The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - 2020 - Part 10

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - Part 10

Dawn came to the giants' hill. Smoke still drifted from the embers buried beneath the fallen beams of the great hall. Giants and ogres poured water over the splintered wood; others pulled away the charred rubble and stirred the ashes beneath. In the sodden field sat Nosnra, he'd had them drag a table from the ruined hall and benches too. Engenulf's body lay prepared before him, Nosnra used piled boxes and crates to form a throne, then set the table at his feet. They laid the witan down and placed the benches round the throne for Nosnra's warriors, those who'd sworn the oath of blood. The giants put down their buckets, their bars of iron, and their axes. They left the orcs and ogres to drown the fire out then filed past the body of their witan and their chief. They had no feast prepared; the words they spoke were all of vengeance and of blood, the ale they drank, the final toast to their lifeless kin, was thick and bitter from the fallen ash.

* * *

It was past midday when Harald woke. He'd slept since dawn; hours past the time he'd asked Telenstil to wake him. Everyone else was still asleep except for that other elf, Ghibelline, and even he leaned against the rock wall with eyes closed.

"Telenstil," he said to the elven mage who stood by the cliff's edge, "you let me sleep."

"You needed sleep," Telenstil answered him. He looked past the ranger at the others who lay crowded under the overhang of rock. "Everyone needed some time to rest."

"The fire is almost out," Harald said half to himself.

Out across the valley the thick black smoke was gone, only small wispy trails of grey were left, cook fires or a last few steaming embers somewhere within the ruins of the hall.

"Telenstil, we should be going. Soon."

"Yes, it is time to find a better camp," he replied.

"We could hide that magic chain somewhere around here," Harald suggested hopefully.

"I hate to ask you to carry that burden, but it is something of great value to Nosnra," Telenstil said to the old ranger, "at the very least I wish to deny him its use."

"If I find a deep enough pit it's going in," Harald told him with a firm nod of his head.

* * *

They could not wake Jalal. The old man was stiff, his limbs were cold; Gytha thought he might be dead, but a faint pulse still beat within his chest. She called upon the Saint. Cuthbert was the strong arm that supported the weak, that lifted the fallen, and struck against evil, but his blessing could not make the old young or move the final moment of life forward one fleeting second.

"You can't aid him?" Ghibelline asked her sadly.

"The giants have worn him down. He is not hurt," said Gytha, "just old and weak."

"Yesterday his spirit burned bright," Ghibelline put his hand on the old man's shoulder. "Worn yes, but... I know that for you he is old, but for me... we are of an age, and to my people I am considered young."

"You have not spent time with humans before?" Gytha asked.

"No, I am of the woods. Humans I have met, but passing through our lands," said Ghibelline. "I have seen death, but not like this."

"This is not a bad passing," she told the elf. "What pain he feels is like that in a dream. I think his spirit will leave him while he sleeps."

"Gytha, what is wrong?" asked Ivo. The old gnome knelt beside the dying man. All around them the others had risen and prepared to leave. The orcs had little enough to take. They dragged the captive scout to his feet and put a knife to the rope which bound his legs, but Talberth stopped them. The scout had proven too dangerous to trust even with his hands tied behind his back. The orcs would have to carry him again, they grumbled, but remembered the power of the mage and hefted the bound man up with ungentle hands.

"Jalal is dying," Gytha told the gnome.

"Telenstil will want to know. There are questions we wanted to ask." Ivo said.

"Is that your only concern," said Ghibelline sharply.

"I'm sorry for your friend," said Ivo. He'd just stood and taken a step away when the elf spoke. He turned back to face Ghibelline. "I did not know him, but what he knew may have been important to us, perhaps more important than his life or ours."

***

Jalal's lips were blue. His breath came in shallow gasps barely stirring the hair of his beard. The rise and fall of his chest was slight, he exhaled, a hollow sound, his mouth half opened but his eyes were closed. And then he died.

One moment a spirit dwelt within Jalal's thin and weary frame, then the body Ghibelline held was naught but a withered husk, a shell left empty by its guiding force. Gytha said a quiet prayer and placed her hand upon the cooling brow. Telenstil shook his head. Whatever answers that Jalal had possessed where now most likely beyond his reach.

"I am sorry," Gytha said to Ghibelline. The elf wiped at his eyes, then gave the cleric a faint thankful look. "What shall we do with him?" Gytha asked Telenstil.

He stood above them lost in thought.

"We can't leave him!" Ghibelline burst out.

"No, we will take him with us till we can bury him, or find him a proper resting place." Telenstil said calmly.

"What was his faith?" Gytha asked.

"I do not know," said Ghibelline. "He came from the west. He said once that I would not know his Gods."

The leader of the orcs, Boss, had wandered over. He listened to their talk and craned his neck, peering over the cleric's shoulder to see what drew the attention of the others. "Old man dead?" he asked. "That one good to work for, brought us drink and food. Back in cage," the orc nodded his head toward the steading, "we eat dead, remember before giants make us slaves. We put skull in cave of dead, just eat rest."

"Why you beast..." Ghibelline shouted at the orc.

"We do not eat our dead," said Gytha firmly.

Telenstil put his hand on Ghibelline's shoulder. It quieted the young elf. "Different people, different customs, he meant to honor your friend."

"We have plenty food," Boss said indignantly. The orc did not understand all that they said but he caught the meaning behind Ghibelline's words.

"I will help you carry him," said Gytha.

"I will help as well," said Talberth. He had approached quietly as they spoke. "Go ready your people," the mage told the orc.

The small group of monsters would do as the mage commanded, fearful of incurring his deadly wrath. Boss grumbled beneath his breath but took out his anger on his followers, pushing them into line. The thief called down to them a warning, his perch above the ledge gave him a far eye-view of the path both to his right and left.

"The ranger is returning!" he hissed.

"Probably wondering what is our delay." Ivo said to Telenstil.

"Perhaps, but he has returned sooner than I expected," the elf replied.

Harald came along the eastern path. They had followed the western trail up the hill the night before but had stopped at the first place that would shelter them, too tired to go on. Toward the east the trail went further up into the hills, they knew not where. Harald had left to see what lay ahead.

"Telenstil," Harald jogged up to the elf. "Telenstil, we had better get moving, there are giants up ahead."

"Coming this way?" Telenstil ask with some concern.

"No," said the ranger, "I saw three giants moving along a trail east of here. They are crossing through a path at the base of a ravine heading north, but one split off to the north east along a second trail."

"Scouts you believe?" asked Telenstil.

"No, I don't think so," said Harald. "My guess is that he is calling for help."

"We dealt him a serious blow," said Telenstil. "That is good and bad. It seems we have hurt Nosnra enough for him to set aside his pride and call for help. That is bad."

"What's the good part?" asked the thief. 

***

"There is good mixed with the bad," said Telenstil.

Harold snorted.

"No, it is true. We came to hurt Nosnra, and that we have done," said Telenstil. "We have done much."

"We need to do more," the ranger spoke up. "If those giants have gone for help, and I am sure they have, we should stop them."

"They may just be scouts in search of us," said Harold. "Let's confound them. Let's be gone and not let them find us."

"We can't take the chance. They may just be looking for us, but if not..." said the ranger shaking his head, "but I do know that they are passing by us and quick. Telenstil..."

The elf held up his hand for silence but paused for only a moment, looking out over the cliff's edge. "I think we have strength enough. We will strike again. Harald, you and I will go."

"Just us?" asked the ranger.

"We will need to make haste," said Telenstil. "The others can set off in search of a better camp while we hunt down at least one of these giants."

"Telenstil, this is foolishness," Ivo shook his head. "We need Harald to guide us, and these are giants, the two of you will be hard pressed against them."

"Every moment takes them further from us." the ranger said impatiently.

"Good," burst out the thief.

"How will you overtake them?" asked Ivo.

"That is why only Harald and I will be pursuing them," said Telenstil. "Harald, we will be flying once again."

"Ha," the thief laughed out and looked up at the ranger. "Still want to go chasing giants?"

The ranger looked grim, but still determined.

"Then cast the spell," said Harald.

"Ivo, search out a place at least more defensible than here. Let Harold scout ahead, he has a good eye, even in these wild lands," said Telenstil.

"How will you find us?" Ivo asked.

"Take this," Telenstil took an amulet he wore around his neck, green stones set in silver, shaped like an elven horse, and handed it to the gnome. "This I can always find."

"What goes on here?" Talberth called to them. He left Gytha and Ghibelline preparing Jalal's body to be carried in a cloak and joined the others at the cliff's edge.

"Telenstil is running off to chase giants," the thief told him in a disgusted tone.

"What?" Talberth exclaimed with alarm.

"It is not so dire as our thief makes it sound," laughed Telenstil. "Harald and I will take great care and will return as soon as may be. Talberth, keep your eye on the orcs. Ivo will lead while I am gone. Harold, you scout ahead. Ask Ghibelline to help you, but do not let him tax himself to greatly. Now all is said, set off, find a good camp and we will join you there."

"What!" Talberth said again.

Telenstil brought forth the orb he had used the day before. He drew breath and blew upon its surface, quietly letting the word of power, "Xsurjere", escape his lips. The orb began to glow, and gleaming with a white radiance floated upon the air. The ranger reached out and grabbed the orb, Telenstil did the same.

"Xsurjere-sublem!" he cried, and they rose into the air as if a rope that none could see pulled them up with haste into the sky. "Kon-istare!" Telenstil called out as the floated high above the ledge where their companions stood. "Which way?" he asked the ranger.

Still gripping the orb with whitened fingers, his hand clenched like a vise, and his jaw as well, Harald pointed to the north-east with his free hand.

"Good, Vol-atel!" the elf called out and the pair took flight, two wingless birds, their hands locked on the glowing orb, sailing across the sky. 

***

The land below them was passing in a blur. It took only a few moments to reach the valley where Harald had seen the three giants. "Can you slow us down!" the ranger shouted out.

"Elente-senzim!" Telenstil called and they began to slow. "Klaudere," he said and they halted in mid-air.

Harald gulped, terrified at their magic flight. He found that floating motionless high above the ground was worse. 

"Thhheerree!" he stammered. "Down there," Harald pointed to the valley floor far below, as he managed to control his voice, but had to shout; there was a wind that struck them and swept their words away.

"You have good eyes," shouted Telenstil.

"What?"

"Good Eyes!" Telenstil shouted again. "Which Way!?"

Harald held up two fingers and pointed to the north where a small stream flowed through the center of the valley, then held up a single finger and pointed to the north-east. A beaten trail could be seen, even from the height at which they hovered. It ran along a hillside and up, then over its top, disappearing out of sight down the far side of the hill. Telenstil pointed to the north and Harald nodded in agreement.

"Vo-aire," the elf shouted and they were sweeping toward the north, fast as a hawk again.

* * *

"You two, pick up this chain," Talberth told the pair of orcs. Boss scowled and Meatstealer looked toward his leader before bending to lift the black metal links.

"That one has the death magic," said Meatstealer. Boss grunted and hung his end of the heavy chain across his shoulder. His handful of followers bore the body of the human who had used the flaming sword, the orc leader would have given the chain to them if he could, but the squirming man took all six orcs to control.

"First chance, then we go," said Boss.

"We live, escape from giants," Meatstealer said. "These humans, they powerful."

"Stinking elves," muttered Boss, "slave to giants, now slave to elves."

Meatstealer just shrugged, he had served his orcish chief, the ogres and giants of the hall, at least these elves did not use the whip.

* * *

Harold walked with Ivo as they left the camp. Behind them the others were all loaded down with the bodies of the scout and dead Jalal. Only the small orc, Little Rat, was left free of heavy burdens. He kept pace with the halfling and the gnome. The pathway before them was not steep. It must have seemed no more than a narrow ledge to the giants, but the party found it a wide and easy trail. It took them along the south-side of the hill, rising up and to the east then switching back upon itself. Their going was slow. Never strong, Talberth tired easily, and Ghibelline's strength came from his will, his body was worn out. The orcs would gladly have slung both the chain and the scout over the edge of the cliff, but they carried them with care due to the dread in which they held the mage.

"I'm going to scout ahead," Harold said to Ivo.

"Be careful, these are not the streets of Greyhawk," Ivo told him.

"I've been outside the city walls before," replied Harold, "but I'll take care."

Ivo shook his head as the thief ran off. They'd lost their scouts and their ranger guide. He gave a shout as the small orc chased after, "Hey! Stop! Where do you go!"

"I go help," the little orc called back. 

***

"Wait!" Ivo called to the orc, but it did not stop. At the sound of Ivo's voice Harold looked back and saw the little monster come running toward him up the path. The halfling drew the long dagger from his belt and waited for the orc to catch up, the naked blade held in his hand.

"I help, I help," Little Rat squeaked out as he approached the thief.

"Stop right there!" Harold commanded. Little Rat stood a half dozen feet away, he bobbed back and forth from one foot to the other, scared and excited both.

"I help, good at finding things, I help!" he said in a high voice.

"Come here," ordered Harold, "slowly now."

Little Rat came bounding over, skidded to a stop when Harold waved the dagger at him, then took small careful steps over to halfling's side. "I help."

"So you say," Harold muttered, then he spoke to the youth in an orcish tongue. "You know these lands?" he asked.

"You talk funny," said Little Rat.

Harold spoke the language of the orcish half-breeds that lived within the great city. They'd kept their fathers tongue but it had changed and grown. Little Rat could understand only bits and pieces of what the halfling said.

"You... Know... Land," Harold said, loud and slowly.

"I help!" said Little Rat brightly.

"To the Nine Hells with it," cursed Harold. "Come on, we better get going before they overtake us." Harold kept his sword drawn; the young orc ran ahead.

* * *

"Look!" called out the ranger.

His voice was a whisper in Telenstil's ears, but the elf heard and looked to see the giants running far below. The magic globe raced by, quickly outdistancing even the lengthy strides of the giants. Telenstil directed it with ancient words, commanding it to take them beyond the giants and down between the branches of a stand of tall fir trees.

"Praise the mother," Harald bowed down and kissed the Oerth.

"You are safe, there was no need to fear," laughed Telenstil.

"I would have been born with wings if I was meant to fly," Harald replied.

"Well we have our feet on oerth now," said Telenstil. "We had better make our plans quickly. Those giants will be coming this way soon."

"Give me a moment to look over the trail," said Harald. "But we had best stick together. Your magic may stop them without my help, but if it does not and they reach you..."

"Yes, they would make quick work of me," Telenstil mused. "I will go with you. My spells will take only a moment to prepare."

"Come on then, let's find a good place," Harald led the way through the thick stand of trees.

The valley was wooded throughout its northern length. The trees were dense along each slope, the ground a slanting rise up to the surrounding hills. A stream had cut a bare gash down the valleys center, it was wide but low, the water only a few inches deep. Huge boulders lay exposed amid the running stream, like the seeds of great mountains left to grow.

"The giants will come this way," said Harald. "Look at the bank over there," he pointed across the stream. "They've torn out the big trees by the roots."

"Long ago," said Telenstil looking at the stumps, old and filled with rot, "They have beaten down the newer growth as well."

"Up there Telenstil," Harald pointed to a boulder sticking like a gallery from the far slope. "That will be the place for us to stand." 

***

Telenstil lay flat atop the rock. The stone was cold even through his clothes. Below him, standing in the stream, was Harald. He stood behind a boulder, a smooth-sided lump of granite worn by the water, carved from the surrounding oerth, twice the ranger's height. The blade the ranger held began to sing, but only Harald could hear the tune. Two-handed, the sword was long, almost as tall as the ranger himself. The metal rippled like the running water.

There was the cry of birds, a mournful cawing, crows or ravens on the wing calling out to each other. A sound came from the wooded slope, something crashed through the thick brush. Harald leaned back against the stone. He placed his shoulder to the rock and looked up to where the elf lay hidden. The ledge, a single boulder, was empty, Harald waited for the mage to cast his spells before rushing out and testing his strength and steel against the giant's flesh.

Up the slope Telenstil looked down. He'd crept to the rock's edge and peered over, his eyes intent on the woods downstream and the crashing of the underbrush. Suddenly the brush split apart and a huge brown shape came leaping into view. A stag, a living twin of the monstrous spirit beast they'd fought in Nosnra's hall. It stopped and raised its head, coughed out a challenge to the world, then leapt onward, down the slope, splashing surefooted through the stream, racing to the north. Telenstil waved a hand at Harald trying to signal for the ranger to stay back. Harald understood, he froze in place, even as the stag drew near. It ran past the boulder, a flash of brown, Harald smiled, he waved back to Telenstil, the toothy grin he wore visible even up the slope. Then the brush began to shake once more, a small tree came smashing to the ground. Two shaggy heads appeared; a hand ripped a limb wide as a fat man's leg from the bole of an ancient tree. It flung the branch aside as if it were a twig and the giant stepped from the bush. In a loud voice it spoke, Telenstil could hear the words clear as if they stood beside him.

"Let's take the stream, Skule," the giant complained. "This path is overgrown."

"You can soak your feet," Skule told his companion. "Go ahead, I will keep mine dry."

"I am supposed to be at Thurkill's by nightfall."

"Then run, I will make Folcwalda's before the sun sets," laughed Skule, "and I will have dry feet."

"You are no better than a dwur," muttered the other giant.

"What was that!" bellowed Skule.

"Nothing, your ears are full of dirt,"

The two had wandered down the trail as they spoke. They reached a point almost to the boulder where Harald stood directly below the ledge only an arm's length apart, their words had turned to glares and the one called Skule looked daggers at his companion. Telenstil stood up, the giants could not hear his words but they heard the crack of thunder that came snapping down the hill. The blinding flash struck them both and a nimbus of blue danced on the water and the stones.

Harald felt the bolt; a burning chill went through him and made his greying hair stand on end. Skule screamed out in pain and roared a defiant challenge. The other giant beat out a smoking patch of scalp with a hand lined black with burnt flesh. They charged up the hill with alarming speed.

* * *

His heart began to pound; Harald felt the sword tingle in his grip as the second crash of thunder split the air. The water was splashing around him as he began to run. Both giants were still on their feet, Telenstil's bolts had struck them, but neither powerful blast had laid them low. They staggered forward, at first Harald gained on them, unseen, charging from the side and to their backs. The lead giant, Skule, he scrabbled up the steep hill, his feet dug gouges in the dirt, he tore a young tree from the slope, its roots pulled out and snapping. Skule flung it like a spear, but its limbs tangled with older trees halfway to the ledge and it rolled back down the hill. Behind him the other giant began to pull himself up using the trees to help him ascend. He was the more agile of the pair, smaller by a head than Skule, but it seemed as if the magic lightning had done him the greater harm. His one arm was blackened from fingertips to collar bone, he spat out bits of teeth, his jaw clenched so tight they shattered in his mouth.

Atop the ledge Telenstil cast another spell. Harald saw the wizard raise his hand and throw something from his fingertips above the giant's heads. A thin shimmering cloud appeared. It was first a pearly white and then in three eye-blinks became grey then a deep black. Icy sleet came down, cold as winter; it soaked the giants and the slope beneath the ledge. In moments the ground was wet with slush then congealed to ice, a hard layer with a slick half-melted surface. Skule's hair and beard were frozen white, dragged down by icicles pulling at the ends. He took a step, but his booted foot slid out from under him. The giant crashed backwards, his legs shot into the air, and he rolled back down the slope. Up and over he tumbled like a circus clown and flew off the bank and into the shallow stream.

Harald had to jump back as Skule went by, almost crushed beneath the rolling bulk. Before the giant could push himself to his feet Harald brought his sword around and up behind his shoulder, then down across the giant's back. He meant to split the monsters spine, but Skule shifted and the blade slashed against his side. Skule howled, his shoulder had been laid open across the bone, the knob where arm began and back ended was notched by the rangers blade. On his knees Skule was taller than the man, but he had no length of sharpened steel to defend himself. The blade slashed again, Harald spun like a festival dancer and struck the rising giant across his chest. The thick hide shirt absorbed part of the blow, but the keen edge opened it and the flesh beneath. Once more the giant's bones saved it from what might have been a killing stroke. The sword bounced back from ribs like barrel staves, the edge scoured flesh, clove muscle, but the heart and lungs beneath were safe. Then Skule lashed out, he knocked the man aside and used the moment's grace to stand. Then Harald, who was not badly hurt, only bruised from the giant's awkward blow, struck once more. He caught the giant across his outer leg, above the knee. The blade struck bone, sent a wash of blood down the giant's leg and stained the water red, but for a moment his blade was trapped and Skule clubbed the ranger down. A fist like the head of a battering ram cracked hard against Harald's back, a wave of darkness blinded him, he almost fell, but the grip upon his sword kept him on his feet. With a dragging yank he pulled the claymore free, the sound of steel on bone was a grinding agony to hear, and a thousand times worse to feel. 

***

Skule howled. He gripped his wounded leg. Blood spurted between his fingers and mingled with the red stream which rolled down his arm from the rent across his shoulder.

Harald struck again, a short blow like the chop of an axe against a tree. The sword took the ends from Skule's fingertips and hewed the flesh above the wounded leg. There was a moment then when both man and giant paused. Harald drew back his sword and Skule bunched his bleeding fingers tight into a fist. They caught each other's eyes and both began to laugh. Skule was beyond pain, beyond rage, and Harald was the same, both saw the hand of fate and life, the glimmer of death, all reflected in a single glance showing in each other's eyes. The fist came down and the sword stabbed up. The point went home below the giant's chest. It skimmed off the spine, beneath the ribs, piercing a lung and lancing up into the giant's heart. Skule sagged, his fist landed like a slap, but the falling body sank to the ground burying the ranger beneath the now lifeless flesh. Still laughing Harald used his feet to push himself from the entrapping bulk of the slain giant. He had to worry his blade free, sawing back and forth, he drew it slowly out in a flow of blood and gore. The ranger was soaked, dunked into the stream and bathed in red from the giant's wounds. With a final yank he freed his sword and held the blood-smeared blade above his head, then sang out a defiant, wordless roar of victory.

Standing at the boulder's edge Telenstil stretched out his hand and pointed at the giant, Skule's companion, who held tight to a thick tree halfway up the slope. With a gesture and a word, five darting pulses of glowing blue went streaking forth. They burnt the air and left a trail that could still be seen behind closed eyes. All flew unerringly, a magicked course, they struck like burning ice, a sharp gouging pain then gone. Two struck the giant's shoulder, one cut him from chin to scalp, the last two hit the wrist and back of the huge hand. No sooner had the spell been cast then Telenstil intoned the words and made the arcane gesture to release a second spell. More magic darts of energy shot from the mage's hand.

The giant, already weak from the lightning bolts, wounded again from the first five magic darts, released his failing grip from around the tree as the next five burned into his flesh. The giant fell and bounced down the slope like a barrel or a limbless trunk of tree. He rolled a small fir down, recoiled from a larger bole, the crack of bone on wood was loud and clear, and took a final speeding flight off the bank and out into the stream. He landed with a wet thud against a boulder half his size, arms twisted, his torso dangling at a boneless angle, half on the rock, half off.

Harald walked over, his feet splashing in the water like a child through a puddle when it rains. He reached out and grabbed a handful of the giant's hair and lifted up the dangling head. The head turned round on a broken neck till the glassy eyes stared down its twisted back.

* * *

They'd gone far ahead and out of the way. Harold was atop a spire of rock that jutted out to the east rising from the boulder strewn hilltop. His view to the west was blocked by the expanse of the hill itself, but he could look far out across the valley below him and over to the southern hill where the remains of the steading still smouldered. From his pack, which he had set at his feet, he took out a small metal case and removed a feathered mask. It was a strange affair, thin bone, the orbits and beak of some monstrous bird hollowed out, the sockets set with two green translucent gems. He placed it on his nose, the curved beak covering his round one, the gems set before his eyes. The steading leapt into sharp focus,

Harold could see the bark upon the wooden wall and the color of a giant's hair as the monster dragged a half burnt log away. There was movement all around the hill; giants, ogres and orcs had worked through the night and those that had not collapsed, exhausted, worked on. A vast pile of splintered logs, ruined furniture and wooden scrap had been raised to the east of the Steading. It grew even as Harold watched. A giant tossed the log he carried, it landed amid the heap sending up a cloud of ash and a spattering of debris. An orc followed, it emptied out a bucket of ember fragments whose red hearts had been smothered with oerth the night before. In ones and twos others came, carrying loads as heavy as they could bear, they cleared the hall of debris and ash an armload at a time.

"You cast spell? You magic fella?" asked Little Rat. The small orc sat beside the thief and looked at the bone mask with awe showing in his eyes.

"Yes," said Harold. He took off the mask and waved it in the young orc's face. "If you touch my pack the mask will eat your eyes."

Little Rat backed away, scared of having the magic bird mask touch his skin.

"Watch out there you little fool!" yelled Harold. The orc had backed off the narrow peak of rock and with flailing arms was teetering off balance on the edge. Harold dropped the mask and jumped, quick-handed, he caught a thin and grimy arm and was jerked forward, almost pulled off the peak as well. The halfling's feet scraped across the stones then held firm against a jagged rock. The orc was thin and small, a runt, but had a wiry strength, the halfling though fat by the standards of man, just right by the more generous standards of his own kind, was agile and strong, well fed and fit, he led an active life. Harold tried to pull the orc up from where he dangled over the edge, a long fall down into the valley below his kicking feet. Little Rat was frantic, he used the halfling's arm like a climbing rope, pulled at Harold's hair, his small fist meshed into the short strands, then caught the vest and with a heave put his knee into Harold's shoulder.

"Oww!" bellowed Harold. "Watch what your grabbing you little beast. Hey that's my head you're stepping on!"

Little Rat rolled down the halfling's back and lay panting, pressed face down against the stones.

"Hells!" cursed Harold, rubbing at his scalp and brushing dirt from his clothes. "I should have let you fall." He looked down at the terrified orc then put out his hand. "Come on, here is a hand up, we'd better get back to the others." 

***

"Ughhh, this is disgusting," Harald complained. He used his dagger to cut away at the giant's hide shirt. "Telenstil... Telenstil!"

"Yes, Harald," Telenstil called back.

The ranger crouched by the giant he had killed. Skule's body lay between two boulders. It blocked the flowing stream like a dam. The water rushed against the mangled chest and bubbled from its open mouth. Harald tried to find a pocket in the rough hide shirt, or a pouch on its belt, but the clothes were soaked and tacky with the drying blood. Telenstil had better luck, he'd found a tied bundle of skins held beneath the giant's belt. The broken body was not the wet and bloody mess that confronted Harald, but still he had to work around the massive limbs and immobile bulk of the dead monster. He'd used a small knife with a razor edge to slice the belt away, then checked the body from toes to crown of head, but found nothing else. He could not check the side that lay upon the rock or move the body the slightest inch, he could not even lift the giant's lifeless arm.

"Harald, check the belt, I will come and help," called Telenstil.

"This one is a bloody mess," Harald shook his head, then dunked his gory hands into the stream and scrubbed them one against the other. "He has spilt out his innards. Whatever he had beneath his belt is ruined."

"What say you my friend?" asked Telenstil hopping from stone to stone trying to keep his robe from the water's touch.

"Just look at this," Harald pointed to the coiled loops which bulged from the deep rent left by Harald's sword. The giant's bowls were like huge red and purple snakes swarming in the stream, the water foamed red around them. "What is it we are looking for?" asked Harald. "Is it worth trying to sort beneath the giant's gizzards?"

"There should be a message from their chief," said Telenstil. "I have found one on the other giant, this one should have another."

"All right," Harald shrugged. "No worse than gutting a deer, it shouldn't be, but it is, this is foul work."

"I will help," Telenstil assured the ranger. "What can I do?"

"My sword is no good for this, it's a butchers job," said Harald. "I'll cut, you keep pushing the guts away, too bad he isn't facing down the stream."

The two went at the giant's body with their spirits set for the gruesome job, they were bloodied from hand to shoulder, but when they finished they'd found another roll of hide. It was soaked and had a gash left by the ranger's sword, but Telenstil held it like the rough bundle was a fine tapestry made from cloth of gold.

"Is that it?" asked Harald wearily.

"This should be it," said Telenstil. "Now we can find our companions, they will need your help to find another camp."

"I'll wash this muck off first," said Harald.

"Let me," Telenstil cast a minor spell, a mere cantrip, but one which he had found useful more than once already. With a word and a gesture he caused the blood to jump from the ranger's clothes and skin, then he did the same again and he was clean as well. "Now we must take flight."

Telenstil removed the small white orb whose enchantments had taken them like birds over the valley and ahead of the giants they had just waylayed.

"Can't we just walk?" Harald asked, leery of the magic which carried them through the air. "I could scout out the land."

"They may need us," Telenstil reminded him. "I would have let these giants be if I had not believed it was of vital importance to stop them. We have also gone far. It would take some time for us to find our companions trail."

"All right," Harald conceded. "Let's get this over with."

"This will be the last that I can use this toy to fly, for some time at least. I doubt it could have taken more than you and I with the power it still maintains," said Telenstil.

"That's good to hear," Harald said. "Are you sure it has enough power left to take us back?"

"We will find out. Now take hold of the sphere and let us be gone."

***

Ivo stopped them at the hilltop, both Talberth and the orcs were thankful for the chance to rest. The young mage had tested his endurance many times with long sleepless nights spent in study back in civilized lands, but it had been years since he had carried a heavy load, or done much physical labor on any kind. The orcs were used to hard work, but they took every opportunity that came their way to rest, such was how they survived their enslavement by the giants. All set down their burdens carefully. Gytha, Talberth and Ghibelline lowered the body of Jalal slowly and with respect, the orcs deposited Derue and the heavy chain on the ground with care as well. Talberth kept a watchful and scowling eye on them, but he was more concerned with his magic chain than the safety of the scout.

"We will wait for our thief's return here, for awhile," said Ivo. "We have not gone far."

Gytha stood beside the gnome. They were above the winding path on the south-edge of the hill. The top was a long cresting ridge rather than the wide flat plateau that the steading sat upon. It was lined with jagged rocks rising in a series of humps, longer from south to north than east to west. A higher ridge, a line of weathered stone lay to the eastern side of the hill. Narrow and barefaced rock, it hung over the wooded valley below.

"The giants would have a hard time picking through these rocks," Gytha looked across the rough, uneven ground.

"It will be hard going for us as well," said Ivo. "Perhaps we can find a suitable resting place for our rescued elf's departed friend."

"I will speak with Ghibelline and see what he thinks," answered Gytha.

"We will still have our mad scout to carry. Talk with Talberth about that magic chain. We could hide it here as well as Jalal's body."

"Yes. You speak with Ghibelline, I will speak with Talberth," Ivo agreed.