Storm at the Edge of Time (7 page)

On behalf of humanity, Jamie objected. “Well, we certainly aren't any more bizarre than you, with your skin the color of swamp water and your hair like a half-shaved porcupine. None of us chose this, like Urkar said. What we've got to do now is figure out how to get out of it.”

“That's simple,” Arni said brightly. “All we have to do is find the missing staffs, and we're free.”

Tyaak looked at him skeptically. “All right, Mr. Apprentice Wizard, do you know where they are?”

The boy's smile faded. “No, but magic should be able to help us.”

“And you have some idea how to work magic?” Jamie asked.

Miserably Arni shook his head. “I wish Urkar had told us more. I always thought I had the power, but with the new religion around, no one dares teach it. I'm naturally good at finding things, but I don't know if that's magic or simply figuring out the sort of place something is likely to be. I don't know if I've ever actually worked magic.”

He looked as if he were trying not to cry. Jamie stepped over and said, “That's okay, I don't either. My attempts were always busts … or crazy imagination.”

Then she looked at Tyaak. “What about you? When Urkar asked if you'd ever done anything odd, you clammed up.”

“If I did, it is my business.” He looked away, then abruptly turned back. “But there is something very odd about this whole thing.”

Jamie smirked. “Really? Just one thing?”

His eyes narrowed. “Either you are very stupid or you are part of a plot. How are we able to speak to each other? Urkar claims that he is from the Neolithic period, maybe six thousand years before my time, you two are from around the eleventh and twentieth centuries while I'm from the twenty-sixth. But languages change; people spread through time like that could not possibly understand each other. So this must either be a colossal hoax set up to fool me or—”

“Or it must be magic,” Arni put in. “If magic can put you two into sensible clothes instead of those outlandish things you had on, then why can't it make you speak my language? Someone who goes around acting as superior as you ought to be able to figure that out.”

“Now look, brat… ”

Jamie stepped between them. “Hey, like it or not, we're stuck with each other here. Let's try to find those staffs and get this over with. Arni, since this seems to be your world, have you any ideas where we should start?”

“Birsay, I guess. That's where I'm from and where
Earl Thorfinn lives when he's not off raiding or fighting other Vikings.”

Tyaak was staring off into the distance. “Well, perhaps those horsemen can give us a ride to this Birsay of yours.”

Arni spun around, clutching the dagger hanging at his side. “Sure, unless they're enemies.” Quickly he looked back at his companions and the short daggers on their own belts. “Swords against daggers. No good. We're better off if they don't notice us.” He sprinted to hide behind a stone.

Before Jamie could follow him, she realized it was too late. The three horsemen coming over the moors had veered toward them and picked up speed. Jamie pelted past the stones, scrambled through the ditch, and took off at a run toward a large grassy hillock. A burial mound, she remembered from the tourist placard, and if it was open like that one on the hillside, she might be able to hide inside.

The air filled with yelling voices and the muffled thud of horse hooves. Jamie skidded around the mound, only to find it covered with unbroken glass. A shadow darkened the ground, and an arm reached down and hauled her roughly onto the back of a horse.

“Got one!” the man clutching her yelled. “Is that the lot?”

As Jamie struggled, the arm tightened and a coarse greasy beard scratched the back of her neck. One whiff confirmed that she was no longer in an age of mouthwash and deodorant.

“Let me go!” she heard Arni yell. “I'm Arni Arnorson. My father is Earl Thorfinn's skald. He—”

“—would be missing a son,” a deep voice interrupted, “if we'd been supporters of the late Earl Rogenvald instead of followers of Thorfinn, his killer. But have no fear, Arni Arnorson, your red hair marks you halfway across the island. We were only having a bit of fun. Besides, you and your friends ought to stay clear of this circle. You know what the priests think of these places.”

Arni snorted. “Well, priests don't know anything. And I am a person of power, a descendant of Eithne the Sorceress, so no one had better meddle with me.”

The man laughed. “Oh, excuse me, most powerful Arni Arnorson. Will you use magic to waft back to Birsay, or would you accept a ride?”

Arni's voice shrank a little. “A ride would be appreciated.”

The man laughed again. “And who are these other two, then? I don't recall seeing them about.”

Arni looked to where Jamie and Tyaak were each seated in front of another rider. “Uh, no…. The girl is the daughter of a trader from Caithness. And the boy … uh, he is a slave sent as a gift to Earl Thorfinn by someone he met on his pilgrimage to Rome.”

If she hadn't been so uncomfortable herself, Jamie would have laughed at Tyaak's expression. She wondered if Kreeth tended to bite. This one certainly looked as if he could.

The man holding the alien boy looked him over critically. “They do say there are odd-looking folk south of here. I'll not doubt them anymore.”

The others nodded, impressed, while Tyaak looked angry enough to explode. “Well, enough dallying,” the
leader said. “The Earl needs to hear our news. It's not likely that Rogenvald's followers will attack before spring, but a warning will give Thorfinn the whole winter to prepare.”

They jolted across the heather to a narrow dirt road. Jamie had always liked riding, though she wasn't a horse fanatic like some of her friends, but this shaggy beast's jarring gait did not make for a delightful ride, especially not when she was crushed between the animal's neck and a large smelly Viking. And the overwhelming fear and strangeness didn't help either.

The moorland looked more tended than it had in that brief glimpse they'd had of Urkar's time. There were well-marked fields and pastures, and an occasional huddle of stone houses. But this was also clearly not the Orkney on which she'd just been vacationing, with its paved roads and television antennas. The salt wind whipping at her face tore away Jamie's last shred of hope that this was a dream. In its place sat a hollow chilling fear. This was real, and it was up to three clueless kids to get out of it.

So maybe she'd better start with a crash course in current events. Trying to sound as casual as possible on this jolting horse, she said, “So, tell me more about this news you're bringing.”

The man snorted. “Some wool merchant's brat wants to be part of state councils? Well, no matter, the word will be out soon enough. King Harald of Norway is out to avenge the death of his Orkney ally, Earl Rogenvald. He's promised men, ships, and arms to Rogenvald's followers to move against Earl Thorfinn. So when the seas warm in the spring, any of you merchants still
around may find yourselves in the midst of a grand battle.”

Jamie frowned, wishing she had read a bit more of those guidebooks. Who
were
those people? Well, it probably didn't matter, as long as they could find that wretched stick and get out of here—soon.

Their road threaded through the moor, crested a hill, and swept down toward the sea. Fields and houses clustered more thickly near the shore; beyond a stretch of choppy gray water, a wedge-shaped island tilted out of the sea. More buildings clustered on its lower, landward side.

The wind was stronger here and whipped the horse's mane into Jamie's face. Heading north of the mainland village, they stopped on a low cliff opposite the island. She and the other two passengers were swung roughly to the ground.

“You're on your own from here, O great Arni Arnorson,” the leader of the men said. “Now just you remember this kindness when you set about casting evil spells.” Laughing, the men guided their horses down a steep path to the beach.

Without getting too close to the cliff's edge, Jamie watched them. “Where are they going?” she asked Arni.

“Just down to the beach. The tide's nearly far enough out to cross over.”

She studied the narrow channel of gray water between the shore and the island. Along a straight strip, it was churned into white foam with occasional rocks bereaking the surface. “You mean when the tide's out, that's not an island?”

The red-haired boy nodded. “For several hours at low tide, you can walk across at just this one spot. That's what makes it such a good defensible stronghold for the Earl. No one can easily attack by land.”

Taking shelter from the wind behind a grassy hillock, the three waited and watched the spine of exposed rock gradually widen. The first to break the silence was Tyaak.

“Was it necessary to tell them I was a slave?” he asked crossly.

Arni shrugged. “Better than telling them you were from another world. The priests might end up by calling you a demon. Besides, not many of us have seen people from these southern countries.”

Jamie tucked her woolen cape more closely around her. “I'd think your talk of working magic could cause just as much trouble with the priests.”

Arni scuffed a foot in the sandy soil. “Maybe I shouldn't have said that. But they didn't even believe me.” He gave the ground an angry kick. “And why should they? I can't really work it anyway!”

“Well, we'd better start trying,” Jamie said, “or two of us are going to get stuck in a world where we don't belong.”

“Then it is hopeless,” Tyaak said flatly.

“No, it's not!” she objected. “We must be able to work magic. Urkar already had us doing it, looking through the sky to see that supernatural storm. I don't quite know how I did that, but I just kept looking harder and harder, like Urkar said, and then it was like I had switched on an extra battery or something because
suddenly I
could
see deeper, and that made me want to look deeper yet.”

“That's it!” Arni said excitedly. “I don't know what a battery is, but for me it was like discovering I had an extra arm or eye that let me do things I normally couldn't. What about you, Tyaak?”

“What about me what? This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“But you saw through the sky, too, didn't you?” Arni demanded.

“Yes, but—”

Jamie interrupted. “So you tapped into some magical force. And you've done it before, haven't you? You just don't want to admit it.”

“Nonsense! That had nothing to do with magic!” “So what is ‘that,' anyway?”

“Nothing! Look, the riders are starting across now. If we are going to do this, we had better go.”

He headed quickly down the path and the others followed. Jamie didn't call Tyaak on the sudden way he'd changed the subject. She was concentrating too hard on hugging the inside of the cliff path. It had been safe enough for horses, she knew, but she always felt queasy on slanting paths with nothing along one side.

Once at the bottom, she decided to drop the earlier matter. Some things were best not probed at, she thought uneasily, and quickly turned to Arni. “Are you sure this staff is on the island?”

He shrugged. “Not
sure,
no. But don't you sort of get a feeling it is?”

Tyaak grunted. “The only thing you're feeling is that you have a home and food over there. But we have to
look someplace.” He walked to where the small beach joined the still-damp rocks and began to cross.

Sighing, Jamie followed. At the moment, food seemed as good a motive as any.

Foam-fringed ocean was still drawing away on both sides, but ahead of them now stretched a natural causeway of dark rock, water-worn slabs all tilting up at the same angle. The pattern was echoed in the cliffs of the island ahead, where slab upon tilted slab was piled up and capped with a layer of pale winter grass. The low end of the island that they were approaching seemed weighed down with stone houses, but the rest, tilting swiftly upward like the prow of a ship, was dotted only with white sheep.

But Jamie couldn't afford much sightseeing. The rocks they were crossing were damp and slippery. Several times her leather boots skidded into trapped pools of tidal water, sending tiny creatures scurrying out of her way. Once she reached down and scooped up a handful of little shells, pink, green, and white, and let them tinkle in her hand. But then she had to scatter them back. The heavy wool outfit she was wearing had no pockets.

The wind roaring through the channel was even noisier here. But once they stood under the island's dark cliffs, its song mingled with voices and barking dogs: the sounds of the village that began above them on the cliff's edge.

“The first thing we should do,” Arni said as he stopped to wring water out of the hem of his cape, “is go to my house and get something to eat. Then we can plan our attack.”

“What do you have in mind?” Jamie asked.

“Well, think. If someone were to bring home an interesting old piece of carved wood, what would he do with it?”

“Use it to start a fire?” Tyaak suggested.

“No! Wood's too rare to use for that. We burn peat. He'd probably use it as a walking stick or as part of a fancy piece of furniture. Or maybe as a rafter. Yes, I think that's it. Something high, near a roof, feels right. Come on. We'll eat first and then go around looking at all the rafter ends in the village.”

As they climbed the steep path and then continued up the village's central street, Jamie realized that this would not be easy. All the buildings had stone walls with roofs made from slabs of grassy earth held up by beams, the ends of which just poked out from under the turf. A lot of those ends were carved.

But it was hard to look at beam ends with all those interesting people on the street. They were dressed in heavy woolens and various types of fur. On the whole, Jamie didn't think they looked either as mean or as clean as she'd imagined Vikings would look. Some greeted Arni as he passed, and gave his companions curious stares. She noticed Tyaak pulling his hood more tightly over his head.