Oddo blew on the charred snakeweed root, then with slow relish sank in his teeth. The spicy flavour filled his mouth.
‘A nice change from raw fish!’ he said.
He licked his fingers, then leaned against the trunk of the willow tree and stared at the others.
‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘We’ve got no boat, and no idea where we are. What’s your plan?’
Dúngal bent forward. ‘Did you find out where Ériu is?’ he demanded.
Oddo nodded and gestured to the coast.
‘South,’ he said.
‘I told you that.’
Oddo opened his mouth to retort, then stopped as Dúngal blushed sheepishly.
‘Sorry,’ muttered Dúngal. ‘You’re right. I wasn’t really sure. And . . . thank you . . . for looking.’
‘Well, anyway,’ said Thora, ‘now we know for sure. So all we need is a new boat.’ She stood up, her old determined self again. ‘We’ll go find the people who live here. They’ll have boats.’
Dúngal snatched a burning stick from the campfire. ‘I’ll bring the fire!’
They stepped out, following the range of mountains to their right. They crossed stepping stones reflected in clear streams, and saw peaks of glaciers glinting in the sun. They passed through meadows where snipe and golden plovers scratched among the pink and purple flowers. They found a waterfall so high it seemed to pour from the clouds, and a forest where meadow pipits and redwings clamoured in the trees.
‘This place is rather nice,’ mused Thora, ‘when it’s not bursting into flames or flood.’
‘But . . . where are the people?’ Oddo demanded. In their hours of walking, they’d seen no sign of any farm, or animal, or person.
All through the afternoon and the long, twilit evening they kept on moving.
‘Lucky the days are so long here,’ said Thora.
Oddo sighed. He was beginning to fear they would never find what they were looking for. Maybe there weren’t any people living here. And he was tired and hungry. He kept stealing glances at Dúngal, but the Irish boy was marching stolidly forward, his face lit by the torch in his hand, while the world around them dissolved into a grey blur.
Oddo gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not giving up before he does.’
At last he saw Dúngal hesitate and yawn. Oddo didn’t need another cue.
‘It’s no use walking in the dark,’ he called.
He flopped where he stood, on the soft grass of a meadow, and sank immediately into a deep sleep.
It seemed only a minute later when someone shook his shoulder.
‘What is it?’ he groaned, and opened an eye.
Thora was leaning over him.
‘It’s pouring!’ she complained. ‘And the fire’s gone out.’
Oddo mumbled at the rain to go away, then tried to roll over. But Thora didn’t let go.
‘Get up,’ she insisted. ‘It’s light enough to see again!’ While Oddo staggered to his feet, Thora headed off across the meadow. ‘Come on, you lazy limpets!’ she called back over her shoulder.
Oddo turned to see Dúngal struggling blearily to his knees. The two of them looked at each other, and at the same instant rolled their eyes. For the first time, Oddo felt a spark of kinship with this strange boy.
As they stumbled side by side through the dewy grass, an eider duck, quacking crossly, flew up almost from beneath their feet. On the ground behind her, in a nest of soft grey down, lay three yellow eggs.
‘Breakfast!’ they shouted together. ‘Hey, Thora!’
They paused just long enough to let the raw yolk slither down their throats, and, as they hurried on, Oddo thought longingly of hot porridge and fresh-made bread dripping with butter.
Racing ahead, Thora leapt onto a rock and came to a halt.
‘Hey!’ she called. ‘There’s a river here.’
Hairydog, yapping with excitement, bounded up beside her, then disappeared. When Oddo and Dúngal reached the bank, the dog was already halfway across. She scrambled out the other side, shook the water from her fur, and grinned in triumph.
‘Our turn,’ said Thora. Grabbing rocks and overhanging branches, she slithered, fully clothed, down the bank. ‘Come on, you chicken-legs!’ She turned and splashed the others with the icy water.
Oddo glanced at Dúngal.
‘Right.’
Together they leapt off the rock, and jumped in with a big splash, right next to Thora.
Oddo gasped as the freezing water poured over him. The current almost shoved him off his feet. Dúngal yelled, and Oddo just managed to snatch hold of his tunic before he disappeared under the foam. Thora gripped his sleeve, and the three of them, clinging together, inched across the river and clambered up the bank.
Dúngal gave a squeak and began to dance around. There was something flapping inside his tunic.
‘Undo your belt!’ cried Thora.
They all watched in astonishment as a trout wiggled out and plopped to the ground.
Thora dived on it. ‘We’ll eat this later.’
‘Raw,’ sighed Oddo.
They set off again, but there was no happy chatter now, just the slosh slosh of dripping clothes. Soon Oddo’s legs were chafed and sore from the wet breeches. He drooped his head, not bothering to look where he was going. They weren’t going to find any people or boats. There was no one living here.
Thora’s voice broke the silence. ‘What’s that?’ She sounded anxious.
Oddo glanced up. There were wisps of smoke or steam weaving through the trees ahead of them.
‘It’s not one of those glaciers erupting again, is it?’
The three of them hesitated, then edged cautiously forward, expecting every minute to feel the earth explode under their feet. The haze wrapped around them, dense and moist, filling their nostrils with the stink of rotten eggs. All they could hear was the swish of their own feet through soft, dead leaves. All they could see were the ghostly shapes of trees looming abruptly in front of their faces.
Suddenly Thora gave a cry and stepped back. Ahead of them, the ground dropped away. At their feet, half hidden by the cover of white, swirling mist, lay a lake of deep turquoise blue.
‘That’s not a glacier,’ whispered Oddo.
Dúngal dropped onto the bank and slid his toes into the water. He let out a yelp and jerked his legs upwards.
‘It’s hot!’ he cried.
‘What do you mean?’
Thora and Oddo knelt down and cautiously dipped in their fingers. They stared at each other in astonishment.
‘It is hot,’ spluttered Thora.
‘Let’s get in!’ said Dúngal.
A moment later, with squeaks and gasps, all three of them eased themselves into the steaming bath.
‘It’s . . . certainly . . . hot,’ panted Oddo.
He bounced up and down, his feet digging into the gravelly bottom, so that tongues of heat gushed out of the ground. Hairydog, half hidden by wisps of steam, yapped anxiously from the shore.
A few minutes were enough for Oddo. He scrambled out, with Thora close on his heels, but Dúngal was determined to stay in longer. When he crawled out at last, his face was dripping with sweat and his skin was red and shiny.
‘You’re practically boiled,’ said Oddo. ‘I reckon that water’s hot enough for cooking.’
‘Let’s try!’ Thora exclaimed. ‘Here’s the fish!’
A short time later, they were sitting on the bank, watching the fat trout simmer in the steaming lake.
Thora shook her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t believe this place!’ she said. ‘Hot water that comes out of the ground. Fish that want to be caught. It’s the best land in the world!’
‘Not as good as Ériu,’ growled Dúngal. ‘In Ériu we don’t have mountains made of ice that spit fire and rocks. We—’
‘But Ériu’s already full of people!’ said Oddo. ‘Look at this place. All this empty land! You could build a house anywhere you wanted.’
‘And you’d never have to worry about Grimmr the Greedy stealing your land.’
‘You wouldn’t have to worry about the stupid King and his taxes, either.’
‘You could bring the cows and sheep here in Farmer Ulf ’s longship.’
Oddo stared at Thora.
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You think we really could live here.’
Before Thora could answer, Dúngal interrupted.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘that trout must be cooked by now.’
Oddo hardly noticed what he was eating. He was picturing the house his father could build on the hill near the lake. He dug his finger into the ground and crumbled the soft, rich soil. He imagined a field of barley, a cowshed, a haystack . . .
‘First, we have to get back to Norway and fetch our families,’ said Thora.
Oddo blinked, and the vision vanished.
‘How?’
‘There must be someone living here – somewhere. And they’ve got to have a boat. Come on.’
As they set off again, the wall of mountains seemed to curve across their path. Drawing close, they saw that one mountain reared up alone from the surrounding meadows. The sun was beginning to set, but in the twilight Oddo could make out dark hollows in the rocky slopes.
‘Hey, look at the caves. Let’s sleep in—’ His voice caught in his throat. There was something moving at the foot of the mountain. Something big. An animal . . . or a person.
They had all seen it now and they stood, frozen, as the figure detached itself from the shadow of the mountain.
