The Sea of Trolls, стр. 45

“Does that mean we’reweaker here?”

“Yes,” said Rune.

The ship glided deeper into the fjord. The snowy mountain Jack had noticed when they entered seemed higher now. The air over it shone with a kind of shimmering, shifting light.

“That’s where the Mountain Queen lives,” said Olaf, who had joined them. “Frith’s mother.”

“Who’s Frith’s father?”

“Some poor wretch,” said Olaf. “He may have been a great hero. I don’t know. He died long ago.”

“Jotuns are long-lived,” said Rune.

“Why would any human marry a troll?” asked Jack.

Olaf and Rune looked at each other. “It isn’t a matter of choice,” Olaf said. “Troll-maidens get their husbands by capture. They’re bigger, you see. They usually find themselves a nice lout.”

“‘Lout’ is what they call a male troll,” explained Rune.

“But now and then they’ll go for an ogre or even a largish human.”

“Like… you?” Jack said, looking at Olaf.

The giant winced. “I escaped that fate, though only by the greatest good fortune. Ivar wasn’t so lucky. We’d been poking around, trying to find a dwarf forge and perhaps some gold. The Jotuns ambushed us. I fell down a cliff trying to get away and landed in a lake. The trolls thought I’d drowned, but they got Ivar. The Mountain Queen shut him up in her cave.”

“So Frith didn’t capture him. Her mother did,” said Jack.

“The Mountain Queen was getting a little desperate. None of the louts would have Frith. None of the ogres or goblins, either. The Mountain Queen could have tortured them into agreeing, but it’s a poor way to start a marriage.”

“Was… Ivar tortured?”

“Oh, no! He was delighted. He couldn’t see Frith’s true nature, as the others did. He thought he was getting the most beautiful princess in the world.”

“He was always somewhat shallow,” commented Rune. “ Icould have seen through her in a second.”

“By the time I arrived, they were already married,” said Olaf. “I didknock a few Jotuns around to free Ivar, but they didn’t resist much. The Mountain Queen was anxious to move her daughter out of the house.”

They had come now to the end of the fjord, where it widened out into a lake. On the far side Jack saw a meadow covered with swaths of blue, pink, yellow, purple, and white flowers. The perfume reached them from across the water. “That’s nice,” said Jack, wishing they could stay in the meadow and not get closer to the mountain.

“Hellebore, wolfsbane, nightshade, and troll’s breath,” said Rune. “In our world they’re poisonous if you eat them. In this one the perfume alone knocks you out.”

“You’re joking!”

“This is Jotunheim. Everything’s nastier.”

Jack eyed the approaching shore with dismay. The flowers were larger than the ones he was used to and swayed slightly in the breeze ( wasthere a breeze?). The ground beneath them looked boggy. “Once you’re on the other side, there’s a reasonably safe stretch of forest. You can camp there,” said the old warrior.

“ Ican camp there? What about you?”

“Once I would have welcomed such a quest, but now…” Rune sighed. “Speed and concealment are important for your success. Thus, only two men will go with you. Olaf will, of course, be one of them. The rest of us will wait back in the fjord. This lake, peaceful as it seems, isn’t a good place to stay.”

Jack was stunned. He hadn’t welcomed the trip to Jotunheim, but the presence of six Northmen plus Olaf, Rune, and Thorgil offered some safety. Now he was down to two! “How will we ever find you?”

“We’ll return here every day,” said Rune. “I’d suggest waiting in the forest until you can see us.”

They stopped some distance from shore, where the perfume wasn’t too intense. Still, when the breeze shifted, the Northmen moved more slowly and Bold Heart fell off his perch a couple of times.

They packed food and some water, though water would be plentiful until they got to the ice. Rune gave Jack a small bottle of poppy juice to dull pain, “in case you need it.” That probably means Iwill need it,thought Jack. The bottle was of blown glass, not the dull flasks the Bard stored his best elixirs in, but clear as ice with a poppy molded on its side. “Sometimes pain can kill as surely as a knife blade,” said Rune.

He gave Olaf a flask molded in the form of a wolf’s head. The odor sent a chill along Jack’s nerves. It was bog myrtle, already brewed and ready to go. Somewhere along the way Olaf intended to go berserk.

“I’ve selected Thorgil to go with us,” the giant announced.

“Thorgil!” cried Jack. “She’s impossible! We need a full-size warrior, not this—this—runt!” Thorgil threw herself at him, and Jack stepped aside and yanked her leg out from under her. He’d learned a thing or two about fighting in the past weeks. She twisted around and grabbed him. They both fell to the bottom of the ship. Olaf pulled them apart. He held one in each hand, shaking them the way a dog shakes a rat.

“Save your anger for the trolls! I’m letting Thorgil come because I think she’s earned a quest. Besides, she wants to fall in battle, and this adventure is a perfect opportunity. By the way, you’re bothrunts.” Olaf dropped them to the deck. Jack and Thorgil glared at each other, breathing hard.

Bold Heart fluttered over to land on Jack’s shoulder. “Not you,” he cried, trying to brush him off. “This trip isn’t for birds.”

“And I don’t want a witch’s familiar along!” screamed Thorgil.

Bold Heart dug his claws into Jack’s tunic and refused to leave. The boy stopped hitting at him and slumped dejectedly in the bilge. “I can’t take you along, so get used to it.”

“I wonder,” Rune said, kneeling with some difficulty to look at the crow. “I wonder why this creature came to us in the middle of the sea. And why he stays with us.” He extended a gnarled finger, and Bold Heart gently nibbled at it. The old warrior smiled.

“He stays because he’s a witch’s curse,” snarled Thorgil.

Rune smoothed the feathers on Bold Heart’s head. The bird warbled and cooed. “I think… even if we keep him here, he’ll escape and follow you, Jack. He’s part of your fate.”

“Are you telling us to take him?” Olaf said.

“Oh, no!” cried Thorgil.

“I don’t think we have a choice. He’ll go whether we like it or not. You’ll have to carry him through the meadow, Jack. Birds faint more easily than people in poisonous fumes.”

“You got your way,” muttered Jack as Rune slung a bag, containing Bold Heart, around his neck. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Chapter Twenty-six

THE DRAGON

The last part of the trip was made at top speed. The warriors rowed for all they were worth and rammed the boat onto the shore. Eric Pretty-Face and Eric the Rash jumped out to steady it. Olaf, Thorgil, and Jack started running the second they hit the ground.

Jack had been right. The ground was boggy. The mud sucked at his feet and made it difficult to move fast. Bees as large as walnuts drifted over the meadow, and Jack saw one struggling in the grip of a particularly large and sticky-looking leaf. The leaf appeared to be foldingitself over the unlucky bee. Then Jack brushed against one of the leaves and found, to his horror, that it stuck to him.He tore himself loose and immediately blundered into more. They were everywhere!

He was tiring rapidly, or perhaps it was the smell of the flowers. His foot came down on a slug as long as his arm. It reared up, pale yellow with liver-colored spots, and waved its eyestalks at him. Bold Heart poked his head out of the bag and cawed. “Get back inside,” panted Jack, shoving the bird down.

The perfume was so strong, he wanted to throw up. His vision blurred and his senses swam. No! No! No! I won’t stop!He had the distinct impression the slug was no innocent visitor to the meadow. It was looking for food, and what better meal than a stunned human boy? Jack staggered and stumbled. He kept his eyes on the forest, but he knew he couldn’t reach it. He sank to his knees.