Crach an Craite raised his eyebrows.

‘How many are needed, Guthlaf?’ the sorceress repeated. ‘How many are essential? Please reckon it exactly.’

The seneschal was silent for some time as he added up.

‘Eight of us can cope,’ he said finally. ‘If it’s not for long… Why, but everyone here is a volunteer, no one’s being forced—’

‘Select eight from that fifteen,’ she interrupted sharply. ‘Choose them yourself. And order those selected to transfer to Alkyone. The rest are staying on Tamara. Aha, I shall choose one of those who stays. Hjalmar!’

‘No, madam! You can’t do that to me! I volunteered and will be at your side! I want to be—’

‘Be silent! You’re staying on Tamara! That’s an order! One more word and I’ll have you tied to the mast!’

‘Go on, Asa.’

‘The witch, Guthlaf and those eight volunteers boarded Alkyone and sailed for the Abyss. We, on Tamara, hung back according to our orders, but not too far away. But some devilry began with the weather, which had been wonderfully favourable till then. Aye, I speak truly that it was devilry, for the power was sinister, yarl… May I be keelhauled if I lie…’

‘Go on.’

‘Where we were, I mean Tamara, the sea was calm. Though the wind whistled some and clouds darkened the horizon so day almost became night. But where Alkyone was all hell suddenly broke loose. Hell indeed…’

Alkyone’s sail suddenly fluttered so violently that they heard the flapping in spite of the distance separating the longships. The sky turned black and the clouds swirled. The sea, which seemed completely calm around Tamara, churned up and foamed white by Alkyone’s sides. Someone suddenly yelled, someone chimed in, and a moment later everybody was yelling.

A cone of black clouds was striking Alkyone, making it bob on the waves like a cork. The ship twisted, spun, its bow and stern rising and falling into the waves. At times the longship almost completely vanished from sight. At times they could only see the striped sail.

‘It’s magic!’ bawled someone behind Asa’s back. ‘It’s devil magic!’

The whirlpool spun Alkyone around faster and faster. Shields torn from the sides by centrifugal force whirred in the air like discs, and splintered oars flew in all directions.

‘Reef the sail!’ yelled Asa Thjazi. ‘To the oars! Row, boys! To the rescue!’

But it was already too late.

The sky above Alkyone turned black, and the blackness suddenly exploded in zigzags of lightning which entwined the longship like a medusa’s tentacles. The clouds, swirling in fantastic shapes, writhed up into a horrendous funnel. The longship spun around with incredible speed. The mast snapped like a match, the torn sail dashed over the breakers like a huge albatross.

‘Row, men!’

Over their own yells, over the all-deafening roar of the elements, they nonetheless heard the cries of the men from Alkyone. Cries so extraordinary they made their hair stand on end. And these were old sea dogs, bloodied berserkers, mariners who had seen and heard many things.