by Billy Wong
When Kayla listed them, Rose grew a little annoyed. Two of the other resting places were in the northernmost part of the continent, one in Coblan and another slightly past its upper eastern border. But the last was even farther north, on an island in the icy sea. This wouldn't be a comfortable trip. "How do you plan to stop them?" Kayla asked.
Seeing the anxiety on her face, Rose replied, "We'll try to talk them out of helping Clearsky first, of course. Maybe once they learned they've been deceived into thinking it's you, they'll be inclined to listen. And you did say his call is weaker farther away."
"You might have to kill them," Kayla said in a flat voice. Her hands, though, shook a bit at her sides.
"I'm sorry that's a possibility. I know they were your allies, and probably your friends. Thanks for making the tough choice to help us."
"They weren't just my allies, but the last of their race, a race depleted because of me. I wouldn't feel great if you were forced to finish the job following advice from me."
Rose looked down. "I don't want to commit genocide, either. We're in the same boat here, and I sure hope our fears don't come to pass." Of course, hope was far from any guarantee.
"Us silly girls."
That brought a smile to Rose's face. "A huge, dead legendary warrior calling herself and her modern counterpart who's taken enough punishment she should be dead a hundred times over 'girls?' This would be a sight, if anyone else were here to see."
"I was trying to lighten your spirits, to help you handle the task at hand."
"You did okay there. I think I would've liked you, if I'd known you when you were alive."
Kayla tilted her head. "What, you don't like me now?"
"You seem like a pretty glum woman nowadays."
"I have been dead for eight centuries."
"Say, how did you find your way into my dreams, anyway?"
"Even though Clearsky stole my body from me, I didn't totally lose my connection to it. So when you touched it, I felt you and took the chance to hitch a ride in your head. You don't mind, do you?"
Though the notion did make Rose somewhat uncomfortable, she said, "No, all you've done is help. Is there anything else you can do for us besides giving information, though?"
"Not much, being dead. But I'll keep watching and advising you."
Rose frowned. Kayla had a vested interest in seeing this through to the end, considering her "son" was involved. But if Clearsky didn't get his way, that would probably be because he died, or was destroyed. A happy ending might not be possible from Kayla's viewpoint, and Rose felt for her. "Well, thank you for warning us about our plight." Dead or not, it took some stones for a woman to act against her child.
"Good luck, Rose."
They stood there in silence for a moment, the dream apparently not yet ready to fade. Then Rose asked, "Say, you know why the giants don't seem to have any members between their smallest and their full-grown size?"
"Different growth process. They stay the same for a while, then make a sudden change when they come of age."
"I suspected as much." Rose felt the dream world slipping away. "Thanks again, and bye for now."
"Bye—and you better not screw things up this time."
Flushing at the idea Kayla had been reading her mind, she floated off into normal oblivious sleep. When she awakened, she told Finn what she'd learned, and after a bit of grumbling convinced him they had to go north to stop more giants from joining Victor and Clearsky. As they tried to leave town, Mick ran into their way.
"What now?" Finn asked in an irritated voice. The delay to their return home didn't help Rose's mood either, but what could they do, turn a blind eye to a threat to the world?
The bard hesitated. "Could I come with you for a while?"
"Why would you want to do that? We don't have easy lives, and we're going to visit some dangerous places right now."
"You're not going home?"
Finn snorted. "I wish. There's more giants about to wake, and we're going to try and keep them from joining the bad guys."
"Still, I'd like to follow and walk with you for a time."
"Can you fight?"
Rose shot Finn a disapproving look. "No, it's too dangerous! Especially if you let him fight."
"I wouldn't think to put him in harm's way. I'm asking just in case."
"We don't need some bard traveling with us singing our praises, if that's what you're thinking."
Mick tugged pleadingly at her. "I won't sing your praises, if you don't want. I'll stay quiet, and do any menial tasks you ask. I just want to experience some more for myself what your lives are like, so I can make the songs I'll write of you in the future more authentic. So can I come, please?"
Rose sighed. "Finn..."
"Come on, love. He doesn't seem like a bad guy."
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying our trip's going to be hard and dangerous, and I don't want to put him in harm's way."
"I can handle it," Mick said.
"Can you fight?"
"I've held my own in a few drunken scraps."
Not all that reassuring, but... "Are you used to traveling far?"
"Of course. I've been making my name in every corner of Coblan."
Though Rose still worried over the bard's safety, he seemed to want this bad enough that she couldn't bring herself to deny him outright. "Finn, are you sure you want to bring him along?"
"There's no harm in it."
Maybe not for her and Finn, but for Mick's sake... Still, before the two men's wills she caved, and finally said, "Fine, fine."
#
Derrick had just crossed the border between Coblan and Kayland when he heard a great rumbling, like an army approached from behind him. He turned, and to his shock saw a group of immense giants walking his way. Well-built and very fair, they stood more than four times a man's height. Though northern Kayland was a cool place, and Coblan moreso, they did not seem to require clothing other than something with which to cover their lower regions.
Most people would have been terrified, but Derrick remembered the paintings in Kayla's tomb, and curiosity took hold of him as he realized these giants were almost certainly the ones depicted there. True, he would've been less nervous if Rose and Finn were around, but as it was he still didn't feel too afraid.
They walked faster than he expected, even considering how much longer their legs were. Before Derrick could decide how to greet them, they stepped past him without more a cursory glance. Running after them, he yelled, "Hey! Where did you come from, and where are you going?"
Getting no reply, he realized these ancient folk likely wouldn't speak the modern Kayland tongue. He repeated the question in the Old Speech with which he was considerably more skilled than Rose. One of the giants, a young-looking female with a blonde braid and pendulous breasts, glanced back at him. "Who's asking?"
"I'm Derrick, a scholar. I don't mean any harm, I just want to learn about your race."
"We are the Ulir, who humans call an elder race. We were made in the image of the gods and ruled the world before your kind came about. Now we've all but died out, and what you see is perhaps all that's left of our kind."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm not sure myself, but we're following the call of our great ally. Kayla, if you know her name."
"She's back? I thought she was dead..." If this was the case, Derrick wanted to meet the woman himself. Sure, he'd seen her corpse not more than a few weeks ago, but then, her rival Deathend had returned from the dead as well. He didn't want to pass up a chance to meet the founder of his great nation which bore her name.
"We feel her call. You wish to pay your respects?"
Derrick was already getting a bit tired from chasing after the giantess to talk. "Yeah, I do. Can... can somebody give me a ride? I don't think I can keep up too long."
Surprising him a bit, the giantess bent to grab him in a huge hand and lifted him high to set him on a broad, iron-hard shoulder. "My name's Herfer, by the way. You better thank me
for the ride."
He smiled, the old thrill back in his heart as he anticipated meeting a legend. "Thanks for the ride!"
#
By the time the giants came into sight of the western port of Prouw, though, Derrick began to feel a hint of dread. He'd heard rumors that Prince Victor had taken residence in this very city, and wondered what would happen if the conniving royal saw him. After all that Rose and Finn had opposed him, the prince would probably be eager to take his vengeance on one of their close friends.
The giants made their way through Prouw, ignoring the awestruck and terrified gazes of the city folk who witnessed their passage, to the gates of a seaside manor. They stood waiting, until two large human figures exited the house and strode carefully towards them. While the slightest possibility remained that one of them was the resurrected Kayla in a surprising host, Derrick very much doubted it. He recognized both men before they noticed him, and lamely tried to cover his face.
"Let me down!" he said in fright. With a confused look, Herfer set him down amongst her kin, and he tried to hide. Not seeing any good inanimate cover he could make it to in time, he ducked behind a giant's great leg. It wasn't quite wide enough, but hopefully the forest of legs further ahead would keep him out of sight.
Derrick carefully peeked to see Prince Victor and Prince Wilner, two of Kayland's greatest enemies, walk forward to regard their apparent allies. "You don't look like Kayla," an enormous old male giant said.
Victor raised the trident he held, the supposed ultimate weapon created by the legendary heroine. He did not speak at first, but looked at the tines as if waiting to hear something. Maybe the trident communicated with him through magic, or he was just crazy. "Feel my power," he told the giant. "Is it not the same?" Gripping his trident tight, he grinned.
The Ulir seemed to stiffen in reaction to some sensation, though Derrick did not feel it. The elder was silent for a moment. "You've changed your body."
"Yes, after all my old one was destroyed by your traitorous kin. You surely don't expect me to seek my dreams again without a body?" Derrick noticed that Wilner gazed at the other prince with dubious eyes.
"No, Lady Kayla, you're right," the old giant said. "You need a body."
"Call me Victor, all right? It's the name I use in this age, and I'd prefer you not confuse my allies. Though... it might help my cause if people thou—knew who I was."
"What are your plans?"
"The same as they were in my past life. To take control of this land and then the world, to establish everlasting peace and harmony." But though he said it spiritedly enough, Derrick thought he heard the disingenuousness in his voice. Victor didn't care about peace as Kayla had. What he lusted after was his place on the throne, though Derrick supposed if he could have the world, he probably wouldn't mind.
The giant elder, despite the wisdom he might've been expected to have, did not seem to recognize Victor's lie. "Of course. Against whom, and when, will we strike?"
Victor looked at Wilner. "When will your forces be ready? I hunger to start this fight."
"They're coming. Don't worry, you'll have your crown, and I the end of my enemies' line."
Derrick remembered that Wilner sought the destruction of Kayland's royal line, and wondered what he was doing allying himself with Victor. Victor too was a descendant of the king who had started the grudge between their families. Then again, he hardly seemed to care about his own kin. Maybe that was what allowed Wilner to accept him as an ally, or maybe it was a tenuous truce that could only end in treachery. But that wouldn't matter if Kayland was destroyed before their partnership went down in flames.
There was another thing that bothered Derrick. Wilner had previously refused to kill children, but with Victor on his side, the only royal target he could have left was the child future king Matthew. Had he grown even worse over time?
Victor laughed, not a triumphant laugh of a man headed towards success, but a sound of genuine mirth. Derrick stared, wondering what was so funny. Then the prince asked Wilner, "How do you suppose our Volstonian friend is faring right now?"
The ruler of Coblan looked to the east and smiled. "He's probably not even home yet. But by the time our allies finish arriving... hmm. These will be interesting times."
#
Derrick managed to slip away from Prouw, fleeing from behind the giants' legs as soon as the princes turned back to the manor. He hurried again towards Loreen's house, hoping she would be able to inform him of his friends' current location. He needed to tell them the gravity of the true threat that hung over their nation, and whatever they were doing, it would probably be better that they come home and prepare for this latest clash of armies.
He was little more than halfway there when he heard a great many people coming down the road towards him. An army from Coblan? He hid in the bushes nearby and tried to watch and listen for any information that might prove useful. For a while he observed armored men walk past while catching bits and pieces of useless chatter, then a familiar figure came into view. Loreen? The one-armed warrioress was dressed for battle in chain over leathers, and wore a grim expression on her face—the face of a woman headed to war. He wondered how he could get her attention without alerting the others, who might not be so friendly towards him. Taking a risk, he picked up a pebble and threw it. It bounced off her shoulder; she looked his way, told her allies she needed to relieve herself, and joined him behind the shrubbery.
"Are you crazy?" she snapped. "What if I wasn't the only one who noticed that? Captain Martin wouldn't think twice about capturing the famous scholar of Kayland for a hostage, or bait."
"Sorry about being reckless, but I couldn't think of another way to alert you in time. What's going on, why are you marching?"
She shook her head sadly. "Wilner's ordered us to move south, to prepare for the fight."
"Another war against Kayland? But he failed the last two times! Loreen, you're a valued veteran of his guard—can't you try and convince him to stop this folly?"
"He didn't tell me what he planned until he'd set it in motion, so I haven't even had a chance to say my mind. Obviously I don't like what he means to do. But I have to obey, him being my liege."
Derrick wanted to ask her to abandon Coblan's cause, to refuse this war which might put her against her friends. She'd fought against Wilner before at Rose's side, and played a part in his supposed demise. Of course, they later learned the old villain hadn't died. Derrick never quite understood why Loreen had returned to his employ. But if Rose herself didn't try to break her loyalty, it probably wasn't his place to. Instead he said, "It's not unlikely Victor will betray your prince's trust."
"And why do you say that? Do you have evidence?"
"I don't have any proof. But we've dealt with Victor before, and know the underhanded man he is. You'd do well not to put too much faith in him."
"Are you trying to rile things up between us and our ally?" Loreen asked with a grin.
Maybe subconsciously, he supposed. But he did believe Victor—and Wilner—cared little for each other's best interests. "Just watch out. Victor's a snake, and I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I'm glad you care, but I've got to go. Be careful if you plan to stick around in Coblan."
Derrick nodded, and she turned away. Before she could go anywhere, a big, long-bearded man walked into view before them. "Get him," he said to the other two Coblan soldiers who followed behind him.
Loreen wouldn't step out of the way, keeping herself between her comrades and Derrick whose heart pounded. "Wait! Martin, what are you doing? He hasn't threatened us."
"He is a friend of our ruler's greatest enemies. He'll make a useful bargaining chip."
"He's my friend too. You'd better let him go before I get annoyed."
Derrick couldn't help smiling at Loreen's courageous act as Martin asked, "With whom do your loyalties really lie?"
The one-armed woman didn't answer, but snarled, "Let him go or die."
"What,
and you'll kill me? That will only show you for a traitor in everyone's eyes—and you can't beat me, besides."
She drew her longsword and swooshed it lightly through the air. "I'm no traitor. It's a bad decision tactically to detain a prominent citizen of the land we plan to invade—makes it too obvious what we're up to ahead of time."
"Who would know?"
"Loose tongues spread word fast, especially if you take him in front of so many."
Martin drew his broadsword, his eyes narrowing as he advanced on the woman. "You're not bad at this game. But none of your words will matter once I've taken your life."
For a moment, Derrick wondered why none of the many soldiers who had gathered around by now tried to stop the fight. Then he remembered that Coblan was a warrior nation, and commonly settled disputes like this at the end of a blade. Martin sprang forward, slashing. Loreen parried smoothly and struck back, only to be thwarted by a sturdy shield. Rose always worried her friend with one arm would be at a disadvantage against someone with two, and right now that looked like it was the case. But Derrick told himself Loreen had survived many a fight after losing her limb, and would prevail again this time.
Martin pressed his assault, his blade weaving patterns of flashes in the air as he swung faster and faster, and it seemed he would soon overwhelm the smaller Loreen. She backpedaled, guarding desperately, and Martin smacked her middle with his shield. The blow staggered her, and his sword clipped her chest. Blood oozed over her armor; the stump of her arm momentarily rose as if to clutch at her wound with a nonexistent hand. "I'm going to bathe in your blood, you crippled whore," Martin said.
Loreen slashed at his leg, and he parried low. She swept her sword up, and he leaned away. Then he shouted, and grabbed his head where his missing ear used to be. "Bathe in your own."
Martin cursed loudly and rushed her like a wounded boar. Again he gained the upper hand, kicking Loreen in the abdomen before nearly beheading her with a neck-level cut. She jumped away and came back in with a stab at his side. He dodged and grabbed her arm, pulled her forward into a punch with his hilt. Derrick cringed at the smack it made against her face. Loreen fell on her back with a grimace, dropping her sword. Turning his sword over in hand, Martin stabbed down at her chest.