by Adams, David
Silas sighed. “A few days rest would be best, but I fear you’re right. The sooner we move on, the better.”
“He’s tough,” Darius said, with some pride. “If we need to move on, he’ll not want to hold us up.”
“Any chance of convincing him to turn back?” Adrianna asked. “He won’t be much good with a sword for a while, and we will be following those giants north. Eventually they’ll stop, either to attack again or to draw a defensive line. Hopefully we’ll be able to slip through unseen, but if not…it might be an extremely tough situation.”
“No doubt,” said Darius. “But I know my brother, and he’d follow us even if we snuck off and tried to leave him here. Besides, him trying to return home alone would be perilous as well.”
“I agree,” Silas said with a knowing nod. “No reason to waste time on an argument with only one possible outcome. Let’s gather our things before Captain Faine has a change of heart, and once Luke awakes, we’ll see how soon we might be away.”
It was shortly after noon by the time Luke had roused himself and taken some food and water, and he managed to sit up and listen to all that had transpired while he had been starting his recovery. Upon hearing of Captain Faine’s assessment of the situation and decision to allow them to depart, he cut in for the first time. “We should be off swiftly, while we can.”
“Our thoughts exactly,” Darius said. “As soon as you’re ready to travel.”
Luke stood, wincing against the pain and allowing his brother to steady him. As soon as the world about him stopped spinning, he said, “No time like the present. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” Adrianna asked. “Another day is unlikely to—”
“My legs are fine. Just don’t ask me to carry any of you. You’ll all need to pull your own weight from now on.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Silas replied, playing along. “But no promises. If the going gets rough, I’ll likely be hiding behind you.”
Darius rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”
Chapter 15: Into the Far North
They covered just over eight miles before they halted for the night, finding a pace that, while not as aggressive as might be desired, allowed them to make progress without pushing Luke too hard. Captain Faine had been good to his word. They had left the camp unchallenged, receiving only nods of acknowledgement as they left, and the mounted patrol that passed them halfway through their day’s march had simply slowed enough to recognize them, then saluted and rode on.
Dawn brought thick clouds and the promise of rain, the air heavy with moisture. It was Luke who awoke first, and he took the opportunity to rise and slowly stretch his aching muscles. He took as deep a breath as he dared—too deep and his ribs would cry out in pain—and eyed the sky, grateful for the shelter of the clouds but hoping the rain would hold off. Wet clothes made a long march all the more miserable.
Darius saw his brother eying the morning and joined him. “You know you should be resting until we’re ready to go.”
Luke gave a fractional shrug with his shoulders, a delicate, safe gesture. “Probably thought it was more important to show you all I’m prepared to move on. I don’t want to delay us any further.”
“Fair enough. I’d clap you on the back in a show of brotherly love, but that’d probably show me something else.”
“I’m not saying there’s no pain, just that I can deal with walking. All bets are off if you slap me on the back. Who knows, maybe in an insane rage fueled by pain, I’ll draw my sword and hack away at you. If I was you, I wouldn’t want to take such a huge risk.”
“I’m glad that giant didn’t dislodge your sense of humor…such as it is.”
“Nice,” Luke replied with a smirk.
They passed that day unchallenged and unmolested, even the weather cooperating, only a few brief showers falling, barely enough to wet their clothes. As they resumed their journey north the next morning, they found they had camped only a few miles from a city, one in which the citizens for some reason did not light well at night. As they approached, they saw why.
The city was a ruin. Many of the buildings and houses were still standing, but none were undamaged. As they continued to draw near, they could see it had yet to be abandoned, many people wandering through the mess, some moving with a purpose, trying to start putting their lives back together, others aimlessly, lost and unsure what to do. A small group was at the eastern edge of the city, working with shovels to dig graves. A pile of bodies was near them, and several more dead were being added, brought on carts while mourners followed behind.
“Giants must have hit here, either coming or going,” Darius said.
“I think you’re right,” Barlow said. “I believe this is Bloomfield, or what’s left of it.” He pointed further west where the remains of the huge wall that connected the twin cities of Bloomfield and Brimfield formed a barrier to any invasion from the Far North. Obviously, it had not stopped the giants. The near section of the wall, like the town of Bloomfield, was a ruin.
“Fate is a strange thing,” Silas said. “I’ve been wondering how we might pass into the north. The wall is well-guarded, and we could not have hoped to pass through easily. Looks like the giants did us this one favor.”
“I still suggest we move further west, out of sight of the people of Bloomfield,” Adrianna suggested. “I’d rather move unseen if given the choice.”
“Agreed,” Silas replied.
It turned out there were many choices for passing the wall. The giants had not merely breached it in one or two spots, but rather had made a point of bringing much of it down, likely so that the damage could not be swiftly repaired. It spoke of better planning than any would have given the beasts credit for, and the promise of further raids in the future. Here and there a group of two or three soldiers was spotted, but any attempt to reconstruct the wall would require far more resources than Dalusia currently had available, as would any attempt to guard the length of the line the wall had covered. Just as the companions could choose a spot to move north unchallenged, any raiding party coming south could do the same.
After full darkness fell, the few troops still watching over the wall were made known by the small fires they lit. Apparently they were unwilling to brave a further attack from the north with no more than the light of the moon. The travelers chose a spot to cross that was well away from any human occupation and where the wall had been smashed thoroughly to the ground.
In its former glory the wall rose over forty feet high, and was actually two walls of thick, carved stone with a stone “roadway” some fifteen feet wide near the battlements atop the structure, which gave the defenders a way to move easily along its length. Now the remains sat in large, uneven chunks, distinguishable from the great boulders that had brought it down only by the white-gray color and the occasional smooth sides that indicated the earlier work of human hands. The companions picked their way through the rubble, still no easy task especially in the half-light of the moon, the ruins filled with deep, haphazard shadows. Twenty minutes after they started across they finally cleared what was left of the once mighty barrier.
Darius paused and looked back, the wall, and therefore human lands, now behind them. “The Far North,” he announced, realizing they had crossed a less visible but no less real line of another sort.
“The far south of the Far North, one might say,” Luke put in.
They started off, but came to a halt after only a few moments. A low wooden structure was before them, and they moved around it slowly, before Silas put his finger on what it was.
“A catapult,” he concluded.
And so it was, like in design to those used by the armies in the south, but built and used by the northern giants, this machine was far larger than any they had seen, so large they at first had been unable to tell what it was, being thrown off by its scale.
“This explains much,” Barlow said. “As strong as the giants are, I did not understand how they did so much damage to the wall, and appa
rently in a short period of time, otherwise Captain Faine and the Dalusians would have been warned of their coming much sooner.”
“I expect if we traveled along this side of the wall we’d find many more such devices,” Darius said.
“Based on how badly the wall has been crushed, I would agree with you,” Barlow said.
“These giants are much different than stories tell,” said Adrianna. “Organized. Building catapults. It can bode no good for our kind.” The dour expressions on her companions’ faces told her that all agreed with her assessment.
“Well, what are we waiting for,” Luke said with a laugh. “Let’s go find them.”
Despite the obvious irony in his tone, he led and they followed. It was what they had to do.
*
For a week they had traveled north, through Elysium’s Neck and then into the Far North proper. The land had become hillier and trees more frequent, the plain now far behind them and the Long Shadow Mountains rising ominously before them, towering black shapes visible through what was left of the late summer haze. The giants cut a wide swath, and evidence of their passage was easy to spot, bent tree branches even indicating the direction of their travel. The companions covered ground at a decent pace, more so as Luke continued the long, slow process of healing from his injuries, but none of them could tell whether they were gaining or falling further behind the giants, whose behaviors on a march—how fast they moved, how long they rested—was unknown to them. The real question was where would the behemoths turn and make a stand. The companions’ best guess was the mountains, where the giants lived. Unanswered was how they were going to pass the Long Shadow range and its oversized inhabitants.
That day, a little before noon, any hope that all the giants had fled back to the mountains were dashed. Four of the monsters manned an outpost of sorts, an area they had cleared halfway up a rise to give them room to operate. Three hill giants were playing some sort of game, rolling bones and guffawing at one another’s luck or skill. The fourth, a stone giant, was asleep, his back propped against a pile of boulders he had stacked for ready use. This was no ambush—the giants made no attempt to keep out of sight—but clearly no counter-attacking human army was going to approach the giants’ mountain home unseen.
The companions huddled in a small copse of trees, watching the giants for a time. “Think there’s more in the area?” Darius asked.
“Hard to say,” Barlow replied. “Either way, we should work our way around if we can.”
“We could use a distraction,” Silas stated. “A lot of open up space up ahead. All it takes is one spotting us.”
“So who’s going to volunteer to be the distraction?” Luke asked.
“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Silas said, turning to Adrianna.
She, in turn, looked at Barlow. “With your permission.”
“You needn’t ask for that.”
“I’d still like to have it.”
Barlow grimaced, but nodded at her to go ahead.
With words spoken so gently none of the others could hear, Adrianna cast a spell. One of the boulders the sleeping giant rested against suddenly lurched out of place, and half the stack came crashing down, several rolling away down the hill. As the stones tumbled, a small flock of birds rose screaming into the sky. The hill giants reacted to the commotion by leaping to their feet and grabbing their clubs. A moment later the alarm left their faces and they were laughing at their companion.
The stone giant’s arm throbbed painfully, as he had been caught between two of the rolling boulders, but now his pride was stung worse. “I no make mistake stacking rocks.” The statement was an accusation.
“We no move dumb rocks,” one of the hill giants answered, the laughter gone from his voice and his face. “Rocks bad weapons. Club better.”
The stone giant responded to this by hurling one of the rocks at the hill giants, who scrambled out of the way just in time. Once the immediate danger of the flying boulder was past, they looked at one another, then gave a shout and charged with clubs raised. The stone giant, rather than fleeing, grabbed another rock.
“That’s our signal to go,” said Adrianna.
The travelers were well out of sight before the giants had settled their differences.
*
Captain Faine couldn’t shake the feeling. His chest felt tight and his throat constricted, the bile that threatened to lurch out at any moment choked off. If it was just him, if his fellow officers felt different, he might be able to think his way around it, but the more he tried, the more his whirl of thoughts settled on the same desperate conclusions. He and his men were doomed, doomed unless they acted, and even then…
News from the east wasn’t good, Four Creek having fallen, and the Longvalian army possibly moving toward them. The giants hadn’t reappeared, but the wall was ruined, and there was little to hold them back if they moved south again. The truce with the Westphalians felt less certain than ever, the dead buried and the wounded recovering, the armies simply waiting for one or the other to make a move. Faine knew the Westphalians had superior numbers, even here in his own land, and since the fall of Four Creek he had nowhere to turn for reinforcements. Even if the foreign armies withdrew, and the giants remained in their mountain dwellings, the land was so sick he doubted he could feed his men through the winter. Everywhere he turned he found only hopelessness.
Despair settled upon him, deep and dark, a chill that went into the marrow of his bones. Those who knew the Captain wouldn’t have believed such a thing could happen. They’d seen him rally his men against terrible odds, find a way when others had given up all hope. But the men who had served with Captain Faine the longest felt the same utter despair, and only saw the confirmation of their own doom in their Captain’s pale, drawn face.
Faine glanced at the maps spread on the table, useless really. He knew there was little that could be used to advantage here on the plain. He felt a surge of bitter rage, and gripped the edge of the table, ready to flip it, to cry out to the heavens and ask why he had been left to such a fate, but he caught himself, some sense of pride and self-discipline piercing his personal gloom, if only for a moment. He steadied himself, keeping some of his composure, but the darkness in his thoughts wouldn’t be so easily cast aside. The table remained upright, but the decision he had reached would not change. They would attack in the morning, truce or not. Surprise was the only chance they had, and a slim one at that.
The leader of the Westphalians was having shockingly similar thoughts. Far from home, his supply line already thin and constantly threatened, he could wait no longer. Retreat was not an option. They would attack in the morning.
As the sun edged above the horizon the next day, the two armies flew at one another, simultaneously breaking their truce. It would be a bloody, cruel fight, with little quarter given, and regardless of who won, misery, pain, and death would be the order of the day. Praad lingered for a moment, watching as the first blows fell, wishing he could stay through the day, to drink in all the glorious suffering, but he had tarried long enough. He had tracked those with the book to the Dalusian camp, and knew they had gone north from here, but the opportunity presented by these two armies sitting so close and so uneasy was too much for him to pass up. It had cost him less than a day, and as the sounds, sights, and smells of battle filled his senses, he knew it had been worth it.
Praad smiled, then turned north to resume his pursuit.
Chapter 16: Amon Val
For three days since they had encountered the first giant outpost the companions had managed to continue their journey undetected. They had worked around two other outposts, and avoided a half-dozen roaming individuals or groups, their small numbers and small size, at least when compared to the giants, aiding them in their quest to remain hidden. As the mountains loomed up, becoming more forbidding and real each day, they spent nearly as much time moving east as north, hoping they could pass around the mountains along the shore if they could not find any ob
vious passage through them. The geography of the Far North they all knew to some degree from stories or books, but details were something few humans had been able to experience firsthand for decades. They were making their way toward the elves’ home on instinct and, they hoped, some good fortune.
The foothills of the mountains, and the mountains themselves, were heavily wooded, so they had plenty of cover as they neared the giants’ home. The Long Shadow Mountains were true to their name, wide, high peaks that reached breathtakingly skyward, and stretched from coast-to-coast some hundred miles above Elysium’s Neck. South of the range the sun was free to cast its light, but to the north the mountains created a band of shadow that stretched almost unbroken for three hundred miles.
Luke’s recovery continued apace, helped along by his youth and the healing arts of both Silas and Barlow. He had cast aside the sling for good yesterday morning, and the effect on both his spirits and the quickness of his step was apparent, though no one chose to comment on it. He still winced when he needed to move suddenly, whether hiding from an approaching giant or working his way down a step grade, but otherwise appeared to be in good health. Whatever fatigue the others might have been feeling from their trials and journey they kept to themselves, none wanting to complain, and all thinking Luke had gotten much the worse of it.
Seeing the improvement in his brother was a great relief to Darius, and as the days passed and they walked at the feet of the imposing mountains, his focus shifted to the great obstacle before them. Any path that might lead up into the mountains carried with it an obvious danger—it was certainly created by the tread of passing giants. Even ignoring that, his eyes could never follow these occasional paths to such a point that he thought it worthy of possible use; none seemed to lead to anything nearing a passage through the dense mountains before them. Since none of the others pointed out one of the paths, he had to assume they had reached the same conclusion. Seeing no way up and over, he often strained to see ahead to the northeast, hoping there to spot the end of the range and the flat horizon of the sea, but such a sight was still likely several days away. His concern about what they might find there, growing in his mind with each passing hour and with each path into the mountains that seemed to lead to nothing, finally made him speak.