Troll Blood

Troll Blood Read Free Page B

Book: Troll Blood Read Free
Author: Katherine Langrish
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Bjorn’s face was one wide grin. “If you’d tied it to your wrist like I told you, you wouldn’t have had to do that.Get dressed: You look like a plucked chicken.”
    Peer laughed through chattering teeth. He bounded back to shore and dragged his discarded jerkin over his head, fighting wet arms through the sleeves. It fell in warm folds almost to his knees, and he hugged his arms across his chest. “Aaah, that’s better. I’ll leave my breeches till I’ve dried off a bit…. What’s that? Who’s shouting?”
    Torn by the wind, an alarmed cry had reached his ears. He couldn’t make out the words. Up on the jetty Bjorn stiffened, shading his eyes to look down the fjord. “It’s Harald. He’s seen a ship. Yes—there’s a strange ship coming.”
    Peer jumped up beside Bjorn, noticing with pride how firm and solid the jetty was. The two of them had been building it for almost a month now, in between their other work, and in Peer’s opinion it made the tiny beach at Trollsvik look like a proper harbor. It was a stout plank walkway between a double row of posts. Bjorn’s new faering, or fishing boat, bobbed beside it.
    He joined Bjorn at the unfinished end, where the last few planks waited to be nailed down. It was late afternoon, the tide flowing in. Out where the shining fjord met the pale spring sky he saw a large reddish sail, square-on, and the thin line of an upthrust prow like the neck of a snail. A big ship running into Trollsvik before the wind.
    “Who is it?” he blurted.
    Bjorn didn’t take his eyes off the ship. “I don’t know. Don’t know the sail. Could be raiders. Best not take chances. Runfor help, Peer. Tell everyone you can.”
    A lonely little village like Trollsvik could expect no mercy from a shipful of Viking raiders if they took the place by surprise. The best thing was to meet them with a show of force. Peer turned without argument. Then he saw a scatter of people hurrying over the dunes. “Look, Harald’s raised the alarm already. Here he comes, with Snorri and Einar….”
    “Hey, Harald!” Bjorn bawled at the top of his voice. “Whose ship is that?”
    A bandy-legged man with straggling gray hair raised an arm in reply as he puffed across the shingle and climbed painfully onto the jetty. “No idea,” he wheezed, bending double to catch his breath. “I was cleaning my nets—looked up and saw it. Shouted at you and ran for the others. You don’t know it either?”
    “Not me,” said Bjorn. Peer looked at the ship—already much closer—then back at the little crowd. Most of the men had snatched up some kind of weapon. Snorri One-Eye carried a pitchfork, and old Thorkell came hobbling along with a hoe, using the handle as a walking stick. Einar had a harpoon. Snorri’s fierce, gray-haired wife, Gerd, came limping after him over the stones, clutching a wicked-looking knife. Even Einar’s two little boys had begun piling up big round stones to throw at the visitors. Peer wondered if he should join them. Then he realized he was holding a weapon already. His hammer.
    He hefted it. It was long-handled and heavy. The dull ironhead had one flat end for banging big nails in. The other end tapered to a sharp wedge. When he swung it, it seemed to pull his hand after it. As if it wanted to strike.
    Could I really hit anyone with this?
He imagined it smashing into someone’s head, and sucked a wincing breath.
    The neighbors were arguing. “No need to fear!” yelled Gerd, lowering her knife. “See the dragonhead? That’s Thorolf’s ship—that is, the old
Long Serpent
that Ralf Eiriksson sailed on.”
    “It is not!” Snorri turned on his wife. “Thorolf’s been gone two years now, went off to Vinland.”
    “So what?” Gerd was undaunted. “He can come back, can’t he?”
    “Fool of a woman,” Snorri shouted. “That’s not his ship, I say!”
    “How d’you know?” Gerd shrilled.
    “Because this one’s as broad in the beam as you are, that’s why—the
Long

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