Free Land of the Silver Dragon by Alys Clare Page B

the length of daylight as an indicator of how far north they were. They observed bird behaviour. They studied the tides. There was more, much more, and it was all based on sound common sense.
    Then Gurdyman’s voice changed – I
know
it did, I heard it – and he moved on to tell me of things that were nothing to do with common sense at all.
    â€˜The Norse ships frequently carried a dragon’s head,’ he said. Fleetingly an image formed in my mind – something I had seen, in a dream, perhaps? Then it was gone. ‘But the dragon was a creature of the sea,’ Gurdyman went on, ‘and drew his power from the water element. Approaching land, the figurehead had to be removed, for the people on the shore feared that the mighty dragon would offend the good spirits of the earth.’ He leaned closer. ‘The mariners believed a ship found her own way home,’ he said, very softly. ‘Their skills helped, of course, but ultimately it was up to the craft herself, and a powerful dragon’s head on the prow would cleave a way through the mists, the storms, the flooding tide and the howling winds and bring the ship safe to port.’
    Then the fleeting image clarified.
    I saw a ship. It was a long, sleek craft, flying through the spray and the wave-tops like an arrow shot from a bow. Her square sail was stretched taught with the wind that drove her, and the dragon on her prow breathed flame and smoke from its flared nostrils. The dragon – or perhaps it was the ship – spoke a name:
Malice-striker
.
    I became aware of Gurdyman’s voice. It seemed he spoke more loudly, as if calling me back from wherever it was I had strayed. It seemed that now he was quoting the words of someone else; perhaps from one of the sagas of long ago.
    â€˜... and the heavens were heavy with snow-bearing cloud,’ he intoned. ‘The king sent his men to search the skies for a clear patch, so that they might see the Sun and note his position, but no break in the clouds was to be found. Then the king summoned his steersman, and commanded him to tell him where the Sun was, and the steersman took his stone, and, putting it to his eye, stared up at the angry skies. Then, lo!, through the power of the sunstone he could see wherefrom came the Sun’s light. Bowing to the king, he said,
Behold, Lord, the invisible Sun is no longer hidden
, and he indicated to the king where the Sun rode, high above the snow clouds.’
    I was there. I was standing beside the king – a tall, broad, burly figure; bearded, a gold circlet on his long hair, wrapped in heavy furs – and I felt his power and his majesty coming off him like the heat from a fire. I saw his steersman, kneeling before him; in his hands he held a square-cut crystal, translucent, softly shining. A deep voice said,
solstenen
.
    â€˜Sunstone,’ I whispered.
    I felt strange. My head was light, as if I hadn’t eaten for a long time. I stared around the familiar little courtyard, but it seemed to be obscured by a wet, cold mist that swirled up out of some unknown, dread source.
    Through the mist I thought I heard Gurdyman’s voice; at least, I believed it was his. The voice spoke of a talisman; an object so sacred, so secret, that few even suspected its existence. It came from far away and its powers were legion.
    Its powers were
terrifying
.
    It sharpened inner sight; it both permitted entry to the unknown realms and provided protection from their perils. It gave access to ...
    Abruptly the voice ceased, as if a thick, heavy door had been closed on the speaker. My head spun and, although I tried to cry out, I was dumb. Then I fell forward on to the table, my head cushioned by my arms, and everything went dark.
    Gurdyman sent me to bed early. It was, I suppose, a way of acknowledging that he might have pushed me a bit too far in the day’s instruction. While I’m delighted that he treats me not as a fragile female but as