The Islands of the Blessed Read Online Free PDF Page A

lads twisted themselves into knots, trying to say what they thought the old bards wanted. If the boys lied, they were sent away and never allowed to return.”
    â€œJust for that,” murmured Jack, thinking of the times he had lied to avoid a thrashing from Father.
    â€œServing the life force is a serious business,” the old man said.
    â€œWhat did
you
see, sir?” Jack said daringly, for the Bard rarely answered questions about himself.
    The old man pushed aside a downed branch with the tip of his staff. “Right now I see ceps.” A cluster of fat mushrooms with white stems and brown caps crowded around the foot of a tree. “We’re in luck, lad. They’ll make an outstanding supper.”
    Jack crouched down to gather the ceps, and their rich, earthy odor made his mouth water.
    â€œHazel woods are brimming with the life force,” the Bard continued, moving more branches out of the way. “They lie close to the boundaries between the nine worlds, and many a secret pathway lies hidden under their leaves. A true bard knows how to find them.”
    Jack felt a tremor of fear, which he quickly tried to suppress. His experience with other worlds had mostly been bad. On the other hand, there were moments—such as when he and Thorgil had found the Valley of Yggdrassil—so wreathed in glory that tears came to his eyes when he remembered them. And then an awful thought struck him: Suppose the Bard were testing him right now? Perhaps it was time to discover whether he was a true bard or whether he should be sent back to weeding turnips and chasing black-faced sheep.
    Jack looked around, willing the leaves to dissolve and show him a secret path. But nothing appeared. It was an ordinary woodland full of moss and lichens. The trees nearest the fields had been coppiced, cut close to the roots to allow for thegrowth of straight branches that might be used for fences. A red squirrel scolded him from a high perch, and he saw it flick its tail with rage.
    â€œWhat do you see?” the Bard asked in a soft voice.
    Jack’s throat constricted. Sunlight hovered over the sheltering leaves. A thrush opened its beak and sang. A spiderweb shivered delicately in a puff of air. “I see … oh, curse it! I don’t see
anything.
No, that’s not right. I can see a squirrel, a beetle, a thrush, a spiderweb, but nothing important. I’ll never be a true bard!”
    â€œAnd what could be more important than a squirrel, a beetle, a thrush, and a spiderweb?” insisted the old man.
    â€œWhy …” Jack looked up.
    â€œExactly. Ever since I took you on as my apprentice, I’ve been training you to see things as they are. Until you do that, you haven’t a hope of looking farther. One night very soon, I want you to sleep here.”
    Jack swallowed nervously. The woodland appeared tranquil and safe by daylight, but he knew things could change after dark.
    â€œYou asked me what I saw when I was tested at the School of Bards,” the old man said. “The first time I encountered the same sort of creatures as you—a hedgehog, a bat, a doe with her fawn. But the
second
time—” He fell silent.
    What happened the second night?
Jack thought wildly. The Bard walked on briskly, and the boy knew he wouldn’t answer any more questions.
    They followed one of the paths through the hazel wood.Bluebells brushed against their ankles, and the sound of water rushing through an unseen brook came to them.
    â€œLook there,” commanded the Bard. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. Where once there had been a dense mass of ancient oaks, a road had been torn out, as though someone had taken a giant sword and slashed right and left through the heart of the forest.
    â€œTypical of Olaf and his thick-skulled bunch to leave a mess,” remarked the Bard, looking out over the destruction.
    â€œWas Thorgil right?” Jack asked. “Did Odin really