Raine nodded, though she wasn’t really listening. Every fiber of her being was focused on the lovely music. Mesmerized, she drifted to the edge of the river.
Come to me, come to me,
And I will set you free,
To dance in the shadows
And run to the sea.
In a house of pearl, we will dwell,
you with me,
In a forest of shell and anemone.
Come to me, come to me
‘Neath the willow tree.
The lovely ballad filled Raine with longing. The water nix knew her. He was speaking to her, to the deepest recesses of her soul.
“Rainey, don’t listen to ʼim,” Tiny said in alarm. “Where be the nail Mam give ye?”
“Hmm?” Raine said, her gaze on the far bank. “I put it in my boot. Oh, that’s so beautiful.”
In a trance, she waded into the river, not caring that the water was cold, or that she soaked her gown.
“He’s calling me,” Raine said with a happy sigh. “Do you hear it? Such lovely music, and it’s for me.”
“No, you don’t,” Tiny said, striding back into the river.
He grabbed Raine by the back of her gown and plucked her out of the water. Ignoring her feeble struggles to free herself, he picked up her boots and shook them. The nail fell out onto the grassy bank.
“You’ll leave ʼer be, if’n you knows what be good fer you,” he said, shaking a fist at the nixie. “She be my friend and the rowan’s ward, so there.”
The water nix faltered and stopped singing. Mumbling under his breath, Tiny set Raine in his lap and groped around for the nail, bringing up a clod of dirt and grass with it.
“Let me go, Tiny,” Raine said, squirming in his grasp. “Let me go.”
“Not until I gets iron on you.” Tiny quickly bent the iron nail into a ring and slipped it on Raine’s finger. “There. Now go to ʼim, if you likes, but Tiny don’t think you will.”
He plunked Raine on the ground. Swaying dizzily, she woke from the beautiful dream. Her dress was soaked, and she was cold to the bone. She gazed across the river in horror. The creature under the willow was hideous, not handsome, with weedy hair the color of moldering leaves and a large slash of a mouth filled with sharp, green teeth. His arms and torso were covered in gray scales, and below the waist, he had the body of a fish.
“You’ve deprived me of my lunch, giant,” the water nix said with an unpleasant hiss. “One day, I’ll catch you unaware and drown you. Then I’ll tie you to my willow roots and suck you dry, ʼtil there’s nothing left of you but nail and bone.”
If Tiny heard the nixie, he gave no sign. The giant was staring at his hands. A band of iron encircled one thumb. The tips of his ears were red, and there was an expression of outrage on his placid face.
“Look at me grabbers,” he said, glaring at the water sprite. “I’ll be washing ʼem again, thanks to you, filthy tadpole.”
Flushed with anger, Tiny strode to the river’s edge and thrust the hand with the ring into the water.
Iron to water, water to nix, he chanted,
Drive this spirit to sea
Keep him there in his salty lair
Ne’er again to be free.
The water nix shrieked in agony, and vanished.
“He’s gone,” Raine said, staring blankly at the water.
“Aye, he be gone, and he won’t be back, the nasty bloodsucker,” Tiny said. “I shouldn’t ʼuv lost my temper like ʼat, but washing twicet in one day be more ʼn a body can stand.”
“I think you were brilliant,” Raine said. “You saved my life.”
“Naw, Rainey, nothing like,” Tiny said, turning pink. “If I be so clever, I’d ʼuv give you my ring, instead o’ scrabbling about in the dirt for that wee nail.”
“But, then, Green Man might have gotten you, and I wouldn’t have known the proper charm.”
“I learnt a thing or two from Mam,” Tiny said. “You wear that ring, and you won’t have to worry about being nix-a-lated no more.”
“I’ll never take it off,” Raine promised. “I didn’t know about nixies. We don’t have them where I come from.”
“You don’t? Well, I call that a good thing. Reckon this be a lesson o’ sorts, then.”
“Yes, it was,” Raine said. “You’re an excellent teacher.”
Tiny’s brown eyes rounded. “Me…a…a teacher?”
“First-rate.”
“Well, don’t that be sumpin?” Tiny said, his cheerful face splitting in a grin. “Almost puts me in charity with that old nix.” He looked down at his dirty hands, his smile fading. “Almost.”
Chapter 24
Ambush
Mam was waiting for them when they returned from the river.
“I tole you to wash, not go fer a swim,” she said, clucking in disapproval when she saw Raine’s wet gown. “Off with those wet things this instant or you’ll catch yer death.”
She hustled Raine back to the cottage, helped her out of her sodden garments, and hung them by the fire to dry.
“Raine be a’right, Mam?” Tiny’s big voice boomed above the cottage.
“She be fine, son. Has to dry out, be all.” Mam tucked a blanket around Raine and opened a cupboard. “In the meantime, you can’t run about willynippers. You’ll wear sumpin o’ mine.” She held up a dress identical to the one she wore. “Here we go. Stand up and lets have a look at you.”
Wrapping the blanket around her, Raine got obediently to her feet, though she knew it was pointless. Mam’s dress wouldn’t fit her. The giantess was teeny.
Mam considered her. “Hmm, you be a willowy thing. Four hands should do, I think.”
She gave the gown a shake, and it expanded.
Raine was highly impressed. “You have got to show me how to do that, someday,” she said, donning the woolen dress. “And Gertie says giants aren’t wizards.”
“We don’t be. Wizards be able to tap into the magic around ʼem. Giants be magic.”
“Oh,” Raine said, feeling foolish. “Do you use the same trick to make Tiny clothes?”
“Nay, ʼtwould be a waste o’ time and good wool. Tiny still be growing.” Mam took down a jar and sprinkled something on Raine’s wet garments. “Drying powder,” she said, placing the jar back on the shelf. “That should hasten things along.”
They found Tiny waiting for them under the tree beside the cottage. The three of them returned to the picnic on the meadow, where Tiny recounted their encounter with the water nix.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Mam said. “Fetch the goat’s milk, son.”
“Yessum.”
Tiny clumped off to do his mother’s bidding, and Mam poured the tea.
“Here,” Mam said, handing Raine a chipped cup. “Slide this down yer whistle. ʼTwill warm yer innards.”
“Thank you.” Raine took a cautious sip. The tea was fragrant and tasted of cinnamon. “This is good.”
Tiny returned shortly, a small pail dangling from his huge fingers. He placed the bucket on the table and watched his mother perform her magic. Bloop, the pail was enlarged to giant size. Bloop, bloop, Mam supersized a plate and cup and handed them to Tiny.
“Let’s eat,” she said.
Tiny needed no further urging and heaped his plate with food. Declining Mam’s offer of tea, he poured himself an enormous cup of goat’s milk and sat down on the grass to eat.
Raine was ravenous. In short order, she wolfed down a tremendous slice of brown bread slathered with creamy butter, a hunk of soft cheese, and a slice of brambleberry pie, washing down the lot with several cups of tea.
“Mam, that was fine,” Raine said when she’d eaten her fill. “As good as anything the rowan’s chef serves at the Citadel.”
“Simple fare be best,” Mam said, looking p
leased. “Fancy eatin’ will give a body whistle belly, and that be a fact.” She poured Raine a cup of milk. “Try the goat’s milk. Tiny were raised on it.”
“I couldn’t,” Raine said, patting her belly. “I’m full.”
“There always be room fer goat’s milk.” Mam leaned across the table. “Take a wee sip fer the goats. They be listening, don’t you know. Terrible sensitive, the critters. You hurt their feelings, they’ll give bad milk or dry up altogether.”
Raine turned. Mam’s goats had come down from the slopes into the meadow while they were eating. The funny creatures stood nearby, watching her with soft eyes. Raine saluted the goats with the cup and took a sip. The milk was cool and sweet. She took another sip, and the last of her chill melted away. Her body sang with renewed strength and energy. She felt ready for anything.
“Delicious,” Raine said in a loud voice, setting the empty cup on the table. “Best milk ever.”
The goats swished their tails and trotted away.
“Thank you,” Mam said. “You’ve made ʼem happy. The secret to good milk be to keep the buck away from the does. I cool it in the stream, and that makes it nice, too.” She turned to Tiny. “Been thinking, son. Reckon when Gertie tole you to take Raine someplace safe, she didn’t mean Udom. Not safe for squiggies in Udom, you know. Reckon she meant someplace closer to the fast.”
Tiny’s face creased in dismay. “You be right, Mam. I be a lummox not to think o’ that.”
“You are not a lummox,” Raine said. “Gertie should have been more specific.” She smiled at the giantess. “Besides, I wanted to meet Mam.”
Tiny lumbered to his feet. “Jes the same, we’d best be heading back. We been gone fer hours, and Gertie’ll be fashed.” There was an anxious look in the giant’s eyes. “Kron, I hope she don’t turn me into a turnip and throw me to the pigs.”
“She’ll do no such thing, son,” Mam said, rising from the table. “Still, you’d be wise to hurry along. Weather be fickle in these mountains, and you don’t want to get caught in a snow storm.”
“No, sirree,” said Tiny.
Raine followed Mam into the cottage to get her things.
“Your underthings be dry,” Mam said, “but your gown be a bit damp.” She sprinkled a little more drying powder on Raine’s dress. “There. That should do.”
Raine dressed and thanked Mam for the loan of her gown, then returned to the meadow to help Mam clear the table and pack up. While they bustled about, Tiny put the table and stools back under the oak tree.
“It was lovely to meet you,” Raine said when it was time to leave. “I hope to see you again.”
“You be welcome, any time,” said Mam.
They waved goodbye and set out.
“What time is it?” Raine asked Tiny, squinting at the sky when they’d left the valley behind.
“Late afternoon, but the sun sets quick in these mountains.”
Tiny sounded worried, but they clumped along, making good time.
“There be the pass,” Tiny said some time later, pointing to the craggy peaks in the distance. “You’ll be back at the fast afore supper.”
As they neared the canyon guarded by the unfortunate stone giants, a company of Shads poured out of the rocky foothills, shouting and brandishing their weapons. Men with grappling hooks ran up to them. Ropes snaked through the air, snagging Tiny by the ankles. The Shads quickly formed a line and heaved. Bellowing like a wounded bull, Tiny toppled to the ground. Raine was thrown from his shoulder to the rocky turf. Bruised and shaken, she sat up and cried out in pain. Her right hand was bent at an odd angle. Tiny; she had to help Tiny.
Nursing her broken wrist, Raine got to her feet. The Shads were crawling over the fallen giant like ants on a discarded sweet, stabbing him with knives and short swords. Tiny howled and thrashed about.
“Stop it,” Raine cried, fumbling for her wizard stone with her good hand. “Leave him alone.”
Tiny rolled to his knees. “Nay, lass, never mind me. Run.” He reached down and wrenched a grappling hook from his meaty calf. “Squanerfugan,” he shouted in his booming voice, swinging the grappling hook at the Shads. “Squanerfugan, squanerfugan.”
The mountains at the mouth of the ravine stirred and Terald and Fensal poked their heads out of the rockface.
Terald looked around, blinking sleepily. “Did someone call for help?”
“Squiggies,” Fensal shouted, his eyes widening. “A-pestering ole Tiny.”
Raine scrambled behind a cairn as the stone giants began to lob boulders at the Shads. A slab of rock hurtled from the sky, crushing a dozen men beneath its weight with a sickening thud. The rest of the Shads screamed in terror and scattered. Raine peeked cautiously from her hiding place. Dead and dying men lay on the rocky ground.
Tiny was on his feet, though he was hampered by the ropes around his ankles. A band of Shads approached him from the front. “Stay back,” he shouted, swinging the grappling hook at them. “Leave Tiny be, ye mangy gogheads.”
A second group of soldiers crept unseen from the rocks behind the giant. Their leader was a lean, dark-eyed man dressed in a black tunic and breeches edged in red. Drawing his sword, he moved closer.
“Behind you, Tiny,” Raine cried. Stepping from behind her shelter, she pressed the fingers of her good hand to her wizard stone. “Leave him alone,” she said, jerking her chin at Tiny’s attackers.
A dozen of the soldiers rolled away from the giant like so many tumbleweeds. The man in black turned, his gaze narrowing.
“Gograh,” he said. “What a delightful surprise. I’ve been looking for you.”
Swiftly, he placed a thin tube to his lips and blew. The dart struck Raine on the neck. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, and her skin grew cold.
“What’s happening? I don’t—” Raine swayed and went to her knees. “I feel funny.”
“Sting her, would you, squiggie,” Tiny roared, raising his hands to the sky.
Lightning danced from the giant’s fingertips and the clouds roiled. Drawing back his arm, Tiny hurled ice daggers at the Shads. Men howled and fell, clutching their wounds. Tiny launched an ice spear at the man in black. The Shad leapt aside, and the spear struck the soldier next to him, piercing his shoulder. The man stiffened; his flesh froze and shattered in fragments of ice.
Swearing under his breath, the man in black ran up to Raine and slung her over his shoulder.
“No, put me down,” she said, struggling weakly. “Leave me alone.”
The man ignored her and shouted for his men to follow. “The stone giants have blocked the pass,” he said, breaking into a run. “Into the hills.”
“Tiny,” Raine said, reaching for the giant as the Shad broke into a run.
“Bring ʼer back.” Sobbing, Tiny stumbled after her. He tripped on the ropes around his ankles and went down. “You bring ʼer back, you nasty squiggies.”
A dreadful cold seeped through Raine’s veins, stealing the strength from her limbs, and the world went dark.
* * * *
Raven was in the griffinry when the old stable caught fire. Catching a whiff of smoke, he’d gone to a window. The stable was in flames. Flame circled the burning building on heavy wings. Screaming in defiance, the dragon flew off in the direction of the arena.
“Tro,” Raven swore.
Issuing orders to the birdkeepers to send for men to put out the fire, he raced down the winding stairs and out of the slender tower. The horse he’d chosen from the rowan’s stable waited in the yard. He sprang on the animal’s back and galloped down the mountain and out the Bear Gate. When he reached the stadium, he found chaos. The north section of the building was on fire, and the gate at that end was impassable. Screaming people poured out the other gates, fleeing the arena in unseeing panic.
“Dragon,” a man in a floppy hat said, panting with fright. T
he woman with him was pale and sweating. “Wizards is bad enough, but, gods save us, that was a dragon. We’re going back to the farm.”
He hurried off toward the city, dragging the woman by the arm.
Raven looked up when someone called his name. Chaz and Gurnst were hurrying up the road.
“Tyra and Carr won the Hammer and Munch,” Chaz said, his cheeks flushed. “It was splendid. Then Flame showed up, and everybody ran.”
“A terrible mess, it was, Cap’n.” Gurnst shook his head. “People trampling over one another.” He spat. “We should ʼuv tossed the critter overboard. The world has monsters enough without dragons.”
“Keep an eye on my horse,” Raven said.
He dismounted and ran through the west gate, shoving his way through the flow of terrified spectators still trying to exit.
“Mor,” he shouted. “Mor.”
“Here I am, son.”
The troll was accompanied by two earth giants. She carried an injured man over her shoulder as easily as if he were a toddler. Striding through the gates, she set the man down and turned to address her oversize companions.
“Druz,” she said to one of the earth giants, “you and Surg knock down the walls at the north gate, and be quick about it, before the whole arena goes up. The guard has already formed a bucket brigade and will lend you help.”
Druz muttered something about useless shorties and lumbered off in the direction of the blaze with Surg.
A unicorn trotted up. “What a kerfuffle. I feel positively dreadful for the queen. All her lovely plans spoiled. Reminds me of the Trovis Tide the pixies got into the punch.”
Gertie wiped the soot out of her eyes. “ʼTis a hubbub and no doubt, but at least no one has been seriously hurt. Broken bones, scrapes and bruises, that sort of thing, and Gorne got Hedda and their guests safely out the east gate.”
“Raine was with them?” Raven asked.
“Nay, I sent her back to the fast with Tiny.”
The unicorn coughed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Blessed Mother, especially on Trolach. Far be it from me to spread negativity and doubt, but—”
A Muddle of Magic Page 35