The Giant from the Fire Sea, page 16
“Okay. Okay,” said the holygiant. “Newton, you must go to find Pryat! You must leave before the others come.”
“This giant is happy you will let him.”
“I could stop you?”
“Maybe yes,” said Newton, sizing up the giantess. They’d been evenly matched when they played as giantlings. But they were no longer giantlings. And she had magic. “But again, maybe no.”
Suddenly, Marlite’s braid whipped up from behind her and coiled tightly around Newton’s neck, freezing him in place. She gasped. The silver band around her head glowed with white light.
“You lied! The Makers’ words still consume you!”
“Yes, Marlite.”
“I can take the words away, Newton! Did you not know that?”
“No. I did not. How?”
Marlite closed her eyes. Newton’s body tingled and burned as if a nest of cliff-ants had fanned out and stung him at the same time. He could not move. The room took on the fresh, biting smell of an oncoming storm. Is she doing this to me? Has she grown this strong? Her body convulsed and then went still. The holygiant opened her eyes. Bright white jagged lines, like lightning, flickered in them and then faded into darkness. She reached into her robes and pulled out a clay vial. “Oh, and maybe no? I think maybe yes,” she said hoarsely. “If I were to command you to drink this, you would do so without question. Tell me this is true.”
“It is true,” said the giant. He would do anything she told him. His will was hers. How does she do this? It is her braid! He tried to take it back. To say it was not true. He could not.
Marlite smiled impishly. “And if this giantess was to tell you to … rub noses with her, Newton would do so without question. Tell me this is true.”
“Stop this!” shouted Jat.
“Quiet, boy!” spat Newton.
The holygiant’s braid unwound itself from Newton’s neck, and she stumbled back. There was a weariness to her face that had not been there moments before. Newton rubbed his throat.
“You have learned new tricks since becoming a holygiant,” he said, his voice sounding raw.
“Many,” she said. “It is a thing you should know. How is your pain?”
Newton hugged his body. The pain he had lived with for so long was … gone! It was a thing he had grown so used to, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be free of it.
“How did you … What did you do to me?” he asked.
“I silenced the Makers,” said Marlite. “They scream inside me now, but They will leave in time. You were carrying great pain, Newton. This would have burned through the hearts of most giants. In short time you would have been brought to stone. It is of a wonder you had not turned yet!”
Newton felt such a wave of relief it was hard to breathe. It overwhelmed him. It was almost as strong as the pain itself.
“You can chase away the Makers’ words in a giant?”
“Yes,” answered Marlite.
“This giant is grateful,” he said. “You will be all right?”
“In time. All holygiants must learn to carry the Makers’ words. We have all stood on the Thorn. It is why many fail to live through training. I will carry this for some time and release it slowly. If I do it too fast, there will be pieces of me scattered throughout the land.”
“Do you not feel the pain of it?”
“Oh, I do,” said Marlite. “But a giantess can bear pain better than a giant. But yes. It hurts very much.”
“It is my regret.”
“It makes a little smaller this giantess’s regret, Newton. So a balance is made?”
“Your balance is made,” said Newton. He pointed to the vial. “What is that?”
“It is stoneturner oil. If fear did not turn you, this would. A stone giant does not punch or kick,” she said. “A stone giant goes where carried.”
“Would it work on me?” asked Jat.
“Why would my friend ask this? Foomph … Oh, yes, this giant can answer his own question.”
“Rocks don’t burn in the Fire Sea. I see them in the tide all the time. If she gave me some of this, you could carry me in your pocket. I could go with you.”
“I am not of ease with that thought, Jat,” said the giant.
“I want to try it,” said the boy. “How does it work? Do you drink it?”
“You are fond of this pet mans?” Marlite asked Newton.
“Jat is not my pet. He is this giant’s friend.”
“Yes,” said Marlite to the boy. “But for you, I would give just a sandgnat’s drop. And even that might be of too great a dose.” She looked at the boy, studying him more closely. “Hoomph, it may not work at all. It may even take its little life away.”
“Let’s do it. We have to go, Newton. We can’t argue about this.”
“No.”
“Yes. Stop questioning everything I say. I am always right.”
Newton laughed. “That is not true.”
“I am this time.”
“I do not like this, Jat. What if you do not turn back? What if it … kills my friend?”
“I’m almost dead already, remember?” said the boy, smiling. “Compared to you, at least. It is my choice. I want to help you find your friend. I want to see the other lands, the other seas. I can help you if you help me! A giant stands with his friends. You said that to me once, remember? Well, so does a man. Carry your friend through the Fire Sea!”
Newton turned to Marlite. “When will this wear off? What if he turns back while we are still in the Fire Sea?”
Marlite shrugged. “For a giant, a large swallow makes him stone for half a moon cycle. It took us that time to walk beneath the flames. For a … little giant, I do not know. And his blood smells not as ours. I do not know how it will mix.”
“Can I see it?” asked Jat. The holygiant set the vial on the floor. It was nearly as tall as the boy. He pushed off the cap and peered inside. “A sandgnat, eh?” he said, dipping his finger in. He pulled it out again. A drop sat like a golden bead on his fingertip. “How big are your sandgnats?”
“Do not do this,” said Newton. “We will think of another way.”
“No time,” he said, and put the finger in his mouth.
“Do NOT!” shouted the giant.
Jat looked up at him and then back down to his body. “It didn’t work,” he said.
“GOOD!” said Newton. “I do not like the danger of this! I am of a thought to enclose you in a stone box, like the one that carried my boooks across the sea. I might have one in here I can use.” The giant lumbered across the room and began rifling through his things. The pain! The pain is gone! “The box will stop the heat, I am thinking.” Then he paused. “But what if it does not? No, this is a very bad idea … and I have no stone box…”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Marlite.
“How can it not matter?” asked Newton.
“Your pet turned.”
TWENTY-THREE
Beneath the Fire Sea
“They come,” said Marlite. “Take the tiny giant and run. And here…” The holygiant reached into a pocket and pulled out a smaller vial. She poured a couple of drops of the oil into it and handed it to him. “If it starts to turn while in the fire, give it more, but not much more. I am of a thought I should hold on to the rest, though.”
Newton took the vial and put it in his pocket. “What do I do when we reach the wet sea?”
“Remember, Newton. We have our tree stacks waiting. They are tied to Gossan. This giantess asks that you do not take them all, though. She does wish to return home.”
“I am thinking there will be one extra,” said the giant. “Flintoak will not be returning.”
“You felled him?”
“No, a mans did—Constable Stoggin.”
“One of those little things?” she asked, pointing to Jat.
“Yes.”
Marlite looked impressed and then concerned. “Go, Newton.”
“What will you tell the Council?” asked Newton.
“I will tell them you ran into the flames. Newton, go!” pleaded the holygiant.
“Will they believe you?”
“I am of a hope that when they see the skyfire falls no more they will think the Makers appeased. And the hunt will end. It should end. We have made you suffer enough.”
“Crag would not agree. The hunt will not end for him.”
“No. He would not, and no, it will not.”
“I could stay, then. And show them myself,” said Newton.
“Good giants and an Apooncha died chasing you. The holygiants will end their hunt for you, but you still want to be far from Crag and Aphanfel. And from Greyelm the most far. Go!”
Newton touched his fist to his chest and bowed his head in gratitude.
“This giant praises the kind act of a holygiant,” he said. He picked up Jat and gently placed him in his other pocket. He turned back to Marlite, about to say something else, but lost his nerve. The giant heaved a sigh and ran out the door.
Newton clomped across the beach. If he entered the Fire Sea and traveled in a straight line from where the other giants had emerged, he was of a hope he would come close to where the tree jumbles waited. He found what he thought to be the right spot and waded into the tide of flames. Only when he was below the surface did he slow his pace. They couldn’t see him, so they would have no idea he was going after Pryat. Will they believe Marlite? If they did not believe he left, they would keep searching for him, and soon they would find mans. Will she be punished for letting me go? He hoped she could convince them that the danger was over. They had to see the skyfire had ended. He found himself thinking about the holygiant. She had never been cruel to him, even as giantlings, when most giantesses had yet to outgrow their berserker stage. Although some, like his sister, never did. He reached back in his memory and recalled Marlite’s scent. Her blood always smelled of knowing things, far more than most giants. But she smelled of something else, too, as she did today. It was the crisp, cold, wet-leaves smell of magic. She was becoming a powerful holygiant, powerful beyond her piddling years. She healed me! She took my pain and made it hers! Newton wondered if he was still partially under her spell. He could not stop picturing her face. Her nose. That great rockbeet of a nose … Now I am wishing she escaped with me. But it was too late to turn back. And she had to get them to call off their search for him back on land. She also let them send me up the Thorn, he reminded himself.
The giant felt his pocket. Jat was still solid rock. He would have to check often to quickly stave off his turning should it happen too soon. Marlite had told him that the oil lasted about half a moon cycle. That was also about how long it had taken them to travel the floor of the Fire Sea. Newton sighed. He had a long, hard journey ahead. It does not end, he thought. Giants chase. Newton runs. And so it goes.
And so it went … Many creatures dwelled below the surface, some he’d encountered on his way toward the land of peoples. Most floated through the flames on bodies filled with hot air. It was a discovery he made upon eating them. They did little to sate his hunger and gave him terrible gas. One fish looked like a mushroom pulling a thousand dangling, stringy legs. It stung his tongue when he put it in his mouth. These, I will need more of! A school of glowing eels wriggled by him, changing color with every flick of the tail. The giant turned and saw they were being chased by what looked to be a large tongue of flame. Bubbling eyes floated above its luminous gaping blue mouth. He stepped aside to let it pass.
The giant plodded on. A week into his journey saw little change. He thought often about Theobold’s journal, which he had read many times back home. And, of course, the book Flora had given him. The one he’d given up for lost. He absently reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It went up in a puff of smoke.
“NO! What an OX I am!” cried Newton. Another boook—the same one, even, food for the flames! He patted his friend through his pocket, promising himself not to show such carelessness again. There can be no room for empty thoughts. Not yet. This was a good lesson.
“A lost boook for a safe friend.” He sighed. “Halfway there.” This giant hopes.
Night and day became one long, continuous stretch of time. There was no rising and setting sun. No stars or moonlit sky. Everything flickered and shimmered in a haze of yellow and orange. Newton passed the time speaking to Jat. He knew the boy could not hear him, but it felt good to tell someone about his life—of times of joy, of times of sadness. He spoke of battles won and battles lost, of giant legends and lands of wild. He was of a need to share such things. It was a need once filled by his talking wall back home. His old home. His other old home …
During the brief moments he stopped to rest, he scratched drawings of the things he’d seen into the sandy floor of the Fire Sea. He knew they wouldn’t last long, but it felt good to do something that had become familiar to him.
* * *
In time the fire grew thicker—heavier. It is starting to change. He pushed his weary legs forward. It was becoming harder to breathe. How would he get to the surface when it became liquid? At last he was forced to stop. He had finally reached the edge. If he kept going, his lungs would fill with boiling water. He would drown, as would Jat, if he turned back.
“I would be grateful for your ideas now, Jat,” he said, his words barely escaping his mouth. He paced the undulating border where the Fire Sea met the red, liquid sea, looking for a tunnel, a bridge, anything to ease the journey between the two. How were the other giants going to return? They must have a plan. Marlite, he thought. Holygiant magic. Even more now, he wished she had escaped with him.
“I have come so far and now it ends here?” Fury flashed through his body. He dropped to his knees and pounded the sandy floor. The vial of stoneturner oil slipped from his pocket. The stopper was knocked free and the droplets of oil rolled out, instantly igniting into yellow sparks. If Jat turned now, there would be nothing he could do. He would be forced to watch his friend go out in a flash of fire, just as the boy had watched happen to his father.
“THIS MUST END!” he shouted. His lungs filled with roiling red liquid. He choked and rolled away from the edge of the thick crimson water, back to where it was still mostly flames. The giant coughed and retched violently, nearly turning his empty stomach inside out. The spasms subsided and he sat, head between his knees, forcing himself to breathe. He felt sick in the belly; the red water was of a poison to him. He felt it bubbling inside his lungs. Newton looked up and flinched. The back of his neck tingled, signaling the onset of turning to stone. “NO!” he demanded. The sound of his own crackling voice was enough to shake it off. He was in control. He would not turn. He retched again, bringing up more of the noxious fluid. When he was done, he looked ahead through the bright haze. There, rippling in the current, stood a giant. He could barely make him out in the distance, but Newton knew who it was.
“Gossan.”
He was as Marlite said he would be. Solid stone, feet sunken into the seafloor. A tangle of ropes wrapped around his waist were stretched taut up to the glimmering surface. Did they turn him to Everstone for this? Or did he do it to himself? Newton would like to think that as desperate as the giants were to capture him, they would not have resorted to killing one of their party. The laws forbade it. Would Marlite have allowed this?
Newton touched his pocket. “Just a little longer,” he said to his friend. “This is of a challenge…”
The giant stared at Gossan. There was no question he was in the watery side of the Fire Sea border. Giants don’t float, so even if Newton made it to him, he’d be as trapped as the poor creature holding the tree stacks in place. The thought of plunging into a liquid sea started him turning once again. Then he remembered something Jat had said long ago when discussing this.
“And turning to stone makes the fear come true. You are stuck, aren’t you? You’re afraid a real thing is going to happen, and the real thing happens because you are afraid.”
“Yes, Jat. This is of an odd truth,” Newton had said. “It seems that if half of this is made to go away, the whole trouble will follow.”
Newton calmed his thoughts. He would not turn in fear of a thing that may not happen. Thank you, Jat. You were here to help this giant!
He looked back at Gossan. What was keeping him from being pulled away by the floating vessels? He took a deep breath of thick, fiery air and crossed over for a better look. The surrounding air quickly turned liquid. It was still very hot, but no longer breathable. He reached the stone giant. A question answered, he thought. Foot is hooked on a rock! He looked up and saw the dark shapes of the trees above. There were seven tangles of them. One for each giant, including the dead Puncher, himself, and an extra one that was twice the size of the others. Why is there one more than they need?
The ropes were too thin and slippery for a giant to climb without a foothold. It didn’t matter. He had another idea.
He crossed back to the flaming side of the Fire Sea and took a deep breath. Newton plunged back into the molten water toward the stone giant. He looked at Gossan’s face and instantly regretted it. The large giant had not turned peacefully. All he had to do now was free his foot from the rock and grab on tight. The mass of trees would be set loose, carrying him with them. But he would still have to climb the ropes. And it would leave Marlite with no way to return home. Why should this giant care so much? She chased me here!
… But she also took on my pain … Foomph, thought Newton. Now what?
He was running out of time. Every moment it took to get to the surface was a moment bringing Jat closer to flesh. The boy was out of the fire now and into the boiling water. He had another idea. This will have to work.
He climbed onto Gossan and wrapped his legs around his waist. The giant reached up, grabbed two of the ropes, and pulled. The tree stacks sank a few feet below the surface. It was not as much as he had hoped. He wrapped the rope around his hand so he would not lose what he’d gained. He pulled again, harder, straining the muscles in his arms and shoulders beyond their limit. He heard a pop. Not good, thought Newton. It was his left shoulder, already injured from his clash with Crag. Or the fall from the mountain. Still he pulled on the ropes, hand over hand. Pull, wrap, wrap, pull, wrap, wrap … The timbers fought to escape to the surface. Pull, wrap, wrap, pull, wrap, wrap …
