by J Battle
‘He takes his ale by the hogshead,‘ said the barlady, with a smile at the Giant, ‘but, if your coin don’t stretch that far, he don’t half like a mug of tealeaf, he does, and you can buy that by the pair.’
Cavour nodded. ‘I think I can manage to give him what he wants, m’dear. A hogshead for the Giant, a tankard for me. And some lemonale for the lad, if you have any. And get yourself a drink of ladyale as well.’
‘Ladyale? Such cheek from a stranger, but I will take a tankard of real ale from you, sir.’
‘Now,’ said Ferrooll, after taking a mighty slurp of his ale, ‘you’ve a story to tell, I reckon, and we love a story, don’t we Ben?’
‘Yes, sir, Mr Ferrooll,’ replied the boy, his young face glowing with enthusiasm.
‘I don’t know if I have a story at all. I’m just a traveller, that’s all.’
‘You must have had adventures, mister, out on the road, like,’ said the boy, before Ferrooll could think of anything to say.
‘Not so much, young lad. Just walking about here and there to see what’s to be seen. I reckon there’s a far more interesting story to be told here, and would I be right in thinking a Trytor was involved?’
Ferrooll grunted at the word. Then he lifted his hogshead and drained it in one go.
‘He don’t like Trytors, he don’t,’ whispered Ben, with a nod. ‘It were a Trytor that blinded him, though he kilt it for its trouble, he did, and I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘Blasted Trytor! I killed one and that Lord Richard, he killed the other two, and I reckon the land’s a better place without them, it is.’
Cavour sipped his ale and his mind rushed from here to there, and back once more. He’d walked the road with his mind troubled by what he’d done and what he was about to do, but there had seemed no other choice. But, with the force of nature that the Giant represented sitting before him, mayhap other courses of action might well reveal themselves to him.
He’d given the Trytor the Stone despite his misgivings, but that didn’t mean he had to find what others there were and bring them back to Lydorth. He didn’t know for certain what he wanted the Stones for, but the quantity he’d called for, one for each of his dead brothers, was surely a guide.
Would the Trytor wait until he had three Stones in his grasping hands before he made the attempt? Or had he already made a start?
Was it already too late?
‘You know a Trytor remains?’ he said, softly, with his eyes on the contents of his tankard.
The Giant scowled. ‘I heard some word of another, I reckon. But it weren’t certain, I don’t think. Some said yay, and some said nay, and that little lord, he took his sword to take a good look for him, and I ain’t seen him since, so I don’t know how he fared.’
‘You’ll need another drink, I think,’ said Cavour, with a quick wave to catch the barlady’s eye.
When everyone was well set with a fresh drink, Cavour said, ‘I tell you for certain that the last Trytor still survives, for I have seen him myself this very day. If your lord went in search of him, and he is not hard to find, then I’m sorry to say he must have found him and not survived the meeting.’
‘That’s sad news indeed. Did you hear that, Ben? That nice little lord must have been kilt by that Trytor. That weren’t a right way for it to work out, I don’t reckon. He should be back in Hesselton with his little daughter, he should, if there were anything right with the world.’
‘You don’t know for certain he’s dead, Mr Ferrooll. He might be lost.’
‘Ay, lad, you can hope. If I had my eyes, I’d be taking a walk and having some hard words with that…what’s his name? Do you know?’
‘He’s named Lydorth, the last and least of the Trytors,’ replied Cavour, with a sigh.
‘He wants a good hard thump, he does.’
‘I’m your eyes, Mr Ferrooll,’ said Ben.
‘Ay, lad, you are. And a fine job you do; I don’t hardly ever trip over things or bump into other things now, but I can’t risk you, not in this. You’re too easy to hurt, I reckon.’
‘But…’
Cavour quietened the boy with a hand on his shoulder.
‘Then I will be your eyes, Mr Ferrooll, and I’ve been around for quite some time without getting hurt.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I believe you understand my meaning.’
Ferrooll pursed his lips and he furrowed his brow, and he gave his head a good scratch.
‘Ay, I reckon I do.’ He put down his hogshead and began the process of getting to his feet.
When he was upright, he turned to the place where he’d heard Cavour’s voice.
‘I’ve been sitting around here for too long, with nothing to do but drink that woman’s ale and eat the food the villagers bring to me. It would be good to be off about some business or other, and killing the last Trytor sounds like good business for a Giant to be about.’
‘But he don’t know the right things to say, to make sure you don’t trample on anyone, so you have to take me with you.’ Ben stood before the enormous Giant with one tiny hand outstretched as if that might stop him.
‘I can’t take you with me, lad. It’s too dangerous, and what would I do if I came back here and didn’t have my eyes to stop me breaking things?’
‘Perhaps you could walk with us a mile or so down the road, and explain the codes you use to keep this great creature in check? Then you could come back here to await our return. How does that sound?’
‘I suppose…you got to speak loud and clear, though. And you’ve got to tell him three steps before he gets there, or it will be too late and someone will be squashed.’
‘That’s good information to know.’
‘And don’t use long words, because they take too long to get through his ears, they do. And don’t say ‘I think you should go to the right in a moment,’ because that won’t help. You have to say, ‘go right now,’ and hope you’re in time.’
‘Very good, I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘And he has to eat six times a day, at least, or he’ll get hungry and crotchety, he will.’
‘Crotchety?’ said the Giant, with a bemused expression on his face.
‘Yes, crotchety. When you’re not just plain angry.’
Chapter 16 Shenti
The ships dropped anchor fifty yards or so from the grey stone docks that seemed to lean out over the water, as if eager to escape their doom.
‘You could be closer to land,’ said Shenti, drawing out the words as if he couldn’t work up the energy to finish them.
‘No, I reckon this looks about right to me,’ said Harrb, his eyes measuring the distance just to be sure. ‘And we won’t be getting any closer, and that’s as sure as night ain’t day, as my old pa used to say.’
‘I’m sure your father was a wise man, if such a thing ever existed, but you can hardly expect us to wade ashore.’
‘Don’t expect nothing, and you won’t be disappointed, my ma always used to say, when she didn’t have the drink on her.’
‘What a pair they must have been, with such verbal acuity. I can only guess at the ripostes and wordplay they must have exposed the young captain to in his youth.’ He wiped away a little drool that had appeared at the corner of his mouth with a red silken kerchief. ‘They must be so proud of your chosen career.’
Harrb shrugged and sucked on his unlit pipe.
‘Now, enough of this verbal jousting, such fun that it is. Have your men ready to carry our possessions ashore, and move the ships to the docks, there’s a good man.’
Harrb screwed up his face as if he was working hard at an answer, then he removed his pipe and spat over the gunwale a good eight feet away.
‘This ship has four dinghies to help with the this and that of nautical trade.’
‘I believe I did notice them when we first came aboard.’
‘Well, if you look over yonder you’ll see them again. Well, three of them anyway. That’s the crew you can
see, rowing themselves out to a safe distance and leaving me here on my own to deal with a ship full of angry Elvenfolk. I’ll have something to say to them, I will, when they return.’
He punctuated his words with another spit that didn’t quite make the gunwale.
‘So, if my arithmetic is at all adequate, you’ve left us one boat to ferry 50 Elvenfolk ashore.’
‘Yes, I reckon. The boat will take six of you at a time; four if you’re bringing your bags. Won’t take too long, but you should get on with it sharpish, I reckon, before it gets dark.’
‘You mentioned angry Elvenfolk just now. How do you hope to survive that anger?’
Harrb put his hand in his pocket and jiggled around for a moment before he pulled out a small pouch of pipeweed
‘Well now,’ he said, as he filled his pipe, ‘I reckon that, you know, when you get yourselves ashore and you’ve sorted your bags out...’ He stopped talking then whilst he drew on his pipe.
‘Ah now, that hits the spot, it does. Yes, I were saying, weren’t I, when you see whatever it is you find over there, then I reckon a clever fellow like you will want a nice friendly sailor like me who’s willing to send a boat back for you; them that survive, that is.’
Shenti studied the wizened sailor for a moment. He could leap up onto the wheel-deck and club the insolent human to death, but it seemed such an effort, and he might be right.
‘The Elflord won’t like it,’ he said, instead.
‘Well now, if he’s got anything to say on the matter, you just send him up here and I’ll have a word with him and put him right. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?’
Shenti sighed as he turned away from the captain and went off in search of the Elflord.
Harrb didn’t watch him go. His eyes were fixed on the land beyond the docks, on the dark green tangle of vegetation that seemed to loom ominously over the warehouses that surrounded the docks.
With a sudden shiver, he turned away and watched his men, and those of the other two ships, as they pulled up together a hundred yards away.
‘I just hope you’ve gone far enough, lads, I do,’ he whispered.
Chapter 17 Ferrooll
‘Just to the left there, a step, if you please.’
‘That lad, he would have said, ‘left, one step,’ and he’d have left it at that, as he reckons a Giants brain is a little on the slow side.’
Cavour looked up at the Giant walking beside him, tramping down the road as if he could see where he was going. ‘Some might say that,’ he said, in a noncommittal way.
‘Ay, I’ve seen some stupid Giants, I have, in my time, I have, and that’s the truth. Now that brings my old friend Belloom to mind, and that’s too sad a story for the road, it is. Tell me a more suitable story, to while away the time, if you will.’
‘Ah now, Ferrooll, I’m not one for stories. I’m a listener, and a watcher, if you like.’
‘Well, I don’t need eyes to see that.’
‘I’m sure you have tales to tell.’
‘Ay, I do that. But before I do, I reckon there’s some answers you can give me, if you can’t tell a story.’
‘Any question I can answer, I’ll be happy to oblige.’
‘Not sure there’ll be much in the way of happiness,’ said the Giant, with a grunt as he knocked his great fist against his chest.
‘Well, ask away then, friend, and we’ll see how we get on,’ replied Cavour, with a frown as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Ferrooll walked on for a while without another word.
They came to a steep hill and he laboured up it, muttering about Giants and hills as he went.
At the summit, he stopped to take a deep breath.
‘You said something about seeing the Trytor this morning,’ he said, all of a sudden. ‘I’d know more about that, if you don’t mind.’
With sudden speed and unnerving accuracy, he laid his hand on Cavour’s shoulder. ‘And, if you do mind, I’d still want an answer.’
Cavour didn’t struggle against the unbreakable grip of the Giant; he had plans to use his shoulder again.
‘Ask, Ferrooll, and I shall answer in full honesty. But I ask this only. Judge me by what I am about to do, and not by what I’ve done.’
‘I decide what I judge you on, so tell me how you saw the Trytor and are still here to walk beside me.’
Cavour thought about the lies he could tell, with convincing words and detail, but this was not the time for lies. They would be facing the Trytor soon enough, and trust was essential.
‘I worked for him.’ He left it that, making no excuses.
The Giant released him and then he lumbered on down the hill with no further words.
Later, when they were eating from the enormous bag the Giant carried, Ferrooll spoke once more.
‘This working for him, was it by your own will? Or were you forced to work for him?’
‘By my own will,’ replied Cavour, absolutely determined to offer nothing in mitigation.
Ferrooll munched for a while.
‘Now we come to the crux of the matter,’ he said, at last.
‘Indeed,’ said Cavour, bracing himself for what was to come.
‘Why are you going to kill your master now?’
There was a torrent of words in his mind, ready to come tumbling out, but he kept them at bay.
‘Because it is the right thing to do,’ he said, simply.
The Giant sat still for a moment, considering his words.
Then he put away the remains of his food, such as they were, and slung the bag over his shoulder.
‘Best be on our way then,’ he said, as he set off along the road.
Cavour raced to catch up with him.
‘Now, there were this Giant I once knew, and he didn’t have the wit to open his eyes when he woke up, and his ma and his pa, they weren’t much better.’
Despite the ordeal ahead of them, Cavour couldn’t help but smile as the Giant rumbled on.
Chapter 18 Rootheart
‘You’ll need to pay before you get anymore ale, if that don’t offend.’
Rootheart looked up from his empty flagon.
‘What’s that?’
The landlord was small and lean, and couldn’t have filled out much since he was a lad. But he was standing full-square before Rootheart, as if the disparity in their size meant nothing to him.
‘You’ll get no more ale until you pay for what you’ve had, and that’s a fact, it is, and no mistake.’
‘I’ll sing a song, if you like?’
‘Songs don’t earn ale here, they don’t.’
‘I’ll wrestle you for it, then.’
‘Do I look a fool? I don’t reckon I do. Not last time I looked in a mirror.’
Rootheart sighed, and pushed away his tankard.
‘I’ll not stay where I’m not welcome,’ he said, as he thought about getting up.
‘Your coin is surely welcome, sir. So come back indeed, when you have some.’ He moved away from the table, to give the half-giant room.
‘Do you need anything heavy lifting? I can do that for you, if you do.’
The landlord smiled. ‘I’m sure you could, but I don’t, so that’s the end of it. Now, good day to you, sir, and I’ll see you again when you have coin.’
‘I have coin, if that will do.’
They both turned at the sound of her voice.
‘Pull the man a drink, landlord. He looks to choke on his thirst.’
‘Ah now, I reckon it’ll be a while before he’s thirsty, the amount he’s drank already.’
‘And I’ll have a tankard of your best ale, sir.’
‘My best ale is as good as my worst, young lady, because I only have the one.’
‘Well, that will have to do.’
She settled herself across the table from Rootheart, and she gave him one of her smiles.
‘My, you’re a fine figure of a man, indeed.’
Rootheart smiled right back at her, bu
t he found it strangely hard to say anything.
‘My name is Ellaine,’ she said, holding one hand out to him. ’Ellaine Woewearer, and it is my place to mourn the loss of men.’
He took her hand between two fingers and gave it a careful shake.
‘You’ll be busy enough then, I expect.’
‘You’re surely right. And what name do you go by?’
‘Rootheart is my name; chose it all by myself, because no-one else cared to.’
‘Well, good day to you, Rootheart, it is a pleasure indeed to meet you after looking for you this long.’
‘You were looking for me? Why would you be doing that?’
She smiled by way of response and took her ale from the landlord. Rootheart watched her give the little fellow the benefit of another smile, and it seemed to strip years from him.
He sipped his own ale, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Had he ever seen anyone before take such pleasure in the smallest of things?
‘You know why I‘ve come looking for you, don’t you now, Rootheart?’ Her voice was soft and hardly above a whisper, but he heard her words clearly.
‘Was it because you wanted to meet a handsome half-giant?’
She laughed. ‘Mayhap that was part of it, but there’s more for sure.’
‘You wanted to wrestle a half-giant?’
‘Now that’s an idea and a half, but yet there is more.’
He looked away from her then, at the landlord behind the bar, trying not to look at her as he pottered; at the old man in the corner who never spoke, lost in his love for his ale.
Then he sighed and he pushed his unfinished drink to the side.
‘I’d be a fool not to think you’re here because of Magic,’ he whispered, leaning forward. ‘Well you’ve come on a fool’s errand, you have, if you beg my pardon for saying that you are the fool.’
‘No need for pardon for calling me a fool. I’ve been a fool before, and I’ll be a fool again, any day of the week that ends in a y.’
‘I ain’t Magic, and I can’t do Magic, so’s any Magicking you want doing, you better look somewhere else. Somewhere where I ain’t, ’cause I’m likely to do something to stop the Magic, if I can. So there you have it. Thank you for the ale, and I guess you’ll be bidding me goodbye and fare thee well now.’