The first few miles were on a long, flat plain. There was no greenery—there hadn’t been many for weeks, but even by the streams, now, nothing grew. No dust, either. The earth was packed till it was hard as stone. Angus wondered how it’d gotten that way. As they got farther along, ravines began to appear, clean and long—like the claw marks of some enormous beast. The largest were wide enough for twenty men to walk, side by side, for miles. The smallest would have barely fit a child, and went on for two or three steps.
Angus and Oakley hesitated to walk in these strange paths. They were all straight, and it would have been nice to have some rest from the sun. But they seemed unnatural.
“You know,” Oakley said their third day there. “This isn’t my quest.”
“No.” Angus said. “It always seems like an accident, us being together, doesn’t it? Like it was supposed to be some other way, but someone twisted fate’s hand.”
Oakley nodded. “Or fate twisted us.”
The next day, they saw a swarm of things coming over the horizon. They ducked into one of the ravines, breathing slow. It swarmed overhead, making clicking noises and screeching. Angus’ eardrums pounded. The deep scar on his thigh ached. Oakley was doubled over, his face pale.
A thick hand grabbed Angus’ leg and pulled him underground. He heard Oakley howl, and thudding. Angus went limp, and felt the great hand lower him until his hair brushed the ground. Then it set him down, turning to where the thudding continued, accompanied by unearthly howling.
Angus rose, getting out his sword. Blinking, his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Oakley was attacking two hulking forms—both of which were twice his height. Moving stealthily, Angus crept up behind one of them and leapt onto its back.
It turned, then stepped backwards towards the wall. Angus climbed onto its shoulders, stabbing down onto its spinal cord. It moaned, collapsing to the ground.
The other one had slammed Oakley into the wall and was coming at Angus now. He ducked between its legs, and cut upwards. It didn’t flinch, and Angus had to roll to avoid getting slammed between its enormous thighs. He rose, then received a crushing blow to his ribs. He fell to the ground, and it raised its fist. Then the thing moaned, and collapsed like its twin.
Oakley climbed over its shoulders, grinning. He had bruises forming on his face. He sat down heavily beside Angus. Bruises were forming on his arms and legs, too, and a sizable one across his forehead.
“You alright?”
“Eh, they’re dead.”
“Eh.” Angus rose, and looked around for the source of light. It proved to be from a trap door, not shut entirely, and letting in a thin stream of sunlight with dust dancing on it.
“Hey,” Angus said. “Dust.”
Oakley scraped a handful of dirt off the wall. “Hum.”
Angus threw the trapdoor open, letting in a spill of grey-tinted light. He brought in their packs. The room had a much higher ceiling that should have been possible. The light didn’t entirely reach the farthest corner of it, splitting at columns spread at random across the room.
Angus shivered.
Oakley groaned. He looked pretty beat up. Angus went through their enemies’ pockets. There was dried meat inside, as well as some bits of string. He eyed the meat warily, then put it in his pack.
“You feeling up to moving?”
Oakley shook his head.
Angus sat back on his heels, then began to set up their bedrolls.
He took the full watch that night, letting Oakley sleep till morning.
“Softie.” Oakley told him, when they woke. “Someone’s going to take advantage you, someday. Some world-wise person who’ll convince you they’re worse off.”
“Not true.”
“True.” Oakley rose with some difficulty. “Ugh, my stomach hates me.”
“Nausea?”
“Yes.”
They decided to stay until Oakley felt a little better. Angus was glad. It hurt to breathe.
During their stay, Angus started to explore the cave. It was twelve feet by fifteen feet, and interspersed with columns and disturbing statues. Some of them featured weeping women, others were made of blue stone, shot through with gold, and were simple faces polished till they shone in the scant light.
The nights were cold without a fire, but since the two couldn’t find any fuel it was unavoidable. They stripped the clothes from the giants and piled them on top of their other blankets. The food was running low. The giants had had strips of dried meat in their packs, but it wasn’t any meat they recognized. Angus got a sickening feeling it was human, and they didn’t touch the stuff. Still, Angus packed up some of it as they got ready to leave.
Before they left, Angus set out once more to explore the large room. He had become strangely attached to the foul smelling, mysterious cave. Walking along the edge in the half light, he tripped over something and tumbled forward.
“You okay?” Oakley asked. He was resting up for the coming hike.
“Yeah.” Angus scrambled up. “I don’t think I’ve seen this part before—well, felt, really.” He stumbled forward, hands held out in front.
He bumped into what felt like another statue. He ran his hands over it. It was the head of a young woman, who gazed up serenely. He stepped past her, and followed a wall. It went down a ways, then turned.
“Hum.” Angus said. He could no longer hear Oakley’s labored breathing. Only his own rough breaths echoed against the smooth walls. He turned another corner. A dim light glimmered around the next bend.
Crouching, he tried to quiet his breathing. It slowed a little. Drawing his sword, he rose and advanced towards the corner.
Beyond, there was a single lamp. It was in some kind of bracket, and made of glass. He paused, considering the shadows which encircled the light. He could see no movement. Moving slowly, he went to the center of the circle and removed the lamp.
He turned and strode along the passageway. His footsteps and breaths filling the tunnel. Pausing, he examined his surroundings. The passage had smooth walls, made from a polished black stone which gleamed and glittered—reflecting the blue-white light in fragments.
Angus walked back to the central cave, grateful there were no branching tunnels. When he reached their cave, he was astonished by the emotive statues: they pulled at their own hair with frustration, or clutched their stomachs in sorrow—bent forward, with tears dripping from their cheeks and nose. They stared blankly, eyes a little too wide. They reached for him. He jumped away from a few of them, feeling foolish.
“Is that what I think it is?” Oakley said.
“I don’t know,” Angus said. “What are you thinking?”
“Don’t mess with me. Where’d you get the lamp?”
“It was in that tunnel.” He gestured.
“What’ya know. A tunnel. How far does it go?”
Angus shrugged.
“Humm.” Oakley said, then yawned. “Do you think they’re safer than up above?”
“Dunno.”
“Ugh. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds more fun.”
Oakley just looked at him. “Fun?”
“Yap.” Angus stared him down. “Fun.”
Oakley looked at the floor and began to cry.
“Hey,” Angus told him. “No sobbing—your ribs can’t take it.”
“Fine.” Oakley said. He curled up in a ball on the floor, and let tears flow silently. Angus packed their bags. The less time they spent in one place, the better.
When Oakley was finished, he put on his pack and followed Angus into the tunnels. They camped that night in another cave similar to the last one. Oakley spent an hour staring at a statue of a woman holding a child. Angus let him be, setting up camp.
When Oakley came and sat on his bedroll, Angus handed him a sandwich and patted him on the back.
“Ouch.” Oakley said.
“Yap.” Angus said. “How are you doing?”
“Sad.” Oakley replied.
Angus nodded. “It’s sad.” He replied. “I’m sad too.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you—how can you still think about fun—about all these things…”
“I’m not as sad. It’s less personal for me. I have a task to finish, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Angus took full watch that night, and Oakley accepted the gift graciously.
They traveled in the darkness for a long time. The small light never seemed to burn out, which they were grateful for. Angus was constantly worried about food. Sometimes they could hear the hungry swarm buzzing and clicking and clattering above them. Most of the caves felt the same, and they tried to stay in the room- like ones, which had openings to let in air.
Their ribs were slow to heal, and Angus grew used to the sharp pain which accompanied every breath. He couldn’t imagine what Oakley felt. They rested a lot, but his friend pressed on dauntlessly.
They were taking a long, gently curving passageway when they heard voices up ahead.
“Los’son, stand up straight, son.” The voice was gravelly.
“Sorry.”
Angus tried to dim the lantern—squishing it into his pocket. It still glowed faintly. He and Oakley backtracked fast. There had been a branching tunnel about a mile back. The men—creatures—were slow-moving. If they stayed ahead, there was a chance they wouldn’t be discovered.
“Dad?” It was the higher voice, although it was still deep as Angus’ own.
“What?”
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“Do you think we’ll find them?”
“The humans?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we probably won’t. Someone will. They can’t get away with it, see.”
“But—we eat them anyways. What’s the point?”
“Pride. No one kills one of our own.”
“Okay.”
“I said it before, I’ll say it again—if you don’t stand up straight, I’ll eat you.”
“Sorry.”
Angus and Oakley tried to quiet their hoarse panting. It hurt to move that fast. They were gaining distance, though. Angus guessed they had gone almost a half mile.
“Wait, listen.” It was the elder. Angus could almost picture him holding up one hand, ears twitching. The giants had large ears and blocky mugs.
“What is it?”
“I told you to wait—hear that sound?”
“The panting?”
“Yeah—wait, why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I didn’t know what humans sounded like.”
“Idiot. Hurry, we might be able to catch them.”
Angus and Oakley exchanged panicked glances.
“Mine.” Angus mouthed. “The big one’s mine.”
Oakley looked away moodily.
The creatures left off talking. Footsteps sounded, thudding on the rocky floor. The dust in the air shook. Angus and Oakley were almost to the branching path, and they hid behind the corner, swords out.
The footsteps came closer, going slower.
“Where are they?” The younger asked.
“Shhh.”
The two travelers waited, breath baited, as the steps came closer. When they paused, the two held their breath.
The footsteps rushed forward in a steady rhythm of heavy beats.
Angus sprung from his hiding place, sword forward. The giant had anticipated his move, and back handed him against the wall. There was a faint cracking noise as Angus slapped against the stone. He slumped to the ground.
The giant snickered. Behind him, a half-sized giant stared nervously.
Oakley stepped out from behind the corner, sword drawn. A bruise still swelled across his forehead, and his breathing was labored.
“This is the best you have?” The giant asked, then lunged.
Oakley jumped backwards, tripping, then rising again. The giant followed. Angus rose up behind him and stabbed through his spine. The monster moaned, and Oakley cut his throat.
The two turned to face the smaller giant.
He whimpered.
Oakley and Angus exchanged glances.
“Dad.” The giant said. “Dad’s dead.” He sat down and put his head on his knees and panted. He looked at Angus. “You killed my dad.”
Oakley drew back, turning to stare at the wall. Angus sheathed his weapon. The giant stared at him, eyes dry and anguished.
Then the giant turned and ran.
They traveled on. The next time they stopped, Angus fiddled with the lamp until he’d learned to dampen it. The giants had carried one, so they had two now.
As they traveled on, Angus began to find the silence intolerable. He wanted to jump or yell to break it. The heavy footsteps of giants seemed to dwell in it—more than the actual sounds they made as they passed in neighboring tunnels. More than in their casual chatting, as if the ending was already written, and it included the two being captured. As if the silence itself bore down on the two fugitives.
He’d broken another rib fighting the giant, just as his other rib was beginning to heal. He didn’t mind the pain. It kept him sharp.
The tunnels seemed to get closer and closer together. The walls became thin between the tunnels. Angus was almost grateful when the sound and smell of giants intruded on their very dreams, waking them as they found hiding places in the form of a false tunnel or some other thing. The giants weren’t very thorough.
The darkness went on and on. They rested whenever they felt tired. Ate the long strips of flesh they’d found on the giants. Deciding to go up top, once, they found there were no more windows. They should have known—the rooms had disappeared some time back.
The smell of giant was a lot like the smell of old shoes. It woke Angus, around the time when his rib began to heal. He woke Oakley and shoved him into the nearest hiding place.
The thud of giants was loud—four, maybe five of them, marching along in in step.
“Halt!” One cried. The thudding petered out.
Oakley and Angus held their breath. Oakley’s ribs had long since healed, although he said his head had never quite healed.
There was a long, strangled sounding intake of air. “That’s human.” The lead giant said.
“Are you sure, boss?” One of them asked. “Smells an awful lot like us.”
“It’s human. Now shut up.”
“Yes boss.”
“They’re around here somewhere, spread out.”
Angus drew his sword. Oakley did the same. They listened to each other breath. The light was out. Angus hoped the scant shadow would hide them.
It didn’t.
As soon as the giant’s lamp fell over them Angus stepped in front of Oakley. Oakley made a huffy sound. Angus attacked silently.
Half blinded by the light, and he slid past the giant’s defenses and plunged his sword into the belly. It slammed him on the head and Angus reeled.
The two ran towards the darkest area. The giants closed in around them. Angus turned to fight. Oakley turned as well, but Angus shook his head.
Oakley looked enraged, but ran. Angus turned.
There were two giants bearing down on him. Angus ducked the first and second blows—then managed to slash one of their arms. The creature howled, and swatted at him. Angus just avoided it, then ducked a blow from the other and stabbed him in the gut, plunging the sword until his sleeve was soaked with blood. Ducking a blow from a third giant, Angus tried to pull out his sword.
It wouldn’t come out.
Reaching for his knife, he turned to face the third giant, and received a crushing blow from the second giant. He fell to the ground. Oakley was nowhere in sight. Angus let out a relieved sigh and dropped into unconsciousness.
He awoke on a red platform. Around him giants sat at wooden tables, wearing stiff robes and looking very official. Most were grouped on one side of the room, but one sat facing Angus, and two others paced behind him.
“Human.” One of the pacing giants asked. “Do you admit to killing Beverly, Clyde and John Raville?”
Angus’ mouth was dry. “Who?”
“Three of our kind, living south of reed way. You are also charged with the murder of Steve Marth.”
“I’m not sure I know their names.” Angus said. “I came across a few people who wanted to kill me.”
“Killing a human is not a crime, boy.” The man facing Angus said sternly. “Answer the question.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Sir.” One of the giants behind Angus said. “I ask for a break in the proceedings.”
“Not granted.” The giant in front of Angus said. “Human, answer the question or face the consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?”
The giant stared at him. “Death.” He said.
Angus swallowed. “I may have defended myself. I don’t really like getting eaten.”
“And you had another combatant assist you?”
“No.”
The giant in front scowled. “Lying is death, boy.”
“I’m certain there was no one with me.”
“And you took on all five of them by yourself?” One of the giants behind said. “That’s difficult to believe.”
“They weren’t all at the same time.”
“So you admit to the slaying of Red Yiddle, too, and some of his band.”
Angus blinked. “The soldier?”
“The officer.”
“He tried to kill me, too.”
“The orders were to bring you in, not kill. It was straight up murder.” The giant behind him continued. “I suggest the death penalty.”
Angus sighed. “Whichever way this goes, I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
The giant in front scrutinized him with his pale eyes. They were the color of seafoam. “Are you accusing this court of being unjust?”
“Yes. In fact, it is. I don’t know the rules here, I’m not one of your people—and my death isn’t even a crime. You don’t even know my name!”
The group muttered.
“It is supposed to be a jury of equals.” The other man behind Angus said. He hadn’t spoke before then.
“Bother that.” Snapped the talkative one behind him. “I don’t even know why we’re trying him.”
“I will have order in this court.” The giant in front of Angus said, banging his fist on his table. The group and two giants silenced.
“This is as close,” the man continued. “as a fair trial we can provide. Given your status, it’s more than you can expect.” The group murmured nervously. “Now. I suggest we close court. Jury—get to it. I want this closed up by morning.”
The meeting split up half-hazardly.
Angus was held in a large, cold room. The walls were stone, as was the floor and ceiling. It looked as if it were all carved a piece, and there were scrape marks here and there.
He spent his time pacing and worrying. Hoping Oakley was safe, mostly. Thinking of Zeka—he imagined her bounding through a sun-lit field, yipping at sheep amongst red and blue wildflowers. He thought of Cerias. She was probably riding her horse, or knitting with Bronah. Reading, maybe, with her nose stuck deep into the pages. She loved the smell of vellum and paper. Redmond was always moaning about her expensive love of books—although he never stopped buying them for her. She’d always respond by pointing out that it was Bronah, not Redmond, who did the accounts, and Redmond would shake his head, grinning, and declare her incorrigible.
The memories of home came through especially sharp. Sometimes he thought he could taste the sunlight which danced just out of reach, surrounding a table full of people he loved. Bronah, with her hair pinned up and her eyes sharp and distant. Redmond, with his reddish hair rumpled and wild from him running his fingers through it. Cerias, with eyes that danced, brown-gold and radiant—her head haloed by her thick red hair. She turned, looked at him, and frowned.
“Cerias?” He asked.
She shook her head, as if shaking off a fly, and turned back to the table.
Based on the vision, it was lunch time—which meant Angus had been in the room a night and two half-days. He rose and ran laps around his cell, the far-off table playing out in the back of his mind.
Before long, a giant with a long rope opened the door. He had three or four others with him. Angus backed away. The four pinned Angus while the fifth bound him from head to toe, tying knots here and there—seemingly at random. Angus still couldn’t reach any of them, the bonds were so tight he could barely feel his toes after a minute.
One of them threw him over their shoulder, and they walked out the door. Angus squirmed, and they thumped him.
“Quit moving.” One of them told him. Angus ignored them, so they thumped him again and he blacked out.
Someone dumped a bucket of water on his head. He spluttered.
“What was that for?” He said.
“He’s awake.” A giant said. There were more in the room than there had been yesterday. Angus suddenly wished he’d ran when there were fewer of them. As of now, a giant had a hand on both of his shoulders, and his bonds made it so that he had to kneel to stay upright. His breaths came tight and rapid.
One of the giants in the large group stood. They were in front of him, now, as were the two who stood apart.
“Human boy.” The giant said. “The jury has sentenced you to death.”
Angus shivered. Orpah he prayed, if you want that crown, hear me now. Save me.
He heard her low chuckle in response, and swallowed.
“You will be executed forthwith tomorrow at noon. Please prepare yourself accordingly.” The giant sat down, looking pleased with himself. The other giants nodded at him, as if what he’d said was very clever.
“You’re making a mistake,” Angus told them, hoping he was right. “I have the backing of a goddess.”
Again, he heard her low chuckle.
The jury-giant frowned at him. “Would a goddess get in the way of sound justice?”
“What is just about my death? I was only defending myself.”
“But you killed five of our own—it is our right to return the favor. Any true goddess wouldn’t interfere."
“This is enough.” Said the giant at the head of the room—he was the same one who’d called order to the earlier meeting. “Guards, take him away.”
They dragged him away. He struggled helplessly. The ground tore at his feet as he gripped with all his might, only to be pulled away. In the end, they placed him on a shoulder once more.
When they came to his cell, they dropped him with a thud onto hard floor.