The Sea of Trolls - Farmer Nancy - Страница 66

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The forest wasn’t that far away. The dragon had sounded as though she was flying away from them, perhaps back to her nest. He shaded his eyes. He thought he saw a puff of smoke from the distant cliff.

“We might make it,” he said.

“What! Really?” cried Thorgil, popping up to look around the valley.

“That’s where Olaf’s funeral pyre was, and there’s the trail into the forest,” Jack said. “It should take only a couple of hours. I don’t know. Maybe we should wait for dusk.”

But Thorgil had already shouldered her bags and wrapped herself up in the cloak. She was out before he could stop her.

“Stop! Don’t you ever think anything through?” Jack hurried after her while struggling with his own carrying bags and cloak. Bold Heart sailed overhead.

Jack had to admit it was a lot nicer traveling by day. They kept bumping into things in the dark or falling on patches of ice. The sunlight was exhilarating, and even the wind wasn’t bad in their warm clothes. The Jotuns had certainly been generous. Jack wondered for the first time why they had clothes that fit human children. No,he thought. They couldn’t have.But he didn’t really know. There was a war between Jotunheim and Middle Earth. Children might not be safer here than they’d been in Gizur’s village.

“Isn’t this fine?” Thorgil chirruped. Jack could hardly see her under the silk cloak. She looked as clear as a soap bubble. He supposed he was equally hidden, except for his hand gripping the ash wood staff. Jack was of two minds about the staff. He could keep it at the ready. Or he could sling it on his back and depend on stealth. He slung it onto his back under the cloak. He wasn’t sure he could raise fire in a hurry, and anyhow, what difference did fire make to a dragon?

Jack looked back occasionally to see whether the dragon had moved. A thin column of smoke put his fears to rest.

“Those boulders are such interesting colors,” Thorgil said. “I used to think they were all gray, but they aren’t. Some are like oyster shells and others are like fog and still others are speckled like a robin’s egg. And the shadows! You’d think they were the same, but some are dark and others are bright and—oh, look at that one!—it’s purple.”

Save me from Thorgil’s enthusiasm,Jack silently prayed. He thought he’d never miss her rages and sulks. At least when she was sulking she was quiet.

The forest drew ever nearer. The dragon seemed content to roost. Things might actually work out,Jack thought. They were still walking along the river, and to their right, at the edge of the valley where it went up into the surrounding hills, was a huge cream-colored boulder. Around it was a cluster of cream-colored rocks.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Thorgil warbled. “It’s like a mother rock with her babies.”

Wonderful,thought Jack. Now we’re going to stop and pet the baby rocks.A long scream echoed over the valley. “Run, Thorgil! The dragon’s up!” yelled Jack. She reacted instantly. She might sound featherbrained, but the shield maiden of old was still underneath.

“Hide in the rocks,” Thorgil cried. “We’re not going to make the trees.”

“Wait!” Jack shouted, trying to keep up with her. “The queen told us to stay away from them.”

“No time!” She reached the rocks first and crouched down. The cloak instantly took on a cream color. Thorgil was even the right size, though a little lumpier than the others. Jack threw himself down beside her. They both fought to regain their breath as the dragon—to go by her cries—zigzagged back and forth over the valley.

“She can’t see us. I toldyou she couldn’t see us,” whispered Thorgil.

“I hope she leaves soon. This is uncomfortable,” said Jack.

“Lean against the rocks…. I say!”

“What?”

“This one’s soft,” said Thorgil.

Jack felt the surface by his side. It wassoft. The dragon’s cries retreated up the valley toward the ice mountain. He opened the cloak slightly to look. The rocks were all the same size, which was odd in itself, and the odor they gave off was so intense, it made him queasy. “This place smells like—”

The giant boulder suddenly stood up on eight giant legs and began frantically gathering the little rocks into a silk bag.

Jack desperately tried to reach his staff. He couldn’t undo it without throwing off his cloak. The spider moved like lightning, collecting her eggs. She whisked each one up with whatever those things were on either side of her fangs and tucked them away.

When she got to Thorgil, she puzzled over the shape. She reached back with two of her legs and whipped out a long line of silk. This she coiled around Thorgil until the girl looked just like one of the eggs. Thorgil, cursing richly, disappeared into the sack.

Satisfied, the spider reached for Jack. He felt the creature’s fang probe gently, and then he felt himself twirled round and round as the silk rope belted him in. He was lifted, handled in those awful things beside the fangs, and settled onto a soft bed of spider eggs.

The spider took off running. Jack could feel each footfall as the eggsack jounced and swayed. He could hardly breathe, and what air he did get was drenched in that sharp-sweet, nauseating smell. He struggled to reach the knife on his belt. The ash wood staff dug into his back.

The mother spider ran for a long time. Presently, she seemed to swing through the air and land with a jarring thump. She moved more slowly then, picking her way carefully until at last she stopped and dropped the egg sack. Jack heard wind whistling outside. He tried to saw a hole with the knife, but spider silk, for something that looked delicate, was as tough as leather. Jack sawed and stabbed until he saw spots before his eyes. His heart pounded and he was slippery with sweat.

He saw the tip of a fang penetrate the silk.

“You could at least help me,” complained Thorgil. “I can’t do allthe work while you lounge around.”

“You’re wonderful,” Jack murmured. It wasn’t a fang. It was Thorgil’s sword. He immediately set about widening the hole. When he was able to wriggle out, he was astounded at the sight before him.

They were high in a canopy of giant trees. Wind whipped the branches, bringing a welcome freedom from the spider-stink. The whole of whatever they were sitting on billowed and swayed so that they had to hang on to the sack to keep from falling. “What is that?” said Thorgil.

Jack squinted. The colors shifted as the structure moved, but eventually, he was able to make out the shape. “I think it’s a huge spiderweb,” he said. Because the silk took on the colors around it, parts looked as transparent as air, while others were dark green or brown from the trees below. The sack was anchored to a particularly tall fir that jutted above the web.

In one direction there was only trees. In the other Jack saw round webs covering the forest as far as he could see. Here and there huge cream-colored spiders sat with their legs outspread. Some had egg sacks to the side like the one next to Jack and Thorgil. Others had dismal lumps where some creature had been captured. A few of these lumps were being fed upon.

“Now what?” said Thorgil. Jack had to hand it to her. Where most people would have screamed and fainted, the shield maiden was ready for battle.

Jack looked down. They were so high, the forest floor was lost in darkness. To reach it, they would have to pass through the web. If it was sticky—and it probably was—they wouldn’t get far. “Maybe we should go up,” he suggested.

They retrieved their food and water bags from the sack. Climbing would have been easy if the wind hadn’t been blowing, but of course it was. Jack wasn’t thrilled about the height either. They struggled through the branches to a perch near the top where they could sit.

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