Chapter 4

'You forget - we know it has occupants; the sleeping weredrakes. And we don't know that they stay sleeping.'

'No...' said Thrand, shivering. 'They could be anywhere.'

The crewmen paused, and stared up into the sky above them. But no scaly, membranous wings broke the blue expanse. After a while, they took heart again, and continued up the narrow path towards the head of the cliff.

After a while, Ketilbjorn observed;

'This place must either be inhabited, or has been inhabited. This path has been made by human hands.'

The others glanced down at it.

'You're right,' said Thorir slowly. 'I hadn't thought of that.'

'Who made it?' Bjorn whispered. But this was a question no one could answer.

Finally, they reached the head of the cliff and heaved themselves up onto the grassy sward beyond. Ahead, the tumble of rocks and scree rose towards the lofty mountain at the centre of the island. A thick stand of pines lined the cliff-top to their right, and from over the ridge beyond this they could hear the roar of the falls. They quickly made their way along the cliff, passing under the sighing pines, and came out on the far side to find themselves at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the waterfall.

To their left, the wide river tumbled down from the mountain, rushing through the pine forest to plunge over the cliff-edge to their right in a shower of spray, cascading down into the Dumb Sea with a roar. They stood on an outcrop overlooking the awesome sight, and Thorir sighed his relief.

'Well, here we are,' he said. 'It wasn't that difficult, was it?'

'Oh no!' replied Thorhall sarcastically. 'We only had to cross half the Dumb Sea to get here; we only had to brave the dangers of waters inhabited by sea-monsters and undead Vikings, and islands crawling with giants. We only...'

'Now what?' Hyrning interrupted. He seemed equally uncertain.

'Now?' said Thorir. 'Now, we cut down one of these trees...'

They followed Agnar's directions to the letter, cut down a tree, hung it over the cliff-edge, and fastened a cable to the branches. Then Thorir turned to his men.

'Who wants to go?' he asked. 'Anyone who goes down into the cave can keep all the treasure they get.'

There was a silence from the others. Then Ketilbjorn spoke.

'I'm not really sure this is going to be possible,' he said quietly. 'Sorry, Thorir, after coming all this way. But look, we've got to get into this cave through the waterfall, right?'

Thorir glanced at him.

'What of it?' he demanded.

'You can see the current, Thorir,' Bjorn broke in. 'Nobody could do anything other than go over the edge, not even you. Maybe the cave is accessible to weredrakes, but they can fly. We can't. Thorir...'

'I think you should give up,' Thorhall said, for once voicing the thoughts of the others.

Thorir grinned hardily.

'I'm not going to do that,' he laughed. 'I'm going to try it myself, and I'll keep all the gold I get, if none of you cowards will come with me.'

Hyrning smiled bleakly.

'I won't make any claims on the treasure,' he commented in ironic tones.

'If you get it, you can keep it,' Bjorn told Thorir.

'Cowards, the lot of you!' Thorir said briefly.

He unslung the sack on his back, then quickly stripped off his kirtle, breeches and breechclout, standing near the edge of the rushing river. Then he took Agnar's red kirtle from his bag, and slipped it on over his naked skin. Next he put on the magic gauntlets, and strapped the knife-belt on over his kirtle, with a leather bag containing a tinderbox hanging next to it. Finally, he picked up the line Agnar had given him and the javelin he had carried with him up from the ship.

'Well, good luck,' said Ketilbjorn, as Thorir clambered up onto the tree that lay across the chasm. 'See you in Valhalla.'

'See you in a few minutes,' Thorir corrected him. 'A hundred times richer.'

He took a javelin, and tied the line to one end of it, then inched his way along the tree-trunk until he reached a point high above the crashing waters. Then he flung the javelin at the far bank, keeping hold of the other end of the line. The javelin plunged into the trees and hit one some way into the wood, plunging into it and sticking there. Thorir took hold of the cable and began to scramble down it, holding onto the line as he did so. He reached the waters below, and, still holding the line, silently disappeared into them, heading for the falls.

'He's gone,' whispered Thrand.