Chapter Fourteen

“Did the appetizer just address us?”

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They examined the bridge with weary eyes. The spell had done one thing right: there was now a questionably reliable bridge spanning the chasm in front of them, held together by millions of tree fragments and magic water.

James was eager to have someone else go first, just in case.

“Who would like to venture forth first?” he said gruffly. The bridge looked like it would hold up—their magical axes had held together just fine, even if they’d been fashioned with the magic pond water, so the bridge would likely not plunge them into the abyss….

“I’d be happy to lead our adventuring party!” Gabriel said brightly. He seemed unfazed by an entire day of back-breaking manual labor, but even he looked a little tired, even if his perfect hair and unwrinkled clothing were at odds with that assessment. Maybe the young man had a fairy godmother stashed in his pack and was getting magical assistance… or maybe he was an advanced form of life humanity hadn’t figured out how to achieve yet.

Or maybe he was just Gabriel.

He strode across the bridge fearlessly. James held his breath, frantically thinking of things that rhymed with “catch” in case their magical construction failed. When Gabriel reached the other side and waved them over, Greenie jerked her head up and snorted out a small spray of blue flames before waddling over the bridge as quickly as she could, in search of the grass that was slightly greener on the other side.

After the cow-dragon completed her crossing, James and the siblings had no excuse. Any bridge that could support the chubby creature was clearly structurally sound. James shuffled across as quickly as he could, Night and Day at his heels. They were clearly dragging. Night was quiet—a first—and even Day was brushing sweaty strands of dark hair out of her face impatiently.

The sun was cradled in the earth, and James could hardly keep his eyes open. After using every ounce of concentration to cross the bridge without falling off either of the sides, he lowered himself to the grass and leaned against Greenie, who was wildly content, devouring the ground with abandon.

They were one step closer to the Green Queen. One step closer to finishing Harold’s quest. Maybe one step closer to getting James back home.

And there still wasn’t a single cozy bed in sight.

“… intend to make us all do manual labor?”

“He’s a wizard, I’m sure he had his reasons…”

“Reasons he doesn’t even know.”

“You don’t always have to fight so hard against things you don’t understand, sis…”

“And you don’t always have to blindly believe in everything, brother dearest.”

“Problem?” James asked. He’d pulled his hat over his eyes to block out the last strains of sunlight when he heard the end of a hushed conversation between the siblings.

Gabriel was busy trying to get Greenie to start a fire, coaxing her with promises of back rubs and a big pile of fresh grass. It looked like the cow-dragon was currently winning, but the young man could probably have convinced the mountains James had recently destroyed to move with nothing but a smile.

“I know everyone else on this planet thinks you’re almighty and indomitable, but forgive me if I’m a little… skeptical of your ‘methods,’” Day said. She was sitting on the grassy ground, picking at the callouses on her hands.

“Skeptical how? I’ve managed to get us through each obstacle so far,” James said proudly. “I even moved an entire mountain range for you. What more could you want?”

“If you’re able to move mountains with such ease, why bother having us break our backs in the heat of the day making a ridiculously time-consuming bridge out of three million tiny twigs?”

For once, James had an immediate answer. Something his mother would have said, if she’d been there with him.

“Quests are supposed to challenge us, push us to our limits. Isn’t that right, Gabriel?”

“Of course, Just James,” Gabriel said with a grin as he slowly pushed Greenie toward his pile of wood and began waving leaves under her nose in an attempt to get her to sneeze.

“If I’d flown us all over the chasm, would any of you have learned anything?”

“I might have learned to respect you,” Day muttered just as Greenie erupted with a scalding sneeze that shot out her most impressive blue flames yet. Day yelped and leaped away, beating at her battered, dust-covered cloak, which was now slightly on fire. Maybe the poor cow had the makings of a proper dragon after all.

“If that’s the case, why did you help us, Just James?” Night asked. He was digging through his pack, looking for something that must have been on the bottom, given the number of miscellaneous items strewn around him. “Shouldn’t you have just supervised us or something?”

“If an old, feeble, weak man like me can handle putting together a simple bridge, surely you young, healthy, strong folks could do it with ease,” James boasted, even as he inwardly cried a little, his body screaming at him for enduring such brutality for hours.

He’d probably never recover from this little “stunt.” This was precisely why he was meant to live a sedentary, predictable, boring life. Anything else meant aching pains and an unhealthy dose of ego.

“If that’s true, maybe you should keep watch tonight,” Day said, cautiously studying her surroundings, wary of another sneeze from Greenie.

And miss my precious sleep time? his mind cried.

“Not a problem,” his voice said. If Day was determined to undermine his wizardly authority, he should probably fight back.

Although if it meant missing any more sleep beyond today, he’d let her think whatever she wanted to. James had priorities.

Gabriel had successfully made a roaring fire, with the unintentional aid of the cow-dragon, and was happily roasting vegetables he’d stored in his pack.

Night had finally unearthed his bedroll and was spreading it out. Day was grumbling to herself, juggling several of the stones she’d pocketed before and wincing slightly from her callouses.

James was resting his eyes under his hat, doing his best to sleep without drawing attention to himself before he was forced into keeping watch.

“Night, how many times have I told you to pack the things you use the most on the top of your pack?” Day muttered. James still had his eyes closed, but he could imagine her rushing around their makeshift camp in a panic, flinging Night’s many belongings into a heaping pile before shoving everything under a boulder or something.

“But you packed my bag this time, sis.”

“And I’m sure I would have put your bedroll on the top.”

“Then why did I find it at the bottom?”

“Because… because you opened your pack from the bottom, Nigel.”

“Night, not Nigel.”

“A rogue would never have failed to notice their bag was upside down, farmer boy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a farmer,” Gabriel pitched in. “My parents are excellent farmers.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect toward your family,” Day said, slight embarrassment in her tone. That was a first. Maybe she did like Gabriel a little bit after all. She definitely didn’t like James, which was fine with him.

Turning to Night, she said in a too-sweet voice, “The only disrespect I meant is toward a certain pack rat brother who won’t be named.”

“But you did just name me, Daisy,” Night said, drawing out the word “Daisy” with an obvious smirk.

“I’m going to bed,” Day huffed. James peeked over at the group from under the brim of his hat and watched the young woman stalk precisely two feet away before burrowing in her bed roll with a scowl.

“Wouldn’t you like some of my roasted salad?” Gabriel said helpfully, offering her what looked like a burnt leaf.

“I’m not very hungry, hero boy. Thanks anyway though.”

Night made his way over to the fire and sat down by Gabriel as though nothing had happened. The two began chattering away, discussing why not farming was secretly a lot of fun. James had to disagree. Being a farmer still sounded like a great way to get in lots of naps. At least if he grew something easy, something that basically grew itself. Whatever that was. Potatoes maybe? They just grew underground and then you picked them, right?

It seemed like the two would be up for a while, so maybe James could take a quick nap.

No harm in it. No one would notice. No one would….

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

***

James awoke to the smell of something cooking, an awful combination of mint with cheese and onions, along with a hint of chocolate.

“Gabriel,” he muttered, “maybe consider sticking to salads.”

No one responded, which James found odd. Maybe he’d napped a little longer than intended. Maybe everyone else had also fallen asleep without checking to see if James was actually keeping watch and Gabriel had left something cooking over the fire a little too long. Although that didn’t explain the terrible smell wafting through the air. Gabriel might not be a chef, but he was unnaturally gifted at almost everything.

“Gabriel? Night?” When neither of them responded, James reluctantly opened his eyes.

Only to immediately close them. A blazing bonfire had filled his vision, the brightness dazzling him after his peaceful nap. Maybe Greenie had been allergic to this greener grass and sneezed her way to a raging inferno.

James doubted it.

The fire he’d just seen was massive, easily five times the size of Gabriel’s modest campfire. And if his slightly blurry vision hadn’t deceived him when he’d looked, he’d seen a couple huge shadows, maybe boulders.

“Did you hear something, Reginald?” a deep bass voice like thunder boomed.

“Nothing but the rumbling of my empty stomach,” Reginald replied, his voice somehow even deeper than the first.

“If the two of you would spend less time complaining and more time cooking, this evening’s supper wouldn’t be such a disaster,” a rich tenor voice complained.

“You’re the chef, Ferdinand. You’re supposed to be skilled in the culinary arts,” the first voice said dismissively.

“And what are you supposed to be, Archibald? The critic?” Ferdinand grumbled.

“I am the artist, skilled in the beauty of this rugged, wasted world you see spanning before you, both dying and renewing with each fragile breath, each—”

“The world will look a lot more rugged if I’m left without food much longer,” Reginald said. It was honestly more of a growl.

James sighed. Somehow he doubted he was hallucinating or dreaming. There seemed to be three strangers trying to make themselves dinner and failing horribly. And for some reason he was involved.

“Perhaps adding one of the small ones to the soup will make it smell slightly less rotten,” Reginald suggested. “It certainly can’t make it any worse.”

“I already told you, it’s bad luck to cook other living things,” Ferdinand said authoritatively. “Even if they seem less civilized than we are by a large margin.”

Cook other living things? I hope he’s not referring to us.

This was not good. James squinted his eyes open, fighting against the light. While he waited for his eyes to adjust, he noticed his hands seemed tangled up in something. That didn’t worry him too much—he had a plethora of things to get caught in nowadays, like his crazy long beard or billowing robes.

When he could see enough to make out more than just the blurry orange, dancing form of the fire, he realized a couple important things.

First, the boulders he’d seen around the fire weren’t actually boulders.

Second, he wasn’t responsible for his hands being tangled up this time. They had been tied together haphazardly with some kind of rope.

Third, he now knew why Gabriel or any of the others hadn’t responded. They were tied up and gagged next to him. The young blond man didn’t seem fazed and was looking at James with bright eyes as though this entire debacle was an interesting part in a book he was reading.

Day was glaring at him, which figured. She hadn’t been awake either when they’d been kidnapped, so clearly the current situation couldn’t be contributed entirely to James.

Night was trying to free his hands and didn’t seem to be having any success. If James was to bet, he’d figure Night would likely escape first, given the many knives he kept hidden on his person. But Gabriel was Gabriel…

“They could have spared a couple minutes to at least tie me up right,” James said to himself, meddling with the bindings to see if he could restore some order to the chaotic bundle of knots before him.

“… and then you chop up twenty pounds of garlic,” Ferdinand announced.

“Wouldn’t you need more than that?” Reginald asked.

“All the two of you can think about is your stomachs,” Archibald said archly.

“Even artists need to eat,” Ferdinand said flatly. “Or would you rather we fed your portion to Reginald?”

“Sounds good to me,” the man replied with a grin.

James was tempted to respond to the three figures when he looked down at his hands in dismay.

“Dang it. Here I thought I was fixing the knots, but all I managed to do was untie them completely. Now I’ll have to start all over… wait.”

If James’ hands and mouth were free, maybe he could get them out of this situation.

He certainly didn’t want to be the one to take the blame if they were eaten by giants.

“Umm, gentlemen?” James said as loudly as he could, making sure to keep his hands in the folds of his robes so the giants wouldn’t notice he was actually now free.

“Did the appetizer just address us?” Reginald asked.

“You take care of it. I need to chop up four hundred heads of garlic now,” Ferdinand said dismissively.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind talking to Reginald,” James said, unperturbed. “Or Archibald, or whoever else is lurking around in the dark.”

“I thought we covered each of their mouths when we prepared them for the journey,” Archibald noted. Which was a nice way of saying that James and his companions had been gagged and bagged.

James was beginning to make out features now, and the giants looked less terrifying than he thought they would. They didn’t have fangs, weren’t wearing loin cloths, and he didn’t see any giant clubs on the premises. Instead, he noticed each of the three giants were a little too well dressed, complete with crisp long-sleeve button-up shirts, cravats, slacks, even what looked like dress shoes.

If dress shoes came in a size forty. James had his doubts.

In fact, despite their massive size and hulking muscles on muscles, the three wouldn’t have looked out of place on the streets of New York. The chef, Ferdinand, had wavy golden hair, the most square jaw James had ever seen, and piercing blue eyes.

Clearly related to Gabriel.

The self-proclaimed artist of the group, Archibald, had dark skin, a shaved head, and brown eyes. He was even wearing a comically small artist hat on his head and had a quill behind one giant ear.

And Reginald. He made his companions look like scrawny, underfed children. He was at least five feet taller than the other giants and had a ferocious red beard with skin as pale as the moon shining above them.

“I wasn’t sure how to gag the elderly man,” Reginald said. “Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to get his magnificent white beard tangled. I know just how difficult it is to maintain impressive facial hair.” He stroked his own beard appreciatively.

“This is a strange world,” James said to himself.

“Besides, what is such a scrawny little man going to do to us? Talk us to death?” Ferdinand said. He was tying on a pristine white apron and starting on a mountain of garlic sitting next to him.

“You can never be too careful,” Archibald commented. It looked like he was painting something, and his canvas had to be ten feet wide and at least five feet tall.

“I hate to interrupt, but it seems to me that the three of you aren’t the most skilled chefs,” James noted, fighting back the urge to stroke his beard. It was pretty magnificent, wasn’t it.

“That’s not a very kind thing to say to three strangers,” Ferdinand said. He sounded offended.

“You did tie us up, gag us—well, most of us—and then brought us to some random bonfire,” James pointed out. “Most people would argue that’s not very kind either. And we don’t know you, unless you’re related to my good friend Gabriel.”

“I told you not to bother with people. Too chatty I said. Too hard to eat. It’s probably just a fad,” Archibald mumbled. His quill was currently in between his teeth as he thought about what to do with his masterpiece next. It kind of looked like an ugly squashed potato with eyes, but James assumed it was meant to be a self-portrait.

Archibald really wasn’t doing himself justice.

“I have to agree with the artist here,” James said with a nod.

“And why should we listen to anything you have to contribute, old sir?”

“Hmm. I might be older than the three of you, I’m not sure how giants age, which means I have more wisdom.”

“I’m turning four hundred and twenty-five tomorrow,” Reginald said proudly.

“Happy birthday,” James said distractedly, trying to think up other convincing reasons why the three well-dressed giants should not eat him and his friends.

“I’m better dressed than you,” he blurted out before fully thinking it through.

Day’s eyes widened in surprise before she gave him a distinctive, “Really? That’s the best you can come up with? And it’s not even true.”

Her eyes were expressive, almost bordering on talkative. But, unfortunately, they were also right.

“I mean, never mind. You’re all dressed impeccably. Where do you find giant suits in the wild anyway?”

“Do you like it?” Archibald said almost shyly, gesturing to his crisp white suit. “Reginald said it wasn’t my color, Ferdinand said a simple, understated black would be better…”

“I wasn’t referring to anyone in particular. You all look, umm, nice. Anyway, don’t eat us.”

“Multiple giants have told us it’s all the rage right now,” Reginald said.

“Delicious, that’s what I was told,” Ferdinand said.

“You’ve been gravely misinformed,” James insisted. “People are disgusting. Tough, gamey, hard to chew I’d guess. Besides, I’m an ancient human, wrinkly and bony. Definitely not delicious.”

James glanced over at the massive pot bubbling dramatically over the roaring bonfire and tried not to breathe in as another whiff of the terrible concoction wafted his way.

“In fact, why don’t we strike a deal?”

Gabriel’s expression brightened, Night was so concentrated on searching for a knife to free his hands that he didn’t notice, and Day looked concerned. A one-out-of-three consensus was good enough.

“I’m listening,” Reginald said eagerly, hands on his knees.

“I’m actually a master chef,” James lied. That was close enough to “wizard,” right? “If I can somehow make your food delicious, will you let us go free?”

“I’m listening,” Ferdinand said, chopping the garlic at a breakneck pace.

“First, we don’t need that much garlic,” James decided. “In fact, we don’t need any garlic, so go ahead and stop chopping it.”

“So what will we need? What will we be cooking? Do you have a recipe?” Ferdinand fired off the questions rapidly.

James looked down at the tome of mysteries sitting in his lap and smiled.

“I do happen to have a recipe book,” he said. Of sorts, he added mentally.

“What ingredients do you have on hand?” he asked as he tried to discreetly open his spell book and start looking for a decent spell. Even if he didn’t find one, he could at least start thinking up words that rhymed with “delicious” and “not disgusting.”

“Garlic,” Reginald said helpfully.

“And four people,” Archibald said.

“Is that it?” James asked. He wasn’t a miracle worker. And he definitely wouldn’t be cooking with people. Cooking up people?

Either way, no.

“Do you have anything else we could use?”

“Do rocks count?”

“Trees?”

“Small bushes?”

James rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to need more help than I thought.”

James might not know how to boil water, but even he knew you didn’t cook with rocks and trees.