CHAPTER NINE

Warm though the day had been, the night was chilly. Trick and Toki sat before a crackling campfire on the banks of the River Tangle, the branches popping and fizzing in the flames. Their departure from Warriors Landing had been delayed as the young Scandinavian had insisted on not only cutting the dead down from the trees but also giving them a Viking burial in the still-burning ruins of the inn.

Trick had stood by and watched, bewildered. He was a schoolkid from London thrown into a world of war and horror. Nothing about the day’s events sat easy with him, and as he stared into the fire he had to wonder how he’d ended up in this predicament.

A growl stirred Trick from his reverie, making him jump where he sat cross-legged. ‘What was that?’

‘Apologies,’ said the Viking, smacking his stomach. ‘My belly snarls like a caged wolf.’

‘You’re hungry,’ said Trick, quickly unravelling Toki’s old-fashioned speech before rummaging around in his schoolbag. He pulled out a bundle of foil and tossed it to his friend. The Viking stared at the crumpled, shining object with suspicion.

‘Unwrap it,’ said Trick with a smile.

Toki gingerly peeled the foil off, revealing the sandwiches Mr Hope had made that morning. He sniffed them, grinned and took a colossal bite from one.

‘By Odin’s whiskers, you bring hog roast to the feast!’ he roared, spitting crumbs at Trick in the process.

‘Say it, don’t spray it.’

‘Is there a greater pleasure than the taste of cooked hog upon one’s lips?’ Trick stopped himself from answering that one. The Viking passed the second sandwich over the fire to Trick.

‘I gave them to you, mate. Looked like you needed them more than me.’

Toki shook his head. ‘We fight together, we feast together – for tomorrow we may die, eh?’ He grinned. Trick didn’t. ‘’Tis the way of the warrior, brother. Take it, along with my gratitude.’

Trick reluctantly accepted it, tucking into the meagre meal while the Viking made short and noisy work of his portion. Indeed, Toki was making such a din as he devoured the sandwich that he was completely unaware of approaching danger. Trick wasn’t quite so distracted. He saw a movement in the shadows between the trees. He heard the snap of a twig beneath a careless footfall. He caught the reflection of moonlight in the assailant’s eyes. And he saw the glint of steel as the villain leapt from the darkness.

‘Toki!’ screamed Trick, but it was too late.

The stranger landed on top of his friend, sending the Viking crashing to the earth. For a second, time froze as Trick dropped his sandwich and took a good look at the crazed madman. His skin was blue and a mountainous mass of white hair erupted from his head and jaw. The shield and sword he wielded were tossed to one side as his grubby fingers clawed at Toki’s panicked face, reaching into his mouth, tearing at his lips. The maniac’s eyes rolled, wild and unblinking, his teeth gnashing and grating like a rabid dog.

‘Celt!’ gasped Toki breathlessly.

‘Viking!’ bellowed the other. Blue fingers seized Toki’s head and smashed it into the ground. That stirred Trick to action.

‘Hey, ya big blue nutter!’ he shouted. ‘Over here!’

The wildman turned Trick’s way, just in time to receive a faceful of flames, as the schoolboy swept a burning brand before him. He let loose a shriek, scrambling clear of the shaken Toki as Trick drove home his advantage. It seemed to work, and the blue-skinned crazy man scrambled away from the torch. Trick advanced, jeering and yelling at him as the attacker tripped backwards, falling into the river with a splash. Instantly he was thrashing about, head struggling to break the surface as he gasped for air; Trick recognized someone who couldn’t swim straight away.

Tossing the flaming brand back into the fire, Trick made for the water’s edge, only for Toki to seize him by the forearm.

‘What in the name of Frigga’s bosom are you doing?’ cried the Viking mercilessly. ‘Let him drown! He’s a filthy Celt!’

Trick tore his arm free and leapt into the cold water as the river began to take the madman away. Trick had always been a confident swimmer and he quickly snatched hold of the flailing stranger. Then he was kicking against the current, one arm hooked beneath the fellow’s jaw, his free hand and legs driving him back to the shore. Soon he was hauling the man through the mud, Toki unwillingly helping him as they rolled their assailant on to his back.

‘They’re bad news, the Celts,’ muttered Toki, refusing to hide his contempt. ‘Headhunters and berserkers, the lot of them!’

Pink streaks were now visible on the half-drowned man’s blue skin, as his woad paint pooled around his shuddering body. He retched, coughing up lungfuls of water into the mud. He raised fumbling fingers towards Trick, who flinched. Toki stepped in, raising a fist, only for the schoolboy to stay his hand. The Celt gripped a leg of Trick’s drenched jeans and squeezed, burbling a string of happy grunts in a thick Scottish accent.

‘You can’t trust him,’ warned Toki. ‘You know nothing about him.’

‘I knew nothing about you either, remember?’

That shut him up. Trick turned back to the soaking stranger dripping blue paint. His white beard trembled as he tried to mouth something. Trick knelt – still wary, but giving the man the benefit of the doubt. Those big, wide eyes blinked now, transforming from wild and crazed to pitiful and pleading.

‘Pig …’

Trick was taken aback. He looked up at Toki, whose fingers were already brushing the crumbs of bread and meat from his lips.

‘You … you were after the ham sandwich?’

The Celt nodded enthusiastically. Trick stepped back to the fire, picked up his discarded butty and passed it to the dripping lunatic. He and Toki watched as the madman went to work on the remains of the boy’s packed lunch.

‘He attacked you … for a sandwich.’

Toki shrugged. ‘He must really like roast hog.’