The Land of the Silver Apples - Farmer Nancy (читать книги онлайн без txt) 📗

Ethne turned to Father Severus for help. The monk smiled slightly. “You’ve lamented enough, child, and I’m sure Heaven has been impressed. Much will be forgiven if you rescue those noble hobgoblins.” The elf lady’s face became radiant, all tears forgotten. Father Severus raised his hand in blessing to Thorgil: “May God go with you.”

“And Thor and any other god I can get,” said Thorgil.

Then, awkwardly, she added, “Thanks,” before shoving Ethne into the courtyard.

The elf lady began to dance. She moved like gossamer in a breeze, like sunlight skimming a lake. Her feet barely touched the earth. With each step, she became less human and more elf. First one, then another soldier turned to look at her, and the ground around her began to change.

Flowers grew where no flower had been before. Vines rose into the air. They curled up the fortress walls, covering the gray stone with leaves so green, it was as though a light shone behind them. Strange birds with scarlet wings sat on the branches and sang such music as was never heard in Middle Earth.

“Don’t look,” said Thorgil, twisting Jack’s ear so viciously that he yelped. The pain drove the vision away, and the gray stones returned. He saw Pega huddled against a wall.

“Come on,” he said, grasping her by the hand.

“What’s happening?” she said.

“Don’t look at it. We’re going to rescue the hobgoblins.”

Any uncertainty Pega might have had vanished. She stumbled after Jack and he after Thorgil until they got to the dungeon door. Guards were standing in front of it, completely hypnotized. Thorgil pushed them out of the way. The three children dragged the heavy door open, and when they were inside, Thorgil had them close it again.

Chapter Forty-six

UNLIFE

They ran down the long stairs and along the halls, passing dungeons that might contain prisoners. Jack remembered King Yffi’s words: Some of our prisoners have disappeared from the dungeons. We find their chains empty, though unlocked.Whatever lurked down here, it was too late to worry about it now, Jack thought as he passed the grim metal doors.

But he realized another problem as soon as the trail began to go down and the light to fail. “Torches!” he cried. “We haven’t got torches!”

“Can you draw fire with your staff?” Pega asked.

“It won’t work without something to burn.” Jack looked around frantically, but the halls were empty.

“I think I can find the way,” said Thorgil. Jack and Pega stared at her.

“It’s pitch-black down there and the trail twists around. Even the Bugaboo got confused,” said Jack.

“Rune taught me how to remember my way in the dark. It’s a little like what he does in the sea.”

Jack remembered, long ago when he’d been a prisoner of the Northmen, how Olaf One-Brow had lowered Rune into the sea. The Northmen’s method of finding land was to go in one direction until they bumped into something, but they had fantastic memories. A beach, once seen, was never forgotten. Water, once tasted, was never confused with water a mile away.

And Rune was the best. He saw the sea as a good farmer saw his fields. He knew the shape of it, its various colors and moods. He observed how the birds lifted their wings as they felt the currents of the sky. He sniffed the air for smoke and fresh-cut peat, for pine and juniper. He tasted the sea itself, to detect the presence of invisible, freshwater streams or of cold welling up from the depths—the result being that the old man always knew exactly where he was.

“You can do what Rune does?” Jack said.

“I have not the years of experience, but he praised my skill.”

Jack looked at the trail going into the dark. It couldn’t hurt to call on other powers, in case they never came out the other end. “May the life force hold us in the hollow of its hand. May we return with the sun and be born anew into the world,” he said, repeating the Bard’s words.

“I shall not return. My hope is Valhalla,” Thorgil said.

“And my hope is Heaven,” said Pega. Then they all joined hands, Thorgil in front, Pega next, and last of all, Jack.

“Like the Bugaboo, I need silence,” the shield maiden said. “I must remember our path.”

They went down into the blackness and, worse, the cold. Chill came up from the ground and down from the ceiling. The walls were so bone-numbing, they seemed to burn rather than freeze when you blundered into them. And everyone did that repeatedly. The going was much slower and harder with Thorgil leading.

Sometimes she had to stop and sense the air around her. Jack didn’t know what she was looking for. Everything seemed exactly the same, but after a moment Thorgil would choose a direction and pull them on.

Jack began to grow sleepy. He stumbled. “Don’t lie down,” Thorgil said. “That’s how the frost giants trap their enemies.”

Frost giants,Jack thought. He remembered the Bard saying something about them.

“I can’t go on,” Pega moaned. “Leave me. I’ll die here.”

“It’s just what I’d expect from a thrall,” Thorgil said harshly. “Very well, die. It’s what creatures like you do best.”

“I’m not a thrall!” said Pega with sudden energy.

“Good. I feel we are passing close to Niflheim. It is the realm of the goddess Hel, and she has a particular liking for thralls. I wouldn’t tempt her with any talk of dying. Now be quiet. I need to think.”

They stumbled on. Jack, too, found it difficult to put one foot ahead of the other. They seemed to have been in the dark for hours. Suddenly, he lurched to the side and fell onto something soft.

Well, not soft exactly, but not as flint-hard as the ground. It made a nice bed.

“Get up,”Pega said in a panicky voice. She clawed at him, trying to catch his arm. Thorgil returned and helped her.

“I bumped into one of those some distance back and led you around it,” the shield maiden said. She didn’t explain. The three of them staggered on, and it seemed Thorgil was getting weak too. Her steps became slower and more unsteady.

“I see light,” said Jack.

“Not a moment too soon. Hurry,” said Thorgil.

Just before the bone-chilling cold lifted, but when the light was barely strong enough to make out the walls, they encountered another strange lump in the tunnel. It was a large, muscular creature covered with fur like a giant otter. Its feet were turned backward, trailing useless claws, and its hands stretched toward the light. But the kelpie had frozen to death before it could escape.

“I suppose they were trying to invade Din Guardi,” Thorgil said.

When they came out to the sea, she collapsed on the ground. Jack noticed she was clutching the rune of protection and her face was drained of color. “You should rest,” he said, concerned.

“I’m ashamed of my weakness,” the shield maiden said. “We were passing close to Niflheim, and I thought if I died there, Odin might never find me.”

“Odin would always find you,” Jack said warmly. “You don’t belong in Niflheim. It would spit you out like a seed.” Thorgil smiled weakly.

They all rested, not saying the one thing that weighed on their minds, that time was slipping by and that the fire pit would soon be ready. Finally, heaving a sigh, Pega climbed to her feet. “I feel like I’ve been beaten all over with a club.”

“Me too,” admitted Thorgil. “There was more in that tunnel than cold.”

Jack did not reveal his theory. He’d been cold many times, but even the ice mountains of Jotunheim were not as terrible as that darkness. Whatever you called it—Niflheim or Hell—that tunnel was the realm of death, not the fate that awaited mortals who trusted in God. It was the utter absence of hope.

They hurried on. The tide dashed itself against the barrier around Din Guardi, and Jack felt queasy as he passed over it again. The country of the yarthkins greeted them with its warm, earthy smells. The air felt green, although, of course, it had no visible color. “I can make a torch now,” said Jack, looking around at driftwood and dried seaweed.