It moved. Surprised, they tumbled and scrambled out of the way.
The boulder crunched down into the channel, hesitated ponderously, then decided to move on. It rolled, slowly and raggedly, but determinedly.
They jumped to their feet and followed it down. Would it break out of the channel? It seemed to be trying to, as it rolled irregularly, but never quite made it. It gathered speed, and plunged into the bit of forest.
Just before the branch, the rock veered to one side, threatening to miss. But the edge of it clipped the branch, and the branch snapped with a loud crack. The tree shuddered, then slowly let itself down as the rock splashed into the river. Crunch! The top crushed into the ground on the opposite side and wedged into place.
“Oh, it worked, it worked!” Ivy cried, dancing with joy. Then she grabbed Grey, hugged him, and kissed him.
“Let's roll some more boulders!” he said dazedly.
She ran to fetch her knapsack. “Let's get across; we've used up half the day already.” Grey climbed onto the trunk and followed her. But in the middle, directly over the river, he paused, staring down. “I've been thinking,” he said. “Where does all this blood come from?”
“I told you—it's just a prop from the bad dreams,” Ivy said. “It doesn't have to come from anywhere. It's—” She stopped herself before saying “magic.”
“But it goes somewhere,” he pointed out. “It goes into the larger river. And if it doesn't come from anywhere, then we should have been able to walk upstream and get around it. It just seems too much like a regular river to me.”
“Maybe there's a blood spring, farther up,” Ivy said, losing patience. “Look, Grey, this place doesn't follow normal rules as either you or I know them, any more than dreams do. It's not worth worrying about.”
“I was thinking,” he continued doggedly, “that if it comes from an—an animal, a big animal, that creature must really be hurting. I think we should go check.”
Ivy opened her mouth to protest, but the insidious logic of it began to get to her. A big animal? What an awful thought!
“Very well,” she said wearily. “Let's find out exactly where it comes from.”
Grey completed his crossing and climbed down beside her. Then they trekked upstream. Ivy hoped that Grey's conjecture was wrong, but she couldn't discount it. Surely a big bucket of blood, self-restoring, would have done the job as well as this river! And why was the blood so hot?
Temperature hardly mattered for bad dreams, just appearance. Also, why was it out here in nowhere, instead of more centrally located?
The river coursed interminably, forcing them to climb over ridges and through thickets. At one point there was a red waterfall of it, and they had to find a way up the precipitous slope before they could rejoin it. This was certainly farther than it needed to be for a dream prop!
Then they reached what might be the source: a hole in a bank. They piled stones and brush against the bank so as to make a ramp to the top, expecting to find a lake of blood beyond. But there was none; it was just a low hill.
Ivy was relieved; there was no animal after all.
The hill moved. Ivy screamed and looked for something to grab onto, but all that offered was Grey.
They stood, frightened, as the center of the hill swelled upward. Then it paused, and slowly subsided. And swelled again. There was an odd wailing sound.
“This hill is breathing!” Grey exclaimed.
Now Ivy caught on. “This is a—a giant! With a hole in his side!”
“Impossible!” Grey said. But he looked doubtful.
They walked along the length of the hill. Soon they verified it: there was a monstrous head, its face turned to the side, breath howling in and out of its mouth. This really was a living, breathing giant!
“And he's tied down,” Ivy said, pointing out cords that stretched across the outflung arms. “He can't help himself!”
“While he bleeds to death!” Grey said, appalled. He might not believe in magic, but he obviously accepted this giant. “We must help him!”
“Yes, we must,” Ivy agreed. “But how? He's so big, and we have no tools or anything.”
“Maybe we can ask him,” Grey said.
“Ask him!” she exclaimed. “But he can't be conscious!”
“I think he is,” Grey said. He approached the huge head. “Giant, can you hear me?”
The eyes blinked. The mouth pursed. “Hyesss!” the wind howled.
“How may we help you?”
The giant's mouth pursed again. This time the words were clearer. “Magic bandage in pocket.”
Ivy looked. Sure enough, there on the chest was a bulge, and it was a pocket. She knew that a magic bandage would stop the flow of blood from the giant's wound, because that was the way magic worked. “It's here,” she called to Grey.
The giant spoke again. “But first—name your reward.”
Grey was taken aback. “I don't want any reward! Here you lie bleeding to death—I just want to help you!”
The giant was silent. Grey came across to join Ivy, and together they hauled the huge bandage out of the pocket.
“What an irony!” Grey exclaimed. “The bandage right here, and he can't reach it himself!”
“Not irony,” Ivy said. “Torture.”
Grey's mouth opened and closed again. He nodded.
The bandage was as big as the mattress of a bed, but not as heavy. They pulled it across the giant's heaving chest and to his side. They let it fall to the ground beyond, then took turns dropping onto it, as it cushioned their landings nicely.
They dragged it to the spouting wound. Now Ivy saw that the blood jetted at high velocity from a relatively small hole no more than the size of a human head. The bandage was certainly big enough to cover it—if they could just get it on.
“I hate to think of the hydraulic force of that flow,” Grey said. “Maybe that's the wrong term, but certainly it will blow away the bandage before we can get it placed.”
“It is a magic bandage,” Ivy reminded him. “I think we'll just have to try placing it, and see what happens.”
“I don't want to depend on magic!” Grey said.
Ivy sighed inwardly. She could postpone this issue no longer. “I think you'll have to, this one time. You know we don't have a chance without it.”
Grey looked at the wound, then at the bandage, then at the wound again. “I suppose the technology that can make a setting like this can make a way to deal with it,” he said. “A force field or something, or maybe the hydrant gets turned off when the bandage comes near. So we'll just have to try it.”
Ivy wasn't completely satisfied with that rationale, but at least it meant that Grey was ready to try the bandage. They brought it up close to the wound.
“Maybe if I shove it across from this side, and you go across and catch it from that side,” Grey said uncertainly.
“Yes.” Ivy ducked down and scooted forward. There was a clear spot of ground right next to the giant's side, below the jet, because the blood was shooting out so fast it didn't touch ground for some distance. She passed right under it, feeling its close heat, and straightened up on the other side. “Ready!” she cried over the roar of it.
Grey wrestled the bandage up so it leaned against the giant's side. He unfolded the cute little knife he carried and used it to slice away the wrapping, exposing the clean surface. When he had the bandage clear, he put away his knife, took careful hold, and nudged the bandage forward, edgewise.
It touched the rushing blood. Despite her confidence in its magic. Ivy almost expected the bandage to be caught and flung violently out to float in the red river below. But the edge of the bandage cut into the stream as if the blood were no more than a beam of light; there wasn't even any splash.
Grey gaped, but kept shoving. The bandage lurched across, cutting off more of the flow. Soon it was all the way across, and Ivy grabbed hold of it. She hauled it far enough to be centered across the wound, then pressed it onto the giant's
skin by leaning against it.
“Tamp it on!” she called to Grey—and discovered that she didn't need to call at all, for the roar of the jet had stopped. She was right beside Grey, close enough to touch.
They pressed it tight all around the wound. Where the bandage touched skin, it adhered so firmly that there was no leakage at all. In the center, over the wound, it merely thrummed faintly with the pressure of the blood behind it. The job was done.
Ivy looked down the slope. The river of blood was still there, but dwindling because its source was gone. It would probably take days for all of it to clear, if it ever did; some of it might simply clot in place.
Grey shook his head. “There must have been a lot of pain there,” he said. “Just sort of lying here while his life ebbed. I have a notion how he must feel.”
Ivy thought of his life in Mundania. Indeed, he might have a notion!
“Now let's see if we can free him,” Grey said. “It would take forever for me to saw through all those bonds with my penknife, but maybe he knows of a better way.”
He walked toward the ramp they had fashioned before.
“Maybe he'll be able to break free, when his strength recovers,” Ivy said, following. “Now that he's not losing his blood—”
“I don't think so. Enchantments usually come in threes.”
“What?” she asked, astonished.
“Threes. They set it up that way in fairy tales, so they probably do the same in fairy-tale settings. We have to play the game their way or it won't work.”
“You believe in magic now?”
“No, just in the way promoters operate.”
She was silent. There seemed to be no convincing him!
They came again to the head. “Giant, we have patched your wound,” Grey said. “How may we free you from bondage?”
The huge mouth pursed. “Magic sword in scabbard.”
“We'll try that,” Grey said.
“Name your reward.”
“I told you: no reward. I just don't like you being stuck here like this.” Grey headed down the giant's chest, looking for the scabbard.
Ivy ran after him. “For a man who doesn't believe in magic, you're doing very well!”
“Magic has nothing to do with it!” he exclaimed. “This giant has been treated rotten, and I don't like it. I don't care if it is just a setting, I can't just let it be.”
He didn't believe, but he wanted to do what he thought was right. Ivy didn't know whether to be mad at him or proud of him.
The scabbard lay along the giant's right side, below the bandaged wound. It was huge—and so was the sword it sheathed. “I can't use that!” Grey exclaimed.
“I think you can,” Ivy said. “You may not believe in magic, but it is obviously working. Put your hand on the hilt.”
“This is crazy!” Grey protested. But he slid down, used his feet to unsnap the containing strap, and worked his way up to the hilt. The thickness of the thing was greater than the length of his body!
But he put his hand on it—and the sword reduced in size to fit his own proportions, the hilt fitting comfortably in his hand. He drew it out and held it aloft, amazed.
“This-”
“Is a magic sword,” Ivy said, somewhat smugly. “Now you can use it to cut his bonds.”
“Uh, yes,” he agreed, disgruntled. “I'd sure like to know how they managed this effect!” He jumped the rest of the way down, then walked up along the giant's side. Wherever he saw a cord, he sliced carefully at it with the sword, and it parted. He walked entirely around the giant, cutting every bond, until he reached the left foot.
“Oops!” he exclaimed.
Ivy had been paralleling him on the top of the giant.
She ran down the leg to see.
There was a giant metal manacle clamped about the ankle. A heavy chain led from it to a solid metal block beyond the feet. Even with every cord cut, the giant would be unable to walk away from this spot!
Grey continued on around the legs, cutting the remaining cords. When he reached the monstrous scabbard, he reached up, shoved the tiny sword into it, and let go. Immediately the sword returned to its former size, filling the scabbard.
They returned to the giant's head. “I have cut the bonds,” Grey announced. “But you have metal shackles on your feet. How can I get those off?”
Once more the mouth pursed. “Key on pedestal.”
“Oh. I should have looked! I'll fetch it.”
“Name your reward.”
“Forget it, giant! I just want to get this job done.” Grey headed back down to the giant's feet. Ivy followed, bemused again by Grey's attitude. He might at least have asked for that fabulous magic sword!
There was a key by the chains, longer than Grey's body.
But he was catching on to the rules of this region. He put his hand on it, and abruptly it fit his hand.
He took it to one of the manacles. There was a huge keyhole there. He put the tiny key in and turned it. The manacle snapped open. The giant's leg was free!
He went to the other manacle and opened it similarly.
Then he returned the key to its spot. When he let go, it became its original size.
“Okay, giant!” he called. “You're free now!”
“Moove awaay!” the giant called from the far-distant head.
They hurried back away from the legs. Then the giant stirred. The earth quaked as the limbs moved. The upper section lifted as the giant sat up. It was like a mountain being formed from a wrinkle in the terrain.
“Wheeere aare yoou?” the giant called.
“Down here!” Grey called back, waving.
The giant looked, and spotted them. The upper torso leaned down. “I asked you three times to name your reward for helping me,” the giant said.
“And I told you three times no,” Grey responded. “If you're okay now, we'll be on our way.”
“But I want to know my benefactor,” the giant said. “I beg of you, remain a bit and exchange stories, for the end of this is not yet.”
“I don't like this,” Ivy murmured. “He may want to eat us.”
Grey stared at her. Then he shook himself. “No, I can't believe that would be in the script. But just to be sure, I'll ask.” He cupped his hands about his mouth and called:
“We are hungry, and we fear you are. Can we trust you?”
The giant laughed, and the booming of it echoed across the terrain. “I don't eat people! I understand they taste awful! I have magic biscuit. I will share it with you in exchange for your company this hour.”
“My friend fears we must not eat anything here,” Grey called back.
“This is not dream food,” the giant said. “I brought it with me from Xanth. It is safe to eat.”
Grey looked at Ivy. “What do you say?”
Ivy's hunger pangs roiled up fiercely. If the giant turned out to be dangerous, she should be able to enhance him into clumsiness. “I say let's trust him. Maybe he knows the best way out of here.”
“Okay,” Grey called.
The giant extended his right arm. The huge hand came to rest on the ground before them.
Grey looked at her again. “Trust him?”
Ivy remembered that she was supposed to return from this quest safely. “Trust him,” she said, and climbed onto the hand first. She hoped this was a good decision. She was a Sorceress, but her magic had its limits.
Grey joined her. Then the hand closed partway, forming a crude cage, and lifted. In a moment they were high above the trees, traveling swiftly toward the giant's face.
But the giant only set them on the flat top of a nearby mountain, where he could converse without having to lie down again or shout. He brought out a jagged fragment of biscuit that might have been broken from an outcropping of rock and set it beside them. Then he brought a piece of cheese as big as a house, and squeezed out a little grog from an enormous wineskin. “All from Xanth,” he assured them. “Eat your fill!”
Indeed, he cr
ammed a huge chunk of biscuit and cheese into his mouth and chewed with evident relish. Ivy could restrain herself no longer; she walked to the biscuit, used her foot to break off a piece, and scooped up some of the cheese. Both turned out to be excellent. They gobbled them down as if they hadn't eaten for a day or two—which was exactly the case.
“Now we talk!” the giant said, satisfied. “You tell me your tale, I'll tell you mine.”
Ivy was content to let Grey tell their story, his way. She settled back against an escarpment of cracker and listened.
Chapter 6
Giant
Grey was feeling considerably better about this adventure, now that his stomach was full. The cracker and cheese made him dry, so he scooped up some of the puddled grog in his two hands and drank it. Whew! It was potent stuff!
Then he told the giant their story, condensed. How Ivy was a Princess of Xanth (why provoke her by saying otherwise in her presence)? who had been sent on a mission to find a lost Magician but had somehow landed in drear Mundania, as she put it. How he was an ordinary young man who happened to live in the next apartment, who had tried to help her find her way back. How they had climbed an odd mountain, stepped through a door to a new land, and discovered the river of blood. “So we came to help you, because it was the right thing to do,” he concluded.
“That's all there is to it.”
The giant smiled. From this range it looked like a fissure in the face of a cliffside. “I think not.” Then he told his story.
He was, it turned out, named Girard. He had been a young (under a century old), carefree giant wandering the unexplored central regions of Xanth, when …
As Girard Giant talked, the grog made Grey relaxed and woozy. He found it easy to identify with the story, and seemed to live it himself, as if in a dream.
Girard had one bad character flaw, according to others: he was a do-gooder. When he spied an injured animal, he tried to help it. When he found a tree suffering in a drought, he tried to water it. And when he saw wrong, he tried to right it. Unfortunately, those on the receiving end did not always understand or appreciate his efforts.
For Girard was an invisible giant. There were a number of his tribe in Xanth; but they tended to be shy, and they didn't like to hurt things by treading on them, so they maintained distant profiles. They romped freely in their own ranges, but in recent years the human folk had been expanding and exploring more of Xanth, and this was reducing the giant habitat. They had to tread carefully indeed when human folk settled nearby, for humans could be extraordinarily inquisitive. Human folk also had magic talents, and that was a problem because some magic could harm the giants. So the giants retreated as the humans advanced, generally.
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