Chapter Nineteen
The Ruins
As brutal as the destruction of Hrim had seemed in the late evening, when the edges of darkness hid most of the ruins from their plain sight, by the time the sun had finally risen and several early fog clouds had lifted they could at last see the utter wastedness of it.
And this is what they saw: Huge smoldering projectiles dotted throughout the city, like massive clumps of tar balled up with rocks, that had been showered across the battered landscape. Each of these balls of tar and stone seemed to have been nearly eight feet tall, at one time, but had been smushed upon impact to be wider around the center now. (Very similar in shape to how flying saucers were made to look like in early black and white cinema, only these projectiles reeked of burning oily tar, with clouds of dense cruel smoke billowing off of them.
���Looks like catapults to me,��� Timothy mentioned, poking at a massive black blob with what had been the lower portion of a chair.
They were both standing within the remains of what had once been a supply station. Albeit, the only reason how that could be known at all was because scattered around their feet lay the wreckage of charred bags of grain and completely disintegrated pieces of fruit barrels and wine kegs. The only bits of food left preserved were some jarred and bottled items that hadn’t been smashed open, but none of which looked appetizing, their glass outsides burnt black in the fire, so that you could not distinguish a jar of pickled ham from a jar of pickles.
But while they stood there examining the burning tar balls, Barbara, who’d been so overly preoccupied with her course work during the previous term, knew from an introductory study of physics what great force would be needed to move such a sea of heavy ammunition, like these, that had been fired out over the city’s ruins. Not to mention the strength it might take to move such enormous catapults, ones that would be required to launch blob missiles of this size. And from where would they have come? Who knows how far an enemy like this would have needed to travel, and through this nearly frozen wasteland.
���You know,��� Barbara said, picking up another charred stick to begin her own investigation. ���They would need whole fields of horses to even budge these tar boulders.��� Which seemed a good enough name as any to call them. And Barbara, perhaps more than usual, at this moment wished to be thought of as helpful, and smart, knowing that at the present she’d not been overly helpful since they’d arrived. For after all, it was Timothy who’d brought a compass, and discovered the ruined city, and Timothy who’d built them a fire the night before to keep them warm. That is not to say, that in her heart she hadn’t only wanted to rescue Mrs. Wolcott, no matter the cost, but that she’d also hoped not to be too babied in the process.
Still, her male cohort was now feeling incredibly boyish, and would not even grant her that simple courtesy.
���Who says they’d used horses?��� Timothy intruded.
Barbara looked up at him hoarsely. ���Well, what else would they have used?��� she questioned.
���Who knows… elephants maybe,��� he said, as if being actually serious.
She could barely refrain herself, and nearly laughed at him.
���Elephants?!��� she exclaimed, and then she rested from her own examination of the tar boulder to point out the obvious.
���Where would anyone get elephants in a place like this?���
���How should I know?��� he replied.
And Timothy now left his boulder to see if there wasn’t any lick of food strewn around that was worth saving.
���Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen though… Hannibal did the same thing when he attacked the Romans, brought elephants down through the mountains,��� he explained, while also beginning to stow what might have been jars of radishes into his side satchel for the journey.
And as you will come to know, Barbara had always hated thinking that she was not being taken seriously. And so she turned quickly, using her black tar-tipped prodding stick she’d still held in her hand as a means to visualize her point.
���Let’s have at it then,��� she said, motioning out toward the open fields where the catapult shots were undoubtedly fired from. ���Whatever animals they’ve used, there’s got to be tracks of them out in that field, and I bet, if we follow them, they’ll lead us straight to your grandmother.���
���That’s the stuff, Cholley,��� Timothy exclaimed. ���I knew you’d come in handy.���
It was a nice enough compliment, but only because he’d meant it sincerely. However, Barbara still could not avoid rolling her eyes back ever so slightly, thinking to herself, ���What an awfully boyish way to give a compliment.���
���Race you,��� he yelled back, already several steps ahead.
And the two went rushing off away, out of the ruins, toward the open fields under the gaze of an ominous high mountain range. Timothy sprinted through the low grass and peat, but he was not yet accustomed to running with a sword at his side, so that Barbara soon passed him up.
���No fair,��� he shouted. ���I can’t r-AHH!���
He landed flat on his face, and the contents of his satchel went spilling over the hillside.
He had begun to say, ���I can’t run like this,��� but had tripped so suddenly, and unexpectedly, that his words came out as a yelp. His hands scuffed and new winter coat dirtied, but at least, he thought, he had not been cut by his own sword, something not at all impressive for a prince to do.
���Are you hurt?��� Barbara called, speeding back to help him off the ground.
���I’m fine… not hurt at all, just this blasted hole here,��� he said, looking down at where he had fallen.
���What an odd shape?��� Barbara noticed, mostly speaking aloud to collect her thoughts.
���That’s what I thought,��� Timothy spoke up, and showing his skills of observation once again, said, ���You’d expect a hole to be dug out, like with a spade, but this one looks like it’s been stamped, or pressed into the ground, like-���
���Like a footprint,��� Barbara interrupted, looking pale white.
���Exactly,��� he said excitedly, but then quickly caught his senses, seeing how distraught Barbara now looked to be.
���Yes…��� he said, repeating this truth. ���Exactly like a footprint.���
Chapter Twenty
A Big Problem
Giants.
Giant footsteps speckled across the rolling low hills. Everywhere imprints of horridly mammoth giant boots and shoeless giant feet (roughly a meter and a half long, and a half a meter wide).
There was no denying it. An army of giants had laid siege to the city of Hrim, and had stolen away, or worse, killed, Mrs. Matilde Wolcott, the Queen of Earth. But that had not meant that Barbara had not wished to deny it, even forgoing her better judgement, she tried to make the point that all they knew were the sizes of their footprints, and who’s to say that these enemy soldiers had not been moderately averaged sized men, with only disproportionately giant sized feet.
However, Timothy had said not very tactfully, but rightly in this case, that that was impossible, and that they should call giants what they are, or else they will never be able to defeat them when the time comes.
But this had not been the sort of encouragement Barbara had hoped for, and so they walked on in silence, following a horde of crevassed footprints and canyonous ruts from the catapult wheels. These tracks slowly carrying them further and further from the ashes of Hrim, toward the steep and craggy mountain faces ahead of them.
And as Timothy was still in the process of experimenting, deciding whether or not he could clear the length of an entire giant’s stride, with the added weight of his sword and satchel, he said these words (not meaning to sound uninviting, but that’s how it appeared):
&nbs
p; ���You don’t have to come along, you know,��� he said, readying himself for another jump.
���Ah!��� Barbara’s mouth dropped open in disgust. ���And you’d just leave me there in that ash heap, I bet,��� she said, pointing back toward the tiny dot of smoke on the horizon that they’d been making good distance from all morning.
Timothy stopped himself before he could jump again, turning back toward his new friend. ���And what, you’d rather face up against giants with me?��� He placed a hand on the hilt of his newfangled emerald sword, as if that were his natural stance now.
Jagged pointed rocks and rings of clouds near the peaks of the range, Barbara’s eyes took in the seemingly insurmountable peril of it all, and tried diligently to make herself less scared than she actually was.
���Well, no…��� she said. ���I’d rather not do either of those.���
She ran her fingers through her straight hair, as she will do sometimes to help gather her thoughts.
���But I’ve decided to be brave, for your grandmother’s sake.���
���And I’m sure she’d be proud of you,��� Timothy replied, sincerely.
This so surprised Barbara that she smiled, as if almost by reflex. Perhaps, her traveling companion, who’d been rushing on ahead of her, and who’d been not so entirely considerate as she would have liked, ever since their very first late night meeting in the attic study, perhaps now he’d finally prove to be a gentleman.
But these hopes, as decent as they were, were suddenly crushed to pieces when Timothy shot back a response, as if not even realizing the compliment he’d given.
���So we should be going then, right?���
And with that he turned again, following those giants’ footprints, not even waiting for her, or letting Barbara first respond to what she was nearly certain may have been an actual question.
The sun had not yet burned through the high fog that morning, by the time the two came to the foot of those spindling mountains, overlooking the northern edge of the kingdom. There at the base of the mountain range the overwhelming mass of the giant army’s footsteps appeared to have turned and headed due south, toward the heart of Gleomu.
(It might serve well here to point out that one of the downfalls, historically, for any giant army has been that in an open plain, such as this was, they are almost certainly chronically incapable of dealing a surprise attack, being seen hours and hours beforehand by any half-decent watchman. And this is nearly always the case, and a good enough reason why you have not heard tell of very many giant victories in recent years, expect for this one provision to the rule: Which states that if a giant army can manage to use a range of mountains as a means of camouflage, then they might be able to handily overcome their disadvantageous heredity.)
���Looks like they’re not done fighting, either,��� Barbara added, seeing their tracks leading away from them, toward the capital city.
���Except for this bigger one here,��� Timothy said, and pointed to a larger set of prints, even by giant standards, that had separated itself from the rest of the army, and had gone stomping onward toward the base of the mountain. These humungous steps made a dead stop at a steep rock face, and then turned again, traveling along the edge of the range to join in once more with the other giant steps, and were after which mingled in with the rest of the tracks and were lost for good.
���That’s odd,��� Barbara’s nose wrinkled as she said it.
She had been standing directly inside one of the large giant’s massive tracks, the imprint of it was unconscionably deep, and she imagined the ferocious weight needed to make such cavernous steps, and she felt the most noticeably painful sense of fear that she’d had since arriving for their rescue mission, and she hoped to never have to encounter, face-to-face, such a monstrous giant within her lifetime.
But Timothy spoke up, soon stirring her from this awful daydream.
���That’s right, it is odd,��� Timothy replied, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along the edge of his jawline (as he’ll sometimes do to help collect his thoughts).
���Fowl luck we’re not giants as well, or else we’d know what was so interesting about this ugly mountain,��� he said.
And it was just then that something peculiar had happened, something that would redirect the course of their adventures, as if by chance, or otherwise. From out of the low ceiling-like mist of white fog above them, they heard the shriek of a bird of prey (and as for the exact species, well neither two travelers at that time would have known enough of Ornithology, which is the study of birds, to have been able to give a name to it, but I can tell you that it was a falcon, although a much larger breed of falcon than we tend to have on earth). It circled above for a few seconds, before landing upon a high ledge, on a stack of square rocks that appeared to have been chiseled, and put into place quite intentionally. However, it was the type of thing one might never have notice on one’s own, not without a bird to land upon it.
���Is that a stone column?��� Timothy said peculiarly.
���If it is, then those rocks next to it must be a column as well,��� Barbara answered.
���And look there,��� he said again, pointing across to the other side of the narrow and sharp ravine, in which they now stood at the entrance to.
The pair had come a long way from Hrim, and were now looking forward into a cleft in the mountain, which they could see as a dead-ended alleyway with high steep walls, that helpfully blocked some of the cold wind that blew at them from the open plain. But if you were to get a bird’s-eye view, in this case, from atop either of those stone columns, you would see it as a deep and dangerous rocky chasm.
And this is what Timothy had seen when he’d somewhat shouted, saying, ���And look there���, it was a second set of pillars, at roughly the same height, set on an opposite ledge, almost mirrored across the chasm.
���More pillars?��� she said aloud, and then she realized it. ���You don’t think this used to be a rope bridge, above us?���
���What else could it be,��� Timothy said smiling, and perhaps too overly proud of his own keen sense of observation, so that he’d not noticed Barbara’s contributions.
���And where there are bridges,��� he said, allowing for a dramatic pause, ���…there are roads.���
And Timothy was most excited about this fact, until Barbara had made a very simple observation that he indeed might have overlooked.
���So…��� she said, staring at a very sillily excited Timothy Hayfield. ���How do you suppose we get up there then?���
This caused Timothy, who had never fancied heights all that dearly, to suddenly realize their predicament, and as he grew more fearful all the color seemed to disappear from his face.
���Oh, right,��� he said.
In his fear, he gulped a distinguishably loud gulp of chilled air: Air that blew in across the cold hard plains and into their steeply walled precipice, where they now stood, left to wonder and examine this new, previously unimagined danger.
Chapter Twenty-One
A New Road
Barbara, and Timothy both, had been very proud of their idea: Stating that since this was a road, or had been at one time, that therefore one side must lead upward, higher into the mountains, and that meant the other side must have a lower entrance that they might get to.
And again, they were both very proud of their cleverness, as they found that same entrance for the mountain road only a half a mile’s walk from their missing bridge. And again, as they were choosing their steps over the empty paving stones on that ancient trail, but this same pride, in these happy discoveries, quickly diminished, once they saw just how far a distance that missing footbridge had spread across the open ravine.
���How do we even know there’s anything across there?��� Ti
mothy said, directing his hand out toward the other ledge, and letting his eyes follow down the steep walls to the bottom.
���Oh, don’t start.���
Barbara looked stern. And slightly, maybe deep down, so that even she did not fully realize her own emotions, she found it comforting for once to be the brave one in this circumstance.
This vacuous, awful cut in the mountain face before them, where the ancient rope bridge had once hung between the four pillars, it seemed like the worst leap imaginable. Thoughts of falling swirled inside Timothy’s head; And bits of that same fear he swallowed, and those made their way sinking down into his stomach, filling it with nerves, which in the end trickled into his legs, making them of no use at all.
���I’m not so sure about this,��� he said, as though breathing in his words at the end.
And afterward, Timothy had finally got the courage to express what he’d been feeling for some time.
���How do we even know the giants took her this way?���
Barbara’s eyes opened wide to give a well deserved scowl. ���We don’t,��� she answered quickly. ���And we can’t, not unless we make it over there,��� she continued, motioning her hand out across that despicable hole.
However, here, Timothy was quick to say that, ���No one could ever jump that far.���
But to that Barbara answered him, saying they didn’t have any choice, and that his grandmother needed them to be brave, at least a little, and she assured him they could make the leap, though they would need a full speed running start at it.
Timothy looked, once more, over the gaping crevasse.
���Are you serious?��� he said, mostly to himself.
���Watch me,��� Barbara answered, wiping her hair from her face.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 16