They dragged the ship onto the shore on the western side of the river and carefully turned it over. There were gaps in the chinking from the dead forest, barely patched with bits of rope and bits of cloth. Ajax sent Tanis into a nearby forest to look for dead fall to replace the broken chinking. While she was gone he carefully removed the broken pieces.

“So ends our intrepid journey?” Brother Paweł asked, his voice sour. “Do we now settle here, on the shores of the Wisła?

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Ajax snapped. “I am no shipwright, but it will not be the first time I have replaced the Ósk’s chinking myself.”

“And if Tanis finds no dead fall worthy of making into chinking for repairs?” the monk asked. “When do we give up the lunacy of this journey?”

“When we find the Mead of Poetry,” Svanbjörn said easily.

“I still don’t know what that is,” Ajax pointed out. Svanbjörn took him aside and started to chant the old traditional poem. Brother Paweł scowled and stamped away.

“There’s trouble brewing there,” Yrsa said, frowning after him.

Skíði shrugged. “That is two gods now that he has seen with his own eyes. Neither of them were his sacrificed God. It must be hard for him.”

“He’ll either make his peace with it, or he will not,” she said. “But there is a storm brewing in his mind.”

Skíði could not argue. Instead, he listened again to the poem Svanbjörn was reciting for Ajax. He had heard the same poem, always the same words for his whole life. He felt he could almost say them himself, but what if he deviated from the story. What if he told it a different way? What if, what if, what if.

His whole life he had struggled with a series of what ifs. What if he wasn’t an orphan? Would Svanbjörn and Yrsa still like him and care about him? What if he chose the Norse gods over the Christian God? Would Brother Paweł leave?

And now he had a new set of what ifs. What if he never chose a path, never chose a religion? What would happen to the world after he died? What if he didn’t care? Did that make him a bad person? What if he just lived his life and worried about it later? Was that fair? What that allowed? What if he died suddenly? Where did that leave the world?

“Tanis come,” Lin said, breaking Skíði’s train of thought. He turned to follow Lin’s gaze and saw Tanis was indeed returning from the forest.

She was empty handed.

“Nothing, then?” Ajax asked.

She shrugged. “Everything was rotted or too small. I thought about felling a tree, but I doubt that young Skíði wants to wait the days it will take for the wood to cure.”

“I do not,” Skíði confirmed. “What now, then?”

Ajax shrugged. “About a half a day’s walk that way,” he pointed, “is a small fishing town where we might find some replacement chinking. Or we can go on in a leaky ship and hope for a town with supplies somewhere downstream.”

“I vote for the town nearby,” said Svanbjörn. “They will have other supplies we may need also.”

“Can we pick up another ship?” Brother Paweł asked sourly.

“Can we pick up another monk?” Ajax bit back just as sourly. “I think this one is turning sour.”

“Ajax!” Yrsa scolded.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Yrsa!” he scolded back. “The monk is going bad.”

“The monk is right here.” Brother Paweł’s voice was deadly quiet. Svanbjörn stepped up and put a hand on the monk’s arm, leading him away and talking to him quietly. Yrsa took Ajax by the ear and dragged in in the opposite direction, closer to the forest, scolding him. Skíði exchanged amused glances with Tanis.

“Do you think we should go into town?” he asked, curious what the strange woman would say.

She shrugged. “Not for me, but I think it is wise for others to go. I can stay here and watch the ship.”

Lin nodded his agreement. “I, too, watch ship. But else, go.” He picked up one of the pieces of destroyed chinking and made a face. “This no good for ship.”

“I agree,” Skíði said, looking in the direction of the town Ajax had spoken of. This was going to be quite a set back… He picked up the map, pointing the way clearly down the river, and rolled it up He put it in his pouch. He did not mind leaving behind anything else, but he didn’t want to lose sight of the map, somehow.

Svanbjörn returned with a slightly less disgruntled looking Brother Paweł. A few moments later, Yrsa returned alone. Ajax lingered near the forest, rubbing his ear and scowling. Lin went to him and was waved away, so he returned, shrugging.

“Leave him alone,” Yrsa suggested when Skíði started towards him. “We are all of us tired and out of temper. I propose that we decide what to do tomorrow.”

“Why not today?” Skíði asked.

“It will be dark before we get there,” she answered, pointing to the sky. “We have some gold for an inn, but it would be better if we saved it.”

Skíði looked up at the sun, indeed already westering, and nodded. “I supposed you are right.” Then he yawned. “And I am tired.”

“None of us slept much last night,” Svanbjörn said in agreement. “It is better for us to rest here today and leave early for town tomorrow.”

They build a fire using driftwood and some of the rotted deadfall from the nearby forest. They sat down beside it in the gathering gloom. As twilight descended, so too did the clouds. After the previous night’s storm Skíði looked up at them uncertainly, but they did not seem inclined to drop any rain.

He took a nap. After he woke up he went over to the river with his fishing pole and caught several large fish. Lin cooked them over the fire, along with more turnips. He was feeling alert after his nap, and more alert after his evening meal, so he volunteered for the first watch, along with Brother Paweł. The others drifted off to a peaceful sleep soon after dark.

Brother Paweł was silent — not asleep, he snored like he was cutting logs when he slept — but a restless kind of silence. It felt dangerous to Skíði. He knew he would need to do something, to say something, but what? And when? Was it better to let the old monk stew, or to try and draw him out?

Finally, just after midnight, when the clouds had cleared away to reveal an array of stars and a bright moon and Skíði was just thinking about getting sleepy again, the old monk spoke up.

“Did you believe what that strange demon told you? The one calling himself Þórr?” Brother Paweł asked. “Do you believe he was your father?”

Skíði had to think about this. Did he believe what Þórr had said, any of it? Even a full day later, he wasn’t sure. It was too fantastical. In many ways it was nonsensical as well. Could he believe that any of it was true? He felt almost that he could not.

But he also knew Þórr’s face. Hadn’t he seen elements of it reflected back at him in smooth ice and in still ponds?”

“I think I do believe what Þórr said,” Skíði said at last, “about being my father. I do not know what else he said that I believe, but I believe Svanbjörn when he says that Þórr is not a trickster. He did not strike me as the type.”

“Nor me, but demons—”

“I do not think he was a demon,” he interrupted. “Nor Üçüncü. I do not know that I believe in demons at all.” When Brother Paweł began to sputter at this, Skíði ignored him and went on. “I believe there is evil in this world, and that it can inhabit the hearts of men, Brother Paweł, but I do not believe in demons as you speak of them.”

Brother Paweł sputtered for a moment longer, and then looked thoughtful. “I… I cannot agree with you, Skíði, but… I have known other monks, other priests even, who believe with their whole heart in the Lord, but who do not believe in demons. We must all believe as we must all believe.”

“Even Svanbjörn and Yrsa?” Skíði asked. “I hate when you argue with them over what is the right way. Why is their way less right than yours?”

Brother Paweł frowned up at the sky, at the stars, and sighed before looking back to Skíði. “Svanbjörn and Yrsa… they speak the truth as they know it. As do I. As do we all, truth to tell. Perhaps my way is not the right way… but it is the way I know and believe in.” He looked thoughtful then. “Even with these… gods or demons… yes, I still believe in the way of the Lord. Was not Jesus himself tempted in the desert?”

“Was he?” Skíði asked, and then yawned. “Is it time to wake Lin and Yrsa yet?”

Brother Paweł squinted up at the sky again. “Close enough. Get some sleep, boy. I’ll wake the others.”

Skíði curled up in him blanket on the ground near the fire and listened to the ocean for several moments before rolling over and going to sleep.