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soaring over Midgard was dangerous, to make the journey to Hel unguarded
was precisely what the seeress had forbidden her to do. Haki and the singing-
woman had been trained to withstand the lure, but Bera could not stop
herself, and she dared not distract Groa.
"Help me!" Silently, she called the spirits she could feel swirling around
them. "I call to the spirit that guards my soul!" For a moment the confusion
was overwhelming. Then she heard, very distinctly, the grunt of a bear behind
her. Soft warmth enfolded her, and she relaxed like a cub in its mother's
arms.
For the first time since they had started, Bera was able to do something more
than respond to the need of the moment. She was aware of the wisewoman's
swift journey toward the depths, and at the same time she felt the spirits of
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wood and water who hovered around them, and less clearly, the jumbled
emotions of the people who were waiting for her words. Haki was a steady
strength beside her. A little farther away, she could feel Arin, indecisive as a
bull-calf trying to pick his way through a marsh.
And next to him she recoiled, and felt the power that held her strengthen
Thorhild was no she-goat now, but something rough-furred and sharp-tusked
from the sea. But it was the hostility that radiated from that grotesque figure
that made Bera flinch. Thorhild did not want the seeress to succeed!
"Downward, ever downward I must travel, spiraling deep beneath the Tree,"
came the wisewoman's harsh whisper. "The Etin-maid stands to bar my way,
but I have the word of power to pass her. The last and greatest river roars
below me. Blackmane, bear me over the glittering bridge swiftly, my steed,
stride forward without fear!"
With each word the seeress uttered, Bera felt her stepmother's malevolence
increasing.
"The Gate swings open within, I see darkness. It draws me, draws me ... the
spirits are gathering. Call now the names of those you are seeking " Groa
cried.
"Steinbjorn Sweinsson and Griot my brother," Ann's voice trembled.
"Ugga and Ulf," called a woman. Most of Steinbjorn's crew had been drawn
from the neighborhood.
"Thorvald the Stout!" "Hildir Haraldsson!" they continued. Bera clung to the
bear-strength behind her as the darkness thickened. The names seemed to
come from a great distance now, but shapes were emerging from those
shadows. She could see them now, those good men who had pulled at
Waveserpents oars, gathering at the Gateway to Hella's home.
Suddenly a shudder shook the high seat. A harsh sound came from the lips of
the seeress, as if she were trying to speak, but when it turned to words they
were in the voice of a young man.
"High is that hall where I sit with Swein and my fathers. Who calls me from
my feasting there?"
Arin gasped, and Bera fought to make out the face of the figure who stood
before her.
"It is a trick " said Thorhild in a low voice, but her son ignored her.
"Griot! Is it you? Are you dead, then, my brother?"
"Wrecked on the rocks of an unknown shore ..." came the reply. "Long was
the way and dark the faring to this safe harbor. My comrades are with me.
They bid their loved ones to cease their weeping, for your grief torments
them."
Bera felt suddenly cold. That was certainly Griot's voice, and the features she
glimpsed through the gloom familiar.
"How did you come there?" a woman cried. Bera thought it was the wife of
Thorvald. "Was it mischance, or did you fall to some enemy?"
"We battled a storm," through Groa's lips, Griot's voice continued, "through
the tossing waves a fetch in the form of a she-walrus came swimming.
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Straight toward the ship it came, and when it touched us, the wind swept us
suddenly upon the rocks, and the sea rushed in!"
"This is madness," Thorhild said again. "A clever invention!"
"Who was the sorceress?" Ulf's father called. "Give us her name!"
"This has gone far enough!" cried Thorhild. She stepped in front of her son
and lifted her arms, chanting. Bera as she cowered felt a wave of hate. From
the seat above her came a cry.
"Mousebane, defend me!"
Bera could not tell if she heard that call with the ears of the body or the soul.
She saw with doubled vision a great gray owl sweeping from the dark gateway
and Thorhild, dodging as something invisible swept past. Then she
straightened, yelling, and Bera saw the shape of a walrus expanding like a
mist around her, swinging its long yellow tusks to strike the high seat. The
owl dove again with its own war cry. No one else could see the battle, but by
now most of them were hearing the screeching. They stared wildly around
into the darkness, making frantic signs of warding.
The walrus attacked once more, its shape distorting into something
monstrous, and as that dark power surged toward the high seat, Bera felt her
own awareness merging into that of the Bear behind her. She rose, arms
extended and fingers curving into claws, shaken by a deep growling that did
not seem to be her own. For a moment she faced down the walrus, but the evil
blasting toward her was beyond anything she had ever imagined, and without
the training to use it, her connection with the Bear began to fray.
But she had held for long enough. In the next moment another shape loomed
up beside her, a face of terror with fangs that gleamed from gaping jaws,
poised on a limber neck armored with glittering scales. Waveserpents
dragon-head swayed toward Thorhild, given hideous life by the spirits of the
men who had died when the ship went down.
In the next moment the walrus winked out of existence. It was Thorhild who
stared up at the apparition with bulging eyes, Thorhild who screamed.
"it is you who killed me, my mother " came the voice of Griot from Groa's
mouth. "It is upon you that my curse will fall!"
"It cannot be true!" cried Ann. "If they all died, where
is my father? This is some troll who wishes to deceive us. Call Steinbjorn's
spirit, seeress, and let us see if he will confirm the tale!"
Slowly the image of the dragon began to fade. Bera fell back into her own
body again with a start and saw that the seeress had slumped sideways in the
high seat. Thorhild was crouched on the ground with her son standing over
her, while the others stared.
"Mousebane, Mousebane, can your sharp eyes find him?" whispered the
Voelva. She twitched, turning her head from side to side, then sighed.
"Through all of Hel the owl's sight tracks the spirits, but Steinbjorn is not
among them."
"Then you are a deceiver," said Thorhild, sitting back on her haunches. Her
kerchief had come off and her gray locks stood out in tangles, nearly as
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frightening as the fetch Bera had seen. "You have not found him in Middle
Earth and you have not found him among the dead. Your sight is flawed,
seeress, and you will pay for the accusations you have made against me!"
"Blackmane, Mousebane, why have you failed me?" whispered the Voelva.
She straightened a little, turning her head as if she were listening, and then,
astonishingly, began to laugh.
"I come forth from the darkness and Helgate clangs shut behind me," she
muttered. "Blackmane bears me swiftly from world to world. From the roots [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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