The Giant from the Fire Sea, page 18
Every few days brought a blizzard of snow, thoroughly delighting Newton, who thought it was “of a great beauty.” Jat made no attempt to hide that he felt otherwise.
“I am so tired of white. White ice. White snow. Even all the fish are white!”
Newton patted his belly. “I will eat every white fish that you can catch. I will eat every black fish that you can catch. I will eat every red fish that you can catch. I will eat—”
“Anything. I got it,” said the boy. He looked at the giant’s belly. “Is the pain still gone? From the lightning?”
“It is, Jat. Sometimes, though, this giant misses it.”
“How can you miss pain?”
“After a time, it becomes something else. It makes other pains less. But this giant is being foolish. He is happy it is gone.”
“Well, especially since it was going to kill you—turn you to stone.”
“Yes, especially since.”
They were beginning to wonder if this sea would ever meet land. Being so low on food, it was a very real worry. The giant’s strength was failing. He tried to hide it, but he felt Jat’s concerned stares when he wasn’t looking. Newton also snuck looks at Jat. He often caught the boy scratching the back of his stone hand. He probably wasn’t as unbothered about the change as he let on.
At fifty feet tall, Newton had a pretty good view of the surroundings. The boy stopped asking him if he could see anything. The answer was always the same. The giant stood again to scan the horizon.
“Maybe you’re too short,” said Jat. “Maybe land is just over the edge of what you can see.”
“Maybe yes. But again, maybe no,” said Newton. “You can look if you think you can see more far.”
Jat kicked the mast at the edge of the raft. “Hey!” he said. “Look!” He ran to the end of the mast and wrapped his arms and legs around it. “Pick this up! We can see twice as more far!”
“You will fall.”
“No I won’t. Just do it.”
Newton cocked his head, considering this idea.
“It is heavy. This giant is weak.”
“No, it’s light, and you are strong!”
“You will hold on tight? Your hand…”
“No,” said Jat. “I’m going to do a dance on top of it once I get up there. Of course I will hold on tight!”
“You be careful,” said the giant, and he reluctantly grabbed the log. It was nearly twice his height and heavy for a giant who’d eaten nothing but tiny fishlings for weeks on end. With a grunt, he hoisted the boy into the air. Jat looked toward the horizon.
“Spin,” he called down. “I need a full view all around.” Newton turned in a circle.
“Do you see anything?”
“No,” said Jat. “Wait … no. Wait … yes! I see a dot. A tiny dot way back from where we came from.”
“What is the dot?” asked Newton. “Is it of a big thing that is far, or a little thing that is close?”
“I don’t know. Now I don’t see it.”
“I am of a thought to pull you down now,” said the giant. He started to carefully feed the mast through his arms.
“Wait!” yelled Jat.
“Another dot? I do not like this,” said Newton.
“NO!” shouted Jat. “This is different! It’s ahead of us, but off to the north more. I see land, but we’re going the wrong way!”
Newton brought Jat back down. The boy jumped up and down in excitement.
“It’s there! Land! In the north! If we kept going where we were going we would have missed it!”
“Are these words of truth? There is land? Sometimes we see things when we want to see them, but they are as empty wishes.”
“Newton. I saw land. We have to set up the sail again. It’s only about two, maybe three, days away.”
Newton smiled and clapped his hands.
“There are many giants under the great sky, but none as happy as this one.”
They quickly lashed together the mast and crossbeam, stripped off the giant’s shirt, and set sail north. The raft crashed through the ice, slicing into the lashing that held it together. Neither of them cared. Land was ahead. They would not need a raft once they got there. Newton swore he’d never set foot on one again for as long as he drew breath. Giants were not meant for the sea: the Great Sea, the Fire Sea, the Ice Sea. He had had a bellyful of all of them.
Soon the land came into sight. It appeared to be frozen, as they’d expected. Towering walls of ice rose from the sea from south to north. But there were signs of life. Birds circled overhead, and in time, over their craft. The giant snatched one from the air and tossed it in his mouth.
They had traveled for two days since spotting land. The breeze died at nightfall, floundering the raft just a few miles from the coast. It was the longest night either of them had ever spent. They were so close! Newton carved images of their journey into the bark of the raft with his fingernail to pass the time.
“My mother doesn’t like Bonnie,” said Jat, breaking a long silence.
“She was in your thoughts, this giant is guessing?”
“She says she is wild. She gets boys to do what she wants, and it gets them in trouble.”
“Why do they do what she wants?” asked Newton.
“You know why,” said the boy. “You’ve seen her.”
“With both of my own eyes,” said the giant. “Does she have magic? I thought mans had no magic.”
Jat laughed. “In a way. She’s pretty, Newton, okay?”
“Harooomph … Mans’ pretty and giants’ pretty are of great oceans apart. But she did smell of … a wildness. So do you, Jat.”
“What does it smell like?”
Newton sniffed. “Field carrots. Field carrots and hot tongue pepper.”
“What does Marlite smell like? I mean with your giant nose.”
“Time to rest. This giant grows tired.”
The wind picked up in the morning, and they continued their mad ride into the waves of the shore. The tree stack’s timbers were breaking loose and banged noisily into one another, threatening to crush Jat’s feet. Newton was busy holding the sail, so the boy had to keep abandoning the rudder to try to pull the logs together. At last, the vessel, tossed into the jagged ice and rocks at the coast, fell apart.
“NO! This can’t be! NOT YET!” cried Jat. The two plunged into the freezing water. The giant grabbed the boy and held him above his head. The water was only up to his chest.
“Sorry I panicked,” said the boy.
“Unnoticed,” said the giant. He walked the rest of the way and set him down on the rocky shore.
The two stood in silence, taking in this new land. It could easily be either of their homelands. Tall pines edged the cliffs that corralled the shore. The walls of ice were not ice but stone. Newton picked up a chunk that had rolled away from the base. It was soft, and it crushed into powder between his fingers. The air was warm, surprisingly so, considering the frozen sea that surrounded them. Birds sang. A crab crossed Jat’s foot, causing him to leap back. He looked up at the giant and laughed.
An earsplitting screech filled the air. The two jumped in alarm. They looked toward the noise, which came from the tops of the pines. A dragon hovered above, body held steady as its great wings shifted in the wind. It studied the two newcomers, tipping its head back and forth as if trying to make sense of what it was seeing. It let loose another screech and then turned and flew away, disappearing beyond the treetops.
Newton stood with mouth agape, silently questioning if what he saw was what he saw. Jat turned and looked up at the giant. He was grinning ear to ear.
“Another nannytale?”
TWENTY-SIX
A Giantess Follows
“Faster, Trapper … For … both … of … us … FASTER!” Bonnie wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck as they flew down the trail. They rounded a sharp bend, and she stole a look behind. The pale heads of the approaching giants stood out in the darkening sky above the canopy. The trail was not much wider than the horse, forcing the giants to wade through the trees. While the Puncher was able to crash through them, it slowed them down considerably. It was working.
Trapper, having been on this path many times, needed no urging to stay on course. He would make the loop and return to where he’d started, as he always did. When they made it back to the barn, Bonnie slowed down to check on her pursuers.
“I hear them but can’t see them. Good job, Trapper!” She patted the side of the horse’s neck. It was soaked in perspiration. “We can’t stop yet, boy. I’m so sorry. Just take me to the beach so I can warn Jat. You can rest then.”
* * *
Marlite watched Newton disappear into the Fire Sea. She went back into his home to wait for the other giants to return. The room was dark. She stepped back outside and found a large shiny stone. It was similar to the kuwaart stones back home. The holygiant held it to her forehead. It began to glow a radiant yellow-white, bright enough to dimly illuminate the room. Setting the light on the table, she explored the many scratchings her once-giantling friend had made on the sheets of white bark. “He is a curious one,” she muttered. “… Brings a life to his thoughts. A bold oaf. But not an oaf … but bold, yes.” She sniffed the images. “Paroomp. It smells of him, too.” Marlite drew a deep breath. A wisp of a smile formed on her broad lips. She closed her eyes and sniffed it again.
The holygiant stepped back outside and searched the Fire Sea once more. There were only flames. No giants entering them. No giants leaving them. She grimaced in pain and held her ribs. “Do not talk so loud,” she ordered the the Makers’ Voice inside her. She went back inside and sat against the wall, picking up another of Newton’s images to study. She sniffed it and smiled. Soon she dozed.
Marlite was awakened by an itch on her nose. When she opened her eyes, something was tickling her face.
“What did you do to them?” screamed Bonnie. The girl had climbed atop the sleeping giantess and was pounding on her nose. Marlite picked her up and tossed her to the floor. Bonnie stood up and charged at the monster but was stopped short by her wall of a hand. The girl tried to get around it but was easily herded back. “Where are they? If you killed my friend I will pull you apart!”
Marlite laughed. “You will pull me apart? Only if you were me, and I you.”
“Where are they?” demanded Bonnie.
“Why? What are you? One of those mans?”
“Where are they?” she repeated, trying to get around the giantess’s hand.
“Gone,” said Marlite.
“Where?”
The giantess pointed to the Fire Sea. “There,” she said.
“Jat went into the fire? He’s … dead?” Bonnie leapt onto Marlite’s hand and scurried up her arm. She dove at the giantess’s face, poking a fist in her eye.
“Now, THAT hurt!” bellowed the holygiant, and she knocked the girl back to the sandy floor. Marlite rubbed her eye. “Stop this now! This giantess did not hurt your friend. This giantess helped them escape.”
Bonnie stood back up, her balled fists hanging from taut, shaking arms. “If Jat went into that fire, he’s dead. How is that helping him?”
“He helped himself, to say the truth of it. I helped Newton. They are together. If you stop trying to poke my eye, I will tell you where they went.”
Bonnie relaxed her arms, but her fists remained clenched. Marlite explained what happened to the boy and the giant. When the holygiant finished, Bonnie ran up to the small teleoscope and searched the Fire Sea.
“You will not see them,” said Marlite. “Newton’s boots have carried them a fair distance by now.”
“What if Jat turns back into a regular … person … while they’re still in the fire?”
“He will burn? Mans burn, yes?”
“And it’s clear you don’t care.”
“This holygiant has more to worry her than a squeaky mans pet.” She sniffed the air. “And her biggest worry has arrived. You do not want to be here.”
“Too late,” said Bonnie. “I am. And I’m not afraid of giants.”
“No, you are not,” said Marlite. “I smell no fear in you. Do mans not know fear?”
“Mans do. But I’m not a man.”
“Ha! This giantess sees what her friend saw in your kind. Stay here. Stay here or go out and die. It will change nothing for me.” She took a few steps away and turned. “If you do not stay here, I cannot help you. And you will help no one inside a giant’s gullet.”
“I heard you,” said Bonnie.
“I know, but this giantess feels you needed more warning.”
Marlite left the house and walked up the beach. “I smell just one?” She turned toward the sound of crashing trees above the shore. Aphanfel stumbled forward, out of breath.
“Holygiant!” he said. “Where have you been? Where is Broont?”
“Gone,” said the giantess. “Where are the others?”
Aphanfel clumped up to Marlite, eyeing her suspiciously. “Different places.”
“Different places are as empty words. What is different places?”
“Flintoak is in the most different place—dead. Felled by something here. Crag and Greyelm are looking for a shrunken giant. Broont called them mans. It rode a skinny, long-faced ox. Crag thinks it will lead them to Broont. He thinks it rode back to where Flintoak fell.”
“What killed Flintoak? What can kill a Flintoak?”
The spy shrugged. “Whatever it was, this giant is glad it is not him. Greyelm is in heavy squall. I did not want to be around him. And I think they are wrong. I think Broont came here. Did he? Is he?”
“Yes,” said Marlite. “But no more. He escaped into the fire that brought us here.”
“You let him go? How can a holygiant betray the Makers? We must find Crag and go after him!”
“This holygiant has decided to go after him. But not to bring him to Mother Shepherd. I am of a wish to help him find our … my once friend.”
“Pryat is dead. You will be dead, too.”
“That is not known to be of truth.”
“What of the skyfire?”
“What of it?” asked Marlite. “Bend your back and look up. The skyfire is no more. The Makers’ anger is no more.”
Aphanfel hesitated.
“Well?”
“This giant finds uncomfort up there. It is too much … There may be no skyfire here, but here is not home.”
“But here is home!” said the giantess. “We share a sky with this land. Newton showed this to me. To punish a giant for a thing he has not done is of a great offense. Of as much an offense as letting a giant of guilt go free. Though Mother Shepherd may not share this thought, I believe it to be of truth. And I am here. She is not. Newton has not angered the Makers. If he has, they are no longer of that anger.”
“Crag will not stop,” said the spy. “He will not care if Broont is of an innocent way. He will not believe that skyfire no longer falls back home. Giants died to bring Broont back to our land. Crag will pull your bones from your hide for setting him free.”
“I know he will try, Aphanfel. He is not a worry to this giantess. Greyelm? That is more of a worry. No matter. I will be gone when he returns.”
“What will he do to me if I allow you to go?”
“If you allow me to go?”
Aphanfel was about to speak. Then he lowered his head. “This giant cannot stop you.”
“Some words of truth from Aphanfel.”
“But Crag will not care. This giant will pay for what you do.”
“Good.”
“They will follow you.”
“Only to the floating trees. But they will find none there. I cannot have them following me to my friends. I have done them both great wrong, Aphanfel, as have you. And Mother Shepherd. Old Pegma … All giants! My boots will walk a thousand lifetimes until right is made right. I should have left with him!”
“And what of me? How will I get home? Can this giant join you?”
“HA! How could this holygiant trust Aphanfel the spy?”
“Aphanfel the spy will be Aphanfel the friend. Aphanfel the friend believes you. The Makers are not angry.” He forced himself to steal a quick look up to the sky and then turned back to Marlite. “I will not harm a guiltless giant, Marlite. But to leave this one here is to take his life. Crag cares not for the bond of word that no giant will take the life of another. Think of Gossan! Let me help you instead.”
“I need no help. I need no help from you even more.”
“You will leave me to be thrumped by Crag and Greyelm then.”
“Oomph … How can this giantess trust you?”
“How can you not trust a giant whose life you spared?”
“They will not blame you for me leaving.”
“Pffrump … Do you believe this in truth, Marlite?”
Marlite stared into Aphanfel’s eyes, appearing to search for something that either was or was not there. Then she sighed. “We go now, but…” Her braid shot out from behind her and wrapped around the spy’s neck. Aphanfel dropped to his knees, eyes bulging in fear. Gurgling sounds bubbled from his grimacing mouth. He began to turn to stone. The holygiant released him.
“That was to remind you of your fate should this holygiant’s trust in you grow weak.”
Aphanfel got back to his feet and rubbed this throat. “You will not have to remind me again,” he rasped.
