The Giant from the Fire Sea, page 13
* * *
Newton awoke, his body itching madly. The pain from the Voice was back to a low murmuring crackle. This makes me turn now? That is NOT of a good thing! What if he’d turned at the wrong time? How long did it last? The giant stood up. His arms and legs were growing more stiff, his skin more hard. Cannot be of worry now, he thought. He walked to a clearing and looked out at the bright red sky on the horizon. The sun had not yet risen, but the moon moved on. It was very early morning. Wispy streaks of clouds crawled high above. The giant sniffed. He was still alone.
He had no idea when the rain would actually start, or if it would come at all, but this was his last and only chance. He barreled through the woods, knocking over trees, rolling boulders, and scraping deep furrows in the trail as he went along. Newton wanted to be sure Crag and the others went this way even after they could no longer smell him. This would take them down the other side of the mountain, away from Blackpoint Falls. While his plan would delay his own return to the mans and womans, it should lead the giants far away from them. And, he thought, it could save this giant’s own grubbly hide.
The red morning sky slowly muddied into a smoky blue. Heavy, murky clouds slid across the valley. Time to stop. He turned around and retraced his steps. Newton had scratched images of the ringed moon onto boulders along the way. He knew the giants would not know their meaning but hoped the mystery of it would make them pause, maybe even frighten them some, if just for a moment.
The sky had grown dark in the time it took to make it back to the head of his false trail. Clouds the color of wet ash swirled low overhead. A strong breeze stirred the tops of the trees. A storm was coming. But when? He took the time to make extra sure they would not miss where he wanted them to go. The plan was to stay just ahead of them until the rain came down, and then cut uphill, off the false trail, as soon as they could no longer smell him. He’d be extra careful not to leave behind any visual clues of his new route. Then he would skirt the side of the mountain to make his way to the falls.
“Broont … oont … oont…! We come for you … ou … ou…!” echoed a voice in the valley. “We know you are close … ose … ose…”
Aphanfel. Newton looked up. Still no rain. This was not going to work, and now he had lost a whole morning he could have spent escaping. He looked up the mountain. Trees moved in the distance. Greyelm’s head floated above the canopy.
“Broont … oont … oont…! We come … ome…! We come to break … eak your bones … ones … ones…! We come to make … ake you stones … ones … ones…!”
Newton paced in circles at the trailhead. Do I run? Do I let them get more close? He didn’t want to turn off the false trail from its end. It would take away his head start. The sooner he could get himself going in the right direction, the more ground he could put between them—if they kept going in the wrong direction when the trail ended. If it were raining. If … if. IF! It is not raining! Without the storm, he was finished either way. He picked up a rock and threw it up at the clouds, hoping to poke a hole in it.
“Let your water out!” he shouted.
He would wait, but not much longer. Newton could see the Puncher. Whether or not it saw him, he didn’t know. The giant sniffed and picked up a faint, pungent odor. Haroomph … if this giant can smell that giant, that giant can smell this giant … He turned back toward his trap. Without the rain, he was back to trying to outrun them. I will have to go this way, he thought. They cannot know where this giant truly wishes to go. Newton took a deep breath and began to run down the trail. Then he stopped. No … No …
“NO!” he rumbled. “NO! No more running!” Father would not run. Mother would not run. Ooda would not run. PRYAT WOULD RUN—RIGHT AT THEM! This giant will stand. This giant will fight.
Then Newton felt it burst into his body for the first time in his life. Other giants felt it often—Pryat very. He usually made a point to steer clear of them when they did. The squall, it was called, the kill-or-die madness to which giants find themselves prone. It is as much part of them as their arms and legs. It is what makes giants what they are. It is what nearly thrumped them into bones and dust countless times in history.
It did not matter that he was outnumbered. If he was going to be captured, it wouldn’t be as some frightened moorhare. He was tired, bloody, and beaten. It did not matter. Pain scorched his insides. It did not matter. He was a giant and he would die as a giant, and maybe take some with him. He wrapped his arms around a tree and tore it from the ground. Newton heaved it over his head and waited. If not for the madness, he’d be surprised he was smiling.
Greyelm was the first to come. The Puncher tromped through the trees, making no effort to go around them. In a few short moments, it was upon him.
Newton heard it, pattering on the leaves. Then he felt it. Raindrops. The clouds tore open, dropping a torrent of rain on the mountainside. Rivulets of water surged around the giant’s feet. Haroomph, thought Newton, pushing back the madness. Maybe this is not the time to fight?
Greyelm charged at him. Newton hurled the tree at it, knocking it to the wet ground. The Puncher landed on its back. It struggled to rise on the slippery, moss-covered rocks. Newton turned and ran down the trail. He looked back and saw Aphanfel help up the fallen giant. The rain was falling so hard, he could barely see where he was going, but he had made his trail easy to follow. They would be right behind him. Newton sniffed. He could smell nothing but the dizzyingly sweet, scent-masking downpour. He stepped off the trail and ducked behind a pile of boulders. The squall inside him was gone, almost as quickly as it came. It would not be of help to him, so he let it go. He had heard that could not be done. But he had heard a lot of things that were not of truth and yet said to be so.
Greyelm splashed past him, followed by Aphanfel. And then, limping along, came Crag. None saw or smelled him.
Where is Marlite? wondered Newton. He waited a bit longer. When she failed to show, he turned and picked his way, as gingerly as a giant’s boots could take him, up the mountain.
EIGHTEEN
An Unexpected Friend
The villagers gathered around the fallen Puncher.
“Is it dead?” someone asked.
Bonnie Mullein had run back to the falls after the Puncher marched past her. The girl squeezed through the crowd, who seemed eager for a look, but from a safe distance. She cautiously approached its head.
“Maybe you are close enough?” warned Bill Mullein, her father. Bonnie ignored him, as she usually did.
She picked up a stick and poked the Puncher, snapping the stick. Flintoak had not moved since collapsing. Its eyes remained open but appeared frozen in their deep sockets like balls of ice.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Doesn’t look like it’s breathing.”
“Do they even breathe?” asked Lord Ellery.
“I don’t know that, either,” said Bonnie. “It didn’t turn to stone, though.”
“They breathe,” said Lady Ellery. “But this one has breathed its last.”
“What befell this creature?” The lord turned to Jat. “I thought you said a scare enstoneates them.”
“I just told you what Newton told me once. It didn’t turn it to stone, but it did stop it.”
Suddenly, the Puncher’s mouth moved. They all jumped back.
Lord Ellery shrieked, “It lives yet!”
The lips opened, and out squeezed a stout young man. He was covered head to toe in brown slime and chunks of animal parts.
“Budge!” shouted Bonnie. She ran up and embraced her fellow deputy. “Ugh, you’re disgusting!”
“Apparently they don’t chew their food,” he said.
“What was it like in there?” asked Allander Quint. “The other person … Did you see … were you alone in…?”
“You do not want to know, Lander,” said Budge. Jat walked up to him and shook his hand.
“I can’t believe you pulled us out of the way of this thing. You saved our lives, Budge. Thank you!”
The deputy shrugged. “Tell my dad that. Maybe now he’ll let me quit.”
* * *
Elspeth Bowrider, the village healer, returned from attending Constable Stoggin.
“How is he?” asked Lady Ellery.
She shook her head sadly. “Thumbridge is with him. He lost a father today. We lost a very good man.” The group went silent.
“Now what?” asked Bonnie, wiping a tear from her eye. “Should I go back to my post? There might be more of them coming.”
“I think so,” said Jat. “I’ll go with you. I want to go back to the village. I think they will come through there first if they decide to head here, which I think they will. This thing left a path an ocean wide.”
“I want you to stay here,” said Fira, throwing a disapproving look at Bonnie. The girl shrugged, and Fira turned back to her son. “There’s nothing you can do back home.” Jat started to protest but was stopped by his mother’s glare. He looked over to Bonnie, who nodded in agreement.
“Are we even safe here anymore?” asked Fenton Quigley. He couldn’t take his eyes off the giant.
“If this one couldn’t reach us, then perchance the others, too, may find themselves unable,” said Lady Ellery.
Flora walked up for a closer look at the Puncher. “Our giant was able to fit in the cavern,” said Flora. “Who’s to say the other ones cannot?” No one had an answer.
“Yeah, that, and the entrance is a lot bigger now,” said Bonnie. “If the constable didn’t stop this thing…”
“I wasn’t made for this,” said Lord Ellery. “This is a far skippy-step from settling boundary disputes or … who owes whom coppers, or … or flower worms.”
“We never thought you were much good at those things, either,” said Flora. Lord Ellery sniffed and turned away. “Our giant said we should wait here. I think we should,” she added.
“What if you and I were to return home,” said the lord to his wife. “There is no good reason for us to be here.”
“Don’t you dare say that a second time!” scolded Lady Ellery. “We shall do this together. And we are all staying right here!”
“Then that is what shall be done, then,” snipped Ellery.
It was decided that with the runners keeping watch along the trail, they all didn’t have to wait crammed into the cavern. Though some chose to do so. A few families decided to take their chances away from the rest, reasoning, perhaps correctly, that being part of a crowd would make them easier to find.
Constable Stoggin was carried inside the cave. He would be buried back in town when it was safe to return. He’d spent his entire life there and died carrying out the charge he had proudly accepted: to protect the people.
* * *
The next morning, Jat left the cavern for some fresh air. Suddenly, he was shoved from behind. He landed on his face, splitting his lip. The boy rolled over to see Durd standing above him.
“You’re alive!” said Jat.
“Not because of you, Sootyboy. It was your monster friends that did this to us. They crushed our home. My brother…”
“They’re not my friends, Durd, and you know it. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not sooty anymore. You’re looking more filthy than I am, or anyone here,” said Jat, standing up. “I’m not going to take this from you. Especially not now!”
“Neither am I,” said Mason Twirp, stepping up beside him.
Little Ran, who was not much bigger than Abeleena, was at his side. “Three to one,” he said.
“Pshh … I can take both of you. Little Ran, you don’t even count.” Durd picked up a heavy stick. He walked up to Jat and pressed his face into his. “You still stink,” he said. He pulled away and shoved him again, knocking him onto his back. Jat jumped up and was about to plow into the other boy, when he saw someone he recognized in the distance.
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“HEY! DURD!” came a shout.
Durd turned around. “Sack! You’re alive?”
Sack ran up to his brother and punched his shoulder. “You’re alive, too? Ma?”
“Yeah, we were out back when that thing crushed our house. Thought you were inside! Then we took the back trails to here. Got here this morning.” Durd turned and faced the other three. “Two to TWO,” he said with a grin. “You still don’t count, Little Ran. Did you want to find any more friends for us to knock around? To make it even? I was going to do it because I was mad, but now I’m happy, so it’ll be more fun.” He wound up, ready to swing the stick. Sack leapt forward and tackled his brother. “What are you doing, Sack?”
Sack got up and ran at Jat. He wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up in the air. Sack was nearly twice his weight and squeezed the breath out of the boy. He set him back on the ground.
“You saved my life against that thing,” he said. “I owe you. I owe you a lot!”
“Erm … you’re welcome?”
Durd got to his feet. “Dirty Sootyboy saved your life? What are you talking about?”
Sack spun around to his brother and poked him in the chest with his finger. “You call him that again, and I’ll knock your head off.” He grabbed his brother by the collar and led him back to go look for his ma.
The three boys stood there, wide-eyed, in silence. In the distance they heard, “Sootyboy saved your…? OOF! Sorry, okay! Okay!”
* * *
Two days passed. Jat, Fira, and Abeleena sat against the outer wall of the cavern, sharing a heel of bread. Like most of the villagers, they wanted to stay within quick running distance to the entrance behind the falls. It had rained hard the day before and the falls roared and churned with the extra volume of water. There was no going in or out without getting soaked.
“I keep thinking of how brave you were, Jat, riding that thing here the other day,” said his mother. “It’s hard to think of your son in that kind of danger. I keep trying not to, but then my heart swells with pride. And then that turns to anger. Aagh! You shouldn’t do these things! Just be a normal kid!”
Jat took in a deep breath and let it out. He looked down at his torn-off nails. “I’m not brave. If only you knew how scared I was,” he said. “I didn’t even know you could be that scared!”
“But that’s what makes a person brave; doing things they have to do even when they’re scared. You’ve always been like that. It’s why my hair turns gray.”
“Mother … I’m thinking of leaving soon—if we make it through this.”
“I know. It’s been coming. That big, dumb giant filled your head with adventures. But your father left his mother once. I left mine. It is how it is.”
“That’s exactly what the ‘big, dumb giant’ said. You’re not mad?”
Fira smiled, though there was a sadness behind it. “Mad? No. Sad? Yes. You are a good son, Jat. A good … man. Your father would be so proud of you. You took care of your family. You gave up being a kid because you had to. But this village is too small for you. I know you need to find your own life. And when you do, you will come home—often!—and tell me about it. You’ll share it with your old mother.”
Jat’s eyes were welling with tears. He looked away so she wouldn’t see them. “I will, Mother.” He ran his sleeve across his face. “Still, it’s hard to imagine actually setting out. I think of it and get excited. I picture myself in places, having adventures, seeing things that I don’t even know exist. Then … I think of not seeing you, and I don’t know if I can do it. It’s easy to think these things. It’s hard to actually do them.”
“Okay, don’t leave, then,” said his mother, bumping him playfully with her shoulder. “It’s settled.”
“I … you’ll still have Abeleena.”
Fira gave her daughter a squeeze. “For now, at least. And, for now, I still have both of you.”
“Newton!” said Abeleena.
“Well, no,” said Fira. “I won’t have Newton. He is his own man … giant.”
Abeleena pointed to the trees in the distance. “Mama! Newton!”
Jat jumped to his feet. Newton’s head crested the treetops across the valley. He was moving very fast.
“Newton is coming!” shouted the boy.
A roar of excitement rose from the townspeople. They crowded in for a better view by the edge of the river. The giant stumbled through the trees and was soon standing among his friends. He looked far worse for wear than when they’d last seen him. The parts of his face not caked in blood were covered with cuts, mud, leaves, and bruises. The hand he’d used to punch through the rubble was nearly twice its already-enormous size. He held it cradled to his chest. One eye was swollen shut. As soon as he saw the Puncher, he rushed toward it, fists raised in the air. He soon saw that it held no threat.
“I am of a thought you killed it,” he said. “I did not think it to be a possible thing. How?”
“Constable Stoggin,” said Lady Ellery, and she filled the giant in on what had happened.
“He was the big one in this village—this land-world,” said Newton sadly. “I stand small next to him.”
“Where are the other giants?” asked Jat.
“They come,” said Newton. “I tried to lead them away but only slowed them down. I will keep them after me. You must stay here. Hide in the big cave. I will let them see me and make them chase. It is almost over.”
“And when they catch you?” asked Jat. “Why do I have to keep asking you that? I’m so tired of it! You should care as much about that as I do!”
“They will come close, but they will not catch me. And they are of too much a mind to grab this giant to notice you. And…” Newton hesitated. Should I tell them? “They are hungry to … eat mans and womans. It is my regret and blame … They know about you now.”
“They would have figured out that someone lived in those houses they crushed,” said Flora.
“Oh no! They crushed your houses? Pound their bones, this must end! But I will lead them away to my home by the Fire Sea.”
