An Army of Frogs by Trevor Pryce & Joel Naftali & Sanford Greene

Author:Trevor Pryce & Joel Naftali & Sanford Greene
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Abrams Books New York
Published: 2013-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Jarrah circled the tree, stroking each of the bright red flowers in turn. Then she stopped abruptly at the single white bloom, a big flower head with rings of little petals.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “Look how lovely and glowing and pure.”

She called her ladies closer, and they surrounded the uprooted waratah tree. Each pulled a strand of webbing from her spinnerets, and then Queen Jarrah began nightcasting.

Her eyes shone black as she summoned her poison. The silk shimmered and twisted.

A noxious cloud rose above the writhing web, and Jarrah stared into the smoke as her long legs danced across the silken strands, plucking and tugging and strumming.

The cloud seemed to pulse with power. Marmoo had heard that dreamcasting was a quiet magic, almost like meditation, but this was something completely different. Watching Jarrah tap into her full night-casting strength, he finally saw why she hated the turtle king so much.

Sergu used thoughts and visions to propel his power forward, like a turtle gliding through the ocean, riding the currents. Jarrah, on the other claw, used her silken web and poison fangs to trap her power, to drain magical energy from the world, like sucking blood from a fly.

Marmoo realized she hated King Sergu because he reminded her that without him and his stupid, gentle magic, she could never have invented nightcasting. Without his lessons, she would’ve remained an ordinary spider—and died long ago. She owed her life and her power to the magic she despised.

Of course, she’d taken all his lessons and turned them upside-down. She’d turned dreamcasting into a weapon.

Marmoo smiled to himself, grinding his mouth-parts in appreciation as he watched her work.

Finally, a strand of her web snapped, and he felt an eerie pulse through the windless day, as if the air had suddenly thickened around him.

The white flower turned to ash, and the rest of the waratah tree shriveled into a handful of blackened twigs. Jarrah lowered her arms and swayed, exhausted from her nightcasting. She sank her fangs into a silken bundle her attendants provided.

After she drained the blood, she sighed deeply.

“Success?” Marmoo asked, his pincers clenching expectantly.

“Indeed, Lord Marmoo,” she purred. “I’ve learned exactly how to undo the turtle king’s feeble magic. Take me within the outermost layer of the Veil, and I will destroy it completely in a day.”

“Then we’ll leave immediately.”

Jarrah wagged her finger at him. “My lord—there’s no reason for such unseemly haste.”

Marmoo heard the iron in her voice, despite her teasing tone, and realized his error. If she thought he was trying to rush her, she’d slow down, just to prove that she wasn’t in his control.

He gave a courtly bow with his mid-legs and said, “Of course, Queen Jarrah. Excuse my impatience. I’m simply eager to present your gift.”

She brightened with interest. “My gift?”

“Waiting for you at the encampment. My soldiers captured a frog inside the Amphibilands, plump and juicy, with smooth, shiny skin. We’re keeping him in a cage for you, to give you the honor of the first taste of Amphibilands frog.

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