Arabel and Grawn shifted rocks to build a makeshift shelter for the small people, then the group ate together in relative calm. The reality of the miniaturised people’s situation, having escaped their giant captor with hope that they would be safe until they could be delivered back to civilisation, allowed them to ignore the longer-term problem that they may never be normal-sized again. They settled tiredly down and Arabel delighted in the chance to talk to them more casually, to check her and Eko’s understanding of the Nidings against what these people had witnessed first hand.
One of the men who had hung on the giantess’s thigh took the lead in their discussions, and confirmed Arabel’s theories about the scavenging patterns of the thundresses. They sent individual warriors into the lowlands near the base of the mountains to gather slaves and food for the tribe, who otherwise engaged in crafts and physical labour. They built houses, bridges and tools, from a combination of stone, timber and animal hides. The leathers the giant women wore were taken from colossal beasts that seldom ventured into the lowlands; enormous elephantine quadrupeds and trolls that were hunted west of the mountains. Indeed, as captivating and horrifying as the giant raids on the Clear Valley were, the thundresses had much bigger concerns on their own frontiers.
Eko listened with curiosity, no doubt picturing other great foes she could hunt.
The tribe was spread between huge valleys of rocks, with maybe thirty thundresses in total. There were only a handful of children between them, all girls, and these were some of the most terrifying creatures out there, for they had not developed the restraint of maturity. To fall into a giant girl’s hands was a cruel fate, though none amongst the tribe were really kind. Mostly, the tribe’s prisoners were employed cleaning tools, floors, clothes and sometimes the giantesses themselves – the latter not out of need but to torment their captives. The truly unlucky ones were used to pleasure the giant women sexually, in rough practices that were humiliating beyond measure and often left people broken. Yet the thundresses had a strange magic that stimulated their captives: Arabel had read of this and was fascinated to confirm it. The small people were reluctant to discuss it in detail, but did nod gravely. Even as men were thrust screaming between the giantesses’ thighs, or sucked in and out of enormous mouths, they were unable to control their bodies, and would shudder and shed their seed.
Impossibly, that was how the thundresses continued to reproduce, despite, as the tiny people confirmed, there being no men amongst their numbers. It was written that their captives could still impregnate them, with whatever ancient magic that had first blown these monsters to enormous proportions, and the seed of small men continued to produce huge women. However the small people had seen nothing of thundress pregnancy, so it was possible that such claims were mere rumours. How long, after all, had it been since someone survived to see the Thundress Tribe? These tiny people could provide the most insight anyone had had since Fletcher Van travelled there a hundred years ago, and they could not confirm everything.
But in a matter of days, Arabel supposed, she would be her own expert.
Their discussion ended darkly, as the more vocal man who’d been tied to the giant’s hair became upset recalling the tribe’s feasting. Every night, he said, they would drink alcohol and make music. They did not eat often, but when they did it was rare that they bothered cooking, or even killing, their prey. Worse, they played with their food – gambling over races, bobbing for men in buckets of water, or rolling dice to decide a prisoner’s fate. The man descended into sobs at the memories and the conversation petered out as Arabel found herself too guilty to ask anything more.
They finished eating, mounted up and set out riding again, to get in an extra couple of hours’ travel before nightfall. Despite the savage topics of discussion, the afternoon left Arabel feeling more positive moving forward. Eko had refined her own understanding of the tribe, and gleamed information on the paths the slaves used in and out of camp, distracting her from her own predicament. Grawn had worked hard to make sure no woodland creatures would be able to penetrate the shelter, so the tiny people would be safe, and Harper had even gone back to double-check for weaknesses. The strange circumstances had apparently brought out some decency in the thief. And no one was arguing with Caracae or bringing up how terrifying the thundress had been that morning.
The group followed the stream until the rock became more common than grass, and the stream finally flowed into the Whisper River, one of the natural landmarks that bordered the Nidings. They crossed a small footbridge and Eko directed them up a slope, onto what she said was one of the paths up into the Thundress Tribe. They settled in a cave mouth shortly after, with a low fire, and Arabel looked out over a relatively flat horizon glittering with towns and villages that must be far, far away across the Clear Valley. It all looked so small out there now, entire towns mere specs on the countryside. She wondered if, with better light, she might see all the way back to Burgwec from here.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
When they settled for the night, Eko insisted on sleeping near Arabel. After a day spent mostly riding on her shoulder, the huntress now decided she could use Arabel’s bedroll, by her head, for a bed. Arabel worried she would roll onto her, but Eko said it was a risk she was willing to take, so long as Arabel was in grabbing distance should anything happen. Eko didn’t specify what anything was – jackals sneaking into camp? Caracae snatching her in their sleep? Arabel could imagine a few concerns. While the proximity put Eko at ease, it made Arabel stiff with nerves and she rolled over to face away from the tiny woman. She was beset by worries about how ungainly she must look from Eko’s perspective. How much did her hair smell, hanging down around the tiny woman? Or her breath?
Arabel shuddered at the thoughts and found sleep hard to come by.
As she lay awake, she noticed Harper shifting about near the cave mouth, on watch. She was rummaging in her bag, whispering into it. The thief was a strange one, maybe thinking out loud. Plotting, would be more appropriate. But she laughed quietly to herself and seemed to be working on something in that bag. In the dark, with her eyes drooping, Arabel couldn’t figure it out, and slowly slipped into sleep.
Dawn light entered the cave to wake them all, and Grawn raised them with a pot of stew he’d scarcely warmed on the fire. They mounted up and continued into the Nidings.
It was a thankfully quiet journey, for a good distance, as they navigated mountain passes, but signs of their giant enemies started to creep into view. The rocks were getting bigger, and at one point the path crossed over a very long bridge, from one cliff to another, where Arabel realised, halfway across, that it was not a ravine beneath them, but a path big enough for a giant. She urged everyone to move faster when that sank in, in case someone came along the path.
Not much further, the terrain became too steep for the horses and the group dismounted. They found a patch of grass and tied the animals off, taking up bags to continue on foot. Arabel’s attention was drawn to Harper again, as she saw the thief muttering as she rearranged her pack. Harper caught Arabel’s eye as she watched and winked, then quickly slung the bag onto her shoulder and marched past.
Arabel took the lead again, with Eko standing on her shoulder, little hand wrapped through strands of her hair and pressed against her neck. It was going to give Arabel tight muscles, she imagined, tensing so as not to unsettle the little huntress.
Though it was Arabel who suggested the markers of slave paths to follow, and understood the rough direction of the tribe, Eko picked out their specific route, as though she could scent in the air which way to go. Most likely she was merely acutely aware of how the earth and foliage had been unsettled, to indicate the passage of other people or animals – knowing which were best to follow and which to avoid.
As the cliffs and trees got increasingly huge, Arabel couldn’t shake a shrinking feeling. The mountain terrain was a tremendous scale, with roots rising around them taller than houses. It became especially daunting when the small path broke out between rocks to join one of the larger ones. The empty dirt between cliff-faces was as wide as a field, but Eko pointed to churned craters in the mud, wider and longer than wagons: the footprints of giants. For them, this path would only be two or three people wide.
“We have to move quickly,” Eko said. “Stay close to the rocks and look for another route off this path.”
Arabel agreed and moved briskly up the enormous path, the others following behind. The rock-face was severe and stretched a long way, though; she couldn’t see another opening.
Then the ground shook. The rocks vibrated. Another shake, with a boom of great weight hitting the ground. Followed quickly by another.
“Run!” Eko ordered and Arabel sprinted. The huntress bounced off her shoulder and yelped as she swung on Arabel’s hair, making her wince. Arabel faltered and instinctively snatched Eko from the air as she swung, balling her into a fist before racing on. Harper had already skipped past them, hurriedly scanning the rocks for cover. The ground kept shaking, harder and quicker as a giant approached.
“Up there!” Harper pointed and darted for the gap she’d seen. Caracae was right behind her, moving startlingly quickly considering she somehow kept her composure, in that long elegant dress that really didn’t belong here. Grawn held a hand out, encouraging Arabel to move faster. She didn’t take it, running past him.
The group piled into the gap between rocks just as a shadow passed behind them. They’d reached a small recess between the rocks, overgrown with thorny roots, and Arabel crashed into Grawn and Harper as she entered, barely enough space for all of them. Caracae was pressed further back, eyes gleaming in the dark.
The ground crunched out on the path, shaking their hiding spot. Arabel spun back as the next step brought the approaching giant right next to them – not two dozen paces from their hiding spot. Arabel gaped at the titanic sandalled foot, with hard, bronzed flesh on a two-foot platform of hard wood. Its leather straps, thicker than Arabel’s arms, ran over the toes and up around the ankle. Even the smallest toe was bigger than her head – and something about the way the foot settled there said the thundress wasn’t merely walking past.