Hard as it was to take in the full extent of the queen’s tower from a distance, up close it looked mountainous. Arabel was certain now that they had no choice but to enlist Caracae’s help, or otherwise face climbing the better part of five hundred feet. At least. On the plus side, they had made it around the massive camp without incident, reaching the back of the tower as it faced overgrown trees, some almost as tall as the tower itself. No one would see them here. There was one window, far above – that was their destination. Arabel breathed in, considering the enormity of the task. But it was either the high window or use the door and cross the floor.
“Take only what you need,” Caracae instructed, pacing across the grass. She flexed her hands. “It’ll make it easier.”
“Do you wanna fly up there first?” Harper suggested.
“And waste even more energy having to make the trip twice?” Caracae said.
“Well how do we know if the princess is actually up there?”
“That’s definitely the queen’s chambers,” Arabel said, to quickly end that discussion. She couldn’t let herself doubt that, especially as this seemed like the only route that would keep them safe from prying eyes.
She took off her pack and moved packets of her dried meat to her pockets. No point taking extra clothes, maps or writing materials. Grawn hummed over which knives he favoured, while Harper adjusted the grapple at her hip. Their busyness was interrupted by a squeak of fear and Arabel shot her gaze to Caracae, who held a figure before her face. A man, pinched at the waist, arms up before her. The others stopped to watch, too.
“Can’t believe you’ve had him in there all this time,” Harper uttered, more impressed than shocked. It was the same thug who had threatened Arabel, stuck in a pouch for days. Had the witch been feeding him or giving him water? If so, it had been very subtle.
The little man begged for mercy, which the witch regarded with mild satisfaction. Then, seeing Arabel was watching, she smiled and winked before opening her mouth and pushing the small man in. Grawn made a disapproving grunt and looked away as the little kicking legs were sucked between the witch’s lips. She put a hand to her throat as she swallowed, tracing the small bulge with her fingertips. Deliberately sensual, Arabel was sure, teasing her – the fingers trailed all the way to her collar bone, lingering near the exposed top of her large breasts. Harper gave a nervous laugh.
“We can’t let this stand,” Eko whispered into Arabel’s ear. “When this is over, she deserves as much justice as these giants.”
Arabel was quiet, wanting to say he was a bad man, that he probably would’ve been executed eventually anyway. But the words didn’t come, because most forms of execution she knew of were more merciful than being swallowed alive. Instead of defending it, she watched Caracae step back and raise her hands, moving right on as though she hadn’t just devoured someone. She framed their group by cupping her hands. The witch wasn’t doing anything yet, Arabel knew, but they were in her grip, for sure. It would only take a flicker of will. She could shrink them as easily as lift them. In no way wanting to cross Caracae, Arabel found her voice to say, as much to convince herself as Eko, “She’s not a bad person. That man was going to rape me. Or worse. She stopped him.”
The monster hunter did not respond, letting that sink in, and Arabel didn’t look down to see if it was a concession or a scolding silence.
“Ready?” Caracae asked. Arabel found Grawn and Harper nodding either side of her. The thief stamped her feet, itching to get this over with.
Caracae grinned, not an encouraging one, then without warning raised her hands, and they all flew up. It was like being caught on a gust of wind, so powerful it threw all three of them off the ground, gliding the quick, full length of the tower wall. Arabel’s mind dizzied and she thought she would fall, but her body was held by an invisible force – Caracae’s will. It was like the witch had lifted them herself, carrying them as easily as the giant had. They rose and rose, above the trees, looking out across the great expanse of the Nidings mountains beneath them, all the way out to the plains of the Clear Valley. Harper cried out as they fell back and Arabel dropped, heart leaping, before they hit a floor. She stumbled a little to the side and took quick paces away from the window, staring out at an incredible view of the mountainside beyond.
They had made it, though – they were on the window ledge, a big knobbly slab of wood that framed the bottom of a thirty-foot high opening. Arabel turned, laughing at their success, grinning at Grawn, who was uneasily checking his armour as though not trusting this was real. The room took her attention away. It was larger than the fruit-gatherer’s hut, with curved walls and an ornate metal fireplace. There was finer furniture here – carved from immense trees. A cabinet of drawers, a curved, horn-rimmed chest and a vast bed, padded with furs. Arabel took a few steps towards the edge of the sill, stunned by the scale of it all – they must seem only two inches tall to these huge women.
“She could be in that chest,” Grawn said.
True, it looked secure enough. The captive princess might also be in the drawers or not here at all. There was no obvious prison, and despite the room having fairly little to show there was a lot of ground to cover if they wanted to check all the nooks.
“See up there?” Harper said, pointing to the ceiling. They all looked; the room climbed to a dark, wooden roof that arched over a lattice of wooden beams. “That’s where we want to be. See everything from there.”
“You just flew hundreds of feet,” Caracae’s soft voice announced her arrival. Arabel spun back to see the witch landing gracefully behind them, hands out at her sides. “You’re telling me it’s not enough?”
“Not if we wanna stay hidden,” Harper smirked back, not taking Carace’s jibe seriously. “We get up there, though, we wait and see when the queen comes up here. Sure she’ll want to check on her royal captive, won’t she? Assuming she’s here at all.”
“Can you get us up there?” Eko asked Caracae. “Or was that person’s life worth only a one-way trip up?”
“Oh, I feel amazing,” Caracae replied, arching her back, pushing her ample cleavage up. Arabel looked away uncomfortably. “Not that any of you thought to ask, but it’ll give me enough energy to move us all for some time. Is that the best plan we have, then? Hide in the rafters?”
All eyes fell to Arabel and she reluctantly nodded. After all, they were terribly exposed here. She said, “If you’d be so kind, Caracae.”
The witch shrugged and, without warning, whipped her hands up. They flew separately, Grawn and Harper thrust by one hand, Arabel by the other, and Arabel yelped as she shot through the air. She grabbed out as though there was something to hold onto and found nothing, then she tensed for impact. She landed and tripped down to a knee – on a wooden beam, a dizzying height above the bed. What, two hundred feet down?
Eko hopped down off Arabel’s shoulder onto the beam and shook herself out, muttering angrily. Caracae landed the other side of her a moment later, sandalled feet poking out from her lavish skirts. Eko stopped and looked up, treated to a giant perspective of the witch – something Arabel almost shared, kneeling with Caracae standing over her. It was a frightening thought, so she quickly stood, leaving Eko there.
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“You could’ve warned us,” Arabel snapped. The witch was smiling as ever, pleased by her upset, so Arabel turned away, adjusting her glasses, determined not to let it get to her. She saw Harper sitting on the beam, having distanced herself from the group. She hurriedly checked a pocket behind the lapel of her leather top. The thief’s hand remained in there as she whispered. What was going on with her?
“Screw this and screw you,” Eko huffed, drawing Arabel’s attention back. The monster hunter was marching past Caracae, in the other direction. It would have looked more dramatic if she wasn’t the size of a mouse.
“Lighten up, please,” the witch said, stepping to the side, her sandalled foot landing ahead of Eko.
Eko jumped back and pointed sharply up. “Watch yourself, witch, I’m warning you!”
Caracae put up her hands but gave a sly, sideways look to Arabel. She said, “It’s honestly taking all my willpower not to snatch her up.”
“Try it, I dare you,” Eko snarled, hand on the hilt of her sword.
“You’ll leave her alone,” Grawn joined in, grimly warning Caracae. The witch merely smiled at them both and shrugged, to say she was joking.
Wanting nothing to do with this mess, Arabel moved in the other direction, over to Harper. She crouched behind her and the thief flinched around, hand going to a knife.
“Easy!” Arabel said. “Just me. What’s going on?”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen you checking your bag. Talking to yourself. Are you okay?”
“We just got tossed hundreds of feet in the air, I’m allowed to be unsettled.”
Arabel’s eyes ran down to Harper’s chest, where her top was still partly open, exposing a grimy linen shirt. Where something moved. Arabel gasped and almost jumped back, a reaction that might’ve tipped her off the beam, but she caught herself. She looked up at Harper with alarm and found the thief’s expression had hardened, caught out.
“Don’t say anything,” Harper hissed. Arabel threw a look at the others. Eko and Grawn had gone further off, while Caracae had wandered to the side, surveying the room. They were all just about out of earshot. Harper said, “I’ll push you if you involve any of them.”
Arabel locked eyes on the thief, believing she would. But why? She gave the thief’s top another look and saw the bulge; a creature shifting to get comfortable. Please be a hamster, Arabel thought.
“She agreed to come, all right?” Harper went on, though, and Arabel’s worst thoughts were realised. The thief pulled her leather jacket back to expose the curve of her left breast, the shirt pocket holding a miniature person. The harried woman in the pink dress, rescued from the thundress that ate her family. The little woman waved guiltily. Harper explained, “I made her an offer. Obviously it’s safer with us than back in the woods, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Arabel whispered, then quickly added, “What offer?”
“You kidding?” Harper almost laughed. “Person this size, think of the opportunities. Places she could get in, things she could do –”
“As a thief?” Arabel asked incredulously.
“Shh, keep it down,” Harper raised a warning hand, checking the others. No one was paying them attention. “Yes, as a thief. Told her I’d keep her safe, and we can be partners.”
“Partners,” Arabel echoed, unbelieving. She looked at the tiny lady. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea –”
“Enough,” Harper snapped, pulling the top closed. Arabel caught a flash of fear on the tiny lady’s frightened face, and a reaching hand, in the brief moment before she was muffled within the thief’s clothes. “She’s mine now, okay? You’ve been all right with Caracae doing it, at least I’ll treat this one decent. I’m not gonna eat her.”
“She’s yours?” Arabel couldn’t believe it. Harper’s final check of the campsite hadn’t been generous or caring at all. She probably sent the little scrambling in fear as she reached in and grabbed one of them. Had she even chosen or just snatched whoever was nearest? There was no way it was by choice.
“Yeah,” Harper said, “and as I said. You make a word to anyone and you’ll be mine, too. Get me?”
Arabel saw murder in her eyes. This mission had gone far beyond a nightmare, she couldn’t even begin to process this. First she had let a witch eat people, now Harper was capturing slaves? She had to do something. But what?
Before she could answer that, the door to the room opened with a squeal of rusty hinges. Everyone but Caracae crouched low, as though they might be spotted. The thundress entered without looking up. The one who had talked with the fruit-gatherer, sure enough: tall as a statue, skin hard with muscle where it showed beyond her short leather dress, brilliant brown hair in braids on one side and a silken waterfall on the other. From directly above, they could see down her top, her breasts sticking out hugely from her chest, the top barely containing them. They were round as small hills, each bigger than a smokehouse, and in the canyon of the cleavage was that gold necklace. Hanging at the end of it, Arabel now saw, knocking between the breasts, was a glinting golden cage.
As the giantess queen, surely Serin herself, strode with thumping steps to the chest, the fruit-gatherer appeared in the doorway, arms folded in satisfaction. Serin reached opened the chest and reached in with both hands, her back blocking the interior from view. It was easy enough to guess what was inside: cries of dismay and panicked movements suggested at least three or four people. Was the princess one of them?
Serin turned back to her companion, holding up a man in each fist. Both were squeezed at the waist, pushing against her fingers, one with long blond hair and the other with cropped black. Arabel recognised the burgundy and gold lining of their tunics. They were Princess Vivaria’s personal bodyguard.
“Which do you want?” Serin offered, a rough and thunderous voice, but with good command of their own native Brekkish.
The fruit-gatherer cocked her head to one side, considering her options carefully, and the two men froze with dread. She pointed and the chosen man, the blond, started bucking with terror, shouting as Serin held him forwards. She dropped him into the other giantess’s waiting hand. The fruit-gatherer held him up in a loose fist, grinning hungrily at his struggles, then she thanked the queen, nodded and carried him out. His cries echoed against the wall as she thumped down the stairs.
Serin closed the door and strode back to the centre of the room, directly under the beam, with the other guard still in her hand. As the queen kicked off her sandals and a high-pitched voice cried out, “Do something, Tylon! For the Saints’ sake, do something!”
The guard in hand went rigid with fear as Serin paused what she was doing, looking down. It took Arabel a moment to realise where the voice had come from, but she spotted movement between the queen’s breasts. There was someone in the cage that hung from her necklace – a woman, pushing her hands between the bars, waving frantically at the guard.
“Get me out of here! I command you!” she shrieked, desperately, hopelessly. Surely the princess. The guard, Tylon, shook his head with horror, well aware she was making things worse. She cried, “Don’t just gawk, do something!”
“Oh Princess,” Serin said, almost gently. “Can’t you see he is about to do something?” Tylon looked up. “He’s about to provide a royal feast.”
“No –” Tylon pleaded, limply holding up his hands, but fear caught him from doing anything else as the queen lifted him. She held him just under her nose and gave a deep, savouring sniff, pulling his hair towards her nostrils. Princess Vivaria kept yelling at him, ordering him to break free, but all he could do was cringe as Serin’s cavernous mouth opened over him. The queen pushed him in and swallowed in one gulp as Vivaria’s yells turned to sobs.
Serin chuckled and walked back to the chest. She closed the lid and thumped to the bed as the princess’s sobs turned back to curses, damning the giant queen. She was either brave or incredibly stupid. Possibly both. But Serin ignored the shouts as she stripped off her dress and reclined onto the fur-lined mattress. Topless, with linen pants, Serin was a landscape of bronzed muscle, the gold cage now lying between the hillocks of her breasts. She closed her eyes and Vivaria gave up her protests, collapsing in the cage as she rose and fell with the thundress’s breath.
“She’s not going to take that necklace off,” Caracae softly whispered, having crept to Arabel’s side. Arabel gave her a questioning look and the witch went on. “I can’t shrink her if she’s got the princess attached. I don’t think the king would be happy if his daughter came back snack-sized.”
“Doll-sized,” Arabel grumbled. “Why can’t you just say doll-sized?” She’d had enough. The treacherous companions, the horrific monsters. She turned to Harper and said, “You can get Princess Vivaria out of that cage, can’t you? Serin’s going to sleep, this is where you come in.”
Harper gave her a malicious, defiant look, but Caracae said, “I should think so. Otherwise we don’t have much more use for you, do we?”
The thief’s glare softened, fearfully, and she turned away. Looking down at the monstrous task that lay beneath them.