The Dark Horse Read Online Free PDF Page B

the heat of the fire on her cheeks, but they were burning anyway. From the corner of her eye she saw Olaf stand in anger, but she also saw Freya and Thorbjorn pull him back down.
    Horn towered over her.
    “Don’t make a fool of me. You are trying to play a trick on me! You know I cannot open the box. You will open it.”
    “No,” said Mouse. “No. I didn’t know. . . . Why haven’t you opened it? I thought you—”
    Horn raised his fist. Mouse quivered.
    “I cannot open the box,” he growled. Then he glared at Gudrun. “The Wisewoman cannot open the box.”
    So that was what she had been doing in his broch that morning. . . .
    “None of our men can open the box. You found it. You brought it here. Or perhaps it is some game of yours. To make a fool of me!”
    No, no, no, thought Mouse.
    “So open it!” Horn shouted.
    The box lay on the floor between them, in the dust, but it still shone. The firelight made its bloodred wood glow across the space between them. It challenged her.
    “Open it!”
    Mouse crawled toward the box. She pulled it near and inspected it properly for the first time. No hinges, no catches. No keyhole, no lock of any sort. Just a faint hint of a join where the lid met the tray of the box itself.
    She put her trembling fingers to the top, terrified of what would happen if she failed.
    The lid of the box swung smoothly open.
    It was empty.
    The box was very beautiful inside. It was lined with thin copper sheet, but nevertheless it was utterly empty.
    “No!” yelled Horn, raging with frustration, but Mouse knew nothing of this.
    She cowered in the dust, shaking, trying not to faint. Something
was
in the box, just not something you could see. Whatever it was tried to take hold of her, and she could feel its power. It was a thing more powerful than even the fire that raged beside her.
    “No!” yelled Horn yet again.
    Mouse could feel the box start to pull at her mind. Terrified of its force, she tried to get away but couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move, and she felt dizzy; the great hall was spinning around her as if she were drunk. She had to get away but could do nothing.
    All in a moment Horn cursed Mouse and drew Cold Lightning, his sword, from its scabbard. He raised the sword above his head. There was a cry from the Storn, some screams. Olaf jumped to his feet and began to push through the gathering.
    Horn brought his sword down with all the might of his arms and his back. On the box.
    And his sword broke in two. The broken part spun away off the ground and flew across the fire pit. There was a cry. It had cut Gudrun. Horn stood quivering with rage, clutching the stump of his weapon loosely in one hand. Dumbly he loosed his grip and the broken blade slid to the earth. Horn was staring at the box.
    He picked it up. He had hit it square and true. Cold Lightning lay broken on the floor, but there was not the slightest mark on the wooden box.
    In frustration he slammed its lid shut and stormed from the great broch.
    As he did so Mouse felt the presence of the box vanishing, and she was left, shaking with fear, in the dirt by the fire.

14

    Gudrun did not seem to be too badly hurt. The broken edge of Cold Lightning had sliced through her dress and made a messy cut across her stomach, but it was not deep. But she was the Wisewoman. She was the one who mended arms and delivered babies. The one who tended people’s wounds. There was no one to look after her.

15

    The white man picked up Sigurd’s body and carried him across his shoulders like a dead deer. He felt cold again, though it was a warm day. His head swam a little every now and again, and he had to stop. Sweat ran freely from his face.
    The boy couldn’t have come far from where he lived. He had nothing with him—no pack, no food, nothing. He hoisted the boy’s body higher onto his shoulders and set off along the coast, north. Back the way the boy had come.

16

    There were times when we’d have been truly lost without Mouse.
    I