and all who call them home. The pillar of our -”
“Enough, Borg,” King Aldar interrupted, with a shake of his head. “I get enough of that bunkum at home.”
He absently patted at the two wolves that were prancing at his feet. Another joined them, wagging not just its tail, but its whole body as it vied for the Giant King’s attention.
King Aldar was a full head taller than Borg, but looked much the same. His long hair and beard held quite a bit more silver and gray than the Southern Guardian’s, but his sapphire eyes were not as deeply set. His clothes, while being skins, and made of a similar cut to Borg’s, were far better tailored, and all made from the same animal, so that they didn’t appeared to be patched together.
His staff was made of bone or ivory. Unlike Borg’s, it was no weapon. Its base was shod in silver. Its shaft was carved into a flow of leafy vines, and its head was shaped into a great white wolf. Amber jewels glittered in the eyes of the carved beast, and lent it the unsettling quality of appearing to watch everyone around the King of Giants.
Where Borg’s face was dominated by a huge forehead, King Aldar’s wide, but sharp nose drew the eye. He was wrinkled and old, ancient most likely, but still fit. Wisdom oozed from him like fragrances in a flower garden.
He studied them all for a moment, and then stepped across the stream. He looked down at Hyden, and smiled kindly.
“My daughter has befriended your hawkling it seems. I hope it is no inconvenience. She only came because she’s never seen a human before, and now she’s grown too bashful to present herself.”
He motioned to Borg, and then pointed at a boulder a short way downstream with his staff. Wordlessly, Borg went to the massive rock to roll it to where the king indicated. When it was in place, at the edge of the firelight, King Aldar sat down with a sigh, and motioned for the others to do the same.
“Princess Greta is shy,” he continued speaking about his daughter. “She’s not yet a woman, but trying desperately to keep from being considered a child. She’s curious, which is good, I suppose.”
He looked around towards the forest from where they had come, and looked like he was about to call her, but must have decided against it. Instead, he touched one of the wolves at his feet. Its ears perked up, and with a “Yip!” it, and another wolf, scampered back across a stream, and disappeared into the woods. With his long staff, the Giant King reached over to the wolf by Hyden’s feet, and touched it softly.
“Hunt,” he whispered.
The wolf rose up, stretched, and after a long tongue-curling yawn, it growled at the rest of the pack, and strode off up the creek bed. All but two of the other wolves followed excitedly.
Turning to meet Mikahl’s eyes, Borg spoke.
“Before the princess shows herself, I would like to hear about what befell Loudin of the Reyhall. He was a man I held much regard for.”
Mikahl started to speak, but thankfully, Vaegon cut him off. The elf told the tale concisely and completely, leaving no important detail unspoken. From the physical descriptions of the two dark beasts, to the radiant magic of Ironspike’s blade as Mikahl wielded it against them, the elf painted the gruesome scene.
Mikahl was thankful. He could barely hold back his tears while listening. If he had had to tell the story himself, he would have broken down, and he didn’t want that to happen; not in front of King Aldar.
As the elf told of the burial of Loudin, and the strange circle of blue flowers, Mikahl saw that Princess Greta had come, and in an attempt to not be rude and interruptive, was wandering about on the other side of the pool. At the moment, she was chasing Talon here and there, like a young human girl might chase a butterfly. The two wolves King Aldar had dispatched after her, were lolling nearby, watching her and the area around her. It became clear that they weren’t just lazing. They were intently guarding her.
Hyden noticed the Princess as well, and studied her as Vaegon spoke. She was his size, but by her girlish manner, it was clear that she was only around ten or eleven years old. Her dark hair fell in ringlets around a wide, but pretty face. Even from across the stream, he could make out the spattering of freckles that ran across the bridge of her nose, from cheek to cheek. She wore a doe skin long shirt that hung to her knees, and loose fitting britches underneath. A bright, rose-red pair of furred boots matched a coat or cloak that lay in a bunch near the stream.
Hyden couldn’t tell if the boots and cloak had been dyed that color or if it was natural. He couldn’t think of a creature whose fur was that bright a shade of red, but there was no telling what sort of animals lived way up in the heights that the giants called home. It was another question he would have to ask Berda when he saw her again. If he saw her again, he corrected the thought. The feeling that he wouldn’t, seemed to grow stronger every day.
By the time Vaegon had finished the telling, the sky was starting to darken, and the faces of the two giants looked grave. There was a long, reverent silence, and then King Aldar called over his daughter and introduced her.
Princess Greta blushed, and hid behind him while he spoke. She curtsied at the appropriate time, and managed to keep from giggling. Then, when the introduction was finished, she made off with Talon as quickly as she could. Her two great wolf guardians followed her dutifully as she went back across the stream to explore. More than once, Borg’s cautious eyes glanced protectively towards the area where she was playing.
The King of the Giants was silent for a very long time after she left. His eyes kept finding Mikahl, then lingering on the few inches of Ironspike that were exposed, and softly glowing at his hip. He was pondering the news of more dark creatures attacking people in his kingdom. Before running into this group, Borg had killed a red-eyed Hell Boar as it came up out of Westland’s Reyhall Forest into the mountains. The thing had run rampant through a herd, and almost killed a herdsman.
The leader of the wolf-pack returned just after dark. His muzzle showed pink and bloody in the firelight. Borg went off after the beast, and returned with a freshly killed doe. It was obvious that the wolf pack had killed more than one deer, because they all had bloody snouts and paws, and the doe Borg carried was intact, save for a small chunk that had been torn from its neck.
While Borg and Vaegon dressed the meat, King Aldar politely told Mikahl that he would speak to him later, after they had eaten, and in private, if Mikahl wished it so. Mikahl declined the need for privacy. As far as he was concerned, his friends could hear anything King Aldar had to say to him about the scrolls, the sword, and King Balton’s wishes. They were wrapped up in all this now as much as he was. At least it seemed so.
The savory smell of the doe’s haunches roasting over the open flames should have given Mikahl an appetite, but the fear and uncertainty of what was written in King Balton’s scrolls, and what the Giant King might tell him, turned his stomach into an icy knot.
Sensing his discomfort, the leader of the wolf-pack nuzzled his side, and sniffed at Ironspike’s exposed blade, until Mikahl started scratching him behind the ears. Again, the big wolf leaned into him.
Oddly, Mikahl found a deep and calming comfort in the weight of the powerful creature. He was thankful for it.
Chapter 39
“I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on,” King Aldar said after they had all eaten. “I think it would be best if I just tell you everything I can remember.”
The sun had long since left the sky. From behind a small bank of clouds, a half moon shone brightly, lining its edges in silver. Around that, hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling stars spread out as far as the eye could see. The air was chilly, but the fire was warm and blazing brightly.
Hyden used his bedroll to make a palette for Princess Greta, who insisted on sleeping near the horses. The horses didn’t mind the oversized girl so much as they minded the wolves, who were constantly watching over her. Mikahl and Hyden had done their best to soothe the animals, and for the moment, they seemed to be at relative ease.
“The blood recently shed on the sacred ground of the Leif Greyn Valley, around the Monolith, violated a pact that was made a very long time ago.”
