The Sea of Trolls - Farmer Nancy (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений .txt) 📗
“Jack! Jack!” cried Lucy, shaking him.
He opened his eyes. Water was streaming down so hard, he could hardly see. The Northmen were cursing as they tried to protect the perishable goods. Rain roared like a waterfall. Olaf ordered everyone to start bailing.
“Make it stop,” cried Lucy, her eyes wide with fright.
Jack held her tight. His mind refused to function. He could only stare at the devastation around them. Bold Heart flopped onto his lap and pushed his beak under Lucy’s arm. “He likes me,” said the little girl, momentarily distracted.
Jack thought it more likely that the crow was trying to stay dry, but he said, “Of course he does. He’s here to protect you.” Lucy gave Jack a wan smile. The water in the ship came almost to her knees. If it got much deeper, they’d sink.
“You! Bard! Do something!” Olaf bellowed. Jack closed his eyes and desperately tried to reach the life force. But the powers that ran through the earth were not to be approached by force. Jack tried and tried, but all he could do was hear the pounding rain and feel the water creep slowly up his legs. No matter how fast the warriors bailed, the rain came down faster. The ship was now so full, it barely crested the sea. Each water droplet sent it closer to destruction.
Then, just as it seemed they could take no more, the rain stopped. The Northmen continued to bail furiously. Soon they had the water level down to a dirty inch sloshing around their soaked boots. They were still surrounded by clouds, but a rift had appeared overhead. One small patch of blue showed they were not entirely cut off from the sun.
“You almost drowned us!” roared Olaf, kicking a sodden heap of clothes. “You’ve ruined half our booty!” He stormed around, making the ship sway.
“Temper tantrum,” whispered Lucy.
Her comment was so unexpected and accurate, Jack laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. He’d been afraid so long, he’d worn out his ability to feel terror. Olaf looked like a huge toddler, ranting and swearing with his wet beard hanging down in rat tails. In a minute the giant would hurl himself onto the deck and start kicking. Jack laughed until he could hardly breathe. When he came to his senses, he saw the other Northmen guffawing and slapping one another on the back. Olaf looked stunned.
“You—you—” he gasped. Then his face twisted and he laughed too. He threw back his head and trumpeted like a wild goose: honk… honk… hoooonk.The tears ran down his face into his soggy mustache. Lucy joined in with childish peals, and even Bold Heart bobbed up and down in a kind of mad ecstasy.
It went on for several minutes. Jack felt the life force shimmering around them. Everyone was gripped by joy. They were alive! They were breathing the sweet air. The sea lay before them like a path with endless possibilities. Then the fit passed, and the warriors leaned against the sides of the ship, panting.
“Hoo! You play a dangerous game, young skald,” said Olaf at last. “You did stop the rain, though, and for that I shall not kill you.”
Jack knew he hadn’t done anything. The sky had simply emptied itself out, but he wasn’t going to tell Olaf.
Gray clouds still hugged the horizon, making it impossible to tell the direction of the sun. Olaf fumbled in a pouch he wore around his neck. Jack moved closer, and the giant, noticing his interest, held out his hand. Jack saw a clear, rectangular stone that reflected the light like a small chunk of ice. It was transparent but not colorless.
“Oh, no,” said Olaf, snatching it away as Jack tried to touch it. “I’m not letting you leech out the magic. This is mysun stone.” He held it up at arm’s length to the blue rift in the clouds. The light shone through, yellow like a cat’s eye. Olaf turned around slowly. At a certain point the light in the stone changed to blue. Jack gasped.
“You’re not the only one with powers,” rumbled the giant. He turned again, and the stone changed back to its original color. Round and round Olaf went until he was satisfied. “It tells you the direction of the sun,” he explained. “That way”—he pointed—“is east, where the sun lies. See, the blue is strong.” He turned, and Jack saw the color shift from blue to yellow to bluish gray. “That’s west, where we’ve come from. All right, you lazy dogs! Put your backs into it!” The Northmen immediately shipped the oars and began rowing.
They set off east with Olaf checking the direction from time to time. After a while the clouds broke up, and he was able to put the stone away. The sunlight raised everyone’s spirits. The warriors sang as they worked:
When they finished this song (and it had many verses), they switched to another. Their loud, clear voices rang over the sea:
The last words were hurled at the bright blue sky. Jack shivered. For the first time he understood what drove these violent men. Their lives were short, but every moment burned with intensity. These men knew they were doomed. Someday Odin, who smiled on them now, would cast upon them the mind-fetter. Olaf had said as much. Odin was a tricky god. He supported his champions, but his real aim was to choose the best for his hall. One day the swords would drop from their hands. They would be helpless before their enemies, and then they would be called to Valhalla to fight and die in an endless round.
Knowing this, the Northmen still fought. It was brave and crazy and supremely stupid. But it was noble, too.
As if in response to the rousing song, the wind filled the red-and-cream-striped sail. The Northmen cheered. Aegir and his wife, Ran, had answered them. They thanked the gods loudly and rested on their oars.
Fame never dies!Jack found himself moved. It was infuriating! How could he sympathize with such murderous scum? He was supposed to hate them. But he couldn’t.
Your defenses have been torn away,the Bard had told Jack long ago. Everything, from the plight of a chick fallen from its nest to the terrible beauty of the hawk swooping down to kill it, will shake your very soul. It’s a pity. You aren’t ready to face so much reality, but there it is.
“If this is reality, I don’t think much of it,” Jack said to the crow. Bold Heart cocked his head. “You can stretch your wings now,” Jack told him. “I wish the rest of this stuff was as easy to dry.”
His heart sank as he saw how wet the grain bags were. They’d been protected from above by oiled cloth, but water from below had ruined them. Stacks of bread had disintegrated. Dried fish was limp and soggy. Beans were already beginning to swell. When Jack thought of how hard the villagers had worked to make this food—and how the Northmen had killed them to get it—he wanted to break an oar over Olaf One-Brow’s head.
