Uktena
3rd day, Boney Moon, 119 AE
Somewhere, Eastern Ocean

       Although the winter air and the open ocean were bitingly cold, sweat ran freely down Laughing Coyote’s back. His arms shook and trembled with strain and he devoutly hoped that is was sweat and not blood that stung his blistered hands. He had been on this wretched boat for a quarter and three days now and was utterly certain he had never hated anything in his life like he hated this.
       He had learned that the ship he was on was called the Knarrabringa and that the grey-haired leader was Captain Ulfkell. He learned it was best not to forget these facts, or to mispronounce the strange guttural sounds, nor to compare them to animal noises. He also started to learn some of the demons language which they called Norse. The huge man who wore scarlet was called Jarpulf and he was surprisingly helpful, he spoke Tsalagi fairly well when sober and cheerfully explained words he could expect to hear and obey as a slave. He was also surprisingly vain about his appearance and spent much of his free time combing his hair and beard.
       Actually all of the demons did this, in the mornings and any time they had free after working they would groom themselves. He had expected them to be total barbarians, and in many ways they were. There was only water enough for drinking and Laughing Coyote’s skin itched and crawled with the need to bathe and his hair didn’t bear thinking about, but at least there were no vermin.  
       He also learned the names of the other prisoners and they had spent the days cautiously getting to know one another, though the demons discouraged talking even when there was not much else to do. The two look-alikes did indeed turn out to be close cousins, in fact they were closer than most since their mothers were twins. They even had sound-alike names, with Redwing being the elder by two moons and Redtail being the inept bone- tosser. The man in the rain-cape was named Bright Colors and he’d been on his way to meet a potential bride. The three of them had all been taken from the same town further up the coast.
       They had run out of wind on the ninth day and had all been put to rowing. The demons as well the prisoners, which was a good thing as they now numbered six; the man with the broken nose hadn’t woken up on the second morning-- he wouldn’t wake no matter how they kicked or beat him. The third morning had dawned to find him dead.
       Yesterday, the day the wind died, Laughing Coyote had been paired at an oar with Rain-on-his-Face, the youngster who’d been crying on the first day. Apparently he had much to cry over; he had no father, and a few moons before his naming his mother had died leaving him in the care of her brother. Rain-on-his-Face’s uncle was a trader who had just happened to be in town on business and was not at all happy to have the burden of another mouth. So after a moon of crying, he’d traded Rain-on-his-Face to the demons.
       Laughing Coyote had been shocked by this bluntly told tale and pulled much harder on the smooth wooden pole than he might otherwise have. Young adults who had just gotten or were about to get their names were often fostered with relatives. He himself had been sent to live with his grandfather when he was twelve, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that. When they paused to pull off their shirts it didn’t make Laughing Coyote feel any better to see how painfully thin the orphan was. He just couldn’t believe anyone would do that to their own kin. Setting aside the example of the gambling cousins, who were clearly just fools, people didn’t do that to one another.
       Today he was paired with Going Squirrel the warrior, who glared knives at him anytime he felt Laughing Coyote wasn’t pulling his share of water. It was difficult with his hands all blistered from the previous day’s work and he struggled to find a way to grip the oar that didn’t feel like he was holding a log from the fire instead.
       “Stop fussing and pull.” Going Squirrel hissed under his breath.
       “I’m trying. I’ve got little skin left on my hands for gripping with.” He muttered back.
       Only the helmsman and the Captain weren’t rowing; Bjarni had the tiller because he was keeping the boat on track and Ulfkell because he was walking a circuit with his favorite rope in hand smacking anyone he thought wasn’t working hard enough. Laughing Coyote was rather pleased to see he laid the knots on his fellows as stoutly as his prisoners. He was less than pleased that he was struck every time he stomped past them. And he seethed every time he heard Rain-on-his-Face yelp from the opposite bank of oars.
       “You must not have been lying when you told the demons you were from a good clan.” Going Squirrel said next time the Captain was walking away from them “You seem fairly useless otherwise.”
       Twice stung, Laughing Coyote didn’t say anything until after the next pass and the next blow. “I am a musician and a student, heavy work wasn’t on my list of things I had to do.”
       “Oh yes,” The young warrior sneered without looking at him, “a musician, and how we’ve enjoyed your concerts.” Laughing Coyote cringed a little then; he’d been made to perform for the Captain every night. Sometimes he wanted singing, and sometimes playing, often he wasn’t satisfied without both.
       Being a musician was something he wanted to do and he was quite proud of his skills, but this was not how he expected it to be. Singers and storytellers were supposed to be respected, givers and receivers of accolades.
       “I have spent many years in practice and study; had to memorize the history-sagas, religious songs, and a broad base of popular songs, and I had to perform them all to my instructors’ satisfaction. That was before even being allowed to start on my specialty. And before that I had to attend all my other schoolwork; History, Politics and Oration, Math and Reasoning, and Astronomy and Navigation.” He was a little incensed that Going Squirrel didn’t seem to think that was any work.
       “It may not have involved sweating and heavy lifting, but I assure you I worked just as hard as-“
       Thwack! “No talking!” Thwack “Row Skraeling.” Thwack
The Captain stood over him alternating his abuse; he called him weak, lazy, and worthless, and punctuated each epithet with another vicious blow across Laughing Coyote’s bare back with the knotted rope. He was just to the point of insulting his mother when the ship lurched violently, flinging Ulfkell down onto the rowers.
       Hysterical screams erupted from the opposite side of the ship, which bucked again like a half-trained horse. Laughing Coyote franticly elbowed and shoved the oafish Captain, trying to move him so he could see what was going on. The screaming was still going, it sounded like all the men on that side of the boat were wailing at their own funerals. Going Squirrel wasn’t helping as he savagely punched Ulfkell from the other side, causing him to kick and curse the both of them indiscriminately. Laughing Coyote finally got free and looked over to see Bright Colors and several of the demons fleeing away from where the ship had run into a tree. A tree? Out in the middle of the Eastern Ocean?
       His eyes traveled up the trunk to the wide head and gaping maw of the biggest snake he’d ever seen. Transfixed, he stared at the huge face, covered in smooth silvery scales as pale as winter and at eyes even colder. The light pink mouth, wide enough to swallow a man, was full of fangs as long as his forearm.
       “Uktena!” Screamed Redtail as he and his cousin fled to this side of the ship. Laughing Coyote couldn’t move; heart pounding and his back pressed against the wall of the ship, he could only watch, frozen with fear.
       Everyone was screaming and running, but not without purpose; they were running to take up their weapons. Ulfkell punched down a suddenly distracted Going Squirrel and turned to scream order at his warriors. The Uktena hissed shrilly and lunged for the deck, seizing tall thin Hakon in its terrible mouth. Jarpulf was the first to seize an axe and hack at the monster, but the beast struck as quickly as only a snake can, then whipped back and shook its head violently like a dog with a rat.
       “Get down you fool!” Going Squirrel grabbed him and pulled him down to crouch under the oars. “Don’t look at it, it’s the Uktena. It’s bad luck.”
       “Is it worse luck than being eaten?” The ship rocked again and he peered over the bench seeing only sky and sea where the monster had been. He crouched back down and whispered to Going Squirrel “it’s gone back under the water.” he didn’t look comforted by this information.
       Ulfkell came over to them with his sword in one hand and a bow and quiver full of arrows in the other. “Skraeling warrior, take your bow and fight.” He offered Going Squirrel his own weapon back, when he didn’t reach for it he frowned. “Fight, and I won’t sell you, I’ll keep you as one of my warriors.” Going Squirrel openly scoffed at this and folded his arms and turned his shoulder to the Captain.
       Before the old man could fly into a rage over this insolence the ship lurched violently, dropping him to one knee. Water sprayed and a wave sloped over the railing drenching them all. Laughing Coyote could hear a deep whooshing hiss coming from very nearby, he looked over the side where the wave had come from and looked right into the pure white under-belly of the Uktena. He screamed and scrambled backwards tripping over and falling on top of Going Squirrel who had flung himself face down on the deck between two benches.
       The Uktena again wove its giant head gracefully through the air before drawing back and lunging towards the deck with fang-filled maw stretched wide. He screamed again and flung up his hands as if that could fend the monster off, but it was going for the Captain instead and he had a sword. The beast struck quickly but then reared back even faster with an enraged ear-piercing shriek, blood spraying from its now partially fangless mouth. It hissed and shook bloody froth from its jaws before diving back into the water and sending another small wave cresting over the edge of the ship.
       Laughing Coyote scrambled over to where the foolish Captain had dropped the bow and arrows and was waving his bloody sword in the air and screaming wildly.  Staying hunched down, he seized the bow and the strap of the quiver and scuttled behind the Captain.  The armed warriors stood in the clear space around the mast and cargo. He took the bow in his right hand, set the Flower-tree bark quiver upright at his feet and drew an arrow and set nock to string.
       Taking a deep breath he looked around, scanning the water around the boat for any sign of movement. There was a lot, but it seemed to be made by the rocking of the boat and the eternal restlessness of the sea. There was no sign of the monster now except for the cut teeth and chunk of gum with whole teeth in it that lay pink and glistening on the deck.
       Going Squirrel lay flat on the deck with his ear pressed to the boards, Redwing crouched as close to the wall as he could get with Redtail pressed fearfully against his side. Bright Colors also lay flat in the dubious shelter of the benches, but he was shuddering violently with his arms wrapped around his head. The Captain and all his demon warriors stood shoulder to shoulder with weapons ready, searching the sea and the horizon for any sign of their enemy. Laughing Coyote stood in the middle of a ring of backs with a bow in his hand and a quiver full of arrows at his feet.
       Going Squirrel suddenly raised his hand and pointed twice in the direction the Uktena had first appeared from. Shifting his attention that direction, Laughing Coyote raised his arm but didn’t draw back yet. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to pull someone else’s bow, especially when that someone was older, stronger, and had longer arms than him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold a drawn arrow for long at any rate- he was a pull and shoot archer and an indifferent hunter at best. This bow was the strangest he’d seen; made of dense heavy wood with carved bone decorations and three strings, he wondered if he would be able to pull it at all.
       Jarpulf stood directly in front of him holding a double-bladed axe; his broad scarlet-clad shoulders made a very tempting target. His hands tightened on the bow and arrow, he took a deep breath and pulled. The three strings turned out to be just one that ran over the bone discs which rotated smoothly and silently, he drew the feathered nock back to his ear and held it there with surprising ease. The ship lurched in a sickeningly familiar way and he swayed with the movement, expecting it as did the others. Suddenly the giant snake burst out of the water and lunged right at them with bloody mouth open wide in a shrill scream. He let the arrow fly true and swift right into one slit-pupiled eye.
       The monster’s headlong rush suddenly became a contorted dance of pain as it attempted to writhe away from the arrow in its eye. It plunged back into the water; coils of its long body twisting and thrashing in the surf, Laughing Coyote drew another arrow but couldn’t get a clear shot.
       The great paddle-shaped tail tip lashed the air near the mast causing Ulfkell to shriek in alarm and to leap to the top of the mound of lashed cargo to slash at it. He hit the bottom edge of the tail-frill which split but didn’t bleed much. Yet it was enough to make up the beast’s mind for good and it undulated off across the waves in a manner that was completely unlike any snake that slithered on the ground or water.
       It was terrifying to see how fast it moved with that unnatural wiggle, Laughing Coyote watched it go with the second arrow only loosely held in his numb fingers. That was no Uktena, no snake either. He was still staring off towards the horizon when Ulfkell stomped up to him and snatched the bow out of his hand causing the arrow to skitter across the wet and bloody deck.
       “What in Odin’s name do you think you’re doing Skraeling?” His hand around the bow was a white-knuckled grip, his breathing hard and his pupils contracted into tiny black points in pools of icy blue.
       Laughing Coyote carefully handed him the quiver and pitched his voice in the most soothing tone he knew. “I was trying to help defend the ship.” The Captain relaxed and blinked a little of the battle-madness out of his eyes. He watched as Laughing Coyote retrieved the dropped arrow and handed it to him.
       “My offer was only for the warrior-boy. You I still plan on selling to the highest bidder.” Ulfkell told him calmly as he tucked the arrow back in the quiver.
He looked at him levelly for a moment then pointedly over at the grisly pile of teeth on the deck. “What about a trophy? I took second blood. I struck a crippling blow.”
       The Captain slung the bow and quiver both over his shoulder and folded his arms across his chest. “So you think you deserve a warrior’s trophy?”
He forced himself to smile ingratiatingly and bow slightly. “Indeed I am a teller of tales and not a warrior. Who would then believe I fought a terrible beast without some proof?”
       Ulfkell threw back his head and gave a great guffaw of laughter at that and went to where the others had filled most of the clear space on the narrow deck with the snakes teeth. They had laid out the gums with teeth alongside the cut pieces, all arranged longest to shortest so one could see the angle his sword had taken through the beast’s mouth. He selected the shortest piece, just the tip of a fearsome fang and presented it to Laughing Coyote.
       “Here Skraeling, a little trophy for a little warrior.” He took it and bowed, the tooth fragment was as long as his hand. He ignored the demons jeering laughter and carefully carried his prize over to where the other prisoners were peering from their hiding places among the benches.
       He wanted to show it to Rain-on-his-Face, the poor boy was probably scared out of his mind and seeing monsters bled as easily as beasts might make him feel better. But he didn’t see him, only the cousins staring at him wide-eyed, Going Squirrel glaring out over the water and Bright Colors still huddled face-down on the deck. He went to Bright Colors and crouched next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Bright Colors, what happened to Rain-on-his-Face? I can’t find him anywhere.”
       “The Uktena.” He whimpered.
       He felt a chill, “What happened?”
       “He-he was next to me one moment. The n-next he was gone!” He was shaking so hard he could scarcely speak. “It was there-right next to me! I felt its horrible breath.” He began to sob in earnest, arms wrapped around his head, Laughing Coyote moved to block him from view. He didn’t have to imagine how the demons would react to tears; they had mocked Rain-on-his-Face without mercy.
       Rain-on-his-Face. He didn’t want to believe he was gone, not really gone. He hadn’t actually seen it after all, but looking down at the man shuddering and hiccupping quietly on the floor between the benches told him he couldn’t pretend otherwise. He wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t truly believe it. His own eyes stung and he hung his head, he’d felt rather protective of the orphan- for all the good it had done him, he hadn’t been able to protect him at all.
       “You’ve cursed us all.” Going Squirrel spoke with flat finality, “I told you not to look at it. But you did, and that’s very bad luck. You struck the Uktena but didn’t kill it. That is even worse.” He refused to look at Laughing Coyote; his eyes restlessly scanned the horizon instead.
       “That wasn’t an Uktena. Uktena has horns, and a feathered crest, and a magic crystal.” He tried to sound reasonable but Going Squirrel just shook his head and refused to look at him. “Uktena live in the Great River and are painted with patterns.”
       “You have doomed us.” Going Squirrel intoned without turning. He looked over at the cousins, only Redtail stared back at him in wide-eyed amazement, Redwing was looking at Going Squirrel.
       A rough hand suddenly seized his braided hair and hauled Laughing Coyote unceremoniously to his feet. “Skraeling! Where is your little friend?” He angrily tried to pull free but was held fast.
       “Ask Hakon.” He snapped and was roughly thrown to his knees and kicked.
       They were all shouted and cuffed back to their places at the oars, except Going Squirrel refused to sit by Laughing Coyote, or to look at him or acknowledge him in any way. So Bright Colors was dragged up by the arms and shoved next to the sullen warrior. The cousins clung tighter together than usual and kept their eyes locked on the deck between their shoes as they scurried back to their bench.
       The Captain ordered the teeth stuck points down in and among the cargo, the three teeth still in a bit of jawbone were given place of pride next to the mast.  Laughing Coyote got to take Hakon’s place next to Jarpulf who complained loudly about having to share an oar with the bad-luck boy. And so went the rest of the day, none of his own people would look at him, the demons only would to call him rude names. But at least the day like the next three, consisted mainly of rowing, leaving little time or energy for anything else.