So Korbal had, somehow, procured a giant. And it was now stomping toward Stanis Howe through the rain.
The legends say giants are ugly, but the legends dramatically understate that. While vaguely humanoid, the proportions of the beastly thing were far different than most things with two hands and two feet. Its shoulders seemed far wider than was necessary, so it seemed almost as wide as it was tall. Its arms were short and stubby, comparatively speaking, though its hands were long and wide like shovels.
But that head, that hideous head . . . there was no neck, exactly, and I doubt any neck could hold up the proportionally out-sized skull, which seemed to have two lobes. The ears were small and the face . . . gods, the face looked like an old Karshak who had been thrown in a barrel and tossed down a hill, submerged in a muddy pond, then beaten with a stick and allowed to fester in the sun. It had a beard, of sorts, or perhaps calling it a mane is more accurate. But as I examined it more closely with magesight I saw the huge, rheumy eyes, and I knew we were in for some trouble.
They were a dark color between brown and red, and they stared in a daze toward Stanis Howe. There was deep sadness and pain in those eyes, but there was also anger and resentment behind the dazed expression.
Then the giant opened its horrible mouth and roared, revealing jagged, broken teeth nearly four-feet long. The cry was inhuman, yet belligerent. Much of my sympathy for the giant evaporated as the sound of the yell faded. That thing was a terrifying beast who wanted to destroy us.
“Dear gods,” Astyral said, shaking his head in disbelief as the giant was led forward through the gurvani lines by a cadre of handlers. “I’d really hoped we were wrong.”
“Would you prefer a dragon?” Landrik asked, sarcastically.
“I’ll let you know after the battle,” Astyral murmured. “Min, you did say you have a plan for this,” he asked, concerned. “Lord Tiny is fifty feet tall, at least. And it doesn’t look like it’s going to go down from arrows . . . or mangonels, for that matter,” he added. “You do have a plan for this, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” I assured. I closed my eyes for a moment and gave the order to activate it. When I opened them, everyone was looking at me, skeptically. “I do! I promise!” I said, when I realized they weren’t terribly certain that I did.
But I did have a plan. Indeed, after long consultation with Lilastien about the potential – however unlikely – that a giant might enter the battle, we’d come up with several possible ways to deal with it. My first choice involved pissing it off even more.
“Lilastien says that these things rarely even take note of us lesser beings,” I explained, as we waited. “That is, they just don’t usually notice us, and they don’t pay attention well. When the Alka Alon used them in war—”
“The Enshadowed used them in war,” Tamonial corrected.
“Important distinction,” I conceded. “When the Enshadowed used them, they had to use magic to compel their attention, and then they had to hold it long enough to get them moving in the right direction. Then they would go stomp through the enemy, barely noticing the bloody muck on their feet, and tear down a few walls.”
“It appears that he’s under a sorcerous enthrallment,” Tamonial said, distastefully. “When the consensus effect that exists even in the Delioli is used to dominate a weaker mind by a stronger one, the stronger mind can enthrall the weaker. Once enthralled, they are easier to control. It’s a perversion of our magic,” he explained. “But it gives them tremendous control over the giant.”
“Can it be broken?” Buroso asked, hopefully.
“If it becomes too distracted by pain or other fascination,” conceded the Tera Alon warmage. “But that is difficult. As I said, it’s hard to get a giant’s attention.”
The gurvani and the maragorku legions who had formed ranks to make another attempt at the slope parted and allowed the giant and his handlers through. I was surprised by how wide a berth the goblins gave it, but then I saw its feet and understood. They were like two great, misshapen anvils, gnarled and heavy, as they would need to be to hold that thing up. When they came too near one of the troop formations, occasionally it would brush them, sending three or four gurvani flying every time he took a step. I could tell they could smash an armored knight to pulp just as easily as they did the goblins.
Indeed, the giant became so enraged by the spell or the suffering of his captivity that he lashed out with one great foot and trampled about a squadron of goblins that apparently annoyed him.
“Yes, do that some more!” Landrik encouraged him, from afar.
“It matters not how large the foe is,” Caswallon began, as he pulled his mageblade free of its scabbard, “men of true valor fear not the size of the challenge – and this fellow is about to—”
“Relax, Caswallon!” I urged. “If things go properly, you will not have to test yourself against this foe.”
The Fox looked disappointed and returned his sword to its scabbard with a sigh. “You are a wizard of subtle cunning, my lord. I look forward to seeing what you have prepared.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it. I think the idiot actually wanted to fight the giant.
Step by languorous step, the giant moved through the lines, until it faced the churned up, super-saturated muddy field where bodies were scattered like cabbages. The giant stopped, and looked around, confused, as if he did not understand how to proceed. Whoever was controlling the spell that enthralled it eventually got the idea across, and the giant gave another toothy roar.
A cheer came from the gurvani ranks, loud enough we could hear it over the rain. Everyone likes to know that the biggest warrior is on your side. Of course, every roar diminished our own side’s morale pretty harshly. Suddenly Stanis Howe did not seem nearly tall enough.
That’s when Mistress Marsden opened fire with the artillery she’d established at the crown. Stones were flung at the giant with great force as the catapults, mangonels and small trebuchets the Hesian Order had brought to the artillery battery spat projectiles at an impressive pace. Rocks the size of wheelbarrows launched into the rainy sky with magically-augmented force. But they did little damage when they hit the giant, save for pissing it off. Those rocks apparently hurt, even if they did not injure. I’m not certain the thing even understood it was being attacked. It merely howled with animalistic pain, filling the countryside with its bitter cry.
“Why, it’s like a big baby!” Landrik observed.
“That toddler could take down a castle tower in a blink of an eye,” Astyral predicted, as more rocks were hurled at it. “Min, don’t you think we’d better start attacking it?”
“Wait for it,” I ordered. “Don’t cast anything, yet. I don’t want to worry about what it might do to our people. If I planned things right . . .”
“Min, if that thing takes two more steps, he’ll be a third of the way up the mountain,” warned Landrik.
“Then it will face the wrath of Caswallon the Fox!” Caswallon declared.
“And crush a few score of our men,” Buroso predicted. “One of those hands could scrape every pavilion off of this hill in the blink of an eye!”
Thankfully, the giant continued to balk at being told to wade into the mud. The bottom of the hill was one grand bloody mire, now, and the giant just didn’t see the point. Even the rocks we were throwing were starting to get to him. He tried to wave them away like flies.
I was seriously starting to get worried about my plan when I heard a welcome noise in the distance. I finally smiled.
“When Lilastien told me about the Delioli,” I explained, “we went over their weaknesses. One pretty obvious one is that they don’t pay attention to the little things. Pretty much anything from their ankles down is ignored, even if it is destroyed. You can shoot arrows into a giant’s foot all day and they might not even notice. They’d be just as likely to stomp on you and not even realize it.”
“I’m still not feeling that sense of confidence I am starting to desire, Min,” Asty
ral chided. The giant took a tentative step into the thick mud. He didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he balked and took a step back when his feet sunk into the mud. Then he bellowed again. The noise did not improve by being closer.
“Bide,” I warned. “Just wait for it . . .” I promised.
After a few false steps, the giant was finally convinced to move forward, up the slope. After the first few tentative steps, the giant got more confident. And faster. Every step brought him quickly toward us, albeit without much grace. The mud that clung to his great feet only seemed to make him madder.
Dara, now would be a good time to act, I called to my vassal, mind-to-mind.
We’re on the way! she insisted. About four miles to the north of the hill. The birds don’t like to fly in the rain, she chided. They’re moving slowly, and this western wind is giving us trouble. Just keep him busy until we get there!
Whatever they were doing to the creature was working, as it continued to roar to the excited chanting of thousands of gurvani. Then it turned back toward the hill and began to slowly push his way up the mired slope. His feet smashed into the soft ground until he had to use his hands to pull himself up, but he continued to come.
“Shouldn’t we be doing something, my lord?” Buroso asked worriedly, as we watched the giant get closer. The archers cut loose with a volley, but the arrows did little but annoy the creature. Another salvo of rocks from the engines enraged it further, and made him stumble, but he recovered quickly. “Soon?” he added, anxiously as the giant got closer.
“Nearly,” I said, through clenched teeth, as we watched him approach the hydrophobic line. As soon as he got to there, I knew, he would gain his footing . . . and be within our ranks in three or four strides of his long legs.
“Magelights, near his face, as bright as you can make them,” I said, quickly, as I tried to think of a way to delay him just a bit. “Now!” I commanded and cast my own.
A sparkle of flashes burst in front of the giant’s face, which startled him and caused him to stumble again. I didn’t know what his range of vision was, but it was as if thousands of candles had flashed in his face and that had to have an effect on his sight. He howled as he fell back into the mud, but he pushed himself back to his feet all too quickly. His eyes blinked wildly as he did so, and his thick head turned as he tried to orient himself again.
“That much light did nothing to improve his features,” Landrik quipped. “Minalan, where is this secret weapon you have to use against their secret weapon?”
As if to answer, the scree of a giant hawk cut through the sound of the rain. Another followed, and then another. Dark shadows appeared among the clouds as the birds broke through the canopy in a dive. One, two, then four, then more than a score of birds, their riders poised for battle, came streaking down toward the giant.
We all watched breathlessly, on both sides, as two full wings began to strike at the giant’s broad head with their talons. While the arrows and stones it had endured before may have hurt, the Yltedene steel spurs attached to the giant falcons’ powerful talons proved strong enough to score his thick skin and tear shards out of his flesh.
The wounds weren’t mortal. They weren’t even particularly serious. But they bled profusely and, more importantly, they hurt. Rage and pain filled the creature as he stopped and screamed deafeningly just a hundred yards from our line.
The wings set up a pattern of circling the giant, weaving a net of feathers and steel as each Sky Rider made it a point to attack the giant’s eyes and face. If the pain from his scalp was bad, the sudden fear that bloomed in the big weepy eyes when they were scratched and attacked by sky bolts was terrifying.
“When Lilastien and I discussed it, we noted that nothing we were going to be able to do to a giant from the knee down was likely to be decisive. They would be used to kicking something and shrugging it off – he knows that there’s not much down here to be a threat.
“But when you take the fight to his face,” I continued, as I watched Dara wheel Frightful around, wand drawn, and savage the left cheek of the creature, “that’s something he’s going to be unused to. In a world divided into ‘up here’ and ‘down there,’ you just wouldn’t be used to something in your face. Especially something feathery and sharp.”
“That would snap the bowstring of some people I know,” agreed Landrik.
“Yes, my cousin Reldine is like that,” Astyral agreed with a chuckle. “She got a nightweb caught in her hair once, when she was a girl. Screeched horribly. Now she won’t leave her chamber without wearing a wimple. She’s scared of chickens, too,” he smirked.
“I’m guessing this giant has never really had to protect his face,” I theorized. “With the bright flash to obscure and confuse his vision, and then the sudden attack of the falcons, he’s going to do something rash.”
“Hopefully not charge blindly into our line in a rage,” Buroso said, doubtfully, as he watched the giant begin to panic at the unexpected attack. “Because that seems a possibility.”
“Note that they’re attacking him primarily from the direction of the hill,” I pointed out, as Nattia’s big bird screeched and slashed the giant across the bridge of its nose with its viscous talons, carving furrows a yard wide to open. The giant began to flail his massive arms in an attempt to swipe the birds away from his face. “While they are avoiding the downhill side.”
“They’ll never kill him like that,” Tamonial said, shaking his head. “Not unless you have some other spell at work.”
“The goal isn’t to kill him,” I explained. “A dead giant would be a handsome prize, should we win the day. A live giant, sufficiently panicked, may well be what does win the day.” Waving his arms like a windmill, the giant danced wildly, seeking to avoid or deflect the avian menace. The Sky Riders redoubled their efforts, flying in his face over and over again, as fast as they could.
As he began to stumble, I could see that my plan worked. First, he fell to one knee and tried to shield his face with his hand. But then he slipped on the insecure footing where magic had changed the nature of the hill’s hydrology, and he fell on one shoulder . . . and rolled. Downhill.
The gurvani legions who had been chanting turned to shouting and screaming, as they realized their supposed ally was now falling down the hill, a one-giant avalanche of mud and pure, blind panic. He nearly recovered, half-way down the howe, and managed to get himself up on one knee . . . but when he tried to get his feet under him, one of them became entangled in the wheel-and-chain device Marsden had used against the trolls. It had rolled to a stop near the bottom of the hill and had been ignored the rest of the battle.
That’s it, Dara! Now drive him off! I ordered her, mind-to-mind. She didn’t reply, but a quick change in formation and tactics demonstrated that she’d heard me. Dara’s wing and Nattia’s wing took turns strafing the face of the giant, first on one side and then the other. As the confused creature thrashed around to avoid them, the chain around his ankle jerked the rock-filled wooden wheel into the front ranks of the gurvani, to devastating effect. We watched in awe as things went comically awry for our foes.
The rage that the giant felt was fading, and absolute panic was now directing his actions. The tug on his ankle and the feathers in his face inspired him to take off running back through the gurvani army, slinging the wheel and chains like a deadly flail that flattened everything it touched. The giant’s feet likewise devastated Shakathet’s soldiery. Piles of squashed bodies appeared like massive footprints as the panicked creature fled the field.
Eventually, as the goblins fled his path in their own mindless panic, the giant tripped and fell on top of a great number of them. The once-orderly lines were scattered into chaos.
“I don’t envy the Enshadowed officers who have to clean up that mess,” Astyral said, shaking his head in wonder at what we had witnessed. “What is the plan, now? Attack, and take advantage of their disarray?”
“We await word from Terleman,” I explained. “Once
he knows that the giant is out of the battle, he’ll order us to retreat, not attack. Oh, the archers will continue to hammer at them, and the birds may have a go, but we’re not to engage. The infantry will almost immediately start withdrawing to the east, toward the river. We’ll follow. After we conduct a special mission.”
“What mission is that?” Astyral asked, doubtfully.
“Why, if Shakathet is out there, commanding this mess, then he must be surrounded by plenty of Enshadowed sorcerers with those pretty irionite spheres. I think it would be an excellent time for us to harvest them.
“We seek witchstones in battle?” Caswallon asked, perking up. “And set our swords against the foulest of sorcerers? My blade and my orb are eager for such chances at glory!” he proclaimed.
“I’d rather we have them than they,” I agreed. “The more of those we capture, the more we deprive Shakathet of their use.”
“Deliberately striking at an enemy to gain their property is not going to please the Enshadowed,” Tamonial commented. “It would not occur to them to seek the orbs. Only to pursue victory.”
“We are pursuing victory,” Landrik shrugged. “Ultimate victory, not just victory on this field. Taking more stones would help raise more High Magi. More High Magi mean a better chance at victory. Sometimes the primary goal in battle is not to win, but to force the enemy to lose.”
“That’s a confusing way to look at it,” Tamonial said, after a moment’s consideration. “Shakathet would be livid at the temerity of such a strategy.”
“We’re a confusing people,” I agreed. “The fact that assassinating his best Enshadowed sorcerers and gurvani shamans and taking their stones will piss him off only aids my cause. We need him weakened and angry when he meets us in the next battle.”
“It appears he will be short one giant,” Astyral said, as he continued to observe the chaos below. “Lord Tiny seems to have found a pressing engagement elsewhere and has left the field. Yes, if the infantry depart, now, it will take Shakathet hours to get organized enough to form a pursuit,” he determined. “Especially if we deprive them of their sorcerers. All right, Min, let’s go sneak down there and cause some more panic. I think it’s the season for it.”
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