The Giant from the Fire Sea, page 14
“Um … what about this?” asked Lord Ellery, pointing to the dead Puncher.
“Harooomph … That is a problem,” said the giant. He could not leave Flintoak here. The other giants would be curious about what had happened to him and might stick around long enough to sniff out the humans. “I will drag him away. This is a big one, though. More and more am I wishing I was a bigger giant.”
“I do not think you will be returning,” said Lady Ellery.
“I do not think I will,” said Newton. “I feel that I am of a need to speak with you more, Lady Ellery.”
“Perhaps you may at another time, good giant. Be of strong heart. It has brought you this far.”
“None of this was your fault,” said Fira. “You are a kind … giant. I truly wish you peace in your life. You have earned it.”
“Thank you, Fira. Thank you all for your friendship. I wish you were not punished for it. Abeleena, give your mother many smiles. She will return them to you.” The little girl hugged his finger. Then Newton saw Flora. She stood in silence, with that same unreadable face, her arms hugging her body. The giant pointed to her, and then to his heart, and then to the sky. He smiled at his teacher. She nodded and smiled back. Newton straightened up slowly.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jat.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re moving funny. Slow and shaky.”
“Stiff,” said the giant. “It has been a busy few days, Jat.”
“Let’s go,” said the boy.
“No. You will stay.”
“He’s right, Jat,” said his mother.
“Mother, I brought him to us, and I’m going to see him off. It’s important. I am going with him.”
“No, you’re…” Fira closed her eyes and sighed through clenched teeth. Then she stepped forward and embraced her son. “Promise you will come back,” she whispered.
“I promise.”
“Jat,” began Newton.
“I’m not staying. Let’s go. And let’s go now! We have a Puncher to load.”
“Load?”
“Do you want to drag that thing, or…” Jat pointed to the two large wagons Newton had used to carry some of the people here. The giant let out a sigh of relief that nearly blew the boy off his feet.
NINETEEN
A Few Happy Memories
Newton pulled the dead Puncher down the long trail that led back to the village. Bonnie and Jat rode on the edge of one of the wagons, feet hanging over the side. Neither wanted to be sitting that close to the creature, but it was the only way they could keep up with Newton. Bonnie was going to replace the boy watching her post along the trail. If the giants changed course and headed up through the village, she wanted someone fast, namely herself, to warn the people.
“You got another fat lip,” she said to Jat.
“I know.”
“I know how it happened. I also know how you saved his brother’s life.”
“Who told you?”
“Durd. He said he wants to shake your hand, but he didn’t think you would.”
“He’s right,” said Jat.
“So you’re kind of a hero now, huh. You fight with bullies. You save lives. You ride giant tree things—I saw you. I couldn’t believe it! Who are you, Jat? When did this happen?”
Jat looked at Bonnie, who was smiling broadly. “You’re making fun of me, I know it.”
“No, Jat, I’m not! Your hair is clean. Your face is … I can see it now…” She sniffed. “You don’t smell like a fireplace anymore. You impress me.”
Jat turned red. “Why were you always nice to me? I mean before, when everyone pretty much stayed away?”
“I don’t know. I’m just nice. I’m nice to everyone.”
Jat laughed. “Oh no, you’re not!”
“Well, is that a nice thing to say?”
“Yeah, well…”
“I’m jumping off here,” said the girl.
“Newton, stop,” Jat shouted up to the giant. Newton waited while she climbed down.
“You be careful, Bonnie,” said the boy.
“No, you be careful! You should have stayed back with the others. What good do you think you can do against giant monsters?”
“Newton needs me. He’s in this alone, and I don’t want him to be. A man stands with his friends, Bonnie.”
Bonnie laughed. “If we all survive this, the next barn dance? I’m saving the first dance for…” She poked him in his chest. “You.”
Jat blushed again. “You better save all the dances for me.”
“Whoa! Bold man now that he’s a hero. You stay safe, Jat. I mean it!”
“I will. You too.”
Newton got them moving again. For a while he said nothing as Jat looked back, watching Bonnie fade into the distance.
“My friend can ride a Puncher’s ankle, but is of a fear to embrace a girl-womans,” he finally said.
“Shut up,” said Jat.
They passed through the deserted village, much of it unrecognizable. Flintoak had done a thorough job tearing it apart. It would take years to rebuild. There was no need for this, thought Newton sadly. Why? The occasional goat or chicken wandered skittishly through the empty dirt lanes, the few stray animals that had escaped the Puncher’s notice. Ned Donnerly’s rooster still sat on the weathervane where the bird always sat, despite the fact that the house it was attached to was on its side.
“Should we leave this thing here?” asked Jat. He hopped down from the wagon.
“We could,” said Newton. “It is far enough from the falls. I go back to my home now. I need to gather my things.”
“For what?”
“I am leaving, Jat.”
“I know. But to where? Are we going to hide in the mountains?”
“No. They would just keep looking for me. They would find more mans and more womans and … you know. It would not be good. I am going back to the Great Sea. I will make sure they know I escape. They must leave here—your land—and chase me home.” Newton sighed. “The giants chase. Newton runs. And so it goes.”
“How? You can’t bring a raft. It would burn in the Fire Sea before you got there.”
“The giants left their floating trees at the edge of the sea. One waits for me now, to bring me back.”
“Okay, then how will I go? I can’t cross the Fire Sea.”
“No, my friend Jat cannot come with me this time. I go to find my other friend, Pryat. He went the way of the ice stream. I must find him before…”
“Before what?”
Newton touched his belly. “There is a … poison in this giant … since the Iron Thorn. You know this. It eats and eats. Soon there will be nothing for it to feed on. It has begun to turn me to stone, I am of a thought.”
Jat hollered and began pounding and kicking the dead Puncher’s hand. Newton stood silently, watching. The boy kept at it until he exhausted himself. He slid down to the ground, out of breath.
“There has to be a way for me to come with you,” he said. “You will need my help. You always do. I teach you things.”
“You do. What you taught your friend about the ring around the moon saved his life.”
“Yeeeah … I wasn’t going to say this, because it worked, but you should know that it’s not always true. Sometimes it means rain is coming, but that could be in a day or two. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all. You were just lucky—we all were.”
“If I had known this, I do not know what else I would have done. Maybe not knowing a thing can make one act as if he does. And maybe, on certain times, that is enough.”
“Maybe. Newton, there has to be a way I can come with you. We have to find a way to cure you. There is a way, but we just don’t know it yet.”
“I have thought on this, but my head is an empty bowl of answers,” said the giant. “And do you not remember what you promised Fira, your mother? That you would return?”
“I will, but I did not say when,” said the boy.
“Tricks with tricky words … Come with me to my home. We will say goodbye there.”
Jat sat a while longer, stubbornly. Then he stood and followed the giant in silence the entire way to the shores of the Fire Sea. The orange tide lapped and crackled at the coal-lined shore. Spilling out from the tide’s edge was an endless swath of pale yellow sand. Newton’s house could be seen in the far distance, growing from the steep cliffs that lined the edges of the coast. A bit farther off was the great furnace they had built. I was happy here.
“You can live here, Jat. It would please this giant if you made this your home.” Jat said nothing.
“My friend Jat can make waterstone … glassss … for his people.” The giant waited for a response but got none. They kept walking.
They reached Newton’s home and went inside. The place was open and airy, but piled high along the walls were books and parts for building improved farlookers. He had almost completed one designed to be carried to a different place. He was of a thought that he could get a better view up in the mountains, away from the light of the Fire Sea. The giant was never satisfied with how the previous teleoscopes worked and continually disassembled and rebuilt them. The walls of his home were cluttered with long strips of smooth white bark covered with writings and drawings he’d made. Sometimes it was easier to figure out problems when there was something to look at. Newton lingered on them a while.
“Come outside,” he said. Jat followed him, his moping body dragging unwilling feet.
Newton stood in front of his talking wall. It began by the entrance of the cave, where his home now stood, and stretched beyond what the eye could see. “The story of Newton, a giant in a faraway land,” he said. “In time, the rain will wash my silent stories from the cliffs. But that does not bring a sad thought. All begins. All ends.” Jat stared down at the sand.
“Look, Jat. Here the giant meets his friend at the firetide. Look how frightened the giant’s friend looks.” Newton looked at the boy, whose face had been wearing the same scowl since they left the village.
“And here is where the giant made a mountain of snow for his friends. See them sliding down on their wooden planks? Oh, and who is this one?” The giant squinted at the picture. “Yes. It is wild Bonnie. Put down that spear, wild Bonnie, before you prick this giant’s toe!” Jat looked up at the picture.
“I am glad that made my friend smile,” said Newton. “I would smile if you would finish my story. You will have to add the Stoggin and the Puncher. And a moon with a ring around it. It did save this giant’s life, Jat. You saved his life.”
“How can I finish your story here, when I am going with you?” asked Jat.
“I do not know how you will cross this,” said Newton, pointing to the Fire Sea.
“I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will,” said the boy. “And you’re moving funny. You’re going to need my help finding a way to help you.”
“Just stiff,” said the giant.
“Or turning to stone,” the boy muttered.
Newton went back into his home, quickly gathering various lenses, books, and writing tools. He stuffed them all in pockets of his jacket.
“They’ll just burn, you know,” said Jat.
“No. A giant’s clothes do not burn. They will be kept safe.”
Jat’s face lit up. “What if…?”
“No,” said Newton. “You would not be able to breathe beneath the fire. It is many giants deep. It is many bootsteps from the fire to the hot water, and then to the cold water. And then…”
Jat slumped down in the chair Newton had made for him.
“Okay. You’re right. This is another one of those things where there is no good choice. There just isn’t, and I hate this. I hate what’s going to happen. It’s not right. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I hate that you can’t make them see it! It’s not … I just wish … UGH!” he said in frustration. He stared angrily at the floor and then sighed. “When are you going?”
Newton looked out the window. It was almost night. The golden palette of the setting sun slowly melted into the glow of the Fire Sea. This giant will miss seeing this …
“When they come for me,” he said. “It will be soon. It is time for you to leave, Jat. They will smell your blood.”
“Won’t they just grab you and keep you from going after your friend?”
“If they catch me, yes. I will wait to see them come. Then I will run to the sea and let them see me. They will all follow.”
“Or one will grab you now and take you home,” said a voice from behind.
Newton and Jat turned to the door. A giant blocked the opening.
TWENTY
Chasing Bonnie
Aphanfel came around the scree-covered slope and found Crag sitting against a ledge. The Elder was holding his side.
“Where is Broont?” he asked.
Crag looked up. “He ran.”
“You did not stop him?”
“I tried. He … tricked me. I think he broke my shortbones.” He struggled to his feet.
“Broont thrumped YOU?”
“Quiet, Aphanfel. Or I will thrump you. Where is Marlite?”
“The holygiant went a different way. Said she follows minds, not bodies. I am not knowing what that means, but I am of a relief she is not with us. Her smell of magic does not bring comfort to this giant.”
“It is not supposed to.”
Greyelm tromped around the corner, joining the other two giants. It studied Crag, as if piecing together what had happened. Crag straightened up, trying to lessen the appearance of the beating he’d taken.
“He got thrumped by Broont,” said Aphanfel with a grin.
Crag swung at the young spy. Aphanfel stepped back and the blow grazed his shoulder. He returned the punch, connecting with Crag’s broken ribs. The injured giant let loose a muted, bubbly scream.
Suddenly, Greyelm spun away from Aphanfel and whipped back again, launching its fist squarely on the spy’s chest. Aphanfel crashed through a stack of boulders and continued through the air until coming to a stop at the edge of the valley. Crag limped over to him, followed by the stoic Puncher.
“I told you ‘quiet,’” he said. “You serve the Council. I am the Council here. Greyelm serves me, too, as your body now tells you.”
Aphanfel struggled to his feet. “This giant meant no insult,” he wheezed.
“Good,” said Crag. “We go now after that sneaking coward.”
The three giants followed Newton’s path. Newton had a small lead on them, and he likely knew where he was going. Greyelm, whose longer legs carried him faster, led the way. Crag limped along behind them. He was hurting from his battle with the runaway giant. The giant would heal, but that would take time. After a day of chasing, he had them stop for the night.
“Broont will be stopping, too,” he said. “He can barely walk.”
“Or you can barely walk,” said Aphanfel. Crag ignored that one.
They continued the chase the next morning under the darkening sky. Just as they were about to catch up to Newton, the giant ambushed the Puncher and ran down the mountain. Rain exploded from the clouds as the three took off after him.
“I cannot smell him,” shouted Aphanfel.
“It is of no matter,” said Crag. “His boots tell us where he goes.” They came to one of Newton’s drawings on a rock.
“See? Only Broont would do this,” said Crag.
“What is it?” asked the spy, his eyes wide with fear.
Crag looked at the circle drawn around a circle. Then he looked up at Aphanfel. “It looks like your eye,” he said.
“Does Broont watch us with these rocks?”
“No,” said the Elder, “but this giant believes it is what Broont wants us to think.”
“I do not like it at all,” said Aphanfel. “It smells of holygiant magic.”
“We talk, he runs. That is his magic.”
The rain began to ease. The giants had nearly reached the end of Newton’s false trail when Aphanfel called for them to stop.
“This is not right,” he said. “There are no bootprints. If he was in front of us, we would see bootprints in the mud.” He tested the air with his nose. “And we should smell his blood now that the rain is stopping. He went off this trail.”
They turned around. In time, Aphanfel found Newton’s side trail up the mountain. “He went up this way,” he shouted.
They traveled a full day without stopping and reached the falls before sunset.
“Fi fo, I smell the blood of something here,” said Aphanfel. “I do not know what it is.”
Crag sniffed. “It is many of the same thing,” he said. “They are not animals. And I smell … Flintoak? But where is he?”
A wail exploded from Greyelm. It ran to where its partner had fallen and sniffed the ground. It picked up a scale of thick skin and brought it up to its dull black eyes. The Puncher arched back and let loose another bloodcurdling cry. It stood and looked around, its normally expressionless face twisted in barbarous rage.
“They can make noise?” asked Aphanfel quietly. “Flintoak? Did something happen to him?”
“That is of my thought,” said Crag. “They are brothers. There is something here. It did something to Flintoak. Or they did something.”
“How can anything hurt the Apooncha?” asked the spy. “And where is his body? Did Broont do this?”
“I am not of that knowledge, Aphanfel. Look.” He pointed to the trail left behind by Newton. “Whatever did this went through there. Greyelm! This way!”
* * *
Bonnie Mullein hid behind a thick, low-branched cedar along the path. She had been sitting quietly just moments before, with little to do but wait for something to happen. It would be dark soon. The darkness would help keep her hidden. “But can they smell me?” she asked herself. She gave her shirt a sniff. “Uh-oh.”
Greyelm’s wailing back at the falls literally shook her to her core. She pushed deeper into the branches of the tree. The ground began to shake. The pounding footsteps of the approaching giants forced all bearers of feather, fur, and hoof to flee their advance. She peeked out from the needles. Trees parted in the distance. They would be going right by her, and very soon.
