AN: I loved getting your feedback, thank you! Now on to the final part (plus epilogue)....
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Chapter 10
"When I first taught him to dive, he really got on my nerves."
Maelcolm paused in mid-swallow and lowered the bottle. "You taught your captain to dive?"
Karl nodded. "There are some beautiful stone corals around the fjords. When I was a boy, we used to dive for them and trade them in with the merchants. Johan wanted to know how it was done."
"So what did he do to get on your nerves?"
Karl sighed. "Whatever it was I was teaching him, he'd get it the first time. Took him to some caves once, a little further off the coast. Only the best divers can hold their breath long enough to reach them. Johan? He stayed down there for almost three minutes and came up with the largest coral I'd ever seen."
Maelcolm grinned. "A good student."
"Too good," Karl grumbled. "I was the teacher! I'd been diving all my life, and then some landlubber comes and does everything faster and better than me. That's when I decided to introduce him to Valthjof."
"And who..." Maelcolm hiccupped and pressed a hand to his lips before he continued, "... was that?"
"A silver eel. About thirty years old and four arms long. We'd found his hole a few years ago and steered clear of it ever since. I told Johan my brothers and I had hidden some coins inside. Johan reached in..." Karl chuckled. "Damn if old Valthjof didn't take hold of his forearm."
Maelcolm hiccupped again. "It bit him?"
"Took quite a chunk out of his arm." Karl grinned.
"That must've been the last time he ever went diving with you," Maelcolm said.
Karl shook his head. "That was the thing. He found it a lot funnier than I did. We came up again, his arm's dripping with blood and he's cracking up like mad. Almost didn't make it to the shore because he couldn't stop laughing. He invited me to sit with him in the hall that night... share his mead."
He stared down at the bottle. He'd found a friend that day, a man whose respect had meant so much to him.
"Johan picked me for the tour... my uncles didn't think I should go. They said I was better suited for the smithy." He took a long swig, then glanced at Maelcolm, who was watching him silently. "I think they were right."
Maelcolm took the bottle from his hand. "You fought well."
Karl said nothing. He wouldn't tell Maelcolm about the child in the stable, the child whose black, burned face haunted his dreams.
"Drink to him," Maelcolm said.
Karl glanced up. "What?"
Maelcolm held out the bottle. "Drink to his spirit. It will please him."
After a moment's hesitation, Karl took the bottle, raising it in salute. "To Johan, captain of the Sea Serpent," he said. "We honor your memory."
He drank, the strong beverage filling his stomach with warmth.
"To Ealdgyth and Stigweard," Maelcolm said, took the bottle and drank. "We honor your memory and wish you peace."
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
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"Y'hear that?"
"Wha'?" Maelcolm brought the bottle to his lips, taking an unsteady sip.
"That... gjalla."
"I don't undersh- understand you, wicing. Talk normal."
"I am talking nuh- normal."
"No you're not."
"Am."
"Not."
Karl glared blearily at his friend and made a grab for the bottle. "That noise. D'you hear that noise?"
"The rain," Maelcolm said, rolling his head from side to side like a bear that had just emerged from hibernation. "'s just the rain."
"Nuh-uh. Sounds like someone's laughing. Giggling. Hey!" Karl shouted. "You shut up out there!"
"Don't," Maelcolm said. "Maybe it's evil spirits. Sea monsters. Bad idea, telling them t'shut up." He chuckled.
"They can giggle all they want, but the monsters aren't getting any of our mead," Karl said, and began to chuckle as well, sloshing some of the bottle's contents onto the planks.
"Don' waste it!" Maelcolm dragged a finger through the spilled liquid and licked it off. "Not bad. Kind of salty."
"Ugh," Karl pulled a face. "You Saxons were all born in a barn."
"Tha's right," Maelcolm agreed cheerfully. "And so was our Lord Jesus Christ. Gimme that," he grabbed the bottle and took a swig. "You wicings sh-sure know how to make mead, even though you're heathens."
"An' you Saxons sure know how to hold your drink, even though you're just farm lads."
Maelcolm stuck his tongue out and lifted the bottle to his mouth, nearly missing.
"Here," he said, and thrust it at Karl. "Finish it before it finishes you."
He laughed, delighted with his own wit, and Karl joined in, slumping against his friend as he emptied the bottle in one huge gulp.
"Maelcolm?" he asked after a while.
"Y-yes?"
"Do you think we'll ever reach the shore?"
Karl waited, but no answer was forthcoming. He turned slightly to look at the other man. Maelcolm's eyes were closed, his mouth half-open as he slept.
An answer of sorts, Karl thought, and let go of the bottle, which rolled over the planks and clanked against the middle bench. His eyes were beginning to droop, and he felt a strange heaviness settle over his limbs. Maybe this was how it ended, with a bottle of mead and two drunken men lying on the floor of a faering. And maybe that was just as well.
At least we saw the dragons. Karl smiled as he fell asleep.
They'd always have that.
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Epilogue has been posted!