Chapter 3

Three: The Tale

'There was a man named Raknar, son of Agnar, king of Gestrekland, and Hildigunn, sister of Harek, king of Bjarmaland. He was my father, Thorir, who slept with your mother. He had a brother named Val, and both of them were Vikings who spent their time harrying the giants across the Dumb Sea. Raknar had a ship men called the Raknarslodi, which was the biggest ship Norway has ever seen, and crewed by the fiercest Vikings the world ever saw.'

'Get to the point,' Thorir demanded. The undead berserk glowered at him, but continued.

'Raknar conquered Slabland, north of Vinland, and wiped out the giants who lived there, while Val lived upon the Dumb Sea, and slew Svidi the Bold, son of Stunt-Bosi, and furthermore captured more gold than anyone could count from Svadi the Giant, the son of Thor, who lived on Blesarnerg beyond the Dumb Sea. Val also had the magic sword called Hornhjalti, whose stroke never failed. They decided that they had inherited the throne of Bjarmaland, and this led to conflict with Halfdan Eysteinsson and your uncle Sigmund and your father, who were his men.'

'I know that,' Thorir broke in. 'They were friendly with Svidi the Bold, and didn't think much of your uncle killing him. Are you the Agnar who fought Halfdan?'

'Indeed I am,' Agnar replied, 'and never did I have a worse battle. It was also in that fight that my uncle Val smashed your uncle's shield and sliced his toes off...'

'Which is why he limps around all the time these days and insists on staying quietly at home!' Thorir exclaimed. 'But he got his revenge, didn't he? Knocked your uncle straight into the sea, from what I've heard.'

'Ah, but he swam back to his ship, where his two sons Kott and Kisi helped him out of the water. The your father and two of Sigmund's men, Gauk and Hauk, attacked them. They fled, and your father pursued them, running them aground on the isle of Blesanerg, at a place where a great waterfall pours down over a cliff into the sea. Val grabbed Svadi's gold from the hold and ran; your father pursued him, but when he reached the waterfall, my uncle plunged into it. Kott and Kisi reached the place with Gauk and Hauk on their tail. Kott grabbed Gauk, Kisi Hauk, and they both plunged into the waterfall; Gauk and Hauk were killed, but the two brothers joined their father in a great cavern behind the waterfall where they lay down on their gold-hoard and turned into dragons...'

'Turned into dragons?' came a scornful voice from behind them. Thorir turned to see Ketilbjorn had... awoken? The Halogalander stared cynically at the undead berserk. 'I don't believe a word of it!'

'Be quiet!' snapped Thorir. 'Don't interrupt. This is a good story, for all that I've heard half of it from my father already,' he said. 'Many times,' he muttered gloomily to himself. The he turned to Agnar. 'So what happened next, after Val and his sons became weredrakes?'

'Your father was the only one to return to the main battle alive, and by then all my people had been slain by Sigmund and Halfdan, except me. That was when I fled to Halogaland, and.... became very rich...'

'You mean you robbed everyone around for miles,' Ketilbjorn barked.

'Ssh, Ketilbjorn!' hissed Thorir, exasperatedly. He turned to the berserk. 'So, Agnar, after robbing all the locals, you went into a burial-mound with all your crew and all your loot...'

'It's a family tradition,' the troll replied weakly.

'And now you expect me to travel all the way to some mythical island in the frozen north and rob your uncle and nephews, who have the ability to transform into dragons at a moment's notice, rather than kill you and loot your burial mound on the spurious excuse that at some point in his nefarious career, your father cuckolded my grandmother - have I got this right?'

'That's right,' the sepulchral figure said encouragingly. 'You're getting there.'

Thorir shook his head. 'I must be mad! However, I accept. But only because I'll get more glory going to the lengths you suggest than I ever will by digging you out of your hole like a badger and running off with your ill-gotten gains.'

'Very well,' Agnar replied.

'Now, here is a cup,' he went on, taking a brimming goblet from beneath his cloak, 'from which you shall drink two draughts and your impudent comrade one. Then, come what may.'

Thorir raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, the surrounding landscape faded away into roaring, red-streaked darkness, and he felt himself swimming up through a vast, endless ocean of black oil.

He jerked awake, and found himself still wrapped around the stone. He looked about. On the other side of the rock, Ketilbjorn was stirring. Thorir moved to get up, then looked down at the ground

Beside him lay the red kirtle, the gold-chased helmet, the sword, the gauntlets, the knife and belt, and a pile of gold and silver coins. On top of all this stood the goblet.

Startled, Thorir glanced around him. There was no sign of the hogboy. The eerie light still gleamed over the far-off burial-mound. He looked at Ketilbjorn.

'May as well do what your uncle suggests,' the Halogalander said quietly.

'My uncle?' Thorir frowned uncomprehendingly. 'You mean Sigmund?'

'No, I mean Agnar the undead berserk!' Ketilbjorn said impatiently. 'Here's all the stuff he promised you. Let's drink from the goblet and get on with it.'

'But... I thought it was a dream,' Thorir mumbled.

'A dream shared is a trouble doubled. I dreamt it, you evidently dreamt it, and it's all come true,' Ketilbjorn said ruthlessly. 'So why don't we just do as the hogboy says?'

Thorir shrugged, and reached out for the goblet. He raised it to his lips, and drank a draught. It tasted not unlike rather poor quality mead. After taking another swig, then handed it to Ketilbjorn. The Halogalander knocked it back, then took it from his lips, making a face.

'Yes, it's not what you'd call a good brew, is it?' Thorir growled. He took a the goblet back. 'Here, you've left a bit.'

Ketilbjorn scowled. 'I don't want it,' he muttered.

Thorir shrugged, and drained the dregs.

'Now what?' he said, yawning.

'"Come what may",' Ketilbjorn said sleepily. His head fell forward.

'Potent stuff, then,' Thorir slurred, and followed him into a deep sleep.

Again, he dreamed that the grisly form of Agnar stood over him.

'Why did you drink all that was in the cup?' the hogboy raged.

'Why shouldn't I?' demanded the truculent Icelander. 'There wasn't much left, anyway.'

'That's true,' broke in Ketilbjorn, cheerily. Agnar glared balefully at him, then back at Thorir.

'You'll pay for that drink in your later life!' he warned.

Thorir looked unperturbed. 'Come what may, like you said,' he laughed. 'Now, one thing I meant to ask you - how do we get to this cave under the waterfall?'

Agnar said; 'Very well. To get to Blesanerg, sail north along the coast past Finnmark, and then across the Dumb Sea. Eventually, passing Svalbard on your right, you'll reach an island beyond a sea of ice; a mighty river descends from the central mountain of this island into deep chasms, and then over a cliff into the sea.

'Go up the cliff and fell a tree, lay it down with its branches hanging over the cliff-edge, pile up stones around its roots, then take a rope and tie it to one of the branches. Next take this line' - here the troll handed Thorir a thin line of cord - 'cast a javelin across the river and fasten it in the wood on the far side, then go down the rope and let the line draw you away under the falls.