Cato went on. “My uncle, a bear berserker, heard about one to the east that was taller than the tower. It actually had three heads; it was so big. He went to go find it and kill it, but he never came back.”
They were silent for a few minutes, watching.
“The bes commanders have the same control problem with the bauks,” Cato continued, pointing. “They’re too wild and solitary. You see the one with the tall horns below, he drills them all day long. That’s so they’re too tired to escape.
“They can’t chain the bauks like the azhdaya; they go mad and kill themselves trying to break free. So, they keep them tired and well-fed and hope not too many escape.” Cato paused and then added, thinking, “In a battle, they have to be on the front line, otherwise they turn and start slaughtering the other bes troops.”
Theo watched the bauks training and saw what Cato meant. One was definitely trying to sneak away.
Theo’s eyes kept straying to the balachko. There were three of them and they shared the biggest tent in the camp. It was on the southern edge, closest to their location on the ridge. Each balachko had three heads and a thick neck supporting them. Their upper arms bulged with muscles and their chests were huge, but then their bodies rounded onto a pot belly and thick, stubby legs. They didn’t have any armor on, but wore kilts around their waists that might be some kind of reinforced leather.
From what he’d noticed, the three heads acted independently of each other, swiveling in different directions. The head in the middle did most of the talking and eating; the other two heads were maybe a little smaller and appeared to mostly doze.
Their skin was bluish gray, darker at their hands and feet, and they carried clubs with studded iron.
Right now, two of the balachko stood at the river’s edge. One pulled a fish from the river and was about to eat it raw with its center head. The other balachko, who was a little shorter, knocked the fish from its hands and tried to grab it. The first punched it in the stomach. The thief responded by charging forward and wrapping its wide arms around the bigger one, knocking it back into the snow in an exploding puff of white. While the fish flopped around on the ice, the giants grappled and swatted at each other.
Theo nudged Cato with his foot. “Watch!” he whispered loudly.
The shorter balachko opened the mouth of its third head and flashed out a jet of fire. The taller giant responded with a blast of ice. The two flares collided in the air and fizzled into vapor. The taller balachko roared.
This brought the third balachko over. This one carried a sword at its waist, not a club. It roared at the two, who paused their fight and dropped all of their heads submissively. The new balachko roared again, and then picked up the fish out of the snow and ate it in front of them. The first balachko, who had caught it, moaned a little but didn’t try to get it back.
Theo tried to note any other distinguishing characteristics. Aside from the higher ranking one with the sword, they all looked pretty similar. He pulled out the binoculars and focused. The leader had a beard on its central face, and it had tattoos up and down its arms, black designs that swirled when it flexed.
Next to him, Cato stirred.
“Did you see that fight?” Theo asked.
“Yeah,” Cato answered. “The cold air and fire jets were pretty small. I think you’d have to be right in its faces for it to hit you with them.”
“They seem pretty aggressive,” Theo added. “Their arms are like tree trunks. I think if you were close enough to get blasted, more likely it’s going to just tear you apart.”
“Their chests are so muscled too. I bet it’d be hard work to stick a sword in them.”
“Yeah,” Theo agreed. “Go for the gut area instead.”
“We can talk to my dad,” Cato said. “See how we’ve fought them in the past.”
Theo nodded. He remembered from Uncle Alex that once the balachko exhausted their magic, they were easy to kill.
“I wish we knew how long they can do the fire and cold air trick before they’re depleted and weak. In a fight, we could run circles around them, dodging, then when they’re out of magic, we could engage.”
“Yeah, too bad that fight over the fish didn’t last longer,” Cato agreed. Then he sat up straighter. “I have an idea.”
THIRTY minutes later, Theo watched the balachko part of the camp from the ridgeline by himself. He kept his binoculars trained on the two giants who were now fishing near each other on the riverbank. They had spears in their heavy hands and stabbed at the water, generally unsuccessfully.
While Theo watched, a chunk of ice rose into the air behind one of the balachko. The chunk hovered in the air for a second and then flew at the back of its fire-breathing head, hitting it hard enough to shatter.
The balachko stumbled forward and fell into the river with a large splash. It rose to its feet with furious expressions on each of its three faces, and roared at the other balachko standing near it. The innocent balachko turned to face the angry one, and roared back.
Then, in a clash of river water and snow, the two began wrestling again. They punched and kicked and blew fire and ice at each other. Every now and then, another ice chunk would rise from the river’s edge and knock one or the other giant in the back of a head.
They didn’t use their spears or their clubs, instead battering with their fists and trying
