Gone Viking 05
Here be Monsters.
"Monsters?" I repeated in disbelief.
"That which cannot be named," the shaman explained.
"Beings? Creatures? Spirits?"
Our minds dueled to find common ground and understanding.
In some way, we had become one with a struggle for knowledge within.
The Shaman stated, "They have form and yet are formless, they are human and yet not men or women as we expect. They may appear as 'halflings.' Mischievous, funny, comedians, tricksters. Or they may be malevolent, wishing to do the People, all people... evil."
"Mestigoit?"
"Yes, woman of power."
"You will not use my real name?"
"This shaman is but a bush magician to a woman who can travel in time. To invoke your name, I am not worthy."
Ellat's command, snapped me out of my reverie with Mestigoit. "All hands to oars."
Ahead... a thick pillar of smoke. It was at the water's edge but obscured by a bend in the river.
The Northern Band of the People; in distress, an accident, a signal, a warning? These thoughts ran through the minds of the entire ship's crew, but I perceived with greatest clarity those of Agnar. Mestigoit's connection with me was broken, as I took my place on the rowing bench. We were all pulling hard against the current.
Agnar's strength seemed the most focused. There was something special about the land beyond the river's bend. A son! He spoke with pride of the daughter in the camp we left down river. A son here also!
Barufakr, like the Wave Horse it was, changed course on its own, guided by the spells of its craftsmen, without the intervention of the helmsman to avoid a river hazard. A boulder that could have crashed in the hull.
"That was not here last time," Agnar exclaimed.
"Demons at work," muttered Mestigoit.
The helmsman put Barufakr back on course, to the site of the pillar of smoke. Our Water Horse did not fight it, its instincts had saved us, and mere humans could control the magic ship again.
"Ship oars,'' was the order from Ellat.
We could see the village as we drifted into the quiet bay, with the current working for us rather than against us. Magic? The look on the shaman's face was indecipherable.
Our oars stowed; the crew's attention was to the shore. The pillar of smoke was a burning raft, full of pitch and green wood.
Agnar shouted to someone on shore, "What goes Sindri?"