Raðljóst

By Hailey Huntington

I shuddered as a troll’s roar filled the air. Ocean spray slicked the deck, causing me to slip. I ducked under the swinging fist of another troll, barely visible in the night. My heart drummed against my chest.

We were dead men.

Three hulking trolls surrounded our ship, gripping the masts and railings and pulling us toward the shore. Usually, Icelandic trolls stayed up in the mountains, hiding in crags and luring in humans to devour. Our return journey to Reykjavík should have been uneventful, but hunger must have driven the monsters to us.

Arrows and axes didn’t cut deep enough to injure the trolls. Not even the dangerous rip currents could unsettle the behemoths’ course. Only attacks to their eyes caused pain. But the few moonbeams that cut through the thick clouds didn’t provide enough light for the archers to aim true.

“Einar!” I yelled over the screams filling the air. “What do we do?” The black sand beach was coming closer. We wouldn’t last much longer.

Sweat and blood trickled down Einar’s face as he nocked another arrow, aiming at one of the trolls. The arrow flew with a hiss, bouncing harmlessly off the troll’s leathery skin.

Einar glanced over at me. “Pray, Kristján. Pray that dawn comes soon.” With that, my brother went back to firing at the trolls.

Waves crashed against the hull, splashing against my soaked tunic. Everything was utter chaos—stained weapons flashing, blood and water mixing underfoot, clamors of agony and fury. If the trolls dragged us ashore, most of us would be taken to the mountains and eaten. I was pretty sure a few men had already disappeared from the deck. My stomach lurched.

A loud crack filled the air. Whirling around, I looked up to see one of the masts falling toward me. Instinct alone saved me as I dove to the side. The beam crashed into the deck, showering me with splinters. I tensed. Adrenaline pumped through my veins.

It was either die when the trolls won or die fighting. Rolling to my feet, I snatched a pair of fallen daggers off the deck and stuck them in my belt. Another cry went up as the trolls swiped again. Several men went flying, crashing against the railing. My pulse skipped a beat. In the darkness, one of them looked like Einar. He wasn’t moving.

No!

Fire raced through my veins. These beasts would not take my brother from me, and they would pay for trying.

Darting to Einar, I dragged his limp body into the stairway to the lower deck, hidden from the trolls. Then I sprinted toward the second mast. I needed to get higher to injure a troll with my knives. The ropes were a knotted mess as I scrambled up. Splinters dug into my palms. I gritted my teeth.

Something thudded above me. A troll gripped the top of the mast, yanking the ship closer to the beach. The mast tilted toward the ocean, the base cracked. I clung even tighter to the ropes. Cries, troll stench, and the metallic taste of blood assaulted my senses.

The troll’s gaze dropped to me. With a shout, I flung a dagger. It fell short, landing in the waves. This was the end. Gripping my remaining knife, I whispered a final prayer.

My gaze flickered beyond the troll to the horizon. The darkness and clouds were thinning. A desperate hope raced through me. As the troll’s fingers brushed against me and the second dagger cracked against its skin, the clouds separated.

“The dawn!”

A shaft of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the broken ship. A loud crackling sound filled the air as sunrise touched the trolls, hardening them into stone. For a moment, everything was silent. Then a victorious shout rose from the deck below.

Heaving breaths of relief, my body shook as I stared at the beam of dawn, a single light piercing the night. Raðljóst. It’s Icelandic for enough light by which to find your way. In our case, it was enough light to save us.

My gaze flickered to the black sand beach in the distance and then below. A man ran up to the bottom of the mast. Einar. His eyes met mine and a smile passed both of our faces.

We’d survived.

Five hundred years later

Black sand crunched under Grace’s boots as she walked past the basalt columns of Reynisfjara Beach.

“Don’t get too close to the water! Remember the sneaker waves!” Mom called after her. “I do not need one of my children getting swept into the ocean during vacation.”

Stopping a safe distance away, Grace gazed out over the water, the sun sparkling on the waves. Ethan walked up to her.

“What’s that?” Her younger brother pointed toward the black formations rising from the depths, three columns towering above the waves.

“It’s Reynisdrangar. They’re basalt sea stacks like the other ones around the beach. According to Icelandic legend, the columns used to be three trolls. They were trying to drag a ship to shore when they were caught by the sunrise and turned to stone.” A thrill filled Grace’s voice.

“Huh. Neat story,” Ethan said, already turning to explore the other rock formations lining the beach. Grace lingered, looking at Reynisdrangar. In her mind, she could almost see sailors trying to escape the trolls.

Almost.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hailey Huntington loves adventures, and she’s always ready for another one—whether it’s discovering Narnia, traveling across Middle Earth, hiking a mountain in Iceland, or simply going on a walk with her family. Aside from adventures, Hailey also loves board games, music, ice cream, laughter, witty characters, fantasy, emojis, and Jesus—though not in that order. Her stories have been featured in anthologies by Havok and Twenty Hills Publishing.

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