by J Battle
The wind rippled across its multitude of surfaces and it seemed to quiver with anticipation at what was to come.
He surged forward, his head held high and his eyes fixed on his target.
Then he was at the stone wall, and he reared up, pulling with his pale hands at the top of the wall, and his great chest rose above the wall and he reached out for the tangleweed, a howl breaking forth from his wide-open mouth.
Taking a firm grip with both hands, he tore at the unnatural vegetation, ignorant of the sharp spines that bit into his flesh.
He roared and he pulled, and he felt the roots being ripped free from their shallow grip on the stone wharf. He twisted his body and braced one foot against the wall and pulled with all of his unsurpassed strength. The tangleweed came with him, its mass weighing heavily on his sloping shoulders, and he turned, set to march across the harbour, dragging the evil weed with him, to destroy it entirely within the depths of the sea.
At first he had no idea what was happening. The vines and stalks of the tangleweed were draped across his shoulders and his arms, ripping his skin and causing bright red sparks of blood to appear, but the pain was nothing to him. Then, somehow, a narrow, iron-hard limb was reaching across his chest, towards his other shoulder.
But still he ploughed on, with his head down and the cold water lapping at his thick waist. He would not be denied. He would rid the world of this atrocity.
The tangleweed resisted him for a moment, so he stopped and gathered himself for an increased effort, and the plant wrapped across his other shoulder, and suddenly he didn’t have the giant weed in his grip. The tangleweed had him, trapped within its great looping, flesh-tearing vines.
He roared and he leapt forward, carrying it with him as he broke through the water. As the sea washed over him, he felt his strength grow and he kicked away with his massive feet, and the plant came with him, squeezing his broad chest in its eager grip and clawing at his eyes.
‘I’ll drag it out to sea, and it will drown,’ he thought, as he kicked on.
He was almost at the entrance to the harbour when the tangleweed relented and it released its hold on his sleek body.
Before he was fully aware, it was gone and he was gliding through the water into the welcoming grip of the sea.
Chapter 44 Trytor
He’d been mortified to discover that he lacked the strength to break the bridge and secure his position from all possible attacks.
But it was left hanging across the chasm, an invitation to come and find the broken Trytor.
‘Damned and blast!’ he’d spat at his failure, and he’d cast his eyes beyond the bridge, to the dark towering wall and the doorway at its base.
‘They’ll come that way,’ he said, so quietly, ‘if they come at all.’
He turned from the stubborn bridge, one seven-fingered hand fastened to his stomach, to be sure that all of his innards stayed where they belonged, and he supported himself on his free hand as he shuffled along a narrow lip of stone that clung to the wall as it curved away from the bridge-head.
‘I’ll get myself around this bend where I’ll be invisible, and then I’ll take a little rest.’
He scuttled along, pulling his face as a foul smell engulfed him.
‘What is that smell?’ He stopped and leant over the edge a little, and he sniffed.
‘No, it is not from there. So, where…’ He stopped then, because he knew the source of the stench, and that he would not be able to escape it.
With his head drooped in shame and self-disgust, he began to pull at his belt.
‘How have I come to this?’ he sobbed, and he grunted as a wave of pain pulsed through his body. ‘I can take the pain, it is nothing. But this!’ He snarled as he peeled his stinking pants from his buttocks and thighs and tossed them over the edge.
There was nothing else to be done to clean himself up, so he set off once more.
‘There is a hidden cave just along here, if my memory serves, and there I’ll be safe.’
On the edge of the cave entrance he found a large, slug-like creature, clamped to the rock by its suckers. He pounced and drew its slowly wriggling body to his mouth. He bit down with relish and its sour juices sprayed his mouth as he sucked at its soft, spongy flesh.
It was by some way the best meal he’d ever had.
‘At least I won’t starve down here,’ he chuckled, as he crawled into the cave. ‘They won’t find me here. No, not at all. And when I am recovered, when I can stand and walk from this dark hole, then I will have the respect I am due, and more. I will have fear, and vengeance. Yes, vengeance. I will have that. Thousands will die, for what has been done to me. I will decimate the town. This time it will not be just the first-born. I’ll have all the children, and Dryan won’t trick me this time. No, I’ll check each and every one, and I’ll count them, and I won’t be fooled.’
The slug-juices dripped down his chin as he settled his bony buttocks down at the back of the cave, and his red eyes gleamed in the dark.
‘They won’t find me here. No, they won’t.’
There was a scuttling sound just above his head and he flicked out his hand and he snapped up a spider as big as a plate.
‘Second course, ahah!’ He crunched down on the delicacy with delight.
‘If only I had a clean pair of pants, I‘d be a happy Trytor.’
Chapter 45 Friends
For the last two days, Richard had insisted that Ferrooll put him down on his own feet to give him an opportunity to take a walk and see how that fared for him.
The Giant had grunted and grumbled at the delay, but he had complied, and said nothing more as his friend had walked at a pace more suitable to a creature that crawled with its house on its back, such as a tortoise or a snail.
With his head down and a look of grim determination on his face Richard had forced himself onwards, watched with concern by Cavour and Garraldi.
Each time he’d lasted less than 20 minutes before he was forced to turn to the Giant and ask for assistance.
Now they were only two miles from Hesselton, and he was determined to finish the journey on his own.
‘I’ll not have Alice see me being carried like a child. She’ll think that I’m incapable and hurt.’
‘She wouldn’t be too far from the truth then,’ said Garraldi, with a disarming smile.
So the four of them walked slowly along the coast road towards Hesselton.
‘At this pace, all the ale will have gone off before we get there,’ muttered Ferrooll, to no-one in particular. ‘And the food as well, I reckon.’
‘There’ll be plenty of both, and don’t you worry,’ said Richard, as he focussed his mind on not falling over.
After an age, they arrived at the west gate of the town.
‘Who goes there?’ cried a loud resonant voice.
Richard smiled. ‘It is broad daylight and not a cloud in the sky. Surely you can see us, lad.’
A tall, ungainly creature appeared in the gateway, all legs and arms, topped by a tiny head.
‘Sorry there, my Lord, but the captain of the guard, he says we’ve got to say that, before we show ourselves, because there be bad people about, he said, and bad tidings as well. He said that too. And he said I’ve got to write down in this here...it’s a book I reckon, but that’s not what he called it. What was it now? Oh yes, it be a ledger. That’s what he called it, ‘though I can’t see the difference for looking.’
‘What do you have to write down in your ledger?’ Richard said, with all the patience in the world, as if he was not close to toppling over with exhaustion.
‘Why, your names, of course. So’s he can tell who’s been and gone, like. I can’t see myself what good would come of it, but there you are; that’s what he says.’
‘Well, as you know, I’m Lord Richard, and...’
‘How do you go about spelling a word like that?’ interrupted the guard.
‘I beg your pardon? Spell which word? I used two.’
<
br /> ‘Well, start with the first, and finish with the second. That should do it.’
‘Why don’t I write it down in your ledger for you? How does that sound?’
‘That sounds very kind of you, my Lord. I never got the right hang of writing at school, ‘cause it’s harder than reading, I reckon.’
With the ledger filled in to his satisfaction, the guard had them all line up against the wall just outside the gate.
‘Now, strangers,’ he began, as he stood before them, with his chest out and his head held high, with his eyes closed as he tried to remember the words.
‘But, we are not strangers,’ said Garraldi, stepping away from the wall. ‘This is Lord Richard of Hesselton, and we are his friends.’
‘I knows that, of course I do, but if the captain comes along and he says, ‘did you tell them folk like I told you?’ then, well he’s a hard man to lie to, he is, for sure.’
‘Say your words then, lad, and we’ll pay them due attention, and then we’ll be on our way.’
‘That’s very kind of you, my Lord, and very generous, I‘d say. Now, where was I? Oh yes. Now strangers, Hesselton is a peaceful place for those...those who are peaceful, and such people, they are very welcome...’
‘If I sit on his head, will that shut him up?’ asked Ferrooll, his great booming voice drowning out the guard’s words.
‘No need for that, just now. I’m sure that he will very soon arrive at the end of his admonition.’
‘Thank you, my Lord. So, as I was saying, those who are peaceful are welcome, and those who ain’t, well, they ain’t.’
‘Can we go now?’ asked Ferrooll, as he bent a little closer to the guard.
‘Ay, sir, you can, and that’ll be fine, it will, and mayhap I’ll have a drink with you later, for I sure do like to see a Giant drink.’
Half way through the gate, Richard stopped and turned to the guard. ‘Cavour mentioned the two other Giants. Are they still here?’
‘No, my Lord. They left just a couple or three days ago, they did. And they didn’t seem too happy to be going, if you ask me. But the Lady, she made them go, and they couldn’t say no to her, they couldn’t.’
‘You speak of Lady Alice?’
‘Yes, my Lord. Those Giants would have danced on a table if she’d told them to, if there’d been a table to take the weight, what with the size of them.’
‘Have you seen her? How is she?’
‘I seen her a couple of times, my Lord, and she’s always busy, rushing here and dashing there, as my ma always said, but she still had time for a nice smile, and mayhap a quick word or two.’
‘Ay, lad, that is good to hear. Now, we’ve kept you away from your guard duties for too long, and we must be on our way. Good day to you.’
‘And to you, my Lord. And to you others as well.’
With that said, they walked towards the harbour.
‘I reckon there were a tavern close by the west gate, there was, so lead me there, little man, for the road makes a Giant thirsty, for sure it does.’
‘In that case, it’s 12 steps forward, three to the left, and then duck your head,’ said Cavour, as he placed his hand on the Giant’s elbow.
‘I’ll start with the 12 steps, I will, and then you can tell me what comes next. How does that sound?’
‘Just about fine, I think.’
Garraldi linked his arm through Richard’s. ‘I’ll take the Lord off to see his daughter, and then I’ll be back to join you. So, don’t you be letting that big oaf drink all the ale.’
‘Big oaf! Was he talking about you there, Cavour?’ said Ferooll, with a laugh.
Chapter 46 Trytor
The tall doors towered over him as he stood there before his father’s home.
It was early evening and there was plenty of noise coming from the tavern across the little square, with its surprisingly large window all aglow.
‘I’d take a drink, I would,’ said BobbyJ, ‘but I don’t reckon I’d be at all welcome.’
He turned back to the great doors and the dark doorway. Would his father be sitting on his throne in the rulehall, just waiting for him?
He adjusted his sword in its scabbard to be sure that it was easy to reach, and he gave the hilt a little tug to check that the blade could be withdrawn freely. Then he stepped into the darkness.
The heavy inner door squeaked as it closed behind him, and he stood for a moment in the dark rulehall.
‘Why is it not lit? It is always lit, as far as I know anyway. That Dryan fellow would have something to say at finding no lamps lit.’
The darkness didn’t bother him, for his red eyes could see well enough. He walked along the hall until he came to the throne, sat on a low plinth to give a little height to its occupant.
He wandered past the throne, down the stairs to the dungeons, then back up to the kitchens. There were foul-smelling carcasses of woolbeasts hanging by ropes from the ceiling, waiting until they were rotten enough for the Trytor’s taste. Otherwise the place seemed empty.
‘What has happened here?’ he said, and he drew his sword, for he was sure that something was wrong. ‘Whatever it was, it weren’t good, I reckon,’ he said, as he crept through the back corridors into the rulehall.
Then he spied the tumble of bones near the great fireplace, wrapped in a shroud of thin flesh.
‘Did he try and fail? Or is this the decimated body of one of his human playthings?’
But the bones were too long to be human, and the head was triangular. ‘He brought one of his brothers back, but it didn’t work the way he wanted. Unless…could this be Lydorth? Mayhap he succeeded, and was slain for his trouble?’
‘That would save me a job, I reckon, for I have no argument with his brothers. But I’ll have to be sure, so I’ll seek him out and I’ll say, ’welcome back from the dead, uncle,’ or I’ll say, ‘take this sword, father, through the heart, father.’
He turned from the bones and he left the rulehall, climbing the stairs to the private rooms of the Trytor.
**********
He awoke all of a sudden and blinked his red eyes in the dim light of the cave.
‘Where…?’ he said, but then he stopped, for he knew well enough where he was.
He’d found a source of water, tumbling down the nearly vertical wall of a narrow side-cavern, and he’d been able to clean his backside somewhat, so he was no longer offended by his own smell. His wound was another matter; open and oozing dark blood, he knew it would take an age to heal.
‘A lesser creature would not have survived,’ he muttered, as he felt around for the remains of last night’s meal, a large crablike creature that tasted only a little better than the stuff he’d cleaned from his pants.
There was a quiet clicking sound behind him. He spun around, wincing at the sudden pain.
There was nothing there.
He turned a full circle, his fists clenched and ready for anything, but he was alone.
‘This is nonsense!’ he spat. ‘The last Trytor, frightened of the dark!’
There was click behind him, louder this time. Despite himself he jumped, and gasped as he settled.
And still the cave was empty.
‘What is this? Who is there? This is Lydorth, the last and greatest of the Trytor, so reveal yourself this minute, or feel my wrath.’
There was a flurry of clicks and scrapes and suddenly the floor was teeming with little round furry creatures, wriggling around and over each other in their eagerness to be close to the last Trytor.
‘It says Trytor?’ one creature lifted its pointed nose above the rest. ‘It says it’s a Trytor.’
‘Look at its eyes,’ said another, from across the cave. ‘Can you see its eyes?’
‘I need to get closer. It is too tall.’
Lydorth had backed up against the wall farthest from the entrance and there was barely a yard of clear floor space around his feet.
‘Get back, lest you present yourself as my breakfast,’ he sai
d, with all the threat he could offer in his voice.
‘I see it now. It has red eyes. Red eyes. What does that mean?’ said the first speaker, after squirming its way to the front of the furry swarm.
‘Is its ugly head round?’ said the second, also working its way closer.
‘Round? No. Sort of flat on top, but pointy at the sides.’
The second creature reared up onto its hind legs, and there was a quick burst of nose twitching and a flicker of blinking
‘That means…’ suddenly every creature in the cave, including the Trytor, froze, as if hanging on the little creature’s every word.
‘That means it is true.’
‘So, it is the Trytor?’
‘Yes, it can be nothing else.’
‘And that means?’
‘It said it was the last Trytor. If it is the last Trytor, then we are close to being freed from this terrible place.’
‘Yes!’ cried a thousand voices as one.
‘Only one thing needs to be done. We must kill the Trytor!’
Chapter 47 Alice
Alice had taken care to write down everything Lestat had told her in her personal ledger, and she was going through it all with a pencil to be sure that she had not missed something, or misunderstood another thing. It had already been a long day, but no longer than the day before, and it would probably be a fine match for the day still to come.
She brushed back an untidy strand of hair as she bent over her books and she took no notice of a noise at the door. If she’d thought at all, she would have said Loren will probably see to whoever that is.
When the door burst open, she was slow to look up, as she’d just noticed a misspelled word, and she was inordinately proud of her spelling.
‘Well, this is a fine welcome, I’d say, for a man who has been gone a year or more,’ boomed a blessedly familiar voice.
‘Father!’ She leapt from her seat and rushed around the table to meet him half-way. She threw herself at him as she had not done since she was barely a few Falls of Leaves old.