The Icebound Land- Character Reaction

3

A/N: By the way, I forgot to mention it, Arald and Rodney had to go back to Redmont for a bit.

"Can I read next?" Jenny asked. Cassandra smiled and handed the book to the chef, who took it and began reading.

AS THE WOLFSHIP ROUNDED THE POINT AND REACHED THE shelter of the bay, the heavy swell died away. Inside the small natural harbor, the tall, rocky headlands broke the force of both wind and swell so that the water was flat calm, its surface broken only by the spreading V of the wolfship's wake.

"Is this Skandia?" Evanlyn asked. All the Skandians grinned.

Will shook his head ruefully. "I'd almost prefer Skorghijl to Skandia."

"We're not all that bad, are we?" Hal asked. The Ranger glanced over at him with a tight smile.

"No. Not all."

Will shrugged uncertainly. It certainly didn't look the way he had expected. There were only a few small, ramshackle huts on the shore, with no sign of a town. And no people.

"It doesn't seem big enough, does it?" he said.

"Not that it's particularly big in the first place," Halt pointed out.

Svengal, coiling a rope nearby, laughed at their ignorance. Said Skandian laughed again.

"This isn't Skandia," he told them. "We're barely halfway to Skandia. This is Skorghijl."

Seeing their puzzled looks, he explained further. "We can't make the full crossing to Skandia now. That storm in the Narrow Sea delayed us so long that the Summer Gales have set in. We'll shelter here until they've blown out. That's what those huts are for."

Erak snorted. "There needs to be more huts. Maybe then we wouldn't have had to deal with him as much."

Will looked dubiously at the weathered timber huts. They looked grim and uncomfortable. "How long will that take?" he asked, and Svengal shrugged.

"Six weeks, two months. Who knows?" He moved off, the coil of rope over one shoulder, and the two young people were left to survey their new surroundings.

Skorghijl was a bleak and uninviting place of bare rock, steep granite cliffs and a small level beach where the sun and salt-whitened timber huts huddled. There was no tree or blade of green anywhere in sight. The rims of the cliffs were scattered with the white of snow and ice. The rest was rock and shale, granite black and dull gray. It was as if whatever gods the Skandians worshipped had removed all vestige of color from this rocky little world.

"That would be Hulde, if it's any god," Edvin pointed out. The other Skandians nodded agreement.

Unconsciously, without the need to battle the constant backward set of the waves, the rowers slackened their pace. The ship glided across the bay to the shingle beach. Erak, at the tiller, kept her in the channel that ran deep right up to the water's edge, until the keel finally grated into the shingle and the wolfship was, for the first time in days, still.

Will and Evanlyn stood, their legs uncertain after days of constant movement. Will and Cassandra both groaned.

The ship rang with the dull thuds of timber on timber as the oars were drawn in board and stowed. Erak looped a leather thong over the tiller to secure it and prevent the rudder from banging back and forth with the movement of the tide. He glanced briefly at the two prisoners.

"Go ashore if you like," he told them. There was no need to restrain them or guard them in any way. Skorghijl was an island, barely two kilometers across at its widest point. Apart from this one perfect natural harbor that had made it a refuge for Skandians during the Summer Gales, Skorghijl's coast was an uninterrupted line of sheer cliffs, dropping into the sea.