Chronicles of the Planeswalkers

by B. T. Robertson

  King Hrathis handed the sealed scroll to the leader of the group, Birefin, who bowed his head as he took it from the king's hand.

  "Inside are the terms of our offer to him,” the king said proudly. “He will not refuse."

  The men were dismissed to depart, as the sun climbed over the eastern horizon. It was the spring season then, with the scents of new flowers pushing up through the rain-soaked grounds. The drizzling drops had started again, falling straight down, as no wind disturbed the showers. The sun had shone its light through them, forming a rainbow in the sky above the mountains. King Hrathis took this as a sign that good was aligned with them, and he bade his soldiers farewell with renewed hope. From his lofty chamber he gazed up at the mountains, silently eager that Farrin would be pleased with the offer his men bore. All he could do again was wait and hope.

  * * * *

  The trip up the mountains was a tough one. The rocks were unforgiving, and the paths were barely visible from lack of travel. Ledges were loose and they encountered many rockslides, causing the company to trek around them to find a safer road. Still their hearts were with their fallen comrades and their king, for whom they would die, if asked. Hrathis had that effect. No complaints were heard, and teamwork flourished as they made their way through the clefts. They only had a general direction to guide them: up. The mountains did not flatten out somewhat until about three-quarters of the way up, near the peak of the tallest mountain in the range. This is where Farrin lived, far from the grips of the world below, knowing that giants could not mingle with common men. Giants were hunters, preferring the harsh conditions offered by the challenging mountains.

  The company traveled for two days, stopping only at nightfall to make camp. They slept in shifts and maintained a rotating watch to keep one another from rolling off the edge of the cliffs, or in case a Cray or wolf should stumble upon them.

  They saw no such creature, only heard the distant howling of wolves in the night. With so many crevices and ravines, the echoes made the howls sound as if they were surrounded. They expected as much, thus it worried them little.

  On the third day they reached a plateau in the mountain, a flat area not seen from the land below. As the men stood near the edge, they could look down and view the land of Fornidain. The castle was seen as well, though much smaller than they had remembered naturally. They turned to face the mountain, and to gain their bearings.

  "Well, we've reached the level part of this beast,” Birefin said roughly, his weathered face covered with scratches from the climb. He was dressed warmly, like the others, but his long mane of black hair spilled out from under his thick, wool fedora. “Let's have a look-see, shall we? Spread out, and figure out where we are to go next to find this Farrin fellow."

  He had barely uttered the words onto the chilled air, when, from around a huge rock formation against the side of the mountain opposite the flat, stepped a menacing creature. Not one now, but two! A third! The men stood in astonishment as five large giants emerged from their hiding places, axes in hand and huffing deeply. With each step they took, the ground shook. Pieces of rock and stone broke loose, and fell down the mountainside. The men, who had begun to search the vicinity, ran back to regroup with the others. They outnumbered the giants two to one, but each giant was at least twice as tall as any one man. Backing nearer to the edge of the flat, the men drew their swords. Horror rushed through their blood as they felt their lives were about to end. Birefin yelled, “We bring news and an offer from King Hrathis! Will you not hear us out before you destroy us?"

  At the mention of the king's name, the five stopped their advance. Two of them turned around to look behind. This gesture caused Birefin to turn his gaze between the massive bodies to what they were looking at. Standing in the darkness was a shape appearing even larger than the other five giants. The eyes glowed soft white, and the heaving breaths of the giant were heard stirring the thin air.

  "King Hrathis?” growled a deep, resonant voice that coiled the nerves of the men.

  Out from the shadows stepped a huge giant dressed more elaborately than the other five. The line of giants broke to make way for the obvious leader.

  This is Farrin, without a doubt, thought Birefin as the giant made his way across the flat toward them. He stood almost fifteen feet high, with massive arms tipped off by iron wristbands jutting out from the fur skin that covered his torso. His hands were the size of a man's chest, and clutched a massive double-sided ax. The chosen headdress was a leather helmet with impressive rune characters inscribed upon it. They were similar to the dwarves’ designs, though not at all related. His scowling visage was like chiseled granite, its roughness softened not at all by his thick, wiry beard. He looked at the men in disgust, and huffed a deep grunt.

  The other giants lowered their axes, and leaned on them like walking sticks. Their fur wrappings, stringy mops of hair, and scruffy beards blew about in the wind. The men still held their swords, until the leader advanced, and they decided it best to lower them. Birefin sheathed his own as a sign of peace. He tried to remain calm.

  "Are you the one named Farrin?” asked Birefin sternly.

  The brute marched forward, grabbed Birefin, and picked him up with one hand effortlessly. He pulled Birefin's face close to his own, squeezing his cheeks tightly together.

  "Who are you to ask such questions, Thief?” the giant raged. “I should crush ya’ like a worm right now fer trespassing in these mountains. Thieves brandishing the name of King Hrathis should meet a painful demise."

  He took another step forward, and suspended Birefin over the edge of the plateau. Birefin tried to wrench free, but was powerless under the hold of the massive giant.

  The other men stood horrified, but could do nothing because there were still five other giants standing over them.

  Birefin hid his fear well. Calmly, he said, “Let me down so I may prove to you that I represent whom I claim. Do not be foolish."

  "Foolish,” toyed the giant. “There are nine more of ya’ here. I could toss eight more over this edge after ya’ before I find out from the last why ya're here."

  "But, I am the only one who holds the proof of the king's terms. Who will render them to you if I should be thrown to my death?"

  The giant's face grew questioning, as if he started to ponder truth in the man's tale.

  "Very well then,” the giant reluctantly said. “Ya’ may present me the truth now, or be tossed ta’ yer doom."

  The giant held him still while Birefin produced the scrolled parchment with the king's wax seal. When the giant saw it he brought Birefin back over onto the safety of the ledge and released him, then took the scroll.

  "Guard them,” he said brusquely, and walked some distance away to read the scroll.

  After some time, he returned.

  "These men speak the truth. They represent King Hrathis of Gudred, and he is in need of our aid. He offers gold and furs ta’ us, and his continued alliance, if we aid him in his cause. There seems to be an orc nuisance still roaming the lands of Dunandor."

  The giant scratched his bearded chin with his hand, grumbling while he thought.

  "We shall consider over a feast tonight. What do ya’ lads say ta’ dat?"

  The giant's tone turned merry, almost as quickly as it had turned deadly a moment before.

  The men, still in shock from the events, nervously accepted the invitation.

  "Wait,” Birefin said. “What is your name, giant, if I may?"

  "Ha! Scared ya’ a bit, din I?” laughed the giant in a far more casual language than he had used before. “My name is Farrin, and you are in the land of the giants. For years we have called these hills our home, but we choose to stay out o’ the king's affairs. I will tell ya’ more later over ale, and a few roasted mountain goats!"

  The giants wasted no time in leading the way toward their home. It was hard because they could take one step to a man's four, but they were patient enough, considering they were giants and not known to be prope
r to guests. These guests were different; they were soldiers of Gudred, King Hrathis’ finest. Far more consideration was given than usual.

  After what seemed like a distance of over several leagues through the roughest terrain, the group finally emerged from the rocky trail onto the softer earth of another flat hidden deep within the recesses of the mountains. Giants were mostly cave dwellers, but these needed to have some open space as well. They thrived by using the resources of the mountains to their benefit. There were caves, but they were used mostly for storing goods, supplies, and for sleeping. There was little sun there, for it was not needed for growing things or for any magic. Giants did not use magic in any form. They relied on brute strength and sheer size to overwhelm their enemies. When attacked, they utilized the surrounding environment to their advantage. Uprooted trees and large rocks became any enemy's nemesis, no matter their size. The men spent the rest of that day meeting and greeting the entire clan of giants, which only numbered twenty-eight.

  When night fell, the sounds of their feasting could probably be heard for some distance. High winds of the upper peaks surely carried it away. A large fire was built in the center of the flat. Birefin and his company sat, ate, and drank with the giants, and told tales of war and of events happening in Vaalüna. After a bit of time, Farrin was quite taken with the happenings abroad. The severity of the current plight was the final topic.

  "So tell me, Birefin,” said Farrin. “What would King Hrathis want with us to offer so rich a purse? It's not our charming personalities, I cun guarantee ya’ that! Ha!” His laughter caused him to spill some of his ale into the fire, and the flame flared up suddenly. More laughter ensued.

  Birefin answered as straightly as he could, knowing his king would not approve of this celebrating, as this was the cause of Drezdain's demise.

  "We had a legion of our finest posted just outside of Dunandor. Drezdain was the general there. He was a fine man of great power, but his foolish pride blinded him and his purpose. They went soft, disobeyed orders, and paid a dear price for it."

  The giants forgot their laughter, becoming silent out of sympathy for the lost men.

  "Orcs from Dunandor took them in the night by surprise. They slaughtered them all, left them to rot, and displayed Drezdain's head at Ünodin Pass."

  "Bah,” shouted Farrin as he threw his mug into the fire angrily. “Those blasted orcs; din we teach ‘em a lesson the last time?"

  "We believe these to be new orcs, Farrin: stronger, fiercer, and faster. I was one of the five scouts sent out to report what happened when word from the Keep was lost. We arrived a few weeks after it happened, yet the stench of the ale and death was fouler than could be imagined. Some dead orcs were among them, though not of a sort we recognized prior. These had horns that grew from their scalps, two of them. We did not examine their bodies any closer, for the stench would have killed us. We discovered Drezdain's body not far away, head torn clean from the cadaver. It was placed on a lance, as was his body, at the head of the pass to Dunandor. It's a threat to all. Drezdain's Keep was destroyed, the ruins left to rot with the rest of the bodies. No word of the orcs has ever been reported since."

  Farrin jumped to his feet. “Let's not waste time. There is no need to think longer of this. We go in the morning. Pack only what you need for war! We go to avenge Drezdain for King Hrathis!"

  The giants raised their axes high in the air, and bellowed cries of war and orc blood.

  Birefin looked at Trenagon, his second in command, who had been watching silently while the talks were going on.

  "Here I thought it would have been harder to convince them."

  "Nah,” Trenagon chuckled. “They're giants. The only thing that convinces them is what King Hrathis offered, gold and furs. He knew they would never refuse."

  "Yes, but what need has a giant for gold?” asked Birefin.

  "They do come out of these mountains, Birefin. They engage in trade with surrounding clans and tribes of men and dwarves. They seek precious metals and tools for creating their implements of war and weapons for their hunting. Gold is the shimmering metal that no creature can refuse."

  Birefin nodded and said no more.

  "I am off to catch rest,” Trenagon said. “It would be wise of you to do the same."

  Again, Birefin simply nodded. Trenagon marched off to where the rest of the men were to stay for the night. Birefin waited by the fire until it completely died out, and then retired himself. He knew that in the morning, his king would be mighty pleased with him and his company. A smile played on his lips as he drifted away into the first peaceful sleep that he had in a long while.

  During the night, a slight breeze kissed the recess of the mountain where the giant domain resided. The air was cool, clean. Stars shone above in the cloudless sky as they danced and twinkled along their courses. A few faint howls of mountain wolves broke the placid silence, able to paralyze the bravest of hearts. The men of Gudred never stirred from their slumber, lost in their own dreams and snores. A few of the giants kept watch at the borders of the village. On the north side they were protected by a tall cliff face. This was where their caves were carved. To the south, the lip of the mountain came to an abrupt end and plunged down to the jagged rocks below. No foe could approach from either of these two directions, but west and east were accessible by the hard roads that had been cleared by the giants. Though few remaining creatures dared to enter their range uninvited, entry had to be prevented. Even the wily wolves kept their distance, knowing the sting of Farrin's axes too well.

  Birefin did not sleep with the rest of his men, leaving them to their own slumbering hisses and drools. He instead chose to fall asleep next to the fire as the shimmering embers died down from lack of fuel.

  Suddenly, a slight scraping sound woke Birefin. Though it did not startle him, it was annoying enough for him to lift his head to glance around him. The two giants, who guarded each side of the flat, Treigan and Ganzif, had dozed off. Birefin had no intention of waking the sleeping giants, so he threw off the blanket that he was wrapped in. Standing up slowly and quietly, so as to not wake any others out of fear of being the subject of a bludgeoning due to mistaken identity, Birefin made his way to the edge of the flat. The scraping noise was more audible now that his head was not buried in his homemade pillow. It sounded as if something was scratching at the side of the mountain.

  Birefin quickly poked his head over the edge to find what was making all the racket. The creature was upon him. Birefin was struck hard in the face and knocked clear back, landing in the ashes of the former flame. The clamor quickly woke the giants. They drew their axes fast as they whirled to face the intruder. A creature stood over the body of Birefin hissing and waving its pointed claw near his neck, where it was rearing to finish the kill. The creature was a Cray, an insectoid creature that had four legs that were used for walking and climbing. Two more arms bore hooks on the ends that were used to grasp and slash prey. Their long necks were topped off by a small head with a pair of round, yellow eyes. They were the most hideous beings that crawled upon the mountains, and the cause of most of the problems in the region. Cray were cunning, choosing to attack at night when defenses were lax. They could also easily scale the sides of the rocks, making them far more dangerous than wolves or even winged enemies.

  The Cray positioned itself over Birefin, threatening to finish him off at any moment. Its glowing, yellow eyes flashed wildly at the approaching giants. Its hisses and screeches told them to stay back; business was not finished with its prey. Treigan and Ganzif stopped in their tracks, full of rage that the Cray held their newly found friend hostage. Some of the sleeping men and giants had woken, but froze when they saw the monster with Birefin's life in its grasp, if he was not dead already.

  The creature had enough. Its hairy arm rose, ready to put the final mark upon Birefin. Suddenly, a cry stirred among the giants. Farrin emerged from a cave, ax raised in his right hand. He let it fly with all of his might. The ax spun toward its target
, and struck the creature hard, hacking the arm off at the joint. The Cray let out a horrid scream; greenish blood spouted from the stump. As it stood in agony and shock, Birefin pulled his sword from his side and drove it into the belly of the fiend. Not yet dead, the Cray lurched back as it continued to scream wildly. Birefin gave a swift kick to its gullet, still grasping the hilt of his sword, sending the body careening over the edge. The Cray disappeared, the echoes of the terrible screams bouncing from fissure to cliff. Birefin rose, his face badly bloodied from the open wound that ran from his forehead to his cheek. The Cray had not been killed without first leaving its mark. Though he survived, Birefin never rid himself of the scar, a memento of his trip for his king.

  "Thank you, Farrin,” he said wearily to the giant.

  "Ah, no trouble at all. Those Cray think they own the place. We havta teach them a lesson every now and then, don't we boys?” He turned to his “boys", all of them roaring in agreement, shaking their axes to the sky.

  "I'm sorry you had to lose your ax though,” Birefin confessed as he wiped his sword clean of the green slime.

  "That's no trouble either, Birefin. I have plenty more where that came from. Ha, ha!” He laughed loud, seemingly unmoved by the Cray's attempt.

  Birefin did not wish to sleep outside any longer, and finally chose to sleep inside the cave with the rest. The next day, the company of men was accompanied by the fighting force of giants, led by Farrin. They began the three-day journey to the foot of the mountains to Gudred Castle. The giants would have been there in one day, but men cannot cover great distance with their stride, especially since Birefin was in no condition to push too hard down the treacherous paths. No Cray were encountered the rest of the trip, word undoubtedly spreading amongst them of Farrin's fury. During the first day of their trip, something seemed to bother Farrin about Birefin's encounter.