At least the stranger revealed one thing: There were things of great value somewhere in the castle. If Nick could find them and get out alive, he could grow up as rich as Jack.
Nick took a step in the direction of the castle, but he stopped when he heard the voice shouting out from behind him, from such a distance he could barely be heard.
“Mind your step, Nick! Would you walk into the same trap as those who have gone before you?”
Nick looked at his feet. He was so flustered by the encounter that he’d forgotten the ogre’s trap and nearly walked right through the spot where the boar was killed. The ground was still muddy with the blood of the beast. Nick stepped gingerly back from danger, unsure where the trigger lay. He turned back to look for Greeneyes, but the vines remained closed around that spot.
“Careful, Nick,” he said to himself. “Let’s not get ourselves killed.”
Walking a wide circle around the trap, Nick headed for the castle. He found the path that the ogre took, where the undergrowth was trampled flat and branches twenty-five feet up on both sides had been snapped off. Nick followed that trail until it met a larger path. This was a wide swath that drove in a straight line through the forest. Everything here had been pulled up or hacked away. The stumps of the largest trees were chopped to within a foot of the ground. Some rocks had been tossed to the side; others were smashed to pieces, and their fragments were scattered all about. Deep wheel-worn grooves ran parallel down the center of the road.
Turning one way would take him back toward the beanstalk. Nick went the other way, toward the castle. He walked as quietly as possible. He kept his head turning always, looking to each side for boars or other unknown threats, and watching ahead in case the ogre came back down the path.
Soon the road emerged from the forest into a meadow of tall grass. Glimpsing beyond it, Nick got his first close look at the giant’s castle.
It was a gloomy, foreboding place of awesome dimensions. To build it, the giant must have used an entire mountain’s worth of stones. Or perhaps a mountain once stood on this spot and the giant simply tore it apart and reassembled it as this monstrosity.
An entire village could have fit inside its outer walls. Ten of Jack’s houses, stacked like children’s blocks, would not have reached as high. Unlike the straight lines and tidy angles of Jack’s creation, this place sprawled recklessly, its walls bulging in places, meandering out and around and coming together as if by chance on the other side.
A tower erupted at one corner of the castle and a strange device was in motion at its apex. Radiating out and spinning slowly were three broad triangular sails, each stretched between a pair of wooden poles. Nick wondered what made them go. Then a stiff breeze arose, and he noticed that the sails spun faster. It’s the wind, he realized.
Thin black smoke leaked out at the tower’s peak. The whirling sails of the wind machine swept it away.
The castle was built high on a craggy ledge and hemmed by a hellish jumble of rocks, perhaps the debris from its ancient construction. To approach, Nick would have to take the dirt road that went past the main door, or climb across the mess of rocks to either side. He didn’t like the looks of the shadowy places among those boulders, but at least they offered a place to hide if the ogre emerged.
Keeping low in the tall grass, Nick ran across the meadow and began to pick his way across the rocks. Crows had been plentiful enough in the forest, but they absolutely infested the castle grounds. As Nick drew closer to the castle, he saw what attracted them here. All around the castle were the gnawed bones of animals. Some were bleached under the sun. Others were fresh, and the crows cawed and sparred over the bits of flesh that still clung to them. Among the bones, Nick saw skulls of animals that looked totally unfamiliar to him, heads that sprouted exotic horns and antlers. The bones were strewn in such a random manner that Nick assumed they were merely tossed over the wall when the ogre finished his meal. A foul stench of rot filled the air, and he pulled the neckline of his shirt over his nose to ward it off.
Nick came under the shadows of the walls at one side of the front door. Below the door was a gap that he could easily squeeze through.
A few of the crows nearby suddenly took flight. Nick hunched low, alert to danger. Over the screech of the birds, he heard a growing, rhythmic creaking. It reminded him of the sound of the wagon that he robbed in the forest, but its volume was far greater.
He didn’t see anything coming along the road he’d followed. But that same path disappeared around the far side of the castle. Something on wheels was approaching from that direction, and any moment now it would come into view.
Nearby, two tall slabs of discarded stone leaned against each other, with a deep crevice between them. Nick darted into it.
He instantly regretted this choice of hiding places. A gluey spider web, its gray threads as thick as rope, spanned the width of the crevice just inside the opening. Stuck all over the web, instead of flies, were the mummified bodies of crows. The web blocked the way into the safe recesses of the crevice, so Nick was left with precious little room to conceal himself from the approaching danger. He looked behind the web. A yawning funnel of spun silk vanished into the darkness. As his eyes began to adapt to the gloom, Nick thought he could make out a pair of glinting eyes deep inside.
There was no time to find another place to hide. A second ogre was coming into view on the road, pulling a noisy cart behind him. Nick flattened himself against the rock, barely out of the daylight, doing his best to remain out of sight. He hoped his black garments would once again help him merge into the shadows.
This ogre was larger and more brutish than the one Nick encountered in the forest, distinct in appearance but no less horrible. He was almost as wide as he was tall, with a thick chest, a fat belly, and colossal muscles on his arms and legs. His skin was gray, hairless, and covered with warty lumps. His eyes were bulging and enormous, his slobbering mouth went nearly ear to ear, and his nose was nothing more than a long pair of runny holes. If the first ogre seemed to have the essence of rat in his recipe, this one had a dash of toad. But then again, no toad Nick had ever seen had a mouth filled with awful yellow teeth.
Like the first ogre, this one wore animal hides. But his clothes were more bedraggled, just a tattered vest and pants that were ripped to shreds below the knees. No hideous jewelry decorated this monster.
The toad-ogre had over his shoulders a harness, which he used to pull a great two-wheeled cart behind him. Nick recognized what was being hauled: It was a gigantic heap of the vines that resembled the beanstalk.
The ogre shrugged off the harness and let the front of the cart tilt to rest on the ground. He arched his back and stretched his arms. Then, like the ogre in the forest had done, he looked at the ground with a puzzled expression. Nick dared to stick his head out another inch to see what the monster was looking at. He appeared to be staring at the shadow of the cart.
Then, again like the first ogre, this one stared at the sun. He scratched his head. Nick could not understand what was confusing the ogres. Something about the shadows?
Nick reminded himself to keep an eye on the web behind him. He turned around and nearly cried out when he saw the abhorrent creature that had crept out of the dark funnel and mounted the opposite side of the web.
It had the hairy jointed legs of a spider. But where a spider’s body should have been was the head of a human being. The skin was dry and shriveled like a raisin, with black and purple veins pulsing just underneath. Behind the head was a mushy sack of flesh that ended in a point, with a strand of thread oozing from the tip.
The head tilted to one side, and the creature looked at Nick with curious red-rimmed eyes. Then, to Nick’s horror, it smiled at him. There were no teeth in that mouth, just a tiny black tongue and a pair of fangs that pinched and opened like tongs. Nick saw a trembling drop of venom at the tip of one fang. The spider-head put a leg between the strands of the web and reached for him. The crusty leg ended in a cluster of
soft, wiggling human fingers.
Nick reached into his pocket for the knife. He unfolded the blade and held the point out toward the foul thing. “Get away from me,” he said quietly but sharply, with his teeth clamped together.
The spider-head seemed to understand the threat. Its smile curved downward into a frown. It opened and closed its mouth as if it was trying to speak, but it could only mewl like a kitten. Then it crawled down the web and shuffled backward into the darkness, staring at him with longing eyes.
Nick watched it go. The ogres were fearsome, but this creature inspired a mixture of loathing and pity. He wondered what hideous forces could have conspired to create such an abomination.
A commotion drew Nick’s attention, and he looked back toward the ogre. The monster was banging with powerful fists on the castle door, and hollering in a thunderous voice. Nick could almost understand what the ogre was saying—even pick out some fragments of words here and there—but most of it was gibberish.
The castle door swung open, and the rat-ogre was there. He took one look at the harvest in the cart and began to scream. But this time Nick understood every word.
“Idiot! Is this where you’ve been all day? I told you a hundred times,” the rat-ogre roared, now emphasizing every word by slapping the top of the toad-ogre’s head, “We! Don’t! Need! Any! More!”
The rat-ogre chased the other inside, kicking him in the rear, still screaming. “Basher the fool! Basher the halfwit!” The door slammed shut behind them. The screaming died away as they went into the depths of the castle.
Despite the danger, Nick found himself a little amused by the scene he’d witnessed. He’d also learned a great deal. The evil-tempered rat-ogre was the clever one, probably the one that built the trap in the forest. The rat-ogre was able to talk, while “Basher” could make only crude attempts at speech. And the rat-ogre was clearly in charge, even though the other was larger and stronger.
But where did these behemoths come from? Were they invaders from somewhere else on the vast cloud island, who seized control of the castle when its owner departed?
An alarm sounded in Nicks brain, and he remembered to check on the spider-head just in time. He didn’t see the creature when he turned around, but the web was quivering. He looked up and saw it dropping from above, suspended from its thread, and reaching for him with both forelegs. Nick slashed with his knife and sliced the fingers off the end of one leg. A black-red fluid spattered the rocks below. The spider-head let loose a high-pitched squeal that stung Nick’s ears. He didn’t wait for a counterattack. He jumped out of the crevice and flew to the front door. Without hesitating, he slid underneath and entered the giant’s castle.
On the other side of the door, Nick found himself in a gigantic hall, thankfully alone. It didn’t seem possible to build anything this big, with a ceiling so high and walls so distant from each other. It was constructed with the same distorted architecture as the outer walls. The walls heaved and curved in random fashion. Straight lines were scarce to be seen. A handful of twisted columns, positioned without symmetry, rose to support the domed roof. It felt more like standing in a cavern than a hall.
The ceiling was decaying. Chunks had fallen out, and the sun streamed through those gaping holes, thrusting swords of light through the dusty air. The ever-present crows had found their way through the gaps, and they glided, screeching, in the vastness overhead.
There were still remnants of beauty in the hall, but decades of neglect and abuse left them utterly ruined. Tapestries on the walls were mostly shredded, and the parts that were still intact were so dirty that their designs were obscured. There had been furniture, but now it lay in splinters. There had been great marble sculptures, but only the shattered pieces remained.
Nick was so shaken by the encounter with the spider-head, he’d forgotten to breathe. He inhaled deeply. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from spitting up. The time he spent getting accustomed to the smell while hiding outside did not prepare him for the putrid air inside the castle. He tried breathing through his mouth, but that was worse—he could actually taste the foul odor.
On the opposite side of the hall, an archway led into the kitchen. Nick recognized the scene at once, from the painting of the giant in Jack’s gallery that had given him such a fright. The kitchen table with tree trunks for legs was still there, and a few of the familiar chairs stood around it. These were among the handful of pieces of furniture that were still intact.
A gaping fireplace occupied the far wall of the kitchen. A fire was blazing there, its flames leaping ten feet high. The dead boar, its hide removed, was mounted on a skewer above the flames.
The skewer was being turned, but not by hand. A thick rope came through one of the holes in the ceiling. It was threaded through an iron ring that stuck out from the stone wall above the fireplace, and knotted to the handle that turned the skewer. The rope rose and fell, pulled taut and relaxed; and as it did so, the boar spun over the fire. Nick wondered what was making the rope move, and then remembered the turning sails of the wind machine on the castle tower.
On each side of the hall, smaller arches led to hallways into the rest of the castle’s interior. Nick heard bellowing and heavy footsteps coming from one of those passages; the sound echoed back and forth across the cavernous hall. The ogres were approaching.
Hiding places were plentiful in the rubble on the floor. Nick crept into a smashed piece of pottery that hid him from view. He peeked through a crack and spied on the ogres as they came into the room. Basher was blathering incoherently, but the rat-ogre seemed to understand him well enough.
“Can’t you even wait until it’s cooked? Fine, then,” the rat-ogre said. Holding the end of the skewer, he pulled the boar from the fire and tossed it onto the table. “Eat it raw”
Basher sat and tore into the beast with ravenous glee.
“I’ll get my own dinner. Another flags up, anyway. Besides, I have to make certain nothing is blocking the road after that windstorm.” The rat-ogre took his blood-stained sack and headed across the hall to the door. He turned before leaving, and snarled back, “And don’t sleep the time away while I’m gone! You know what needs to be done around here!” The rat-ogre left without closing the door.
Nick was glad to see one of the ogres leave. Now if Basher would go, he could explore the castle and seek out its treasures.
From the table in the kitchen came the loud sounds of slurping, chewing and crunching. Nick watched Basher licking his fingers, one by one. Red juice was rolling down the ogre’s face like a mountain stream. He had consumed the boar with amazing speed. What was on the table was no longer a recognizable animal; it was just a pile of gnawed and broken bones. Basher reached one arm across the table and swept the whole mess onto the floor. Then he folded his arms and rested his head upon them. Before a minute passed, he was snoring loudly.
Nick came slowly out of hiding. This was his chance to explore—until Basher woke up or the other one returned to the castle, whichever came first.
There were two hallways to choose from, leading to the wings of the castle. Nick let his nose decide. While the general stench in the castle was hard to take, the stink that flowed from the hall on the right seemed unbearable. He chose the one to his left.
It was time to steal a fortune of his own.
Chapter 12
Jack and his men approached the crest of the hill. The horses struggled to pull the wagon up the steep grade, even though only Jack was riding now. Henry walked in front, guiding the pair of horses, and Roland and Bill walked beside the wagon. The young men were ready for combat. They wore leather armor, with swords at their sides and bows slung across their backs. Spears and other weapons were heaped in the back of the wagon.
From behind the hill, they saw only the upper reaches of the beanstalk. When they came to the top, the entire growth would come into view, less than a half mile away. As that moment approached, the excitement grew among Jack’s men. They glanced
at one another, smiling nervously. And they looked back at their master riding in the wagon. But Jack did not meet their gaze. He kept his eyes on the great dark cloud that seemed ready to smother the Earth like a pillow over its face.
A hundred feet shy of the top, Jack told Henry to stop the wagon. Roland went to help the old man, but Jack waved him of. He clambered down, then signaled for his men to follow him up. When the old man was almost to the ridge, he went to his hands and knees and crawled the final yards. His men did likewise. Four across, they came to the edge on their bellies and, for the first time, saw the awesome beanstalk in its entirety, from its deeply driven roots to the point where it practically vanished high above.
Jack looked at his men. They were thrilled, amazed, and a bit frightened. Natural reactions, Jack supposed. For him this was a distant memory revisited. But for these three, it was a strange and magical intrusion into their ordinary lives. Jack had never revealed to even his most trusted servants the absolute truth of his story of the beanstalk and the giant. Over the years, they watched him paint the scenes in finer detail than any imagination could conceive. They saw the long-dead hen and the staggering cache of golden eggs in his vault. But Jack knew that, despite all that evidence, his servants were still sure it was all nothing more than a fabrication. Like the rest of the folk in this land, they came to regard him as a harmless eccentric who enjoyed spinning a tall tale. And who could blame them for doubting?
But now the beanstalk vaulted into the heavens before their eyes, more massive than any living thing they’d seen, and a surreal dark cloud straddled the land. Jack could imagine what his men were thinking. Here was proof of the existence of otherworldly things. And if the beanstalk was real, then it was all real: the man-eating giant, the castle in the clouds, the fantastic treasures.
Their eyes sparkled with tears of wonder. Seeing the look on one another’s faces, all four men laughed softly.
The Thief and the Beanstalk (Further Tales Adventures) Page 9
