“By Thor! for two I did not bargain,” said Eric, and sprang from the cave.

Then, with a grunt of rage, that Baresark who was behind Skallagrim came out like a she-bear robbed of her whelps, and ran straight at Eric, sword aloft.  Eric gives before him right to the edge of the cliff.  Then the Baresark smites at him and Brighteyes catches the blow on his shield, and smites at him in turn so well and truly, that the head of the Baresark flies from his shoulders and spins along the ground, but his body, with outstretched arms yet gripping at the air, falls over the edge of the gulf sheer into the water, a hundred fathoms down.  It was the flash that Whitefire made as it circled ere it smote that Jon saw while he waited in the dell upon the mountain side.  But of the Baresark he saw nothing, for he passed down into the great fire-riven cleft and was never seen more, save once only, in a strange fashion that shall be told.  This was the first man whom Brighteyes slew.

Now the old tale tells that Eric cried aloud:  “Little chance had this one,” and that then a wonderful thing came to pass.  For the head on the rock opened its eyes and answered: 

“Little chance indeed against thee, Eric Brighteyes.  Still, I tell thee this:  that where my body fell there thou shalt fall, and where it lies there thou shalt lie also.”

Now Eric was afraid, for he thought it a strange thing that a severed head should speak to him.

“Here it seems I have to deal with trolls,” he said; “but at the least, though he speak, this one shall strike no more,” and he looked at the head, but it answered nothing.

Now Skallagrim slept through it all and the light grew so dim that Eric thought it time to make an end this way or that.  Therefore, he took the head of the slain man, though he feared to touch it, and rolled it swiftly into the cave, saying, “Now, being so glib of speech, go tell thy mate that Eric Brighteyes knocks at his door.”

Then came sounds as of a man rising, and presently Skallagrim rushed forth with axe aloft and his fellow’s head in his left hand.  He was clothed in nothing but a shirt and the skin of Eric’s lamb was bound to his chest.

“Where now is my mate?” he said.  Then he saw Eric leaning on Whitefire, his golden helm ablaze with the glory of the passing sun.

“It seems that thou holdest somewhat of him in thine hand, Skallagrim, and for the rest, go seek it in yonder rift.”

“Who art thou?” roared Skallagrim.

“Thou mayest know me by this token,” said Eric, and he threw towards him the skin of that lamb’s tail which Skallagrim had lifted from Coldback.