The Land of the Silver Apples - Farmer Nancy. Страница 70

Jack glimpsed a sunrise between a sky filled with roiling clouds and a lurid sea thronged by dangerous-looking rocks. Tall figures rose and fell as they welcomed the coming of the storm.

“Keep down,”the Nemesis hissed.

Jack obeyed, but he couldn’t resist another look. He’d never seen kelpies, except for King Yffi, who’d been bundled in clothes from head to toe. Anyhow, Yffi was only half kelpie. The creatures on the rocks were much taller. It was difficult to see much with the light behind them, but they appeared to be covered in fur. More than anything, they looked like huge otters. Their feet—Jack only had a glimpse of these—ended in long, hooked claws. The kelpies’ cries were horrible and yet oddly musical. The longer Jack listened to them, the better they sounded. He could use such harmonies in his own music. But first he had to get closer.

The Bugaboo yanked Jack so hard, he fell down and cut his lip. “Do you want to get us all devoured?”screeched the hobgoblin. The others were far ahead, watching anxiously. Jack wiped the blood from his mouth and hurried after the king. When they got to where the trail went underground again, they all sat down to rest. The Nemesis was a pasty yellow, and he kept flinching whenever he heard a howl.

“What was wrong with you?” asked Thorgil. “The Bugaboo had to go back.”

Jack looked at the sea. He couldn’t see the kelpies, but he could hear them. It wasa kind of music they made, full of longing and another emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. He wanted to hear more.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Pega waved her hand in front of Jack’s face.

“That’s how kelpies attract their prey,” the Bugaboo said. “They make you wantto be eaten. You’d march right down their throats unless someone stopped you. We should go on before the storm hits.” The sun had completely disappeared, and a flash of light, followed immediately by thunder, made the kelpies redouble their howls.

Very little light penetrated the tunnel, and they soon had to halt. “Who’s carrying the torches?” said Thorgil.

“I am,” replied Ethne. “Oh, thistle fuzz! The water drenched my basket. I suppose it happened when I floated it on that stream we passed.”

“Why ever did you do such a thing?” cried Pega.

“I don’t know,” the elf lady said vaguely. “Perhaps the basket reminded me of the toy boats we had in Elfland. We used to sail toddlers in them, you know, to make them scream. Such fun!”

“I can draw fire from the earth,” Jack said before Pega lost her temper. He still had the flint and iron from Elfland, but the torches were so wet, only magic could light them. He made a small heap of kindling from the charred stub of the Nemesis’ torch.

“Is this the wizardry you practiced in the dungeon?” remarked Father Severus.

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, bracing himself for a lecture, but the monk didn’t try to interfere. The boy cast his mind down through the rocks and the water oozing through cracks below. Once, he would have found it impossible to work magic with an audience, but his skill had strengthened with practice.

The rocks were old beyond imagining, although it had never occurred to Jack before that rocks could have an age. They felt used up,all the life gone out of them. Trees and grass would never grow here, no matter how carefully you tended them.

Jack realized that he’d seen no garden in the fortress, not even the herbs cooks and wise women grew. Come to think of it, there’d been no women, either.

He reached deeper. The water had a faint radiance as it fell from the sky, but it lost it in the dark channels of the rock. Was this what happened when you banished the old gods? Dangerous and unfriendly they might be, but they ruled the green world.

Jack reached a barrier. He pushed at it, and the barrier pushed back, making his stomach heave and his heart flutter in his chest. He came awake with his skin drenched with sweat and his hands clenched for battle.

“I can’t do it,” he gasped. The storm was at full strength now. Wind howled in the mouth of the tunnel, and thunder shook the walls.

“Thor’s driving his chariot across the sky,” Thorgil said.

“I wish he’d go somewhere else,” said Pega.

“Nonsense! That’s a glorious noise. It means Thor is hurling his hammer at enemies.”

“As usual, you are steeped in ignorance,” said Father Severus. “God casts down lightning to remind us of the final judgment. It would be best to fall to your knees and implore His mercy.”

“A thrall god’s idea,” sneered Thorgil. “I’d rather shake my fist at Him.”

“Stop wasting time,” cried the Nemesis, who was dancing from one foot to the other in agitation. “If one of those kelpies sticks his snout in here, you can kiss your drumsticks good-bye.”

“He’s right,” the Bugaboo agreed. “I’ve been through these tunnels often enough to feel the way.”

“What do you mean—” began Jack, and stopped. In the dim light he saw the hobgoblin king’s ears unfurl to their fullest. They were as wide as his outstretched arms, and framing the rims were long, white hairs that stuck straight out like a cat’s whiskers.

“I’ll have to ask you all to be quiet,” the Bugaboo said. “My hearing is painfully keen right now. Join hands, please.”

They joined hands, the Bugaboo and the Nemesis in front, followed by Ethne, Father Severus, and Pega. Jack and Thorgil brought up the rear, being the better warriors. Silently, they moved forward, with the hobgoblin king’s whiskers brushing the sides of the tunnel, and soon they were in complete darkness.

They wound around pillars and stumbled over rocks. The Bugaboo whispered instructions: “Left now. Left.Ow. Sorry. Mind the hole.”

The hard floor was unrelieved by sand, and when Jack touched a wall, he was shocked by how cold it was. It was summer outside, but here, it seemed, winter never lifted. An icy chill found its way through his boots. The others must have been affected too, for they began to stumble.

“Almost there,” whispered the Bugaboo. “Courage, dearest Pega.”

The trail began to go up, and the deadly chill lessened. A light came from ahead. Encouraged, they began to walk faster. Now the grim walls were visible, a blue-black stone that swallowed whatever illumination fell on it. Long shafts of what Jack could only call “lesser gloom” fell from openings overhead.

They passed great iron doors. Dungeons,thought Jack. I wonder if anyone’s in there?They must have come close to the sea again, for he heard a distant boom of waves and the kelpies howling.

“Ah, that feels better,” said the Bugaboo, furling up his ears. First the whiskers lay down flat against the skin, then the rims folded over them and rolled up as neat as you please. They looked like fat little sausages when he was finished. “The Nemesis and I will wait here—mud men make such a fuss about hobgoblins. You go up those stairs and come out into the courtyard. Later you can sneak us in through a side door.”

“Don’t take too long about it,” growled the Nemesis, listening to the kelpies out at sea.

“I’ll ask the Bard for help,” Jack promised.

The two hobgoblins found a recess in the wall and fitted themselves inside. In spite of not having motley wool to conceal them, they blended well into the shadows.

Jack led the way up the stairs. He wasn’t quite certain of King Yffi’s welcome, but the king was afraid of the Bard. He wouldn’t harm anyone under the old man’s protection. Once again, Jack felt a twinge of guilt for not telling the Nemesis about Yffi. The Bard will figure something out,Jack thought, willing the uncomfortable feeling away.

He couldn’t help smiling as he approached the iron door at the top of the stairs. He was back! They could all go home. Father Severus could move into St. Filian’s Monastery. Ethne could become a nun. Pega could marry the Bugaboo—here Jack had another twinge of guilt, but honestly, what better opportunity did she have? In the village she’d only be an ex-slave, so ugly that no one would ever ask for her hand. In the Land of the Silver Apples she could be a queen.