Rolling waves made Chief Svengald’s three-sailed skiff point from sky to sea for hours as an approaching storm grew. Despite the worsening conditions, the Chief was enjoying being at the rudder on the open sea far too much to be overly concerned. His confidence in the seaworthiness of the surprisingly nimble craft was not unfounded. Built by him and the Valley Realm’s Riverboat Builders, the Chief swiftly plied the increasingly rough waves.

     The wind picked up and Svengald unfurled the remaining sail and the skiff took off over the water like a little running ‘River Dragon’! Additional fin-like extensions on the boat’s hull below and above the waterline held the skiff steady though it now ‘sailed’ with a cushion of air beneath it.

     The fins were the idea of the Goddess Okavanga. The Goddess suggested ‘they would help speed him on his journey home and a safe return to the Valley’. Having a sea goddess as paramour definitely had its advantages thought Svengald.

     Swiftly, the Chief maneuvered about hillside-sized waves with a devilish grin plastered across his face. Amidst the towering waves Svengald shouted, “You’ll have to do better to catch this ‘little river dragon!’”

     The Chief then realized he hadn’t given the skiff a name and said, “That’s it! ‘Little River Dragon’ shall be your name.”

     Looking up towards the carved figurehead at the skiff’s bow, Svengald saw the faint glow of the Yellow Stone seated securely in the carving’s mouth.

     The glow had increased slightly in the past few days so the Chief was heartened he drew nearer to his people. Long as they held the stone he’d left for the Witch Mjarga, he would be able to find them. The thought of finding his way home brought back the strange words of the Priestess concerning him ‘having made mistakes’ during his fateful journey into the past.

     He’d spoken directly with the ‘Goddess’ within the Priestess when the warning was given. But, no answers came as to what his ‘mistakes’ had been or what the consequences would be from making them. ‘It was a bothersome thing,’ thought Svengald. However, he had much more immediate concerns.

     Clearing the imposing field of high waves, the Chief found the multitude of smaller swells far rougher as his ‘River Dragon’ bounced over their tops. With the horizon now visible, Svengald saw that which he needed to see…the vast ‘Everstorm’!

     The winds became sharper and as he adjusted the sails to tack with the headwind, the River Dragon lurched forward with greater speed.

     The Yellow Stone in the figurehead’s mouth gave off a stronger glow and the Chief knew he’d come closer to finding his people. A sudden concern struck him. For the stone to glow bright as it did, he had to be much closer to its twin that he thought. He had yet to get into the storm to make his way into the world where his home lay. At the top of a swell, Svengald saw far out over the waves where the Everstorm met the horizon and there was an unmistakable amber glow!

     “Odin and the Priestess be praised!” yelled the Chief into the wind.

     Pulling hard on the rudder, Svengald tried to force the skiff towards the light before he lost the bearing. “Come on Little River Dragon! Heed my command!”

     The nimble skiff leaned hard as it tried to resist the Chief’s efforts and he saw a pair of the skiff's fins break clear of the water! After jambing the rudder in place, Svengald grabbed the mainsail’s rope and stood on the exposed hull. Leaning hard backwards towards the rough water beneath him, the Chief pulled for all he was worth to keep the skiff from capsizing.

     “Come on you bastard! Hold the line!”

     As if in abeyance, the skiff held firm and tore across the waves towards the glow. The Chief bellowed into the wind as the waning golden rays of the descending sun fell upon him. Feeling like the reckless young man he once was Svengald shouted, “Ha! Let’s see the Valley Knight best the song you and I will make Little River Dragon!”

     Hours later, the heroic scene at sea created by the setting sun was gone. In its place was the howling darkness of a storm at sea after nightfall! By now, every muscle and bone in Svengald’s body was screaming in protest after holding his position on the hull of the skiff for so long.

     Despite the pain, the Chief thought the one benefit was his hands were so cramped he doubted they could let go of the rope by accident! The good news far as the Chief could see was; the amber glow grew stronger with every passing hour.

     However, the bad news was he could not see the edge of the Everstorm! Twice before he’d been caught in the Storm’s dark and powerful clutches. Once with his men on their voyage to find the City of Golden Towers and the other when the future Little Fish sent him to save his men after their escape from that wretched citadel. Both times were harrowing experiences and he would do all he could to help his people avoid the tempest. Abruptly the stone burst with light blinding Svengald.

     “What in the bowels of the Mountain?”

     The Aesir’s exclamation was drowned out as the wind roared and filled the skiff’s sails near to bursting. Svengald was flung to the opposite side of the skiff to be bashed against its reinforced rim.

     “Son of a…!”

     His swearing was cut off as the skiff began to lurch too far to one side. In the next instant the skiff would capsize!

     Pulling to no avail, Svengald felt the skiff roll towards the roiling sea. With teeth clenched and stomach lurching, the Chief of the Aesir waited for the instant of doom. From beneath his craft an expanding glow illuminated the waters allowing him to see the sea state. Svengald's face became a white toothed grimace as the choppy waves burned with white light. An unnatural turbulence forcefully halted the skiff's roll and caused the Chief to lose his footing on the side of the hull!

     Svengald slammed face first into the River Dragon's serrated hull. It was a wondrous design which allowed the skiff to glide swift and sure through the water. However, the Chief felt the skiff's scales wreak havoc on his face and body upon impact! His momentum into the depths was abruptly halted as the rope held by his numb hands suddenly snapped taught.

     Reflexively, the Chief's eyes popped open and he was assaulted by the brilliant light in one eye and searing pain in the other! As he blinked his good eye hard trying impossibly to see clearly underwater, something large moved within the illuminated depths....

****

     A tempest blew in after nightfall and the Chief's Vife Ghilda was doing all she could to keep her crew focused on sailing the longship. While barking commands to her Second, she looked out into the darkness to see if any of the other longboats were still following the glow of the yellow stone placed in the figurehead of her craft. As rolling waves made gaps on the horizon, Ghilda saw the lights of torches from two longboats cutting through the gloom.

     “Thank Odin!” sighed the Chief's Vife at the sight.

     However, her crew had their own problems. Waves were overtopping the the boat's hull flushing in water faster than the women could bail it out.

     "Put your backs into it women! Get those sails down and anyone not bailing best man the oars!"

     Suddenly, the longship lurched hard to starboard. The abrupt turn threw all aboard from their positions into an ungainly pile against the opposite hull. Even as Ghilda's eyes burst with stars from bashing her head, she heard the screams of women thrown over the side.

     Fighting to regain her senses and her feet Ghilda bellowed, "Women overboard!"

     Before anyone could react, the yellow stone placed in the figurehead on the bow flared brilliant bathing the black sea like a small sun! Ghilda made her way to portside rail while shielding her eyes from the intense glow. Out among the waves she could see three of her crew struggling to keep their heads above water. One of the other longboats swiftly moved to render aid to two of the women. Ghilda pounded her fist atop the wood rail with relief as ropes hauled the pair in.

     The other woman was not so fortunate. By the yellow stone's light, Chief's Vife Ghilda looked n with dismay as the source of the turbulent sea state was revealed. A great vortex spun menacingly and her crewwoman was caught in its unyielding grip! The terrible decision was plain. Her fellow shield maiden struggling in vain to reach the longboat was too far for anyone to render aid.

     Ghilda looked out as the struggling woman was dragged down by her heavy soaked clothing and yelled, "Row women, row for your lives!"

     Ghilda fought her way aft as the longship rolled side-to-side. With every hard won step, she paid for it with bashed shins against the oar benches! Upon reaching the rear of the ship, the Chief's Vife threw herself upon the rudder to aid the struggling helmswoman. The pair heaved on the heavy oak tiller with all their strength. Ghilda could feel powerful vibrations in the sturdy wood as they desperately tried to force the ship to turn.

     "Come on damn you turn!" growled Ghilda as threw her weight against the rudder in one last ditch effort.

     Sure enough, the Chief's Vife felt the telltale vibrations of the longboat turning away from the vortex current.

     "That's it! We're turning! Don't give up!"

     Ghlda's burst of hope was wiped away as screams erupted from her fellow shield maidens.

     The rudder suddenly flung the two women aside as the longboat struck something beneath the roiling waters! Stunned from striking the ship’s rail, Ghilda struggled to get her bearings. Over the incessant roar of the vortex, screams filled her ears and then her eyes fell upon the cracked skull of the helmswoman.

     It was then she noticed her shield arm swung limp and at an odd angle in the building wind. Blood streamed down her face and with her sword hand, she felt the gash in her scalp.

     Looking ahead to the screaming women Ghilda quietly inquired, "Why did you stop rowing?"

     The answer came as a great wave rolled towards the longboat broadside. Snapping out of her fog, Ghilda lunged for one of the flailing ropes attached to the sail as the wave struck with enough force to capsize the ship! Swinging out over the open water as her crewwomen without handholds flew over the side, the Chief's Vife saw just beneath the surface what caused the ship's distress.

     Ghilda felt her muscles seize as she gasped, "Jörmungandr!"

To be continued....
© 2016 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

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