The sea was calm. That alone was unsettling. Only hours earlier the Rikmans-yflir had been fighting for its life against the greatest storm any sailor aboard had ever witnessed. Now the waves rolled gently beneath the moonlight.
The Kraken was gone. Its daughter had vanished into the depths. And ahead of the ship, the glowing circle upon the horizon continued to spin.
The vortex waited. No sailor spoke. No one wished to be the first. At last the navigator cleared his throat. "I don't like it." The crew nodded. Neither did they.
The glowing whirlpool stretched from sea to sky. Blue and green light twisted through its centre. Stars bent around its edges. The air itself seemed to ripple. It looked less like a place and more like an idea the gods had forgotten to finish.
Rikus studied it carefully. Then he smiled. "It looks friendly." The crew groaned. Sven buried his face in his hooves.
The navigator turned to Rikus. "Friendly?"
"Yes."
"It looks like the end of the world" spat the navigator.
"Perhaps it's both" suggested Rikus. Nobody found this reassuring.
As dawn approached, the ship drifted closer. The vortex grew larger. And larger. And larger. Soon it filled the entire horizon. The sea around it rotated in a slow spiral. Strange lights danced beneath the water.
The crew could hear faint sounds drifting from within. Voices. Songs. Whispers.
None in any language they recognised. The oldest sailor aboard crossed himself.
"I think we should turn back" suggested the navigator. Another sailor nodded. "I agree." Several more agreed.
Rikus looked at them. Then pointed behind the ship. "The Kraken lives that way."
The crew paused. He pointed ahead. "Adventure lives that way."
The crew looked at the vortex. Then at the sea behind them. Then at the vortex again. The decision became surprisingly easy. The navigator sighed. "I hate it when he's right." Sven appeared equally annoyed.
The sail was raised. The oars pulled steadily. The Rikmans-yflir moved toward the glowing gateway. Closer closer and closer. Until there was no turning back.
The moment the bow crossed the threshold, the world exploded into light. The sea vanished. The sky vanished. Everything vanished. The crew shouted. The ship lurched. Colours swirled around them.
Blue became gold. Gold became green. Green became colours no human eye had ever seen. The stars stretched into rivers. The moon shattered into fragments of silver light. Time itself seemed to unravel.
One sailor swore he saw his own grandfather rowing beside the ship. Another claimed he watched himself grow old and young at the same moment. A third spent an hour arguing with a talking fish. No one could later agree whether the fish had actually been there.
Rikus stood at the bow. His hair whipped wildly in the strange winds. For once he was speechless. The vortex was unlike anything he had imagined.
The crew sailed through impossible landscapes. Mountains floated among the stars. Rivers flowed upward. Constellations drifted like ships upon invisible oceans. Entire worlds appeared and vanished in moments.
The navigator attempted to chart their course. His map burst into flames. He decided this was probably a sign.
Sven remained remarkably calm. The goat stood near the bow, chewing thoughtfully. As far as he was concerned, the situation was no stranger than most days spent with Rikus.
Hours passed or perhaps it was days. No one could tell. Inside the vortex, time flowed differently. Beards seemed to grow and shrink. The sun rose twice. Then disappeared entirely.
One sailor claimed he celebrated his birthday three times. Another insisted he had skipped a year.
Eventually the strange lights began to fade. The colours dimmed. The winds softened. The voices vanished. Ahead, a bright opening appeared.
The crew cheered. The end of the journey was finally in sight. The Rikmans-yflir surged forward. Light engulfed the ship.
Then suddenly the sea returned the sky returned the world returned. The sailors blinked. Above them stretched a sky unlike any they had ever known. The stars were wrong and the constellations had changed. Even the moon seemed unfamiliar.
The navigator stared upward in horror. "I don't recognise any of them."
The sailors exchanged uneasy glances. For a navigator, this was roughly equivalent to losing the ground beneath your feet.
Rikus looked around. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction. Gentle swells rolled beneath the ship. Warm winds filled the sail. Strange birds circled overhead. None had ever been seen in the north. The air smelled different, the sea felt different.
The world itself felt different. They had crossed more than an ocean. They had crossed into another realm. Another hemisphere. Another edge of creation.
The crew stood in silence. Each man slowly realised the same thing. No Viking had ever sailed here. No Viking had ever seen these waters. No Viking had ever charted this sea. For the first time in history, they were truly beyond the known world.
Rikus broke the silence. "Well."
The crew waited."What now?" The navigator stared at him. "We have sailed beyond the edge of every map."
"Yes" said Rikus.
"We are completely lost" retorted the Navigator.
"Also yes."
"We have no idea where we are."
"Correct."
The navigator threw up his hands."And you're smiling?"
Rikus grinned. "That means we're the first."
The sailors considered this. Then slowly, one by one, they began to smile as well. Perhaps being lost wasn't so terrible. Not if nobody had ever been here before.
Ahead of them, beyond the morning mist, something dark rose from the horizon. A shape, a coastline, a land unknown to the world. The sailors moved to the rails.
The navigator adjusted his sighting horn. Sven climbed onto a barrel for a better view. Rikus stepped forward. His heart raced. The adventure was not over. It was only beginning.
For beyond that distant shore lay the greatest discovery of his life. A land that would one day be known as Blundergard. And nothing would ever be the same again.
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