The Giant from the Fire Sea, page 9
“But why did you have to shove the pie in Grandy’s face? You’re a deputy now, not a ruffian. You already stopped him from stealing it. And now it’s still as good as being stolen!”
“He wasn’t sorry.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You could have stopped the thievery AND rescued Mrs. Whipny’s pie. Without attacking a citizen. Two good things, you could have done. Instead, two bad things you … did you … do. YOU know what I mean!”
“But if he is sorry for what he did, then maybe I stopped him from doing three more bad things. At least that’s what I was thinking.”
“I don’t think you were thinking at all…”
Newton and Jat bounded up to the keepers of peace, who were being anything but peaceful. Bonnie and Constable Stoggin spun around and looked up at the giant.
“Hey! What are you doing up there?” called Bonnie to Jat. “Can I come up?”
“No,” said Newton. “And he’s coming down.” Newton reached up and gently grabbed the boy. He set him on the ground next to the other two.
“We need to talk,” said Jat. “There’s trouble. BIG trouble. And I mean big, BIG trouble.”
“Let’s hear it,” said the constable.
Jat told them about the giants they’d seen in the Fire Sea. Newton assured them that their coming was “not of a good thing.”
“What do they want with you?” asked Stoggin.
“This giant does not know for sure, but can guess. Back home, my old home, I learned of the lands and stars of the night sky. I have spoken of this here before. First I learned from boooks, and then I made a teleoscope, like the one back by the Fire Sea. A time came when skyfire fell—sent by the Makers’ Dragon, or so they say.”
“Sent by a soup spoon,” said Jat.
Newton smiled half a smile. “Yes. The angry soup spoon.” He turned back to the constable. “But it was neither. They are just stars. This giant has learned that stars can gather in many shapes that can look like other things. All other giants believe what they are told, that things that look like things are those things. And because of that, this giant was to be punished.”
“This is taking a long time,” said Bonnie.
“And we know about what they did to you,” added Stoggin. “Are we going to get eaten by monsters from your world, or not?”
“Not monsters,” said the giant. “The giants of my world believed that I angered the Makers when I looked up to their lands. They believe the skyfire is because of me. They believe one destroyed homes because of me.”
“He doesn’t burn,” Jat added. “Giants don’t burn, but their stuff does. Their homes and fields. Their forests.”
“Yes. It can be bad. But it is not because of me. I have told them this, but they listen to their holygiants who say, ‘Newton—no, Broont, this giant’s old name—brings skyfire to our land and must go to the Makers. And that I must tell them I am of a regret. I must tell them I will not spy on them again.”
“Did you?” asked Stoggin. “This IS taking a long time!”
“Yes. But this giant did not tell them those things. Because they are not of a truth. Instead, their lightning—their Voice—burned me inside. And does still. I escaped. I am here. They come.”
“So you don’t think they are finished with you?” asked Bonnie. “What will bringing you back do?”
“What if their skyfire was still flying around when they left?” asked Jat.
“That is what this giant believes. It has nearly ended here, so it would be the same there. But they would not be of this knowledge. It is a long journey from our land to this one. They would not have seen the change that happened not too long ago.”
“So if they still think it’s coming down there, then they might think they still need you to stop it,” said Bonnie.
“Yes,” said Newton.
“… So here they come,” said Jat.
Constable Stoggin listened quietly. Then no one spoke. He paced in small circles, hands behind his back. His thick gray mustache puffed out with each breath.
“What if—” began Bonnie. Stoggin held up his hand to silence her. He paced some more.
Finally, he came to a stop and bent back to look up at the giant. He pointed a finger toward his face.
“I knew you were going to be trouble the day I met you. I knew it!”
“This giant is of a regret greater than you can know.”
“Yeaaah … Okay, so this is what we are going to do. And I hate the thought of it, but we have to go to Ellery Manor.”
“What good will that do?” asked Bonnie.
“Good? Probably none. Going there rarely gets anything good done. But we need to mobilize people. A lot of them. Most of them. And they are his people—well, we’re at least people on his land. We all are. It would be better to get him with us now than to have him blunder in at the wrong time and send us nine steps backward.”
“What do we need the people for?” asked Jat.
“An enemy gathers at the Fire Sea. We need to prepare to defend ourselves.”
“We can get every single person in our village and it won’t stop five of these,” said Jat, pointing up to his friend. “It won’t even stop one of them.”
“Well, not trying to stop them won’t stop them,” said the constable. “We’re going to Ellery Manor, and that’s the all of it.”
Newton nodded. On horseback, Ellery Manor was a three-hour full-out ride from the center of town. They didn’t have that much time.
“This giant is a horse-ox again. Climb on.”
“Are you serious?” asked Constable Stoggin. “Because if you are, I think a mountain fell on yer head! I’m goin’ back and gettin’ my Merit!”
“Not me!” said Bonnie. “I’m ridin’ the giant! And Thumbridge brought Merit to be reshoed back at the barn.”
“He walks fast,” said Jat. “I don’t think we have a lot of time.” The giant lifted the boy onto his shoulder.
“Arrgh! I don’t like it, giant. And I don’t like you! You are trouble, and you—” His words cut off as Newton lifted him off the ground and tossed him, ungently, onto his other shoulder.
“You can continue to tell me how you do not like me,” said the giant, “but let us move as you do.” He picked up Bonnie and set her next to Jat. Jat smiled uncomfortably and looked away.
Newton bounded ahead to Ellery Manor with the endless berating of Constable Stoggin ringing in his ear.
TWELVE
Blackpoint Falls
“How does one hide a giant?” asked Lord Ellery. The tulip he held to his nose gave his pinched voice a slightly hollow ring.
Newton, Jat, Constable Stoggin, and Bonnie Mullein had made it to Ellery Manor in short time. A giant can take routes impossible to travel for even the most spry of horses. Upon seeing them, Lord Ellery tried to hide behind the archway that led to his home.
“HA! I see you!” shouted Bonnie from Newton’s shoulder. The lord stepped out sheepishly from behind the arch. The group was reluctantly invited to join him in the courtyard. As sprawling as his manor was, it would not hold a giant.
Lord and Lady Ellery owned the land upon which they all lived. It had been in Lord Ellery’s family for centuries. The land was home only to Jat’s tiny village, too small to be of notice to the king on the mainland, whoever that was these days. They were left alone to fend for themselves and were content to do so. If the king, or queen—whoever was ruler of the land—didn’t know they existed, he or she could not collect money from them. The lord left most of the daily decisions to the people, mostly because he didn’t really care what they did, so long as they paid their land fees. On matters they could not resolve, Constable Stoggin would step in. If that didn’t do it, and if he couldn’t convince Lady Ellery to handle it, he’d uneagerly deal with it in as quick a fashion as possible. Anyone who disagreed with his final decision was free to leave. That was the law of the land. If you don’t like it, leave. There were no jails or prisons. You were sent off, and that was the end of it. He had little patience for anything that took him away from his gardens. Lord Ellery spent nearly every waking moment tending his three hundred acres of tulips. He claimed he had created the most magnificently beautiful landscape in the world. No one could argue with him, though, since only he was allowed to set foot in it. Of course Lady Ellery would be granted permission, though she rarely cared to ask.
The lord, born Faunstice Hendrican Adelard Ellery, had grown up in the manor with his younger sister, Eularia. The siblings never shared a fondness for each other. He was always a bit of a jellyfish, and she a bit of a surly bear. As was the Ellery tradition, when the older sibling came of age, he or she took control of the manor and the attached village. The parents and younger siblings were expected to move out. Why this custom was in place had long been forgotten, but it was believed that breaking the tradition would end the long chain of good fortune the Ellerys had enjoyed.
Regardless of tradition, his parents, eager to separate themselves from their two offspring, had left for their summer villa years earlier. When the time came, his sister refused to go. Faunstice had his guards drag her out and deliver her to a modest estate on the edge of town. In time, the lord married a young woman named Arabella. That is all anyone knew about her—her name. She wasn’t from the area, and it was rumored, although she never said it was so, that she came from the court of a larger kingdom far beyond their borders. Even her husband was kept in the dark as to her history. She maintained a regal bearing and was willing to run things for him. And was quite fetching. In Faunstice’s eyes, those three qualities outweighed any concern he might harbor over her mysterious background.
Back at the edge of the village, Eularia married a butcher named Bartholomew Fengiss. He eventually grew tired of her overbearing nature and left, leaving behind their two boys, Durd and Sack.
In the courtyard of the manor, Jat contemplated Lord Ellery’s question. “I don’t know how to hide a giant,” said Jat. “But we have to hide him. They are going to take him away and kill him.”
“I do not want them to come here,” said Newton. “They are not friendly like this giant. I will leave.”
“Now you are making sense,” said the constable.
“And what shall happen when they find you have taken to foot?” asked Lady Ellery. “Will they rend our village to tattered ribbons in search of you? I know of giants and what they can do.”
“My village,” corrected her husband.
“Harooomph … I do not know,” said Newton. “Did you say you know of giants?”
“Only from … long ago, but that is not important now.”
“Well, he can’t stay here,” said the constable. He looked up to Newton. “I’m sorry, fella. I have ta look after our folk. I will personally tell your big friends that you were here but left for the hills.”
“He is our folk,” said Jat, and then, to the giant, “Will that even work?”
“Thank you, Jat,” whispered Newton loudly. “I do not know,” he continued. “They risked their hides to come here. Their boots crossed water. They will not leave without this giant. You do not want them here. I know this more than I know anything. I will go to them and surrender.”
“And they will kill you on that thorn thing,” said Jat. “Wait! What if they see that your shooting stars aren’t … shooting anymore? Would they call it off?”
“First I would have to make them believe it. I would not be able to do that until we returned and they saw it for themselves. And even then, they will send me to the Makers to answer for anything that may have happened while I was here. Or they will not. This giant does not know. But I do know as a truth that no words I speak would move them to leave without me.”
“That’s it, then,” said Jat. “You have to hide. When they don’t find you here, they’ll keep looking somewhere else. There will be no reason for them to stay.”
“Thorn thing?” asked Bonnie.
“It’s real bad,” said Jat.
“If they seek him and find him not, they will be irritable,” said Lady Ellery.
“That is true,” said Newton. “You do not want … irritable giants stomping around. One peaceable giant breaks enough things. They will bring Punchers, too. You do not want them here even more! I will go with them. I will not let them harm my friends.”
“Those big tree things you told me about? The ones that beat up giants?” asked Jat.
“Yes. The ones that beat up giants,” said Newton.
“That was easy enough,” said Bonnie.
“What do you mean, ‘easy enough’? You would sacrifice Newton to those giants?”
“It’s his decision,” said the girl. “I agree with Constable Stoggin. We have to look out for ourselves.”
“I guess you’re pretty good at that,” said Jat.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Jat frowned. “I don’t even know.”
“Not ourselves, Bonnie. Our people,” corrected the constable.
“Same thing,” she muttered.
Lady Ellery considered Newton’s offer. “Who is to say they won’t attack us after you relinquish yourself unto them?”
Newton thought a moment. “I cannot say that will not happen. I do not know how they will treat mans and womans. I cannot say they will eat you. But I cannot say that they will not.”
“Well, that’s great news,” said Stoggin.
“They will at the least feast upon our livestock,” said Lord Ellery, shooting Newton an accusing look. “You giants seem to like to eat people’s cows. I’ve certainly heard enough about that from a certain someone.”
Newton hung his head, ashamed. “That they will do. They will be hungry. It is my regret. It is my regret for all of this.”
“You can stop saying that,” said Jat. “We know.”
“If the giants attack, we’ll want a giant by our side,” said the constable. “One giant would be better than none.”
“This giant would do what he could,” said Newton. “But it would not be much. I counted three giants and two Punchers.”
“You are smarter than all of them combined,” said Jat. “We have that.”
Newton shrugged.
“Here’s an idea, then,” said Stoggin. “Let’s say we hide you. If they give up and move on, you’re—we’re—okay. But if they threaten us, then you give yourself up. If they still threaten us after that, well…”
“Well what?” asked Lord Ellery.
“We fight.”
“You fight, you lose,” said the giant.
The group was silent a moment. There seemed to be no solution that would guarantee safety for Newton or the town. No one could guess how the villagers would be viewed by a troop of angry giants.
Bonnie punched her hand. “Ha! I know where we can hide a giant AND a village!”
“Can’t wait to hear this, girl,” said Stoggin.
“How many people are there in the village?”
Lord Ellery closed his eyes as he counted on his fingers. “Four hundred and…”
“Three hundred and fifty-eight,” said Lady Ellery. Her husband eyed her suspiciously. She returned his gaze. “It’s a number you should know as well, my lord. I would wager you know exactly how many of those meretricious weeds you bend knee to. Newton, how long do you believe we have until they make arrival?”
“They will be here by morning,” he said. “Maybe tonight, but they will be tired. They will need to rest. To eat…”
“Blackpoint Falls!” said Jat. “The cavern behind the waterfall! It’s hidden behind the water. It can hold all of us, including this great beast!” The giant met the boy’s smile with furrowed eyebrows.
“Yep,” said Bonnie. “You’re a little slow, but you catch up.”
“Could work,” said the constable. “I’ve seen it. Plenty big—used to play there as a child. Problem is getting everyone there. It’s a half day’s slog. And that’s for the young and healthy. Not everyone has horses, either. What about the rest?”
“Half a day for mans and womans, maybe,” said Newton. “Faster for a giant. I can bring those who cannot walk there. I can carry them. Falling waters is good. It will hide us from their noses, too. But you cannot bring your horse-oxes. A tasty horse-ox is easy to smell, maybe even through water; many tasty horse-oxes, more easy to smell.”
“You eat horses, too?” asked Lord Ellery disgustedly.
“This giant does not, though they smell like ox cows. They are your pets. And I like them a great much as so. The other giants … yes, they would eat them.”
“Could we not convey our elders and infirm upon our timber wagons? Each should hold about twenty souls. How many could you carry?” asked Lady Ellery.
“I will carry as many as I must. The giants will leave once they have eaten your food. When they do, we come back. They will look for me in other places. They may know of a way to return home. They must if they are here to bring me back. If they do not know I am here, they may leave.”
“We would need to keep a watch out for them until they’re gone for good,” said Jat.
“So, we move an entire village on the word of a single man … giant?” asked the lord.
“I believe him,” said Lady Ellery. “And more so, I trust Constable Stoggin. If he believes this to be true, I am of no doubt that it is.”
“I haven’t seen it myself,” said the constable, staring up at Newton, “but call me a mule-kicked fool, I don’t think he’s making this up. Are we doing this? This is our plan?”
They all looked to Lord Ellery. He looked to his wife, who nodded.
Ellery let out a breath, blowing a petal from the tulip. “I so decree.”
“It’s going to take a while to get everyone together,” said Stoggin.
“I will get them to the circle,” said the giant. “My voice is loud. All will hear.”
* * *
Upon their return, Newton’s voice rumbled throughout the village, calling all mans and all womans at once to the town circle. Their lives were in danger. He hoped they would see this. In short time, a large crowd had gathered, anxiously waiting to find out the reason for their summoning. Lord and Lady Ellery, who rarely visited their village, did so this time. Lady Ellery explained the trouble they were in and the solution they’d come up with. Everyone was to go back to their homes and return with three or four days’ worth of food. Small parties could be sent back to town to sneak more supplies to the cave if needed later. Those too weak to travel would ride with the giant. Pets, horses, and all livestock should be set free, giving them a better chance to evade the ravenous appetites of the invaders. The surviving animals would be rounded back up later, when the danger had passed. Several young men and women would be dispatched to share this news with the people who were not there. They would leave before sunset and hoped to arrive at the falls in the middle of the night. Those who could leave sooner, should.
