Thorgar's Arc

Chapter 2 of 13

Two days north, Thorgar stood on a cliff above the drowned cave. The tide was high. Gray water churned at the cave mouth and hid it from view. He had walked hard roads to find this place. Now the sea itself barred the door. He crouched and watched the waves. He counted them the way he counted currents. The water fell, but slowly. He needed to know exactly when the mouth cleared, and how long it stayed open. Harek climbed up beside him. The shipwright set his iron adze down and looked at the churning water. Soot and forge grease still stained his hands and beard, even here on the wind-scoured coast. "Tide's wrong," he said. "You go in now, you drown." "I know that," Thorgar said. "I need the low mark. And I need to know how long I have before the water comes back." Harek pointed to the cliff wall above the cave. Old marks scored the stone at different heights. "Sea wrote it down. Read the high line and the low. Time the fall." He crouched and studied the marks. "Cave floods fast here. You'll have one hour. Maybe less." One hour to reach the den, kill the beast, and get out. Thorgar's hands went to his axe handles. The leather wraps were worn smooth. An hour was thin. But it was a number, and a number he could use. He watched the water drop past one score in the rock. A shadow crossed the cliff. Thorgar looked up. A great eagle rode the wind above them, brown and gold, wings spread wide. It hung there, watching the water as he did. Then it folded and dove. It struck the sea near the cave mouth and rose with a fish in its talons. The bird knew the tide better than any man. It fed when the water pulled back. Thorgar tracked its dives. Each time it struck the same low patch, the mouth showed more rock. "There," he said, pointing. "When the bird can reach the bottom, the cave's open." Harek followed his hand. He grunted once. "Good sign to read." They waited. The water fell past the low score in the rock. The eagle dropped again and stood in the shallows at the cave mouth, tearing at its fish. The mouth stood clear now, a black gap under the cliff. The current had gone slack. Thorgar stood. He pulled both axes free and checked their weight. "Now," he said. "One hour." Harek picked up his adze. "I hold the rope up here. You're not back when the tide turns, you're the beast's now, not mine." Thorgar climbed down toward the black mouth. He had his window. He had his path. The obstacle that had trapped him was solved. But he walked into the den alone, with the sea already turning behind him and an hour on the clock.