Thor had grabbed the steering oar from me. I could smell the ale on him and felt suddenly afraid. Gest and Goran were moving around the boat, checking on ropes and making sure everything was tightly lashed down. I picked up a bailing bucket without being told.
Rain sheeted down from the sky, mingling with the surging spray from the sea. In short order I was soaked through but was too busy bailing to care. Gest and Goran soon joined me.
The waves were getting higher, and it seemed for every bucket of water I tossed overboard, three bucketfuls came sloshing over the sides of the knorr.
But it was a wonder to me how that ship rode the waves. Every time I saw a huge wave looming toward us, I was sure it would be the end—that the ship would be swamped and we would capsize. But every time, the knorr slid up and over the wave.
The wind was shrieking and the sail was stiff and distended, as though a giant fist were thrust in it at the bottom, hurling the knorr along with a violence unlike anything I had ever seen. The ropes holding the sails were taut, stretched to their limit, and I imagined that at any moment they would snap.
At the steering oar, Thor concentrated his whole body on wrestling the wind and enormous waves for control of the knorr. His eyes burned and his face was lit with some primitive emotion; it almost looked like joy.
Then Gest shouted to Goran. They threw aside their bailing buckets and made their way to the sail, untying ropes as they went. They were lowering the sail. I looked over at Thor and saw that his face was suffused with rage.
"Cowards!" he shouted. I was afraid he was going to lunge at them, but he kept still, just barely.
The wind was lashing the sail, which snapped and bucked like a living thing at the two men as they wrestled it down. They secured the sail as best they could, then returned to bailing. The knorr steadied with the sail down. I could hear Thor still shouting curses at his crew.
As we crested one very large wave, I saw a mountain of water bearing down on us. I let out a cry of fear and Gest muttered a prayer. Then I turned to see Thor charging toward me, the tiller swaying crazily behind him. No more was there rage in his face, just a fanatical sort of determination. The wind blew back his mane of hair, and he looked like some crazed sea-god. Grabbing hold of me with his thick arms, as if I were no heavier than a child's cloth doll, he carried me across to the prow of the ship and then thrust me under the deck boards, wedging me in tightly. My cheek scraped against a barrel and my shoulder struck my own pack from home, which had been stored down there with other cargo. I inched forward, clutching my pack to my chest. I dimly heard shouts and the wind screaming, and then there was a great violent crashing sound as a giant wave slammed down on the knorr.
When I came to, I could still hear the wind, but it was no longer screaming. Miraculously the ship was still afloat. I lay in a chilly pool of water and wine, which had spilled from the cask on which I had scraped my cheek. I could hear no other sounds but the creaking of the ship, the sloshing of water around me, and the diminishing fury of the wind.
Gingerly, my head pounding, I wriggled my body backward, then slowly pulled myself out from under the deck boards. I sat up, waist-deep in water, and the ship seemed to spin dizzily for a few moments. I closed my eyes, then opened them.
I could see no one.
Troll Queen
HE CANNOT GET USED to being without fur. I see him nab at his skin, and he remains quiet most of the time.
I call him Myk now, and he seems to understand it is his new name. Beyond the sadness, the quiet, I see the softskin boy that I first met in the green lands. He is all I ever wanted. His voice; his soft, warm skin; even the smile, which it is true I do not often see now. Two days ago was the first time, some caper of Tuki's. But it was as I remembered it, like sunlight on the snow, melting, good.
I continue with my arts, trying to soften my own skin so that he will feel more as if he is with his own people. So far the change is only temporary, which is frustrating, but I will keep experimenting.
Tuki is acting strangely with me. He scurries away when I come near. I can see Urda is worried; she knows what I will do if he gives trouble. Perhaps it was a mistake sending him south with Urda, to be so long gone from here, but Urda would have been too lonely without her son there. It is her own fault anyway; she admits she should have kept a closer eye on him and not let him spend time alone with the softskin girl.
The changes to Myk's quarters are almost complete. He has books and musical instruments. It may have been a mistake to make the flauto just the same as his favorite one in the castle. I saw a look in his eye the first time he held it, as though some small memory was pricking at him. But it passed. And the thanks he gave me were deeply felt.
I am pleased to be home, and to have him here with me at last. Now there is only the wedding to prepare for. So much to be done, but such delicious planning. Much as I want him to be my husband at once, now that he is here I can take the time to make the wedding feast as it should be. But not too much time.
It will be the grandest and finest celebration ever in Huldre. Perfect. Lavish. All the most important of our race, from all corners of the earth, shall be here.
An event to do us both honor. The queen and her king.
Rose
I COULD NOT at first take it in.
I was alone, completely alone on the vast sea, in a battered, broken, waterlogged knorr. The mast was gone; all that remained was a jagged stub little taller than I. The sail had come loose from its lashing, and part of it lay draped across the deck while more than half of it hung overboard, dragging in the sea. And there was a large tear through it. The steering oar was gone, and it looked as though much of the cargo had been swept overboard as well.
I began to shake.
The wind had subsided to a stiff breeze and the knorr rode the waves, oblivious that its sole occupant was a disheveled, terrified girl. My trembling grew worse. Then, telling myself I must not give in to panic, I stood up. I needed to find a bucket. The knorr had taken on a great deal of water during the storm and was riding dangerously low.
But I could see no buckets for bailing. What if they had all been washed overboard? Perhaps one had gotten lodged under the sail. With difficulty I lifted one side of the wet, heavy sail. Gazing down I let out a gasp.
At first I thought the thing was a dead sea creature, then realized with horror it was a bloody leg. It lay oddly, looking as if it were disconnected from a body. My heart beating fast, I heaved up more of the sail.
There was Thor. The leg stuck out at a strange angle from his body. As I pushed the wet sailcloth off him, I saw that his eyes were closed and his face, too, was covered with blood from a jagged gash on the forehead. He looked dead—his skin was gray and there was so much blood—but then his body twitched and he let out a soft moan.
One arm, too, was bent at an awkward angle, and the hand was clutching the broken-off tiller. I leaned over him, feeling for his pulse. It beat under my fingers but was slow and irregular. Thor moaned again.
It took all my strength to wrestle the huge sail completely off him. Breathing hard from the exertion, I searched for something to stanch the flow of blood from his forehead and his leg. I found several cargo boxes lodged underneath the deck boards, and inside one was a large bolt of linen. I went back above and got the knife that Thor wore at his side; his eyes barely flickered as I removed it from its sheath. Returning belowdecks I used the knife to cut and tear off a length of the fabric. I took it back up to Thor and swabbed at the cut on his face. The cut was deep, with jagged edges, and I could see the whiteness of bone underneath. It needed stitching, I thought, reminded of injuries I had seen back on the farm. For the time being I tied a makeshift bandage tightly around his head, then turned my attention to his leg. The gash there wasn't as deep, I was glad to see. But his leg definitely looked as though it was broken. His arm, too.