by Robert Beers
“I won't be able to eat all that.” Adam whispered to Charity.
“Eat what you can.” She whispered back. “Doesn't she remind you of someone?”
“I think so...” He watched the huge woman as she bustled about the cottage.
“Mrs. Feddelstone. The miller's wife. Remember her? She used to chase us and set her dogs after us for picking up loose grain?”
“Oh, yeah...” Adam tucked into his platter with a will.
The kitten crawled out from within its sling, and walked over to the food. The giantess clapped her hands. “A wee kitty after me food. Well, help yourself, little one. There's plenty to spare and more.”
The food was hot and delicately seasoned. Piles of fluffy potato pancakes, savory sausages, smoked fish of a sort they were unfamiliar with, but that the kitten could not get enough of, and heaps of root vegetables buried in hand-churned sweet butter made up the fare.
Adam and Charity ate and ate until they were full to the point of bursting and completely satiated. The giantess looked at them from behind a quilt she was working on as they pushed the platters away. “Ah, now, that's better, isn't it, my poppets? Let's get you into bed now, warm and snug, my dears, warm and snug.”
She turned back the covers of a bed large enough to sleep six, and patted the mattress.
“Here you go, my poppets, a nice warm bed for you both, and your wee black kitten there.” The object of her point burped through a loud purr.
“It's so big.” The overstuffed mattress stared back at them, the top of it several inches higher than their heads.
“Not to worry, me dear ones. You're not the first to have that wee bit of trouble. Here's a nice step stool me husband put up for that very thing.” She pulled a stepladder out from under the bed, and set it up next to their side.
The mattress was deep, soft and enfolding, and they soon found themselves drifting into blissful sleep. The kitten curled against the side of Charity's head, and grunted while still purring, its belly round and tight.
As he was falling asleep, Adam thought he saw another giant, a male, come into the cottage, and hand a sack to the giantess, and then sniff them and nod, but it could have been a dream.
* * * *
She finished up putting the children to bed and tucked them in. They were so gentle and helpless. It felt good doing for them, almost like having children of her own.
The door opened, and her husband came in from the rain. “How was the gatherin', me dear?” She asked him, as she cleared the last platter from the table.
He grunted in answer and handed her his sack while dipping a mug into a nearby barrel of dark ale. The sack contained the usual collection of farm animals and pets, their necks wrung.
She took it from her husband, and pointed to the bed. “I've a surprise for you, dear, a pair of tender young poppets and their wee kitten.”
He sniffed them and nodded. As he passed her, he kissed her on the cheek. “Aye, you're right, lassie, they'll make a fine stew.”
Charity woke to find herself naked and tied down to a hard, flat surface. The bodies of various animals hung head down from the ceiling high above her. Some of them were the kind usually kept as family pets.
“My kitten.” She struggled against the bonds, but they held fast.
“Naw, yer kitten's not there, lassie, nobbut a mouthful, if that, on her. I left her sleepin'.” The giant came into the room, stropping a large knife against a steel. It looked large enough to be a short sword. “But you two will be makin’ a fine stew, just like I told me missus.” He tested the edge of the knife with his thumb.
Charity shrieked at the sight of the knife, and thrashed against the ropes that held her down.
Adam woke to screams in the dark. Charity was in danger. He tried to get up, but something held him in place. She continued to scream, and he became desperate to get to her. Pain tore through his head like that time with the trolls, along with the feeling of being displaced from reality.
A loud curse in a basso voice came from outside the small room he was in. He tried to sit up again, and found he could, for whatever had been holding him was gone. He stood up and stumbled against the door, his feet still asleep from being so tightly bound. The door moved as he hit it. Whoever had tossed him into ... this closet ... had forgoten to lock it afterwards. He was stamping his feet to get feeling back in them when Charity screamed again.
Adam pushed the closet door open, and found his view blocked by a barrel, standing just outside the opening. There was enough room for him to squeeze between the door's edge and the barrel, so he started through. That was when he noticed his condition, naked as a jaybird. The disconnected feeling washed over him once again, but this time it went almost as quickly as it came.
The rope holding Charity dissolved into a flurry of small pieces and dust, and she rolled away from the knife as it thwacked into the cutting table. The giant shouted a frustrated curse, and tried once more to cut her as she rolled off to the floor.
She landed on her feet, still screaming, but now she was angry. How dare he try to butcher her like a rabbit! The floor held litter, most of it small items like potatoes, little hard apples and even some stones. She stooped and grabbed a stone. The giant roared satisfyingly with pain as it bounced off his cheek. Filled with a need for vengeance, Charity stooped again.
Where were his clothes? His sword? Adam felt as naked as he looked. At least his rock was still around his neck. He edged around the barrel, and was greeted with a view of Charity's bare backside as she pelted the giant with whatever was close at hand.
He saw his clothes. They lay piled next to Charity's behind the giant. A series of shelves rode the wall to the ceiling. Charity's quiver, her bow and her sword in its scabbard lay on the shelf next to the floor.
He had to get past the giant while Charity had him distracted, and from the looks of things, her pile of ammunition was getting low. He hissed at her under his breath. “Charity.”
She turned her head, and saw him. “Adam,” she shrieked. “Don't look at me. I'm naked.”
As if we haven't seen each other that way before. The thought flew through Adam's head, and then left, dismissed. “So am I, but we've got a bigger problem. Our clothes and weapons are on the other side of that.” Adam pointed at the giant bobbing and weaving as it tried to duck Charity's missiles. “Can you keep his attention a little longer?”
“I'll try. He's as slow as an ox. You just keep your eyes on our clothes.” She threw another rock.
The rock bounced off the giant's nose. When he yelped and held his offended member with both hands, Adam slipped around the cutting table, and ducked into the corner where the clothing lay. There was a hiss as he reached for his tunic. The kitten crouched behind the pile, her ears were flat against the side of her head, and she watched the giant with hate in her yellow eyes.
When Adam pulled the sword from the scabbard, it felt good in his hand, as if it belonged there. He turned to attack the giant from behind just in time to see Charity knocked down from a backhanded blow that caught her on the left side and shoulder. She yelped like a dog struck by a horse cart.
Something rocketed over Adam as he crouched, using his upper back like a springboard. It was the kitten, and she landed on the giant, and clawed her way up to his head. The giant screamed as the kitten tore at his eyes. Adam took the opportunity to try a slash at the monster. The tip of the sword scored a long gash across the belt line drawing blood. A blind swing caught Adam a glancing blow from one of the giant's flailing hands. He went down feeling like he'd been struck with a club, seeing spots. The ringing in his ears pushed all the other sounds into the background, and he felt like he might sick up.
“Adam!” Charity's yell caused him to look up just in time to drop back to the floor. The sword took over, like it had in Bustlebun's Inn. Parrying the Giant's knife blow off to the side. He'd swung at Adam with such force that the deflected blade buried itself six inches into the butcherblock table.
> As his opponent tried vainly to remove his knife from the block while fending off the mostly harmless attack by the kitten, Adam staggered back onto his feet. His head felt woozy, and sometimes there were two of what should only be one when he tried to focus on something.
Charity huddled against a flour sack, and felt her side, it was going to bruise, she knew it. The pain had begun, and she worked at not sobbing. Crying now would be the death of both of them.
“Gerofff! Geroff now, Yer damned mit!” The giant finally swept the kitten off his head, and turned to take down his other tormentor.
The sword pulled his hand toward the floor, and he dropped with it, feeling the wind of the giant's hand as it passed over him.
The monster snarled. “Stand still, blarst ye. Ya damned weeny deevil!”
Adam dodged another swing as he ducked around the chopping block one more time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pottery jug that should make a nice mess of shards sharp enough to slow the giant down. It was just plain luck that both he and Charity were able to move faster than their hungry host.
He swung the sword at the jug, and strong-smelling oil gushed out onto the plank wood floor of the pantry. Adam had to do a bit of fancy stepping to avoid the flood.
The giant wasn't as fortunate. A heel came down just as the oil slick spread across the floor, and both feet went out from under him. He fell backwards, totally out of control. A loud crack sounded through the pantry as his head connected with the edge of the chopping block. A shudder passed through the huge body, and then he lay still.
Charity limped out of her dark corner, cradling the kitten in her arms. “Is ... is he dead?”
Adam shrugged and turned back to where the clothes lay, and scooped up Charity's. He threw them at her. “Get dressed quickly before the other one shows up.” The wooziness was going, but his head still hurt like the pit.
The giantess opened the door as Adam closed the buckle on his sword belt. He stepped back into the shadows, pulling Charity with him, hoping they'd be hidden from her sight.
Their ex-hostess saw the giant lying in the oil. In the dim light, it looked like blood. Her scream was almost deafening in the close quarters. “My husband! My husband! You little monsters, you've killed him!”
Adam pulled Charity down behind a stand of potato sacks; in the poor lighting of the room they should be hidden enough for right now.
She tore the butcher knife out of the cutting table with maniacal strength, and started poking its blade into the shadows. “I'll kill you, you little bastards. I'll kill you and chop you into bait, I will. Into bait.” She sobbed hysterically as she hunted the killers of her husband.
The knife jabbed into the corner away from where the twins were hiding. A banshee howl answered the jab, followed by a black blur launching itself out of the shadow at the face of its tormentor. The giantess screeched and put her hands up to shield her face, dropping the knife as she did so.
With one more hiss, the kitten ran out the door the giantess had entered. Adam and Charity followed close behind.
The front door was closed, and Adam couldn't reach the latch at the top, even by jumping.
Charity could feel the bruising on her side heating up with the running. “Adam. We've got to get out of here.”
“I know. I know.”
They could hear the giantess coming out of the storeroom. Adam turned to look as he pushed Charity into the side room where the bed was kept. She had the knife back in her hand, waving it as she cursed them for being murderous little monsters.
“The Jakes.” Adam called to Charity, as he pushed her further from the enraged giantess.
“Oh, no! Not again!” Charity wailed and balked at Adam's push.
“We don't have any choice. Can you hold on to your bow and the kitten?” Charity had the kitten cradled in one of her arms. It hissed, screamed and yowled at the giantess as she chased them. The Jakes were behind a curtain in the back corner of the Bedroom, away from the fireplace. The curtain hid the sight, but not the smell. Made for giants, it should allow the twins to slip right through.
They made a circuit of the room that temporarily stuck their antagonist on the wrong side of the bed as they squeezed past the headboard and the wall. Adam pushed aside the curtain that hid the jakes from sight. The stool with the hole in it leading to the outside was fastened to the plank floor with stout pegs. He climbed up onto it as Charity came around the curtain still holding the kitten, stepped into the hole and fell.
Charity's “Oh Deity!” caught up with him as he hit bottom.
Chapter Four
Ethan swallowed more of the hard cider. Yes, he was decided. The time was long past for his desertion. He'd had his fill of Silgert, a filthy little town stuck on the far edge of nowhere. He'd sure as the pit had his fill of Vedder and his venomous sermons. He shook the flask, the slosh telling him there were only a couple of swallows left. Enough to drink to the end of his career as a watchman for the Baron of Spu.
* * * *
It was taking too long. Damn the pigeons and all who trained them, damn that brat for blocking his scry. How it had been done by one as raw and untrained as that one was, he'd never know, in fact he didn't want to know. All he wanted was to hear from Cloutier about the progress of those two so he could plan his revenge. He looked in the mirror. Now, undisturbed by shaping, it was merely beveled and silvered glass, but it revealed the truth, nonetheless. He traced the scars on his cheek with his fingertips. They would pay. Oh, yes. They would pay.
* * * *
After the third day on the path, the smell of their landing into the pile below the Jakes went away. Either that, or their sense of smell gave up and went away. That was Charity's explanation. She nearly hit him when he suggested the rapid healing of her bruises was the application of that particular ointment.
Signs of game began to show in the forest again, and Charity's bow added meat to their diet. Adam's skills at fire making continued to show the need for more practice, and it was a hungry couple of travelers who finally dug into the roast rabbit.
“Mmm, this is good.” Adam tore a bite out of his rabbit.
“Uncle used to say hunger is the best sauce.” Charity tossed a bit to the kitten who snatched it out of the air, and gobbled it down. “Ow.” She rubbed her arm.
“Still hurts to move, huh?”
“Your Uncle was a wise man.” The twins started at the voice. Charity dropped her rabbit and snatched up her bow. Adam used his free hand to grasp the hilt of his sword.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. May I come into the light?” The figure of an old man came forward into the flickering gleam of the campfire. His hair was white, long and blended into the beard covering his chest. He wore robes, rather than tunic and trousers, and a wide belt thick with pockets circled his waist. A staff was held in his right hand, the top showed an intricate design of leaves and berries beneath a carved wolf head.
Adam stood up, his hand still on the sword, and motioned to the fire with the hand that held the rabbit. “Please, share our fire.”
The old man came into the camp, and crouched down before the fire. He held his hands out, warming them. His eyes were a light blue in color, and laugh lines creased his face. He looked at them each in turn. “Thank you for your hospitality to an old man. May I know your names?”
Adam looked at Charity. Their recent experiences had taught them caution. He turned back to the old man. “Tell us yours, first, please, as well as where you come from.”
The old man chuckled and said, as if to himself. “The stranger should declare himself first, eh?” Then to Adam. “Very well, young man. You may call me Milward.” He bowed his head to both twins. “As to where I come from, that question begs many answers for one as old as I. If you mean, where did I come from to reach this fire? Well, my home is just over there.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I smelled your fire, and came to see who my new neighbors were.”
Adam nodded, considering what the
old man said. He sat back on the stump, put down the rabbit, and bowed his head to the old man. “My name is Adam.”
Charity bowed. “I'm Charity, his twin sister. Will you share our supper?”
Adam looked at the remains of his rabbit, and sighed.
Milward laughed at Adam's expression. “No, thank you, young lady. I'm not as hungry as that. At my age, one prefers good company to good food.” He leaned towards Adam. “You may finish you supper in good conscience, my lad. I'm quite full.” Adam's look of guilt caused him to laugh again.
Charity found herself taking to the old man. Rather than being threatening, he seemed friendly and inviting. He gave off a sense of being family, and he smelled nice, like Aunt's herb garden during harvest time. She wondered if it would be too presumptuous to ask if they could stay the night in his cave. Seeing the stars at night was fun for a while, but not when they rained on you.
Adam finished off the rabbit, and licked his fingers for dessert. “We're trying to find a village at the edge of the forest. We were told this path would take us there. You see, we're lost, the village could be our home.”
The old man sniffed. “From what I've seen of you, there's little chance of that.”
Charity gathered up the bones to bury them after giving the kitten the last of the scraps. “What do you mean by that?”
Milward smiled and leaned back on his elbow. “Your courtesy is my first clue. The folk of that village would sooner chew their tongues for supper than offer a stranger their scraps, much less an equal share of two scrawny rabbits.”
Charity muttered, “It was late, and they were all I could shoot before dark.”
Adam looked at Charity. “Another piece of evidence.”
Milward smiled to himself, and sniffed the night air. “It's going to rain soon. I had best get back to my nice, dry cave before these old bones get damp.” He stood up. “It was nice meeting you. Good night. Unless...” He turned back to face them. “You'd like to join me...”