EPILOGUE: THE GIANTESS AND THE SCARRED SWORDSMAN

The skies had gone from a dusky orange to a purpling blue, and even amidst the skies filled with ash, some few stars shone through the haze.

Bending on his haunches, Falinor set the last rock upon the mound where Orvin was laid to rest, never to leave this spot.

The swordsman stood, turned to Harrkania who withdrew her dagger. As she spread her fingers, Falinor saw that an old scar graced her palm, something he had not noticed before until now.

As she approached Orvin’s grave, she put the blade in her hand, closed her fingers and dragged the dagger away.

Blood dripped from her fist as she glanced down at the rocks, her features and eyes heavy with sorrow and solemn beyond anything Falinor had seen regarding the princess before.

“I commend this blood to you, my friend, that it may be given to the gods for your safe passage into the Lands of the Ever Blooms and the Forests of Hestwyn. Be gone with you to a better place.”

Quietly she stepped back and Falinor watched, though he said nothing—did not know what he could say. He was not the sentimental type, even for funeral rights. But wherever Harrkania wished him happiness in the next life, it was surely a place of the giants, as he had never heard of those places before.

She looked on at the grave, wiped her cheek.

Stepping beside the princess, he put an arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly she turned to Falinor. “We should go.”

After a moment he nodded, and they departed the grave, nestled on a hill and overlooking the God’s Eye. They would reach the sloop in a few more hours. It would be full dark by then, but perhaps that would be better.

If giants from Orchan’Da’s company had stayed behind to guard their own boat, Falinor would have to deal with them. The darkness would make it easier.

Thinking about how he would dispatch giants in the midst of Orvin’s burial rites given by Harrkania, did not feel right. He put it from his mind and picked up the pack with the water jug and followed the princess.

Somewhere in the far distance a wolf called in the early evening.

*

The sound of the river could be heard from the hill where Falinor and Harrkania crouched. The sloop was close.

They just had to make certain that it was still there, and if it was, to be careful of any giants guarding it.

Falinor looked at Harrkania in the dark. His eyes had adjusted to the blue-black of the night, though glancing behind in the direction of the God’s Eye, still visible behind the mountains, an orange glow hemmed in by greyness persisted.

Thunder rumbled from the mountain.

Silently he moved out of his place of cover toward a large rock protruding through the green grass of the steep hill.

Reaching it, he placed his hand over the hard and craggy surface, smelled the air. He did not find anything that alerted his warrior’s wariness.

Harrkania followed behind in a half crouch, and when she moved like this, they were of an even height while Falinor stood upright. But then he too crouched low, the stick in his hand sharpened with the princess’ dagger.

For now, it was the best weapon he had, as Harrkania had the dagger. Her cousins whip bobbed against her hip in its coiled state, unused by the giantess, as she was not proficient in such a weapon.

Why she even kept it, the swordsman did not know.

The mast of the sloop came into view through the trees as a black silhouette. Falinor stepped over the grass and into the rocky river shore. As he looked up the river, he saw the other sloop left by Orchan’Da’s party and saw no activity.

Even still, his footsteps were louder than he would have liked upon the dry river stones that cracked and crunched under his feat, especially with Harrkania’s movements.

But the sloop was there, no sentries anywhere in sight.

As he neared the rigging hanging across the side, he considered climbing, but paused, as hushed whispered came from within.

With his heart suddenly beating faster, Falinor put out his hand to signal to Harrkania to stop. She did, and neither of them made a sound for a long time.

Finally, he glanced over at the princess, who looked at him, then back to the boat. Falinor lifted a leg when suddenly someone screamed.

“NOW!”

Heads and shoulders lifted up over the railing and something whistled past Falinor’s ear.

“Move!” he hissed, and ran to his right, skirted around the bow of the sloop as men shouted and ran about the decking. When he came to the other side, he jumped on the rigging hanging there and climbed.

Once he was in the boat, he found three men. One of them—the man with the bow who had tried to put a shaft through him, came at him, but Falinor grabbed the bow and yanked it to the side, whereupon he hit the man in the ribs.

He grunted, ambling backward.

Then some words were called by another figure in the dark just as Harrkania got over the side of the boat from their first position of approach, and he was certain it was a healing spell.

He took pause as the next man started screaming and charged him.

Putting out a hand, he called, “Wait! Wait! Do not attack!”

The men stopped, their hands outstretched, ready to do battle, if battle it could be called with the one bow between them. One more man held a net. They were unarmed, clearly because they had found this sloop here.

“Chiarro?” Falinor tested.

The man on his right, the mage who had called out the spell moved, pulled down his hood.

Falinor could hardly make out his features.

“Falinor?” he asked in astonishment. “It is you, is it not?” he laughed. Then suddenly another man hushed them. “Be quiet! The others!”

“Oh, right.”

“Do you know these men?” asked Harrkania.

They looked at her and seemed to notice her for the first time. “Oh no, the man who had had the bow said. “It’s a giant. He’s with the giants.”

“Hush,” said Chiarro. “I know this man. “He is Falinor. He was in the cell with us, you dolts.”

“What?”

“Yes!”

“Oh—that’s right.”

“Chiaro!” he hissed. “How did you survive?”

He could not see the man’s face, but he could tell he was smiling. “How did you survive, my friend?”

That was a fair point. With a shrug, he then asked, “Are there no others? Captain Doldriss?”

Chiarro shook his head. “I am afraid we three are all that are left.” He gestured to the man in the middle. “Dennin broke his leg, but I healed him. Sedryk and I were uninjured in the fall. Falinor—the sand. I never thought to survive.”

“Neither did we,” said Harrkania, and all the men looked at her.

“So,” Chiarro finally said. “Who is your companion, Falinor?”

“Oh,” he said. “This is Princess Harrkania’Dar. She rescued me from Orchan’Da.”

“Who?”

“The giantess who captured us.”

“Ah,” Chiarro said. “That is right. Well, now that we are all together, perhaps we can leave here. With just us three, we were unable to move the boat from the shore—but… with the help of a giantess, pardon our need, Princess, perhaps we can get underway and away from the isles. Err—should your companion want to do that, that is…?”

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“Yes,” Harrkania said quietly. “I want that.”

“Then let us waste no more time here,” said Chiarro.

Everyone moved toward the sides of the boat, when Chiarro suddenly grasped Falinor by the upper arm. “It was good to see you again, my friend.”

Falinor smiled. “You too, Chiarro.”

“Though I sense a somberness about you—a lack of vitality. Are you well?”

“Physically…” he said slowly. By now the others had all disembarked. “But it has been harrowing.”

“Indeed,” said Chiarro sympathetically. “Indeed, my friend.”

They disembarked and helped the others free the sloop from its gravely perch upon the shore. As the ship came free, a flash of lightning lit the sky.

“It will be a storm,” said Chiarro, pulling his hood back up as a cold wind from the north blew in.

*

Sailing back up the river, the small group of humans and their giantess companion made their way to the sea after a matter of only a few days due to the obliging wind from the approaching storms.

They had weathered rain and wind, caught fish, and lived aboard the sloop, unfound by any of Alun’Dar’s searchers, who were no doubt now searching for the princess after her extended absence.

For a time the sun shone brightly and warmly as black clouds on the horizon approached once again, though this time the storm was near to being upon them, Falinor thought the wind to be much easier going.

He stood at the prow of the sloop as it rose and fell with the waves, the chop the water white and frothy. The wind blew his hair back in a stream of tied locks, his hand resting on his knee and the other on his hip.

The giantess approached him as Chiarro and his fellows sailed the small ship. They called to one another as they tacked up though the Straight of the Leviathan’s Eye, heading directly for the kingdom of Ondwur.

As she came beside him, he lifted his hand instinctually as she interlaced her fingers with his and he glanced up at her.

“Soon, we will be within the kingdom of Andwur.”

She nodded.

“We must be careful,” said Falinor. “This is the same kingdom from whence Princess Kindrin comes.”

“I understand she said.” Then smiling, she added, “But you will protect me, will you not?”

With a wry smile, he nodded, turned to her and she bent her head.

Chiaro leaned over the side of the ship’s wheel to get a looksee as Dennin and Sedryk whistled and made catcalls.

The swordsman and the Princess of Dar “ignored them completely,” their eyes locked and their lips parting just as their mouths twisted together into subtle grins.

Together, they watched the sea under dark clouds.

A ray of light shot through, just as Sedryk from the lookout called, “Land! I see land!”

Narrowing his eyes, Falinor could barely make out the shape of the hills in the distance through the blue-grey mist in the air.

Harrkania squeezed his hand, and he looked up at her again and nodded.

*

With a nod, Chiarro said, “May the gods be with you. Both of you. You know where to find me should you need my help.”

“Thank you,” said Falinor, and he took the bow offered to him by Dennin.

With a final nod, Chirro left them with Dennin close behind as Sedryk tidied up the lines on the sloop.

“Perhaps we should have stayed with them,” said Harrkania as she glanced up into the sky. The wind blew her hair back swiftly as drops of rain began to come down. “We could use the coin from the sale of the boat.”

“Better to stay apart,” he said. He looked at her and smiled, then he took both her hands in his. “Come, Princess.”

Three Years Later…

Hendwyl and his helpers came out of the castle as he glanced up at the early morning sun. The light was directly in his eyes, just as it was coming over the horizon, and he squinted.

As he stalked out into the yard and toward the inner gate, he muttered curses. Why anyone would come to the castle and make a ruckus at this time in the morning was beyond him.

He strode directly to the guards. “What is the matter? Why am I being disturbed this early in the morning, Captain?”

The runner glanced at Hendwyl, then to his captain, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

“We have three visitors at the outer gate,” he said, glancing down at Hendwyl. “They refuse to reveal themselves to anyone but yourself, sir.”

“And?!” he asked impatiently with a wave of his hand. “You thought this a matter important enough to pull me from my morning meal?”

The captain looked at him somberly, his demeanor uncowed. “Sir,” said he, “one of them is clearly a giant.”

Hendwyl’s eyes shot open and he almost stuttered. “Truly?”

The captain nodded.

A giant…

His mind instantly brought up images of the king when he had left for his crusade for the Giant Isles. It had ended in utter defeat, the princess never having been recovered.

And…

Neither did the queen.

That poor soul.

Damn—poor Princess!

“All right,” he said nodding. “all right. But do they look dangerous?”

“Two of them,” said the captain. “Yes.”

“And the third, man? Do not make me ask.”

“I do not know,” he said stiffly. “The third is a woman, hooded. We have not seen her face.”

“Bah! Fine! I will go out to meet them to see what they want, but do not let them into the gate. I don’t want some riffraff in the castle ground if they pose any kind of danger.”

“Very well, sir. I will have some of my guards pulled from the barracks to meet you there.”

“Mmm,” he said musingly. “Yes—yes do that, Captain.”

After buckling his tunic on and washing his face and teeth, Hendwyl went down to meet the strangers at the game. As soon as the portcullis was lifted, he went to them, the captain and five of his guards flanking him.

The morning was quiet and birds were chirping in the trees.

A fine day.

He smiled, nodding, unsure as to what to say to the stranger, as the one on the left, surely she was a giant. Her height was head and shoulders taller than the man, who stood a head taller than Hendwyl himself.

“Welcome to Castle Shelby where His Majesty King Kindrin resides with the Queen. God preserve them in this life and in the next.”

The man lifted his hood, revealing his long locks tied behind his head and four scars across his right cheek with another scar on his left cheek. They were peculiar marks, as if a bear had grabbed him by the jaw.

“My name is Falinor,” he said. “I fought in king Kindrin’s army when he sallied out to the Giant Isles some three years ago.”

“Yes, yes,” Hendwyl said, then he took pause as he watched the giant remove her hood. He almost snarled then, but he was too afraid to anger this warrior, who looked like she could pick him up and rip him into two. “Tell me what you want.”

“We have come,” said the giantess, “to deliver something of great value to the king.”

Hendwyl raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Of great value, you say?”

The giantess was an imposing figure, lean, strong and big breasted with dark brown hair and striking eyes. She carried a weapon—a boar oar fit for the size of a giant. She held it strapped to her back like a sword, but also at her belt rested a shorter blade.

Blinking, he realized who these people were.

“Y—you are… Yes, that is right. Do they not call you two the Giant and the Scarred Man. Nono”—he snapped his fingers.

“The Giantess and the Scarred Swordsman,” offered the captain of the guards.

“Yes! That is right! And you two have bounties on your heads! Guards!”

“Wait,” said the Scarred Swordsman said, his tone brooking no disagreement.

Hendwyl took pause, raised a hand to stop the captain and his men from advancing.

“We may have bounties on our heads, for some do call us by those names,” the Scarred Swordsman who had introduced himself as Falinor said.

“Very interesting,” said Hendwyl. “So the stories are true—and you do not deny them?”

“I do not know of any stories,” said Falinor. “But we have come bearing a gift for the king. And I assure you—after he sees what we have for him, we—the both of us, will be free agents to come and go as we please.”

“And if I have you thrown in the dungeon first?”

“Then the king may very well strike off your traitorous head, old man.”

Grumbling, he finally said. “What gift?” he gestured impatiently. “Show it here.”

The giantess put her hand behind the third figure and pushed her forward, then pulled back her hood to reveal a girl with red hair and blue eyes. She blinked strongly in the daylight, her eyes open wide as if she were in shock or surprise of something.

“What is this, a slave?”

“Look closely,” the giantess said as she glowered down at him. “Look into her eyes.”

Hendwyl frowned, stepped closer and looked at the girl. “What is she dumb?” he snapped his fingers in front of her face and—

He gasped.

“God and goddesses! It’s—it’s…”

“Yes,” said Falinor. “Princess Kindrin.”

“How did you—“

“We rescued her,” said the Princess. “Now we wish to make her a gift to His Majesty the king.”

Hendwyl almost fell back as he stumbled over the ground, feeling quite beside himself. “I cannot believe it! Yes—yes of course, I will show you to his majesty. Ah—erm—Captain!”

“Sir?”

“Show these… people into the castle and show them all due courtesy. I will—“ He turned around and glanced up at the walls, the parapets and the towers with high steeple blue roofs. “I will rouse His Majesty and Her Highness immediately.”

*

The queen let slip the goblet of wine from her fingers and the cup fell loudly to the tiles. The few servants within the court gasped as the king ran forward as if the gods themselves had just opened the heaven to them.

He gasped, long, like a fish, his eyes wide and his robes pushed back. King Kindrin looked at the princess, at Falinor—then to the giantess. He shrunk back, and glanced at the princess again.

The queen, who stood, her hand to her mouth and tears in her eyes, whispered, “She had returned to us.”

“Yes,” said Hendwyl carefully. “But your majesty, she is…” He snapped his fingers in front of the girl.

“What are you doing?” the king asked.

“She is in a daze, Your Majesty. Bewitched, I think.”

“Yes,” said Falinor with a nod. “We could not break the spell, but we believe the magic can be broken by a master healer.”

The queen ran forward and cradled the princess in her arms. The girl curled into her, but said nothing, moved very little.

“Yes, I will call for them at once,” the king said. “Then he turned and to the throne chamber he called out, “Summon a master healer! Send word at once!”

The queen took the princess away amidst a gaggle of servants and physicians.

Light shone into the throne room bright and lively as he paced back and forth. He sat on his throne. Rose.

“What is it I can do for you? Surely you wish for some kind of reward—just name it—anything you like.”

Hendwyl glanced back at Falinor and Harrkania uncertainly, waiting for their answer.

*

“The horses you requested,” said the captain of the castle guard as he brought the reigns to them. “And the wagon.”

“The gold?” Falinor asked.

“In the wagon, Lord Serdrin—er—“ He glanced up at Harrkania. “Lady Harrkania.”

“Very good,” she said. “You may take your leave of us, Captain.”

“Of course.”

Hendwyl had hovered nearby. “So…” he said slowly. “A lord and ladyship and coffers of gold. Quite a hefty prize indeed for two outlaws.” He chuckled. “But you have no lands. You should have asked for lands!”

Falinor held up a billet. “Gold and titles were our last need,” he said, and he tossed the billet to Harrkania. She caught it easily and looked down at the leather fold with a subtle smile on her lips.

“Ah, yes,” said Hendwyl. He shook a finger at them, indicating their wit and cleverness. “Not that you needed the king’s seal of approval to allow yourself and your giantess companion free reign unmolested in his lands. Not after the titles.”

“Not just his lands,” said Falinor. He glanced to Harrkania, then back to the castellan, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “Under the Treaty of Erlyn Grove, his seal on those papers make his edict binding within the Pact of Kingdoms.”

Hendwyl’s eyes widened. “How did I miss that?”

Falinor let loose a smirk.

“Well,” Hendwyl said. “You are rich, free, and now to be even more infamous than before. Where to?”

“Wherever the wind blows us,” said Harrkania.

“Ha!” scoffed Hendwyl bemusedly. “Indeed. And go with the gods good graces, for bringing back the dear princess.”

As they mounted the wagon, the castellan ordered the gates open.

Scarred Swordsman shook the reigns and he and the Giantess trundled out through the castle grounds, into the city below, out and over the hills, as the sunrise of a new time in their lives began.

“But truly,” said Harrkania with a smirk. “Where to, my love?”

With a raised eyebrow, Falinor said, “I have heard talk that the manor houses in the kingdom of Fallswer are quite beautiful?”

“Then let us make our journey there,” said the Giantess with a smile.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”