves that ripple the air. What you feel on your skin are these ripples streaming through the air and touching your skin,” Bjarte said. “Is that clear?” he asked.
“Is this harmful? Is there any danger from this?”
Bjarte put the question forth. He answered, “Only the First Ones had enough mind muscle to destroy living tissue with thought waves.”
Leif, satisfied with the answer, said, “Ask the question about the fate of the First Ones.”
When Miakmoo passed the question on, Carathuk rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
Leif stripped off his tunic and trousers. Clad only in a loincloth, he waited for the mind waves to fill the air.
At first it felt as though a light breeze where caressing Leif’s skin. Carathuk continued rubbing his temples. The light breeze that wrapped Leif like a bubble grew into waves of air undulating over his flesh. He watched folds of skin rippling across his chest, over his stomach, and down his legs. The speed of the waves increased until Leif’s skin appeared as spikes of flesh rising and falling all over his body.
Carathuk’s thumbs lifted away as he eased the tension on his temples, his fingers he left on his forehead. At that moment Leif noticed the waves crossing his skin died down. Moments after that the hair on Leif’s body thickened until no flesh could
be seen under the coarse layers of matted hair.
Carathuk reset his thumbs to his temples and traced tiny circles. Individual strands of hair on Leif’s body lifted off the skin and stood straight as needles. The tips wavered in the air, like tentacles of some sea creature searching for small bits of food floating by.
Leif watched as the stiff hairs shrunk back down toward the flesh. Waves of pain shot through every square inch of skin. It felt as if the hairs grew back into the skin and the ends had been set on fire.
Welts rose on Leif’s skin. Cracks traveled from the center the bumps to the outer edges. Leif looked down at the back of his hand. Welts burned and smoldered. The odors of burning charcoal and sulfur filled his nostrils as Leif smelled his own skin burning.
Carathuk removed his hands. Smoke rising from pores faded. Cracking skin closed up and receded. Welts of swollen flesh shrunk back into clean flesh.
It was over. Leif wondered about what just happened. Was it all in his mind, like a gripping dream, or, was it real and had he done real damage to his body?
Leif pushed those thoughts away. Now it was time to hear the story of the First Ones.
Thirty-two
Origin of the First Ones
CARATHUK stared straight ahead, focusing hard on Miakmoo. He took a deep breath and squinted his eyes. Lowering his head, he rubbed his temples once more. A slight hum could be heard coming from within the depths of the skull.
Miakmoo caught the mind waves cast from Carathuk. Miakmoo spoke them back in Latin. Bjarte listened to Miakmoo as the skull spoke. Bjarte looked around at the party. He said in Norse,“Carathuk is going to show the lights that form objects through Miakmoo again.”
Draskawindit listened then passed on Bjarte’s words to Nogwinto in Beothuk.
Light grew slowly from within the core of Miakmoo. It built, leaking through every crevice and cavity. Long shadows and blotches of color spun and danced on the shimmering walls and floors. The whirling shades of color, deep and light shadows, and bright and dull highlights shrank back in on themselves. The wall was lit in a bright, white light as if the sun was sitting inside the tower.
Leif Erikson and the Frost Giant Page 10