TRAVELLER (Book 1 in the Brass Pendant Trilogy)

by Amanda May Bell

  We walked into the centre of the courtyard and I picked up my pendant ready to set my dials.

  “Morgan and Livia, your setting is Orion 5639 rise 316º,” said Zurina, and I repeated the setting to myself as I carefully set my dials.

  As soon as my dials were set and my pendant was hidden beneath my clothes, I loaded an arrow into my bow. Morgan glanced at me before doing the same and we stood back to back as the air began to move in circular patterns around us. I was only vaguely aware of my fingers against my bow string as the temperature dropped and the courtyard faded around me until it disappeared. The pain was all consuming as we travelled through time, and as the darkness became patterns……it was the awful sounds I heard first.

  Screams and fearful cries surrounded us and, as the temperature rose, the colours around us merged and became a crowd of panic stricken people. They ran into me and nearly knocked me to the ground as I appeared suddenly amongst them. Most of them ignored me completely, such was their fear, but arms and shoulders pushed and jostled me about for a moment before Morgan dragged me towards him. We sheltered behind a pillar of roughly hewn, white stone and we caught our breath as the crowd continued their flight around us.

  We were in the middle of a well-established, tidy little township. From our position behind the stone pillar, I could see brown, earth baked roof tiles and neat, rustic wooden shutters and, above these dwellings, thick, grey clouds dimmed the light from the midday sun. A goat ran past me with its tether bumping along behind it and a brass bell began to toll loudly somewhere right above us. It drowned out the shouts and screams as its ringing tone reverberated through the air. We’d appeared on the edge of what looked like the town square and it was bordered by wooden buildings raised on stone pillars above neatly paved stones. It was one of these pillars we sheltered behind, and dust fell from between the floorboards above us as people ran inside the dwellings as well.

  “Run….the giants…….the giants…..they come.”

  A woman right beside me shouted hysterically as she looked behind her with wild, fearful eyes. She spoke in a popular dialect of one of the major languages of this Era, and when Morgan shouted to me, he used this language as well.

  “We should follow the locals,” he shouted, and I could barely hear him over the loudly tolling bell but I tossed my bow over my shoulder and nodded. I held my arrow against my side and when the crowd thinned suddenly, we joined the last of the fleeing townsfolk and ran with them too.

  The town was built on the edge of a valley and, as we ran from beneath the raised building along an open road, I caught glimpses of neatly sewn crops in fields below us and grazing herds of Nomadic Era, butter breed cows. The houses on this road were built on ground level and they were made of white stone with a second storey of rough, grey wood. A mountain side rose steeply above the village and more mountain peaks rose on the other side of the valley. The mountains were rocky and bare, as if all the soil had fallen from them at once and landed thickly in the fertile valley alongside the village. The rocky peaks were craggy and they were also dotted with small, dark holes. I guessed they were riddled with caves and crevasses and, ahead of us, the crowd of people swarmed up the mountainside towards one of the largest of these holes.

  We were almost to the outskirts of the town when I heard a new sound. A rumbling sound, similar to the sound of an animal stampede, rose suddenly behind us and the tolling of the bell ceased abruptly. I heard wood shattering and rocks splintering and a child who ran in front of me glanced behind her and stopped dead in the middle of the road. I turned also and, beside me, Morgan turned too and our eyes beheld the source of the townsfolk’s terror.

  The giants were men who stood at twice our size. Their breadth was even more impressive than their height and they swung giant wooden clubs with their massive, muscular arms. They wore necklaces of human bones around their necks and their bodies were covered in the whole skins of black bears and mammoths. They brought their clubs down on the last of the townsfolk who ran behind us and I heard a sickening crunch as bones and skulls were ruthlessly crushed. The giant’s feet were bare and they howled in deep, wild voices as they swung their clubs through the top stories of the neat houses that lined the main street of the town. One of the giants picked up an old woman as she ran for her life and I watched, in horror, as he threw her against the stone wall of a house. He threw her with such force that she died instantly and I saw her fall, lifeless, onto the ground. I turned and ran but the little girl in front of me didn’t move at all.

  “Papa, papa,” she screamed, and when I paused and turned again, a man right behind us had tripped and fallen on the road. He lay face down and he held a smooth, polished stick in one hand as if he needed it as a walking aid. I hesitated for only a second before I ran back towards him.

  “Livia,” shouted Morgan, and I knew he only just missed me as he tried to grab me by the arm.

  “Run Shania….run little one and……don’t look back!”

  The man lifted his head and shouted desperately to the little girl as I knelt to haul him up by the arm.

  “We’ll talk about this later, Livia,” Morgan muttered angrily, as he dragged the man up by the other arm. He glared at me and the giants were almost upon us as he held the man around the waist. I left Morgan to take him and I fitted my arrow to my bow. It only took me a moment to line up my shot and I hit the first of the giants in the side of the neck. He roared a gurgling roar of outrage before he threw his club in our direction and I turned and ran after Morgan who hauled the limping man along the road.

  “Run,” I screamed furiously at the little girl, who was still standing, frozen, in the middle of the road. My anger moved her from her horrified trance and I saw her turn before I slid onto my knees and fitted another arrow into my bow. The giants had come to the aide of the one with my arrow in his neck and I heard another gurgling howl and angry guttural words in an unfamiliar tongue.

  “We’ll take him stranger.”

  I heard voices beside me too as another of my arrows lodged in the throat of a giant who raised his club and took giant steps towards me. This giant clutched at his throat too and his bloodied club dropped from his giant hand and bounced and clattered on the stones as he fell forward slowly onto his knees.

  It was Morgan who grabbed me by the arm then and we followed the lame man, who was being carried by four other men now as we all ran towards the white stone archway at the edge of the town.

  A giant wooden club hit the road right beside me and it bounced and catapulted into a canvas awning attached to one of the houses on the side of the road. I slid onto my knees again and so did Morgan and we sent four arrows into the air in quick succession. Three more giants clutched at their throats and one fell forward heavily with a triple barbed, Aldirite arrow lodged right between his eyes. More giants roared and howled, but we turned and ran again, and when we were through the white stone arch, we scrambled up the steep, rocky mountainside with the last of the townsfolk. The four men hauled the lame man up the rocks just ahead of us and his young daughter climbed nimbly beside him. I reached over my shoulder and took another arrow from my quiver but, when I turned around, no giants followed us up the rocky path. I looked at Morgan, who’d fitted an arrow to his bow also, and we waited tensely for what might be to come.

  “What they seek, they have found, strangers. Have no fear. It will not be their intention to follow us up the mountain,” said a voice behind us, and one of the men who’d assisted the lame man stood just above us on the path. “Come, I will ask of the elders that you may seek shelter alongside us,” he said kindly, but he didn’t smile as he motioned to us to follow him.

  We removed our arrows from our bows and followed the man cautiously up the mountain. It was quiet behind us now and only the occasional guttural shout reached us from the town below. The giants had ceased their destruction and, above us, the clouds darkened and I smelt rain in the air as we climbed steadily. The man we followed had smooth, tanned skin and his me
dium length, dark hair was tied together at the base of his neck with a leather tie. He wore a course tunic over finely woven pants, and his leather boots were well worn, and well made, in a manner similar to our own.

  We climbed amongst rocks, around jagged pointed peaks, and past small, shallow caves before we came to a tall, narrow crevasse in a sheer rock wall. As we reached it, the rain finally began to fall and large drops hit the rocks around us leaving fat, circular stains. From within the crevasse, I could hear the faint murmur of voices and, when we stepped inside, our guide asked us to wait a moment. He strode ahead of us to talk with a group of men who stood together further inside the cave opening. Flickering light lit the walls behind the group and I could tell the crevasse must open up to a much larger cave. I could smell smouldering firestones and I glanced at Morgan who watched the group of men suspiciously as they spoke together in whispers.

  The men in the group were older than our guide. In the dim light, I could see their grey hair, and one of them stooped slightly. They all glanced more than once at both Morgan and myself, but eventually, frowns were replaced with curt nods and our guide returned.

  “You may seek shelter with us as your valour has saved more than one of our own,” said the man formally, before he glanced back at the group of old men. “I feel I must warn you though strangers; we are a pious people and your acts, although held in great regard by myself, will not sit well with some,” he added quietly, and Morgan looked at me and frowned slightly as our guide beckoned us to follow him towards the group of old men.

  The oldest one, whose back was stooped, stepped forward as we approached and he raised his hand as he welcomed us.

  “Welcome to our refuge, strangers who have saved those of our own. Our house is your house, but first, let us tell you of our ways. We share not your customs. It is not our way to take life, even though it may be in order to save it, and I ask you to keep your customs to yourselves whilst you take shelter within our walls,” said the old man righteously, and I nodded graciously in acceptance of his offer of shelter. We left the men then, and as we followed the crevasse towards the flickering lights, Morgan looked at me and shook his head.

  “I guess I can’t say anything about your stupid act of bravery now, because if you hadn’t saved that man, we’d most likely be out in the rain tonight,” he said quietly, in the old language.

  “You saved him too. You could have left both of us there and ran on,” I whispered, and Morgan rolled his eyes and shook his head, and I smiled as I watched him mutter to himself about having to help me because we were partners.

  As I’d suspected, the crevasse opened up suddenly into a giant cavern and we walked down rough, stone steps to join the rest of the townsfolk who sat together in groups on the floor of the cave. Clay bowls of firestones glowed red and bright orange as they burnt slowly and they smouldered without any smoke. They lit the cavern which rose high above us. Towards one end of the cave, a raised section of rock remained bare and I guessed it was being reserved for the pious group of men at the entrance to the cave. We made our way slowly through the townsfolk as we looked for a space to sit down.

  Whole families huddled together and some wept softly as they realised some of their own had been lost. All the people had dark hair and, as we made our way past them, some looked at us curiously with their beautiful, dark eyes. We headed around the edge of the cave and, when my hand was touched suddenly, I looked down into the wide, dark eyes of the little girl from the road.

  Silently, she took my hand and she pulled me after her towards a space beside her father who sat on a folded blanket with his stick by his side.

  Morgan and I sat down awkwardly before we eased our packs, quivers and bows from our backs. I took off my jacket. It was warm and dry in the cave, thanks to the bowls of slow burning fire stones.

  Morgan removed his jacket too and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the little girl run her small hand along the length of my bow. I glanced towards her father and he watched us also with his dark eyes.

  “I’m called Dante, and I, and my daughter, thank you most humbly for my life strangers,” said the girl’s father, as he bowed his head in our direction. I nodded, and Morgan nodded awkwardly too.

  “I’m called Morgan and this girl is called Livia. What knows you of these brutal giants?” asked Morgan, and he matched his accent and language perfectly to the voices we heard speaking softly around us.

  “They come when the rains come….when the storerooms are full…..not every year….but often enough. They eat the flesh of our beloved cows, and devour our corn and ale, and they take all we have prepared for the winter months. They destroy our homes, and leave our dead to rot in the streets while they live like wild animals for close to a week…..Only then, will they move on……The winter will be hard now,” said Dante slowly, and he had a slightly haunted look on his face.

  I looked at Morgan and he frowned as he looked at me too. Our marker was in the town centre and we needed to use it tomorrow at midday.

  “I guessed their numbers to be around thirty, would you agree Dante?” asked Morgan quietly, and Dante nodded.

  “It looked as such. I noticed many more have come this time than the last,” he said, and he called his daughter away as she reached out her hand to touch my quiver of arrows.

  “Be careful; they’re sharp,” I said, and I glanced at my arrows before I smiled at the little girl. She smiled too and put her finger between her eyes as she looked from Morgan to myself. Morgan grinned.

  “That was Livia. She’s a good shot with an arrow,” he said, and the little girl smiled and jabbed her finger between her eyes again, before falling backwards against her father’s shoulder in a replay of a giant’s sudden death. Morgan laughed and Dante glanced nervously around him before he smiled at his daughter too. Shania put her arms around her father’s neck and Dante smoothed his hand lovingly across her long, dark hair.

  I watched them absently and frowned to myself. Thirty giants throwing a wild party right on top of our marker was going to make it difficult for us to get back to our Quest house at midday tomorrow. I looked at Morgan.

  “We’ll need a good plan,” I said quietly. He knew what I meant, and he nodded slowly and frowned.

  “Let me know when you come up with it,” he said suddenly, and he smiled. I smiled too, just as the group of old men who’d granted us shelter called for the attention of those within the cave.

  The old man who’d spoken to us, addressed the people, and a hush fell within the cave. He spoke of their despair at the loss of some of their own and he assured the people that proper burial for their dead would be first of the chores to be organised once the giants moved on. He spoke of a difficult winter to come, as had Dante, and there was silence in the cave as the people were reminded of the suffering that was to befall their beloved cows. It appeared these people killed neither man nor beast, and they ate only the products of the cow’s milk and cream.

  A man from the crowd spoke of his desire to store grain within the caves in the future so that the winters would not be so harsh when the giants came again. There were murmurs of agreement but also of fear. What if the giants found not enough grain to satisfy their needs? Would they come to the caves then? The people argued back and forth for a while until it was eventually decided that the matter would be discussed further once the town was rebuilt. Apparently, there was already wine and cheeses stored within these caves, but this had been done for centuries and the giants never expected to find either of these products when they pillaged the town.

  Eventually, the meeting was over and the soft murmur of voices rose again around us. Morgan spoke more with Dante and I listened to his perfect accent as he asked Dante questions about his beloved cows. I played a hand clapping game with the little girl that every child of nearly every time segment knew and, after a while, I offered to braid her hair. No sooner had I started though, I found myself surround by a whole group of little girls who all waited patiently for me to b
raid their hair as well. They appeared out of nowhere and, when they looked at me with their wide, dark eyes, I had to take the braids out of my own hair and cut my leather hair ties into small pieces so I had enough leather to tie around the ends of their braids. When Morgan began sharpening his arrows with a piece of rock, a group of small children crouched around him as well and some parents used the collection of these children as an excuse to watch him themselves.

  A few of the younger folk talked to Dante about what Morgan and I had done to the giants and they spoke in low voices before glancing at us and moving back to share the story with their own groups. Later, when Morgan and I walked around the cave to stretch our legs, we overheard versions of our story as we climbed up the stone steps. Apparently, I’d felled three of the giants with a single arrow, and Morgan had killed four of them with his bare hands.

  We stood at the entrance to the narrow crevasse and the rain was still falling outside. The sun was setting behind the clouds and the light was fading, and I’d spent enough time with these people now, that the smell of roasted cow meat turned my stomach when it reached us on the evening breeze. We could hear the giants as they roared below us and I shuddered as they celebrated their brutal taking of the town. The smell of death combined with the rain clouds and the approaching darkness was depressing and, when I shivered again, Morgan took my hand and we returned to the welcome warmth and the bright orange glow in the large cave.

  Soon after we returned, women passed around baskets of smooth cheese and when I tasted the creamy sweetness of this cheese, I realised the depths of these people’s love for their cows and the true sacrilege of slaughtering them for their meat. Morgan broke up pieces of our bread and we shared it with Dante and his daughter, and I shared mine with a few other children who looked at me with their beautiful eyes.