Loki's Wolves - Armstrong Kelley L. - Страница 25

“Giants,” Laurie whispered. “You must pay even less attention in class than I do. Trolls are a kind of giant. Thor was known as the giant-killer.”

“Right.” Fen sized up Matt. “We’d better hope they’re very smallgiants.”

Matt plucked at the shirt he was wearing. It was Fen’s—Laurie had made her cousin grab extras for him. The tee rode at the top of Matt’s jeans and stretched across his chest and biceps. When he’d come out wearing it, Laurie had giggled, which had made Fen scowl and say it was an old one that he’d outgrown, and she couldn’t expect him to let Matt wear his good stuff. Now Matt didn’t respond to Fen’s crack. He just tugged at the shirt. Fen’s scowl returned, and he opened his mouth before his cousin cut him off.

“Do I need to separate you two?” she muttered.

Laurie was stepping between them when the ground vibrated under Matt’s feet. He tensed and looked around.

“What now?” Fen said.

“Didn’t you feel that?”

Matt didn’t wait for an answer. He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to the ground. It was vibrating. So was his amulet. He closed his eyes, one hand on the necklace, the other on the ground. Fen snickered and said something about troll-whispering, but Laurie shushed him. Fen was right, though, it looked stupid. It wasstupid. Matt let go of the necklace, opened his eyes, and started to rise, but Laurie crouched in front of him.

“What do you feel?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just thought—”

“Try again,” she said.

He paused. Fen won’t ever follow you if he thinks you’re an idiot.

“Try again,” she said, more firmly this time. She met his gaze. “We’re descended from gods, so we’ve all got some sort of god powers, right? We just need to figure out how they work.”

“It might not be—”

“But it might be. If you’re wrong, no one’s going to laugh at you.” She shot a warning look at Fen.

They’ve been following me so far, haven’t they? They don’t know me well enough to realize I don’t know what I’m doing. I can worry that they’ll find out I’m a fraud, or I can try to prove that I’m not. Try to be something different, someone different.

Matt shut his eyes and stretched his fingers against the ground. The vibrations were getting stronger now, and even if he couldn’t hear so much as another twig cracking—which made no sense if a troll was nearby—he knewit was nearby. He could feel it walking across the earth.

“Which way?” Laurie whispered.

He started to hesitate, then stopped himself and pointed. Almost as soon as he did, another crackcame, this one close enough that they all heard it.

“Okay,” Matt whispered as he stood. “They’re going to be big, so we need to make sure it’s just one. If this guy has friends, we have to find another troll.”

Fen pressed his lips together, and Matt knew he didn’t like the idea of running from a fight to search for an easier one. Maybe he even thought Matt was being a coward.

Am I? No. That has to be part of leading. Knowing when something is too risky.

At least Laurie seemed to agree, as she nodded and waved for Matt to lead the way.

“You stay here,” he said. “Fen and I—”

“Stop,” Laurie interrupted.

“I’m just suggesting—”

“Suggestion noted. And rejected. I’m going with you, and the more times you do that, Thorsen, the more ticked off I’m going to get.” She glanced at Fen. “Same goes for you.”

“But you’re—” Matt began.

“Don’t you dare say ‘a girl.’ ” She made a grumbling noise and then waved into the darkness. “Go.”

Matt hesitated and glanced at Fen—who only shrugged.

When Matt didn’t move, Laurie gave him a shove and muttered, “You know what you need, Thorsen? A sister.” She gave him another shove, harder this time, and they headed into the deep forest.

Matt crouched behind an evergreen stump and peeked out at the troll. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was a big pile of rock. The troll was hunkered down next to a stream, staring at something in its hands. It turned it over, grumbling, the sound like stones clattering together. Then it reached out a long arm into the stream and scooped up a handful of rock and silt. It jiggled its hand over the water to let the silt rain down. Then it clenched its fist, dipped it into the water, and shook it.

Panning for gold. Or some kind of treasure. Maybe even just sparkly rocks. The old stories said trolls loved anything shiny. Matt didn’t care much what it was doing; he was too busy staring at that hand. The troll itself wasn’t a real giant—crouching, it wasn’t taller than him. That hand, though, was huge. Bigger than his head. With claws as long as steak knives and probably just as sharp.

The troll opened its massive hand and poked at the rocks on its palm. Its grumbles grew louder when it found nothing of interest.

“What if we can’t communicate with it?” Laurie whispered, coming up behind him.

Matt looked over at her.

“That doesn’t sound like a real voice,” she said. “It’s just making noises. If we can’t talk to it, how are we going to find out—”

The troll’s head swung their way, and Laurie stopped. As the troll peered into the darkness, Matt got his first real look at the thing. It had a gray, misshapen, bald head with beady, sunken eyes and a nose that hooked down over a lipless mouth. The nose twitched, as if the troll was sniffing the air. Then the mouth opened, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

The troll rose to its full height. It would tower over Matt now. At least eight feet tall and half as wide, standing on squat legs, its long arms dangling, claws scraping the ground. It kept looking in their direction but just stood there, head bobbing and swaying, nostrils flaring. Then it charged.

There was no warning. One second it was standing there, and the next it was barreling toward them so quickly and so quietly that for a second, Matt thought he was seeing things. Then Laurie grabbed his arm, and Fen shouted, “Run!”

Matt lunged from behind the stump, breaking free from Laurie’s grasp, and then he did run—straight at the troll. There wasn’t a choice. It was coming too fast for them to escape. So Matt ran toward it, yelling.

The troll skidded to a stop. Its beady eyes went as wide as they could, its stone jaw dropping.

Matt kept running. As he did, his fears and worries seemed to fall behind. This was the part he understood, the part he’d always understood. This was when he really felt like a son of Thor.

That’s why he loved boxing and wrestling. When he got into the ring, he didn’t feel like a loser, like a screwup. His family was never there, watching and waiting for him to make a mistake. They didn’t care. Win or lose, they didn’t care, and if that kind of hurt, it also felt good in a weird way. It felt like freedom.

He ran at the troll, and he didn’t think I can’t do this.He didn’t think Ican do this, either. He just thought what he always did in the ring: I’m going to give it my best shot.

He concentrated on Thor’s Hammer and imagined throwing it at the troll. Nothing happened. So he kept going. When he was a few feet away, he pitched forward, dropping and grabbing it by the leg. It was a good wrestling move, one Coach Forde had taught him for dealing with a bigger opponent.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. In theory. A theory that, apparently, didn’t apply to trolls, and when Matt grabbed it by the leg, it barely stumbled. Then it pulled back its thick, short leg, kicked, and sent Matt sailing into the undergrowth.

Matt hit the ground in a roll and bounced up. He wheeled to see the troll charging. Matt feinted to the side. He heard a clunkand saw a fist-sized rock bounce off the back of the troll’s head. The troll staggered, its charge broken. As it turned, snorting, Matt saw Fen lifting another rock.