by Shae Ford
Spells lashed Kael’s head and neck. He held his breath and threw his arms over his face, even though he knew it wouldn’t do him much good. Brend tossed the ladle back into the barrel and they jumped quickly to the side.
A team of Fallows pulled Churl’s wagon. When he cracked his whip over their heads, they tore off down the road in a panic — kicking up a monstrous cloud of dust in their wake.
“He’s a bit off, that one,” Brend murmured. He rubbed the side of his face, where a number of red welts had sprung up across his brow and cheekbones. “We’d better get back to the plowing.”
Kael took three steps before he realized that Declan wasn’t moving. Welts had sprung up on him, too — in a pattern identical to Brend’s. But he made no move to soothe them. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on Kael’s face. They roved over his sharp features for a moment, searching. And then they narrowed.
Kael turned away quickly, but he knew it was too late. Declan had already seen, even through the dirt and grime, that there were no wounds on his face.
*******
By the time they returned to the barn that evening, Kael was too tired to worry about what Declan had seen. He shoveled a few handfuls of porridge down his throat and then retreated to the stall.
It was a small space. Perhaps at one point, it had been meant for horses. He wagered that about half a dozen giants could’ve squeezed into it comfortably. As it was, the stall was currently home to ten giants — and Kael.
Straw pallets littered the packed dirt floor. Many of them had been padded down with the ragged remains of filthy clothing. Worn shirtsleeves, the tattered ends of breeches and even a few pairs of gloves poked out from beneath them. The stale odor rising from the pallets was sharp enough to knock a man off his feet. Kael was always a little shocked whenever he walked into it.
But for all their peculiar scent, the giants kept their pallets tidy. They made them up every morning — fluffing the sweat-stiffened clothes with all the deft pride of chambermaids, arranging their beds just so.
Kael had thought it was a bit strange for the giants to put so much care into their living, when they lived so miserably. But then Brend had shouted something over dinner one night, and it made him think:
“The mages may call us beasts, but I say they’re wrong — beasts don’t have beds, after all!”
Kael had understood, then. He knew why the giants took pride in their bedding: they lived in barns, slept in stalls, and did the work of horses. There was so little left about them that was human, that he supposed having beds of their own made them feel like men.
Now, as he crossed the stall to reach his spot, Kael was careful not to tread on any of the giants’ pallets. The space he slept in didn’t have any bedding, because there wasn’t any to spare. But he didn’t mind it so much: his little patch of dirt sat at the back of the room, in a spot that wasn’t too crowded. He wouldn’t have traded the extra space for anything — not even a pillow.
For some reason, this spot had gone unclaimed. He supposed it was because the earth sloped down a bit there, forming something like a shallow bowl. The sloping earth would’ve been uncomfortable for the giants, but it suited Kael just fine. He curled up inside of the bowl, pressing his back against one lip and shoring his knees against the other.
It didn’t take him long to fall asleep … but staying asleep was another matter.
Kael dreamt that he was back in the Unforgivable Mountains. He ran along the forest trails at full-tilt, bow in hand. He’d been chasing something, and he was so focused on his prey that he forgot to watch the path in front of him. It wasn’t long before he tripped on a rock and rolled down into a dark burrow.
Insects came out of the soil in a rush. Their black bodies were nearly invisible in the darkness, but he could hear them clicking to each other. They climbed across his ears and scurried down his back, their little feet dragged itching lines through his skin. All the while, they chattered:
Click click click click click …
Kael woke with a start. He pawed at his face and rolled over onto his back, trying desperately to crush the bugs beneath him. Something was crawling through his hair. When he grabbed it, he realized that it was wet.
The things attacking him weren’t bugs at all: they were drops of water. He looked up at the roof and groaned at what he saw.
No wonder the giants had avoided this spot — there was a leak in the roof! Muffled peals of thunder rumbled in the distance, rising and fading back like the snores of some enormous beast. Fat drops of rain slapped against the roof and slid through the crack above Kael’s bed.
The crack was only about the length of his forearm, but the pressure of the gathering water bowed it out. A small waterfall poured from the roof, slapping down onto the stall floor. It quickly filled the shallow dip where Kael had been sleeping.
With his makeshift bed nearly submerged, he had no choice but to scoot closer to Brend. Only a thin sliver of dry space was left between them, and one of the giants had his massive leg sprawled out across it — cutting the sliver into a tiny square. So Kael was forced to sleep sitting up.
He leaned his back against the wall and comforted himself with the thought that things probably couldn’t get any worse. Then, just before dawn, the roof collapsed.
Kael woke to a crash and a wave of muddy water that soaked him from head to toe. Apparently, the growing weight of the water had proven too much for the bowed-out roof: part of the beam had rotted and given way — raining chunks of wood and shingles down where Kael had been sleeping.
“Wasthat?” Brend’s head shot up. His eyes were half-shut and bits of straw clung to his face.
“The roof caved in,” Kael mumbled, trying to wring some of the moisture from his tunic.
Brend’s lip puffed out in a sleepy frown. “Then stop jumping on it,” he said groggily. His head sunk down, and soon he was breathing heavily once again.
Kael didn’t get to go back to sleep. He was far too wet and cold to be comfortable, and his neck ached from sitting up. The stall doors opened later than usual: the sun was actually a respectable distance from the horizon when Finks released them.
“I don’t know about you clodders, but I feel like I’ve had an extra hour of sleep!” Brend called, and the giants answered him with a yawning cheer.
Declan stepped around them and went to peer at the western sky. “More rain coming,” he said.
And he was right. No sooner did they finish their drinks than another wave of rain came pattering down. “Back in your cages, beasts!” Finks cried. His face looked miserable beneath his oilskin cloak: shadows hung under his eyes, and his lips were bared away from his long teeth in a grimace.
As Finks chased them into the barn, Kael couldn’t help but think that the spells coming off his whip were a little more potent than usual. “What’s he so upset about?”
Brend shrugged. “Oh, he’s probably just fussed over those long, lovely locks of his,” he said with a wicked glance back at Finks. “Either that, or Churl didn’t turn up to watch his barn last night. They hate it when he does that.”
The barn doors slammed shut, and Kael had a feeling that they might be stuck inside for the rest of the day. At least they weren’t trapped in their stalls: the doors stayed open, and they had the whole aisle to wander in.
“Why would Churl not turn up?”
Brend looked at him as if that was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard asked. “Because he’s mad — that’s why! He doesn’t remember that he’s lord of Southbarn, so he doesn’t —”
“Southbarn?” Kael said.
“Ah, that’s right. We haven’t introduced you to our little Kingdom. Well, since you show no signs of perishing any time soon, I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to — oops.” Brend dropped his arm across Kael’s shoulders with such force that it knocked him off his feet. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to having little chicken-winged fellows to talk to.”
“You could be more careful,” Kael snappe
d as he pulled himself from the ground.
“Yeh, or you could fatten up,” Declan grunted.
Several of the giants chuckled at this. But before Kael could retort, Brend swept him under his arm. “Oh, don’t talk about my wee rodent friend like that,” he said, pawing roughly at Kael’s curls.
The stench coming from under Brend’s arm was so dense that it was practically a living thing. Kael slipped out from his hold and took in a breath of clean air. “What were you going to tell me about your Kingdom?” he said, before Brend could snatch him again.
Now that they had a free afternoon, Kael wanted to learn all he could about the plains. And Brend seemed to know a little bit about everything.
“Right. Well, we giants think of this as our own little Kingdom — we call it the Fields. Over that way is the Pens,” Brend added, jerking his thumb behind him. “And inside the Fields, we have four castles, ruled over by four bumbling, magical lords: you’ve got Hob of Northbarn, Bobbin of Eastbarn, Churl of Southbarn, and Finks of Westbarn — that’s where you live, in case you didn’t know it.”
“Surprisingly, I did,” Kael said. He thought the giants’ names were fairly straightforward and easy to remember. He tucked this information away and quickly pressed for more. “So if they’ve each got their own barn, why would the other mages care if Churl turns up or not?”
Brend bent down and pressed his hands to his knees, leaning over Kael as if he were a child asking after the color of the sky. “Well you see, wee thing — bolts and doors can’t hold a giant. Not the normal sort, anyways. So the mages have got all of these little spells cast to keep us in.” He pointed up to the ceiling, and his smile was so kind that Kael was almost certain he was being mocked. “Finks lives in that cottage above us, and every night, around the same time the fairies start sprinkling the dew, he locks us down — all magic-like. And if Churl isn’t in his cottage,” Brend spread his arms wide, “then the spells on his barn don’t get cast. Which means —”
“One of the others has to do it for him,” Kael finished, before Brend’s mocking could go on any longer. He thought about this for a moment. “I imagine it would tire the mages out, having to watch two barns at once. I don’t know much about magic —”
“Don’t you?” Declan said. He was sitting down the aisle from them, his arms propped up on his knees. There was no telling how long he’d been listening in. “Why are you so interested in the mages, rat?”
Kael wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but he managed to hold the words back. “I just thought I’d learn about these things — seeing as how I’m going to be stuck here for a while.”
Brend laughed so loudly that it drowned out anything Declan might’ve said. “That you are, wee rat. You’ll make it out of here the same day we do: in a while!”
Kael ignored the many guffaws aimed in his direction and instead made his way to the stall. It was mercifully empty. He crept to the back wall and lay down in the only dry strip left of his bedding.
Light drops of rain thumped steadily overhead, their rhythm halted every now and then by a break in the clouds. Water trickled down from the man-sized hole in the roof and pooled inside the shallow bowl, forming a little stream that ran under the wall and out into the fields. The noise of the rain relaxed him, and it wasn’t long before he began to think seriously about taking a nap …
A hawk’s screech rent the air and Kael’s eyes snapped open — just in time to nearly have them clawed out.
A barrage of feathers struck him in the head, knocking him blindly on his side. Two powerful wings beat him, talons tore at his shirt. He fell on his stomach and pulled his arms over his head — trying desperately to protect his eyes. Just when he thought he was in real danger of having an ear nipped off, the attack suddenly ended.
The hawk cried out again, though this time its voice sounded slightly strained. When Kael rolled over, he saw immediately why.
Declan stood before him. He had the hawk clamped tightly in his grip: one hand held it around the talons — the other held it around the throat. A large group of giants crowded the door behind him. Some popped their heads over the neighboring walls to watch. But none of them seemed keen to take a step inside.
The giants made a path for Brend, who paused in the doorway. “It’s a crazed little thing, isn’t it?” He bent closer to the hawk. “Mountain rat he may be, but he’s still too big for you to go carrying off. Better snap its neck, Declan.”
The hawk had gone quiet, its amber eyes slightly bugged out from the pressure of having Declan’s fingers wrapped around its neck. But at the mention of being snapped, it began struggling wildly — squawking and flapping its monstrous wings.
Brend leapt back with a yelp. Declan had to whip his head to the side to avoid being struck. The hawk’s talons squirmed against his grip, and that’s when Kael noticed something odd.
He caught a glint of some object wrapped around one of the hawk’s legs and he charged forward, bellowing for Declan to stop.
He looked surprised. When Kael reached for the hawk, he wrenched it away. “What are you doing? He’ll cut you up —”
“I don’t care — hold him still!”
The panic in Kael’s voice must’ve startled him, because Declan didn’t argue. He held the hawk steady, and Kael went to work.
Yes, there it was! A tiny shackle was clamped around one of the hawk’s talons. He could see the milky white film of a spell covering the iron. He bent his head forward, shielding what he was about to do from Declan’s searching eyes.
He took the talon in one hand and used the other to break the spell — pressing down with his thumbnail until the film broke. It was difficult because the shackle was so small, but he finally managed to peel the spell free. Then it was a simple matter of tearing the iron away.
He heard a soft clink as the shackle broke, and he stuffed it quickly into his pocket. Then several things happened at once:
Pain shot up Kael’s arm as he came out of his trance. The hawk had scored him deeply while he worked, leaving a vicious-looking gash on his right hand. He wrapped the wound hastily in his shirt, cringing when he heard the giants gasp.
He thought they must’ve seen him break the shackle, and he knew he’d have to come up with an explanation. He was thinking furiously when something heavy struck the floor. There was a flash of movement as Declan shot behind him.
Then he heard Brend bellowing over the top of everything else:
“Plains mother — it’s a barbarian!”
Chapter 14
By Way of a Giant
Kael looked up from his ravaged hand and saw that a boy had materialized in front of him. His eyes were the same solid amber the hawk’s had been. A patch of stormy gray feathers sprouted from each of his elbows.
For a moment, the boy sat on the ground with a dazed look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw the giants, and he scrambled back against the wall.
“Kill it,” Brend hissed, shoving Declan forward. “Don’t let it get us!”
Before he could even take a step, Kael stood in his path. Anger drowned out the throbbing pain in his hand. “Try to kill him, and you’ll have me to deal with.”
Brend’s face hardened. “It may wear a boy’s shape now, but that’s no human,” he said, jerking his chin at the halfhawk. “He’s a cursed monster, an empty vessel! Everybody knows about the barbarians: they’re wicked men who’ve traded their souls for power. There’s nothing but beast left in them —”
“You’re wrong,” Kael snapped back. He didn’t know how the shapechangers came by their power, but he was certain they weren’t beasts.
Declan stepped forward until there was hardly a hand’s breadth between them. When Kael didn’t budge, his face twisted into a scowl. “How can you be sure? How do you know that thing won’t murder us the second it gets a chance?”
The words left Kael’s mouth before he could think to stop them: “Because I knew one, once. We traveled together, fought together — she
even saved my life. There was nothing but good in her. And she … she became a very … dear friend …”
Kael’s knees suddenly gave out. He felt strange, muddled — as if he’d just woken from a feverish sleep. His wounded hand was trapped beneath him, throbbing helplessly against his gut. When he tried to roll over, he found he couldn’t remember how to move his legs. He was numb and listless — hurting, but too tired to cry.
Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, the weakness relented. He shook the numb feeling from his limbs and took his strength back. Air whistled across his lungs as he breathed in. It was like the first breath from out of the sea.
“Don’t listen to him — he’s all clodded,” Brend said as Kael struggled to his feet. “The blood loss must have gotten to him.”
Kael wasn’t sure that was all there was too it. This was a different sort of weakness, one that frightened him even more than losing blood. For a moment, he thought he’d felt the black beast again. He thought he’d felt its jaws closing tight over his heart. He felt like it had almost killed him.
But even as he thought this, he shoved his fear stubbornly to the side. There were far more important matters at hand.
Though Brend tried to nudge him forward, Declan didn’t move. His snarl was gone and his face was a careful mask once again. It looked ridiculous to see a man as large as Brend hiding behind one as small as Declan. But Kael was in no mood to laugh.
He turned and saw that the halfhawk was still crouched against the wall. His pupils sharpened when Kael stepped closer, but he made no move to run. “Does anybody have a spare tunic?” Kael said.
The giants met him with icy glares. No one was going to give up a part of his bed for a shapechanger.
Kael was in real danger of losing his patience when Declan broke from the crowd. He went to his pallet and dug around for a moment. “Here,” he said, tossing a ragged tunic at the halfhawk.
His hand shot out with lightning speed, snagging the shirt between his curled fingers. Then he pulled it roughly over his head. The shirt must’ve been a giant’s: the hem stretched well past his knees.