The path rose gradually as he left the camp behind, and ascended the side of the mountain in a great sweeping curve. Helgi made slow progress climbing it, for not only was the slope steep and relentless and the path almost overgrown with grass, but the further they went, the more nervous and reluctant Kol became. In the end he had to dismount and drag Kol along. The trail led around the back of the mountain and Helgi stopped for a last look down on the valley they had just left, before it disappeared from sight. At the foot of the mountain far below, he could see the lights of countless small campfires, and beyond the playing fields a distant glimmer of sea. His friends would be cooking up a feast by now, wondering where he’d got to. Before him, the grey, rubble-strewn hillside loomed dark against the fading sky. The sun had already sunk below the mountain, and the trail ahead lay in deep shadow. To think that he was riding alone up a haunted mountain pass where no one else dared to venture after dark—and on Winter Eves, of all nights, when people were sacrificing to their ancestors and household deities, and all sorts of ghosts might be about, lured from their graves by the offerings people had left for them.
Helgi steeled himself to go on. The pass broadened out and dark-grey hills rose on the far side, steeped in gloom. He was sweating from the hard slog uphill, and cold wind that swept down through the pass chilled him to the bone.
Further up the track, they found Hedin’s horse tethered to a boulder. Kol braced his forelegs and refused to go any further. Helgi couldn’t blame him: he was feeling pretty apprehensive himself. But he would have to go on. He knew now that his cousin was somewhere hereabouts, alone, and possibly in trouble.
He decided to strike a light first. He took a lantern and his fire-making kit from the saddlebag, opened the pouch and took out his fire-steel, a piece of flint, and some touchwood. Holding the steel in his right hand and the flint in his left, with the touchwood near the top edge of the flint, he struck the steel down the flint several times, using short, choppy strokes. Sparks flew up and lodged in the touchwood. Once the charred felt had begun to smoulder, he blew on it gently, then held the embers to the wick of the lamp until it caught. The wick protruded from a hollow stone filled with congealed oil. Cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind, he placed the stone safely inside the skin lantern.
Helgi stood there for a moment, wondering whether he should tether Kol. In the end, he decided it would be better to leave him at liberty.
‘Wait for me here unless I summon you,’ he murmured in Kol’s ear.
He pressed on, anxious now and walking swiftly, his face lowered against the wind. The slope flattened out and he paused to catch his breath, thinking he must have gained the summit. A frozen waterfall clung to the cliffs on the far side like a streak of coagulated milk, its rivulets congealed into frosted daggers. Ahead of him lay ridges of rock, a few yards of visible path, the rest swallowed up by the dusk. But a little way off on the left, where the land rose in a small hump, he saw, to his relief, a dancing flicker of light. Hedin must have lit a fire. He hastened towards it eagerly, almost at a run, but as he got closer a cold wave of misgiving washed over him, and he came to a sudden halt.
Flames were flickering over the head of the mound, eerie bluish tongues which licked at the darkening sky. The mound was circular, as big as a turf house, supported on boulders and roofed with a grassy dome. It glimmered in the gathering dusk like an unearthly beacon.
Helgi stood entranced by the spectacle for some time. Then he crept closer, trying to tread noiselessly where the ground was stony. An entrance passage adjoined the mound, fitted with a little wooden door surrounded by posts. The door was slightly ajar; someone had broken the lock.
‘Hedin!’ he whispered through the crack. He waited. No sound or movement came from within—just an ominous silence …
Extending his hand, he drew the door open just wide enough to slip inside, raised the lamp a little, and sidled through the gap. He stood just inside the threshold, tensed and ready to flee, and peered into the gloom, his skin prickling with fear. The air inside the passageway was stale, dank and chill, and the flame in the lantern immediately shrunk to a tiny point and turned intensely blue. It was too dark to see much but Helgi could feel damp mossy walls, shored up with posts on either side and an earth floor. He pressed his hand against his heart, which was thumping so heavily that he could hardly breathe.
He could sense a deadly presence lurking deep within the mound. He desperately wanted to run. His legs were growing weaker every moment: he felt sick and faint and could not summon the strength to take another step. But he knew that Hedin must be in the circular chamber at the end of the passage, not more than a few feet away. His heart contracted with pain. He could not abandon his cousin. He was under an obligation—not to rescue Hedin, who was almost certainly dead, but to retrieve his body if at all possible.
He stood there for a long time, trying to work up the courage to go on. He wondered whether Hedin had experienced the same paralysing fear. If he had, somehow he had managed to overcome it. Suddenly, Helgi was filled with admiration for his cousin. He felt strangely exhilerated, as if he were riding a huge, rolling wavecrest. If Hedin could do it, so could he! Giddy and trembling with excitement—intoxicated by his reckless bravery—he began to edge along the passage, clutching the lantern in one hand and groping along the damp wall with the other, to support his tottering legs as much as to feel the way.
Incredibly, he could feel his confidence growing. He was actually curious to see an otherworldly creature with his own eyes. He even began to think it would be disappointing not to encounter the keeper of the mound. It wouldn’t be a true feat of daring unless Skeggi was there. Amazed by his sudden coolness in the face of danger, Helgi could not help feeling a little superior to Alf, Audun, and the others who had refused to come with him.
The passage opened up into a gloomy space. A musty, cloying odour of decay hung in the air. Broken, crusty objects littered the floor, but the lamp burnt too feebly to show him what they were. Something small and black skittered out of sight into the darkest recess of the chamber.
Helgi froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of an armed man ready to spring. He jerked away—then realized that the glint of metal came from a weapon hanging on the wall beside him. He took hold of it and found it was a short sword. He lifted it down, drew it, and stuck the sheath inside his belt. The blade glimmered oddly in the darkness. For a short weapon, it was surprisingly heavy and difficult to wield. He needed both hands to hold it steady so he placed the lantern on the ground, just inside the chamber.
He moved cautiously into the chamber, flinching every time his feet crunched the broken shards strewn across the ground. His eyes had adjusted to the dark now, and against the far wall he could make out a large black hump, like a monstrous body slouching in a great chair.
‘Hedin, is that you?’ he whispered. The bulky shadow did not move. But the lantern light suddenly dwindled and died, plunging the chamber into blackness, save for a thin shaft of moonlight which filtered through a crack in the roof. Helgi swore and backed away, feeling behind him for the exit and tensing his outstretched sword-arm, which was trembling so badly that he could hardly support the weapon. The blade gleamed with a cloudy turbulence, its surface troubled, like oil poured on swirling water. He gripped the hilt with both hands again: it took all his strength to manage the weapon which seemed to be exerting an immense drag on his arms, almost as if it had a life of its own. His hands were shaking violently with the effort to hold the sword steady and he cursed himself for being so weak and tremulous.
Something heavy stirred and shifted itself in the darkness, and there was a creaking of joints as it heaved itself slowly upright. Two points of cold, ghastly light ignited in the deepest recess of the chamber. Helgi stood transfixed with sheer terror. The position of the eyes which stared down at him, just beneath the roof, told him that the creature he had woken was much bigger than a normal man.
Then came a crash, as an object as large as a barrel hit the wall just above his head, and Helgi dived aside, shielding his face as splintered pieces of wood rained down on him. He rolled onto his side, and the sword slipped from his sweating hands; as he scrabbled for it in the darkness and recovered it again, he felt the ground tremble with the slow dragging footfalls of a heavy creature.
The massive black form of the mound-guardian loomed over him. His bloated carcass filled his entire view. Helgi scrambled up and, half crouching, took a faltering step back, but Skeggi lunged at him and, seizing his sword arm with an iron-like grip, slammed him back against the wall. A gigantic fist pounded into the wall, narrowly missing his head. Then the same cold, damp hand took Helgi by the throat and lifted him right off his feet, pinning him against the cold earthen wall. Helgi struggled frantically and tore at the hand that gripped him, but the pressure of Skeggi’s hideously swollen corpse was crushing the air out of his chest. Skeggi forced his reeking, blackened visage closer and closer so that his foul breath and the cold glare of his malevolent eyes filled Helgi’s face. A thick hoarse growl echoed deep within the mound-dweller’s throat and his teeth ground together with a terrible grating sound.
Helgi screwed his eyes shut in revulsion and averted his face. He was choking for breath. He could not free his sword arm—it was impossible to loosen the berserk’s thick clawed fingers. Skeggi’s immense suffocating weight was crushing his back against the wall. His mouth gaped for air as Skeggi’s stranglehold tightened around his throat. He knew he would be snuffed out like the lantern unless he did something. At the same time, he could not quite believe that this was happening to him. His life couldn’t end now, when he was only thirteen, and not even fully grown.
The sword was dragging at his arm with a hard insistent pull and the pain of being pressed and pulled in different directions was almost unbearable. Helgi thought he would be ripped apart. As his strength failed, he couldn’t resist the sword any longer. ‘All right,’ he thought, ‘Take me,’ and with that, the blade jerked violently and tore him free.
Helgi found himself hovering in mid-air, just behind Skeggi’s massive back. He peered over Skeggi’s shoulder. With a thrill of horror, he saw, almost hidden in shadow, his own body still pinned helplessly against the wall but now slumping as if dead or unconscious. He had the sudden appalling thought that he was about to witness his own death, or that he might be dead already.
The sword had changed to a sliver of ghostly light. It no longer dragged at his hand but seemed to be trembling with anticipation. Helgi did the first thing that came to mind. He raised the blade high above his head and plunged it deep into Skeggi’s back. It sank in easily, right up to the hilt. There was a loud hissing noise, like steam gushing from red hot metal that has been thrust into a trough of cold water, followed by a deep gutteral roar of pain and fury. Skeggi’s huge body arched and rolled back and his hands let go. Helgi saw his own small body slide softly down the wall. Howling wildly, the creature reeled and blundered about—Helgi still clinging to the hilt which protruded from his back. He felt the sword twitch repeatedly, as if it was gulping something down. Then, with a choking rattle, Skeggi toppled over. The ground shook as he fell on his stomach with his arms flung wide.
Helgi slid the sword effortlessly out of the mound of flesh which lay spreadeagled on the floor. He stared down at what he had done, in a state of shock, unable to make sense of anything. Then it struck him that he was still separate from his body which rested in a small crumpled heap at the foot of the wall.
He struggled down to where his body lay. He was in two places at once, though he was only conscious of being in one. His body, the body slumped against the wall, appeared to be quite lifeless. Helgi’s first thought was, ‘This can’t really be happening to me. I must be asleep and having an extraordinarily vivid nightmare in which I’m both awake and asleep.’ Then a worrying thought occurred to him. ‘If I’m aware that I’m dreaming, why haven’t I woken up yet?’
It was strangest, most agonizing feeling, leaning over his own body and studying it as if it belonged to someone else—and not knowing what to do about it. He gazed at his double helplessly. He wanted to shake himself awake but had no idea whether that would be possible. Could a person be conscious in two places at once? Would he join back together when he woke up?
He reached out to gently touch his hand, but could not feel it—it was dark in the chamber and he wondered whether he had misjudged the distance. He tried to shake himself by the arm and this time there was no doubt about it: his hand passed straight through his arm and through his stomach as well. Panicking now, he lay flat alongside and tried to roll himself into his body, but every time he went right through it. He wriggled on top, aligned himself exactly, and superimposed himself on his body again and again, trying desperately to reanimate it, but nothing worked—he could not lock himself in place.
By now he was weeping with frustration and despair and almost certain that he was not asleep but dead: that he had parted company from his body forever. He peered closely at his face for signs of life. He thought he saw a faint twitching behind the closed eyelids.
Yet something was preventing their reunion. Suddenly he remembered the sword. He was still holding it! He flung it down and instantly snapped back into his body.
Helgi lay there a while, almost senseless and trembling uncontrollably, his thoughts confused and his strength entirely spent. He rolled over onto his elbow and was violently sick. The sword lay close by; without thinking, he picked it up and slipped it into the sheath inside his belt.
Too weak and shaky to stand, he rested against the wall for some time, but then he remembered Hedin. He hauled himself up in the darkness, bracing his body at an angle to the wall. A roaring filled his ears and he clung to the wall, willing himself not to faint, then dropped down onto his hands and knees. It would be easier to crawl. As he shuffled slowly through the detritus on the chamber floor, his hand bumped against something solid: a boot, the foot that wore it still attached to its leg. He followed the leg up and found an outstetched human hand, cold and lifeless.
‘Hedin,’ he croaked, ‘are you awake?’
There was no answer, but Hedin’s face became visible now, lit on one side by the shaft of moonlight. He appeared to be dead, but when Helgi reached for his neck, he felt a weak fluttering pulse. With the little strength he had, Helgi began to drag his cousin’s body up the passage, a few inches at a time. Moonlight was streaming through the doorway and as he got closer, he was able to breathe in the fresh night air. It revived him enough to make one last effort to pull Hedin clear of the mound, before collapsing next to him on the grass outside.
Helgi came round some time later. He could feel warm tickling breath: something wet and hairy was nuzzling his face. He murmured ‘Kol,’ then opened his eyes, and reached out to stroke the pony’s lowered head. He had never been so pleased to see anyone in his life. Stiff with cold and shivering, he forced himself to his feet. His clothes, wet with dew, clung uncomfortably to his legs and arms. Hedin was still lying unconscious on the ground, his face and neck covered in purple-black bruising. Helgi pulled a leather flask of water from Kol’s pack. He drank some himself and then splashed a little onto Hedin’s face. Then he gave Hedin’s cheeks a couple of hefty slaps (it was satisfying to have an excuse to do this). Hedin groaned and opened his eyes. There was the problem of getting him onto the pony’s back. Helgi struggled to haul him up by the shoulder. The effort made his head swim, but he told himself not to give in to his weariness until they had made it back to the camp. Hedin was barely conscious and, even with Kol’s cooperation, it took several attempts to heave him into the saddle. He lay with his chin resting on Kol’s neck and his arms and legs dangling floppily on either side. They took the path back down and collected Hedin’s horse. Then, leading Kol by the reins and riding Hedin’s horse himself, Helgi headed back down the mountain.
Dawn was breaking and Audun was outside the shelter saddling his horse; when he saw Helgi approaching with the two ponies, he dropped everything and ran over to him.
‘Helgi! Embla was worried—she wanted to send out a search party, so I was coming to…’
He broke off when he saw Hedin’s body draped over the second horse.
‘You found him!—is he dead? What happened to him?’
Embla, who had heard the commotion outside, scrambled out of the shelter, her face pale with anxiety. Helgi dismounted stiffly, barely able to coordinate his limbs, which were frozen with cold. ‘Help me get him inside, Audun,’ he pleaded. Audun hauled Hedin down, none too gently, slung him over his shoulder, and dumped him inside the shelter on the nearest bed. Helgi followed him in and sank down on his bed, deathly pale and overcome by a fit of shivering. Embla knelt beside Hedin and examined the bruising on his neck.
‘He’s been half-strangled!’ She turned to Helgi, as if demanding an explanation.
Helgi was staring blankly at the opposite wall, hardly aware of where he was. Vivid images and actual sensations, fragments of what had happened, came at him and he found he was powerless to stop them—Skeggi’s pale malevolent eyes glaring at him out of the dark … raising the gleaming blade with both hands … his hand passing right through solid flesh … the pain of being wrenched apart. It was absurd—he must have imagined it all. Fear can play funny tricks on the mind … yet the memory felt real, so real to his body—the grip of Skeggi’s hand on his throat as real as a real hand—that he wondered if Skeggi was haunting him and making him go through the pain and terror all over again. He jerked and covered his neck with his arm.
‘Helgi, are you all right? Tell us what happened,’ Embla said sharply with a little frown.
He looked at her in confusion. How had he managed to extricate himself from Skeggi’s clutches? He couldn’t find words to describe what the sword had done to him.
‘I don’t know. I found him like that … lying in the mound. Skeggi’s dead, I think. Hedin must have put up an incredible fight,’ he stammered.
Then he crawled under the blankets and turned to face the wall. He didn’t have the strength to field their questions right now.
He was lucky to be alive, he realized. If he hadn’t found the sword … if he hadn’t let the sword take him apart, he would never have got out of there.
Helgi refused to say any more about it, much to Embla’s annoyance. Audun eventually told her to leave him in peace. He dug through the food bag, handed Helgi some bread and cheese and made him a hot drink. Helgi wolfed everything down and began to feel a little better. He rolled over and tried to sleep but every time he closed his eyes, Skeggi’s dark form rose before him. He lay very still, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep but frozen, hardly breathing, finding it impossible to stop reliving what happened. He felt as if he would never get over it or feel normal again.
Embla sat by Hedin’s bedside, watching over him while he slept, and Audun kept her company. They talked together quietly all morning. Audun had very little sympathy for Hedin, but the sight of his terrible injuries had chastened him and he was no longer angry with his old friend for letting them down in the match. Most of their conversation was about Hedin, and Helgi was too detached from what was happening around him to pay much attention, but then he overheard his own name and began to listen intently, trying to catch what they were saying about him.
‘Helgi seems really disturbed,’ he heard Embla say.
‘You could hardly expect him to be overjoyed at finding his cousin half-murdered,’ said Audun.
‘He’s in shock, I think. He must have seen something in that mound …’
‘He went there on his own, in the dead of night, knowing it was haunted!’ said Audun. ‘Anyone who could do that without a twinge would have to be practically dead himself.’
‘I wish he’d tell us what happened.’
‘He will, in his own time. You shouldn’t nag him so much, Embla. He was out all night! Cold, tired, and hungry. All he wants is to be left in peace. He’ll be fine once he’s had some sleep and a proper meal.’
‘Well, I think there’s more to it than he’s letting on. He never lets on when he’s afraid. He’s never told me anything about what happened to them in Norway, but he’s constantly seething with rage over it. Sometimes I hear him cry out in his sleep in the dead of night. He suffers from terrible dreams,’ Embla said, with a shiver and a giggle.
‘He’s just putting it on, to get attention,’ said Audun crossly. ‘It’s his “dark and mysterious” act. He only does it for effect, but you can’t seem to see through it. You fall for it every time.’
‘No I don’t!’
‘You do. I bet you spend hours day-dreaming about him, trying to puzzle him out.’
‘Shut up, Audun! You’re really horrible these days!’
Audun laughed provokingly, and said, ‘I think you’re in love with him.’
Embla gave him a sharp thump on the arm, which made him yelp out loud.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said grumpily, rubbing her forehead. ‘I’ve got a massive headache after that sleepless night. Sneaking off on his own like that—he’s as bad as Hedin! We get him out of one dangerous situation, and he goes straight off to risk his neck elsewhere.’
‘Embla—he rescued Hedin! He’s perfectly capable of looking after himself.’ Audun gave a sudden laugh. ‘Think of it: the Peerless Warrior, rescued by his baby cousin! What a joke! Hedin will never live it down! But you needn’t worry about Helgi—underneath that “tortured soul” act of his, he’s a born survivor.’
‘It’s as if he can’t help it,’ Embla continued, picking at a loose thread from the frayed hem of her skirt. ‘He seems to attract trouble wherever he goes.’
‘Well, he’s got to learn to take responsibility for his own actions. I can’t keep stepping in and sorting things out for him every time he gets into a scrape. I just hope the Ericssons have the sense to leave him alone. I’m keeping well out of it from now on, and you’d be wise to do the same.’
‘You can’t just drop him, Audun—Helgi’s our friend! Besides, there’s something about him, isn’t there? Something that’s difficult to resist. He’s kind of compelling.’
There was a silence.
‘I mean, you pretend you don’t care, Audun, but deep down you’d do anything for him. He wouldn’t even have to ask. You’ve always put him first—even before Solveig! And now you’re going back to Norway with them, to fight on their side. If anyone’s under his spell, you are.’
Audun sprang to his feet. ‘What? Under his spell? That’s a disgraceful thing to say—whatever it is you’re insinuating!’ he spluttered in anger and disgust. ‘Gods above, if I thought that was even remotely true, I’d—!’ He burst into a short incredulous laugh. ‘Embla, the reason I’m going to Norway is to earn Solveig’s respect!’
‘I’m sorry, Audun, I didn’t mean to offend you,’ Embla said nervously. ‘But it’s not just you and me—Helgi’s drawn a lot of people in! People like Sam and Kormak who wouldn’t normally take a stand against big men. Look at all the fuss he’s created! I don’t suppose he’s even aware of the effect he has on people—it’s simply the way he is. He’s attracted a lot of followers. That’s why Thorgrim’s so afraid of him.’
Audun, who had been bristling with rage and on the point of storming out of the shelter, gave a rather forced laugh and sat back down.
‘You take him much too seriously, Embla. Let me explain. First, Thorgrim would never be afraid of a little squirt like him. He’s not a serious rival. And second, I was the one who talked Sam and Kormak into joining the team, not him. Helgi put on this big act, but it was kind of a joke. The lads weren’t convinced by it: they joined up because they wanted to play stickball, not because Helgi impressed them or anything. Helgi wasn’t team captain, was he? He wouldn’t have been up to the job. Nobody would’ve listened to him—the youngest person on the team, and not even a particularly strong player! Helgi does all this stuff because he likes winding people up and being the centre of attention. Don’t be taken in by him, Embla—no one else is.’
After that, Embla steered the conversation to a safer topic and Helgi lost interest.
So that was what his best friends really thought of him! His escapades had obviously made a deep impression on them, but Helgi wasn’t sure whether this was all for the good. It bothered him that Embla thought he wielded some kind of influence over people, like a spell. That was ridiculous! He had never ‘compelled’ anyone to do anything! Audun had wanted to take Thorgrim on. He had encouraged Audun to believe that it was possible—that was all. And once Audun was on board, everyone else had followed, like a flock of sheep or a herd of reindeer. Audun had done all the hard work, not him. He was sorry to have caused Audun so much trouble—he would have to make it up to him somehow.
Hedin’s condition gradually improved throughout the morning, and by midday he was able to sit up and take a little food. Being rescued from the mound had clearly been a humiliating experience for the warrior, but he was gracious enough to thank Helgi wholeheartedly. Helgi replied simply, ‘You’re my cousin, Hedin. I know you’d have done the same for me.’ He was grateful to Hedin for not questioning him and felt closer and warmer towards him now than he ever had before.
They had just finished eating when Embla said, ‘I didn’t know you’d brought a sword with you, Helgi.’
Helgi gave a start. He had not looked at the sword since stuffing it into his belt, but he had been conscious of its presence all day. Like an itch he had been told not to scratch, it was almost impossible to ignore. He was afraid to touch it, but he could not prevent his hand from stealing towards the hilt now and then, and Embla must have noticed.
‘Oh, yeah … I must have picked it up in the mound,’ he said, in an indifferent tone.
‘Let’s see it.’
Helgi made no move to give it to her but when he saw that all eyes in the room were fixed on him, and everyone was curious to see what he had found, he realized he would have to do as she asked. He removed the sword from his waist and handed it to Embla, still sheathed. ‘Be careful,’ he told her, with a stern expression. ‘Don’t draw it and whatever you do, don’t touch the blade.’
Embla gave him a look of withering contempt. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Helgi. I may not be a warrior, but I’m perfectly capable of drawing a sword.’
With a palpitating heart, Helgi watched her slowly ease the sword out of its plain leather casing. He held his breath, anticipating the piercing scream that would fill the shelter when she discovered the thing was alive. After what seemed like an age, the tip of the blade slid out and Embla held the weapon up by the hilt, smiling at him and perfectly composed.
‘See? Nothing to it.’
In daylight the sword looked very odd indeed. The hilt seemed to be made of antler, and the ornamentation, which had been scratched on it and filled with a dark substance, consisted of a simple hour-glass pattern and a plaited band on either side. The blade itself was damaged and almost eaten through with rust in some places. Helgi was astounded by its ugly, brittle, and unprepossessing appearance. He could hardly believe it was the same weapon he had fought so hard to control the previous night. Frowning to himself, he took the sword from Embla. It wrenched at his arm with such violence that he grasped his right shoulder involuntarily, to prevent it being dislocated. The blade was seething with life: cloudy shapes swirled and boiled beneath the surface of the metal. He dropped the sword on the bed in horror.
Hedin picked it up between two fingers with an expression of faint disgust. ‘I’m not surprised you chucked it away,’ he said, as he examined it. ‘It’s in a terrible condition. Little or no market value, I’m afraid. Much too fragile to be of use in combat and not attractive enough to pass off as an antique. The workmanship is pretty rough and I’m afraid it’s damaged beyond repair.’
‘The hilt has an unusual design,’ said Audun. ‘Are you going to keep it, Helgi?’
Helgi was so absorbed in thought that he didn’t hear what Audun had asked him. Why could neither of them feel or see the sword’s extraordinary properties? Was it something peculiar to him? Or had the sword chosen him in some way?
Hedin tossed the bedcovers aside irritably and swung his legs off the mat. ‘It’s irking me beyond belief that valuable items are lying unguarded in that mound and that anybody could just walk in and help themselves. I must go back there—I think my legs feel steady enough to walk.’
Helgi was horrified. ‘I don’t know how you can think of going back there after what we—… what you went through!’ he exclaimed. Flashbacks of Skeggi’s pale malevolent eyes kept tormenting him and he was sure he would suffer from nightmares for weeks.
‘My dear cousin, nothing ventured, nothing gained. How else do you think I acquired my collection of valuables? You have your reward—this, er, charming souvenir,’ said Hedin, indicating the sword. ‘Whereas I have come away empty-handed.’
‘I went in there to look for you—not to steal grave-goods! I hardly knew what I was doing at the time—I thought I might need to defend myself and grabbed whatever came to hand. I didn’t mean to take it—it just happened!’ Helgi cried indignantly.
‘Calm down, cousin. Nobody minds! We’ve done everyone a favour by getting rid of Skeggi. What’s to stop us claiming our reward?’
Helgi was eventually persuaded to accompany his cousin back to the mound when Hedin hinted that they ‘needed to talk’.
The mound no longer gave out any sign of being inhabited by a malicious spirit. The ghostly blue flames had gone and this time the horses were content to take them close to the entrance. Only now did Helgi realize what Hedin meant when he said they had done everyone a favour. By cleansing the mound, they had made the mountain road, which was the shortest route to the north coast, safe once more for travellers.
As soon as they had dismounted, Hedin took Helgi by the shoulder and looked at him sternly.
‘Tell me what really happened last night,’ he said in a quiet, serious voice.
‘I already have. After the match I went looking for you … we were worried and I thought you might have gone to the mound. When I found your horse I knew something bad must have happened. I nearly ran away … but something made me go on. I found the sword but then the lantern went out—the air inside the mound was so foul. Everything went dark …’
‘What happened next?’
Helgi looked troubled.
‘I can’t explain what happened after I took the sword. I think I blacked out and had some kind of nightmare. When I woke up, I found you lying nearby.’
‘The last thing I recall,’ said Hedin, ‘was that Skeggi and I were locked in a fierce struggle and I really thought my time was up. After that I don’t remember much.’
He stared at Helgi, his eyes burning with an unspoken question.
‘I don’t want to take the credit for killing him unless I truly deserve it. Do you understand?’
Helgi nodded and looked at the ground. He didn’t want to admit what he had done, but he felt uncomfortable having to lie about it. He had to think for a moment before answering.
‘I didn’t go there to kill Skeggi. I made it as far as the chamber, but then I completely fell apart. I wasn’t responsible for what happened.’
Hedin seemed to relax. ‘Well, if you weren’t responsible for killing Skeggi, then I’m happy to take full credit,’ he said.
They smiled at one another in relief.
‘Actually, Hedin, I’d rather nobody else knew I was there. I’m fed up with people talking about me.’
‘You’re notorious enough as it is, eh?’ Hedin chuckled and patted him on the back. ‘All right, if you won’t accept your share of the glory, then we’ll keep quiet about it. You’re an odd fellow, Helgi—I can’t understand you at all. Now, are you coming inside?’
‘No. I’m in no hurry to see Skeggi, even if he is dead.’
‘You can stand guard outside then.’ Hedin lit a lantern, drew his sword and ducked through the low entrance. He emerged a minute later, looking pale and queasy.
‘Extraordinary! There’s nothing left of Skeggi’s body—just bare bones. Could you lend me your neck scarf? It stinks in here.’ Hedin tied the scarf across his nose and mouth like a mask, took a drawstring bag, and disappeared back inside.
Helgi walked up and down, scuffing the loose stones and gravel, and puzzling over the sword he had found. He had heard stories about swords with amazing powers, but he could hardly believe that he had come across one in real life. He knew of several tales in which a man starts out downtrodden and in a hopeless situation, but makes a lucky find that raises him, as if by destiny, high over the heads of his oppressors and opens the path to glory. Could he be one of those heroes? He thrilled as he thought of the advantages a magical sword would bestow, the opportunities for adventure and mischief and fun …
Now he was alone, he was tempted to try the sword out. He drew it slowly, not daring to touch the blade. Once free of its sheath, the blade came to life: misty shapes bubbled up beneath its surface and it exerted a tug so powerful that he had to grip it with both hands. The mere effort of holding it steady made his arms tremble, and yet the blade looked rusty and weak. He whistled the weapon through the air and swiped experimentally at some tall, sturdy cow-parsley. The stems bent and broke but were not cleanly severed. He looked about him for a tree. Failing to find one, he tested the point of the sword against the wall of the mound, but it made barely any impression. He slashed at the wall with the cutting edge. The force of the blow made his hand ring but when he examined the turf he found no damage. The wretched thing was blunt. It would be useless in a conventional fight.
Yet the powers within the sword had destroyed Skeggi and were responding strongly to his touch. He had found it by accident, yet it must have been meant for him because it responded to him alone and no one else. He thought about what the sword had done to him in the mound and shivered. Its terrible power fascinated him.
‘You should have a name,’ he said to the sword. ‘All the best swords have names. I’ll call you Skeggi’s Gift.’
Helgi heard the sound of hooves; a posse of men on horseback were approaching. He quickly stuffed the sword away beneath his coat and positioned himself outside the door of the mound.
A knot of fear tightened in his stomach as he recognized the riders. The Ericssons dismounted in silence and Thorgrim, who was armed with a spear, stepped forward with an air of menace. His eyes narrowed under his broad-brimmed hat as he contemplated Helgi, but he also took in the presence of the two horses.
‘Where’s Hedin?’ he said, slowly and suspiciously.
Keeping his eyes fixed on Thorgrim, Helgi plucked a blade of grass and chewed it while he thought about his answer.
‘In the mound.’
There was a tense silence. Nobody moved. Having the sword gave Helgi a degree of confidence, even though he had no intention of using it. He could imagine the howls of derision he would have to endure if he produced it in front of the Ericssons. They wouldn’t understand what made it such a desirable object any more than Hedin did.
Thorgrim was clearly puzzled but careful not to show it; he regarded the mound entrance coolly for a minute or so. Curiosity eventually overcame him.
‘There’s a rumour going around that Hedin raided the mound last night and that you brought him back to the camp, half-strangled. Is it true?’
Helgi smiled a sly twisted smile. ‘Why don’t you take a look for yourself?’
He nodded towards the doorway, counting on Thorgrim’s distrust of him. The last thing he wanted was for the Ericssons to get their hands on anything of value in the mound.
‘I don’t like you, Easterner,’ Thorgrim hissed. ‘I don’t like your sneaky tricks. You’re a devious son-of-a-witch who fights like a coward.’
Thorgrim was shaking with fear or anger; he looked genuinely afraid of him!
‘That final goal wasn’t fair,’ Thorgrim snarled between clenched teeth. ‘You attacked me with some kind of foul despicable magic. Sorcerers like you deserve to be stoned to death. So it isn’t over yet. We’re going to pay you back for your cowardly cheating.’
Thorbrand hurried over with a large woolsack. ‘Quick, put the bag over his head or he’ll curse you!’ he cried.
Helgi reached inside his coat. Thorgrim looked alarmed. ‘Stop that! You’re coming with us,’ he said angrily, prodding Helgi with the tip of his spear.
At that moment Hedin came out of the mound. He was holding the bag and lantern in one hand and a human skull in the other. ‘Hey, Helgi, I’ve found a trophy—,’ he began to say, but broke off when he saw Thorgrim holding his cousin at spearpoint. His face grew grave and he raised an imperious eyebrow.
‘I’d have thought it would be in both our families’ interests to put an end to this ridiculous quarrel, Thorgrim,’ he said, letting the skull fall from his hand and roll away.
Thorgrim looked annoyed but lowered his weapon without a word.
Hedin slung his half-empty sack carelessly over his horse’s back. The clink of metal on metal sounded from within.
‘Most of the stuff in there is junk, but I found one or two trinkets,’ he said. He tossed the lantern to Thorgrim, whose spear clattered to the ground as he hastened to catch it. ‘Feel free to have a nose around. Skeggi’s dead.’
Thorgrim and his brothers looked at one another, and by common consent seemed to trust Hedin’s invitation more than Helgi’s. They crept up to the threshold and peered inside, holding up the lantern. It was too dark to see beyond the passage. Thorgrim ducked through the open doorway and disappeared, followed by his brothers. Snatches of argument could be heard echoing inside the mound. One of the brothers cried, ‘It stinks in here, by all the gods!’ There was a sickening crunch as Thorgrim trod on something hollow and swore in disgust.
‘Scavengers!’ said Hedin, with contempt. ‘Well, I’m off. I found a splendid gift in there for Solveig! I’ll confide in you, cuz. After the games, I’m going to Thorsnes to ask Solveig’s father for her hand in marriage. I’d appreciate it if you could do me a favour.’
‘A favour?’
‘Yes. Keep Audun away from Solveig.’
Helgi stared at him, flabbergasted. ‘I can’t do that!’
‘Yes you can—he listens to you. Do this for me, and I’ll help you establish a truce with Thorgrim. This feud of yours could ruin my chances with her. If you can’t make peace with the Ericssons then maybe you should go away for a while until things have calmed down.’
‘That’s what we’ll be doing before long, if my father has his way. Don’t worry, Hedin, we’ll soon leave you in peace,’ said Helgi coldly.
‘That wasn’t what I meant—don’t take it the wrong way. Look, why don’t you come raiding with me next summer? Even if you didn’t kill Skeggi, you’ve earned my respect. I think we’d make a good team.’
Although Helgi never ceased to marvel at his cousin’s arrogance, he couldn’t help being pleased to have won his respect. It was quite an honour to be invited to go raiding with Hedin and his eminent friends. He tried to imagine what it would be like assisting his cousin on future raids. The prospect of teaming up with him held less appeal than it might have done if Hedin hadn’t let them all down in the match. He half-suspected that Hedin took him for a fool: someone who was prepared to take all the risks and let him take all the credit.
He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t quite sure what to say.
At that moment they heard the sound of hooves and Audun came into sight, leading his horse up the long slope.
‘I thought I’d come and have a look,’ he said when he reached them. ‘Whose horses are those?’
‘The Ericssons beat you to it. They’re picking over the scraps,’ Hedin replied coldly. Turning to Helgi, he said, ‘Think about what I said, cousin. I’ll see you later.’ He mounted his horse and rode off down the path.
Audun watched him go. ‘We were sworn friends once, and then he pulls a knife on me,’ he muttered. ‘Who’d have thought we’d end up as rivals over the same woman!’
‘He’s serious about her, Audun—really serious.’
‘But I’m the one she prefers. If I were as wealthy as Hedin, there would be no competition. You saw what happened when I told her I was going abroad! You saw the effect it had on her! I can’t give her up, not now I’ve held her in my arms.’
For a moment it was as if he was back there: his heart lurched as he experienced the same transport of feeling as when she had so unexpectedly thrown her arms around his neck. The same astonishment struck him as when he had caught hold of her slim waist; he felt the same dawning of a terrifying sensation, the same intense happiness that had spread through him like a conflagration, as he realized what her embrace meant. He had drawn her close and stood with his arms wrapped around her for an indefinite time, barely conscious of anything except her heavy warmth as she clung to him and a delicious tickling as one of her tears ran down his neck like a drop of water from a hot spring.
‘I’d rather die than let her go,’ Audun murmured to himself. Then suddenly recollecting where he was, he added, ‘But I’ll do everything I can to keep Hedin’s friendship.’
‘You’ll be lucky to have it both ways,’ said Helgi.
‘My plan makes perfect sense. Solveig will find me irresistible when I come home laden with wealth and honours.’
Helgi laughed. ‘Just as long as you and Hedin don’t end up killing each other. You’re my friend, he’s my cousin, and I’m caught right in the middle. I’ll do all I can to reconcile the pair of you … that is, if I’m still around to help.’
‘Still around? Don’t tell me you and Thorgrim are feuding again!’ Audun groaned.
‘Thorgrim’s accused me of cheating—he said it was my fault that he lost the ball at the end of the game.’
‘That’s a pathetic excuse. You were nowhere near him when he tripped! He’s just a sore loser.’
‘He’s threatened to kill me. Hedin reckons I should leave the country—he wants me to go raiding with him next summer.’
‘You and I are going to Norway first,’ Audun reminded him. He cast a worried look at the mound. ‘If Thorgrim’s out to kill you, you’d better get off home while you can.’
Helgi nodded, and driven by a sudden mischievous impulse, bounded over to the mound and rammed the door shut. There was a startled shout from within and a clanging noise as the lantern was dropped and the light went out.
Audun exploded with laughter and Helgi fell about too, so doubled up with giggles that he could barely climb onto Kol’s back. ‘Come on!’ cried Audun, who had already started off down the track. Helgi followed his lead, and they urged their horses down the mountain path as fast as they could go.
‘That door won’t hold them for very long,’ yelled Audun, glancing back at Helgi over his shoulder.
‘It’ll give me the head start I need, if I’m going to get home in one piece!’ Helgi shouted back, over the noise of hooves scrabbling on the stones.
When they reached the bottom of the mountain, they said a hasty goodbye. Audun told Helgi not to worry about his belongings; they would pack everything up and follow him as soon as they could.
‘I don’t see how there can ever be peace between you and the Ericssons now,’ Audun said, suddenly serious.
‘They won’t be satisfied until my bones are lying next to Skeggi’s,’ Helgi replied grimly.
The Adventures of Helgi the Viking 