A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings Book 1)

by Kevin Hearne

  “There,” Ponder said to me. “I’ve released them all. The unconscious ones will wake with headaches later and an aversion to men in orange clothing. You can talk to the conscious one now. I’ll make sure he comes no closer.”

  “Let us speak in peace,” I called. “But please remain where you are. Your friends will be fine.”

  He called me several names that I did not recognize—epithets that Saviič had never bothered to teach me—and suggested that my parents had been siblings and that he would resume killing me shortly.

  “That’s not very helpful,” I said. “We wish to be friends with Ecula.”

  “Friends?” he spat, his chest still rising and falling visibly with the effort to regain his breath. “You steal our breath and say you wish to be friends? I don’t think we can be friends now.”

  “You had already said you were going to kill us. We had to do something to defend ourselves. May I ask why you wish to kill us?”

  He squinted at me, taking a good look. “You are different from the people who lived here.”

  “Yes. We are from a different land. But we know of Ecula. We know of Zanata Sedam. We wish to have peace.”

  “Ha!” he barked. “If you know Zanata Sedam, then you know we cannot have peace.” He quoted the first line of the text after that: “ ‘In the beginning there were seven, and in the end there will be only one.’ And that one will be Ecula.”

  He was framing the phrase in terms of countries rather than kennings, which I thought strange. Their plan was to destroy the six nations? The math didn’t add up if they counted the additional nations beyond Ecula that Saviič drew on the map. Perhaps they didn’t know we had six nations. “So that is why you are here? Why you killed the people who lived here?”

  “Yes. It has begun just as it was set down.”

  I did not recall any passage detailing an invasion, but I had no doubt that they were interpreting some vague passage as explicit instructions to attack everyone who wasn’t Eculan. I wanted to ask him where it was set down but feared getting mired in his religious delusions.

  “But they did nothing to you, correct? These people gave you no insult.”

  “They have the Seven-Year Ship.”

  “Where?”

  The Eculan shrugged. “We have not found it yet, but we are sure they have it.”

  “Who told you they had it?” I asked.

  “Our vojskovodja.”

  “Where is your vojskovodja?” I asked. “I need to speak to him or her.”

  “He is with the army.”

  “Which one? There are several armies, yes?”

  “This army. The one that freed this town.”

  “Freed?” If killing everyone was freeing them, then that word must not mean what I thought it meant.

  “Yes. This is an Eculan city now.”

  I gestured to the cold stones, the cold bodies. “Nobody is living in the city.”

  The Bone Giant waved the fact away. “They will someday.”

  So it was to be conquest. Kill everyone but keep the infrastructure. Simply replace the Brynt population with theirs. And all for some mythical lost ship that I was fairly certain the Brynts knew nothing about. I would have liked to find it myself at this point, but not for the same reasons as the Eculans. If the owners of that ship could make the Eculans stop fighting, it was worth searching for.

  “When will your armies arrive in the south?”

  The Bone Giant’s face pinched in confusion. “This is the southern region. There is one other army south of us. That is all.”

  The only other cities to the south of us that the mistral had listed as lost were the Raelech port of Bennelin and the Brynt port of Hillegöm. If this Eculan believed them to be the southernmost reaches of the continent, then they were operating with incomplete information. They must have acquired a map of Brynlön and Rael and nothing else; I had seen such regional maps before. Or else I was leaping to a conclusion. Or this man was lying to me. I could lie as well.

  “I must make sure I understand,” I said. “I am still learning your language.”

  The Eculan sneered, showing a mouthful of teeth in as poor condition as Saviič’s. Did they not adhere to basic rules of hygiene? “I can tell,” he said. “How did you learn?”

  “One of the faithful. He was sick, and we found him. He taught me. He told me of Zanata Sedam.”

  “Who?” the Eculan asked, intensely interested. I doubted I could lie about the name. As fanatical as they were, they probably had all the names of the faithful memorized. And this might be the opening I needed.

  “Saviič,” I replied.

  “Saviič lives?” He was thoroughly amazed and obviously recognized the name.

  “Yes, yes, he does. He was injured on his journey. He is to the south and healing. Perhaps your army has already found him.”

  “Where is Saviič?”

  I held up a hand to urge him to be patient. “Have you seen a map of this country?”

  “Yes. All have seen it.”

  “May I see?”

  “I do not have a map with me.”

  “Stay there. I will show you.” Since we would not kill this man, we had to ensure that he reported nothing useful to his superiors later. He would not learn of Kauria from me if he did not already know of it. Searching the ground, I found a stick on the side of the road and stepped forward a few paces, sketching a rough facsimile of the Brynt and Raelech coast in the turf. I poked at places to indicate the locations of cities. I circled the one that represented Möllerud and then stepped back, motioning to Ponder that he should follow with me to keep a healthy distance between us.

  “Look,” I said, pointing to the ground. “Without your weapon, please. I show you where Saviič is.”

  The Bone Giant rose to his feet and left his sword on the ground. He seemed to be composed primarily of sinew yet rattled as he walked. Still, his easy movement and height made him intimidating. He peered down at my improvised map and said, “What is this?”

  “The coast. The city in a circle is this one,” I said, pointing at the ground beneath our feet. “You see three cities to the south: Hillegöm, Bennelin, and Fandlin. Saviič is in Hillegöm.” By the time he discovered I was lying, I would be far away.

  “My army is there now! I must tell my vojskovodja!”

  Pasting on my best fake smile, the one I always wore to administration meetings at the college, I said, “I am happy I could help. I hope all the other faithful returned to Ecula.”

  It was a statement that begged to be corrected, a favorite stratagem of mine to keep people talking. Say something a person knows to be wrong and very few will be able to contain the inner pedant who simply must teach you how very wrong you are. The Bone Giant was no different. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Most did not. Seventy-seven and seven sailed west, but only seven returned to Ecula.” He raised his fist to the sky, suddenly overcome with zealotry. “It was a sign!”

  He did not say what the sign might signify or who was responsible for the sign. But instead of asking him to explain, I simply nodded, the safest reply one could make to nonsense. It was not difficult to deduce that one or more of the faithful who returned must have supplied them with the regional map of Brynlön and Rael they used for their invasion.

  “Perhaps more of the faithful remain here like Saviič,” I said. “Your other army to the south may discover them. Your armies to the north may discover more!”

  “Why would the faithful remain here all this time?”

  An excellent question. Why would these fanatics remain here? “The Seven-Year Ship,” I blurted.

  “Yes?”

  “They may have searched up rivers for them. They go deep into the interior, very wide. Ships can sail on them.”

  “I had not thought of that. It is possible.” Well, it was plausible, anyway, to someone like him who didn’t know these lands. There was no mysterious ship crewed by white-skinned men hiding somewhere up the rivers of Brynlön. />
  “Can you tell me what the Seven-Year Ship looks like?” I asked him. “I have never seen it.”

  He pointed to the bay, where the Eculan fleet was anchored. “Different from our boats. Hull curved to slice waves, very tall. Kraken on the main sail.”

  “How does the Seven-Year Ship cross the ocean without being taken by krakens?”

  The Bone Giant’s eyes widened. “Yes, I would like to know this, too!”

  “But you crossed the ocean.”

  “I don’t know how, though. The leaders never told us. Very big secret.”

  I waved it away as if it were unimportant. “And when you find the Seven-Year Ship—well, then what?”

  The Eculan shrugged. “Depends on what we find. But hopefully it will lead us to the Seventh Kenning. Or even be anchored next to it.”

  “Since I am new to Zanata Sedam, could you explain the Seventh Kenning to me? Saviič could not.”

  “It’s powerful. More powerful than the other kennings.”

  “Yes, it must be, of course. But what is it?”

  “Power.”

  “Fine, but how does it work? What can one blessed by the Seventh Kenning do?”

  “Do you think I don’t know?”

  “I’m starting to wonder, since you do not answer.” The translated (yet incomplete) text of Zanata Sedam had not provided me any clarity on the subject, so it was little wonder this soldier had no answers. It only said the Seventh Kenning was greater than the others, or beyond them, or a blessing past the power of speech. But on such a vague promise they had crossed the ocean.

  “I do not think I should tell you. You say you follow Zanata Sedam, but you are not one of us.” He pointedly summoned some phlegm from his lungs and spat in our direction.

  “Fine. And what if you don’t find the Seven-Year Ship?”

  He shrugged. “Then next year we look in the other countries.”

  I cocked my head, alarm swelling in my head like a balloon. “What other countries?”

  The Bone Giant waved dismissively in the direction of Kauria. “Farther south. The ones on the other map.” He must have meant the southeastern regional map. So Kauria was next, along with the east coast of Forn. “But I am not worried,” the Bone Giant continued. “We will find the Seven-Year Ship here somewhere. It has to be in the north.”

  “Why must it be?”

  “The vojskovodja is sure, and so is the kraljic, so we are all sure.”

  Their king! “Has the kraljic joined you here?”

  A derisive snort. “No, of course not!”

  “Of course not,” I said, grinning at him. “Thank you for your time. I’m glad that you and I could speak peaceably.”

  He jerked his head around as if suddenly remembering that his companions were still unconscious. I found it reassuring. He was not the quickest gust in the storm, and that meant he was less likely to try fooling me with misdirection. Ponder had done well to keep him conscious instead of the leader, but it was time to make an exit before his suspicions triggered a renewal of violence.

  “I wish you and your companions well,” I said. “They will awaken soon, so there is no need to worry. Please tell them I am sorry I had to put them to sleep. I wish we all could have spoken in friendship as you and I did.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Up the road to the next city. We have news to spread, after all, that some of the faithful still survive! Is there any message you wish to send along?”

  “No,” the Eculan said, his tone making it clear that he was unsure if that was the correct answer. “Why are you going that way? I thought you said you needed to speak to my vojskovodja.”

  Oh. I supposed I had said that. Shrugging, I said, “Any will do. There’s another one leading the army to the north, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I will tell him of Saviič also.” I waved at him and began to back-pedal. “Farewell.” Ponder waved and walked backward, too, and we took perhaps ten steps that way before turning our backs. A stolen glance over my shoulder showed the Eculan bending to his leader, trying to wake him up.

  “We will have to take turns sleeping and hide somewhere off the road tonight,” Ponder said.

  “That is well. We are all still alive and breathe Reinei’s peace.”

  “Should we not be walking to Hillegöm, where the army is? I thought we were supposed to speak to some military officer of theirs.”

  “There’s no need. I have found out what we needed to know. Kauria is a possible target, but not until next year. We can find our ambassador in Setyrön and send word via ship to Mistral Kira. And if we can find this Seven-Year Ship they want so badly or, better yet, the source of the Seventh Kenning, Kauria will never be invaded at all. That must be our new goal.”

  “That was quick work, Scholar.”

  “Only made possible by your keeping the peace. Thank you for that. We still have much to discover and time is our enemy as much as the Eculans are, but perhaps we may find a way to baffle them yet.”

  “Soon after that,” Fintan said as he imprinted a new stone, “Kallindra du Paskre met someone fascinating.”

  We have come into a strange morbid time of prosperity, and I am unsure that I like it. My parents are uncomfortable with it, too. There is no joy in this success. But we have sold everything that we could possibly sell at Setyrön after the Bone Giants destroyed cities to the north and south. Our inventory is empty. People were practically frenzied when we came to town—it was like we were the last family of traveling merchants that might ever appear in their lives, and I suppose I can see how that might be true for them, how that fear could wrap itself around their minds like longarms and then squeeze. But they are not cut off; there is still the sea.

  And as Father pointed out, there was salvage to be had in Möllerud; that was our only available option right now.

  “I don’t want to go back there,” Mother said. “All those dead people. It’s not like they moved on. They’re still rotting there in the open like they were Nentians given to the sky. And I don’t loot corpses.”

  “I never suggested that we would be looting corpses.”

  “Looting their homes is the same thing!” I’d never heard such anger in Mother’s voice before. “Call it salvage if you want, Lönsyr, but it’s grave robbing, and we’re not going to do that!”

  “I think you’ve misunderstood what I wish to salvage. We’re not looting or robbing or profiting off a single Brynt. I’d like to go down there and salvage one of those giant ships.”

  “What?”

  “Our land trade routes are essentially gone now. How will we make our living once we’ve spent the money we just made? We need to become sea traders, and you saw that fleet of abandoned boats off the coast of Möllerud.”

  “Not to dunk your plan’s head in the river, Father, but we don’t know anything about sailing,” I said.

  “It’s time we learned! Free boats don’t come along all that often.”

  “I’m no expert, but they didn’t look like any cargo boat I’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s why we’re going to go down there with shipwrights and sailors.”

  “I … what?” Mother said.

  “We have the money to hire them right now. The plan is that we go down there and snag a boat or three. Break down one or two, modify the other into a cargo boat with cabins for us. We fly merchant colors. Sail back to Setyrön with the help of our hired crew and learn how to be merchant mariners. Sail from there to Pelemyn with our first load of cargo.”

  Mother shook her head. “It’s too risky.”

  “Continuing our land route is every bit as risky, if not more. The army that took out Möllerud is still wandering around down there to the south. What if they come back?”

  “Well, yes, Lön, that’s an excellent question. What if they come back while we’re down there?”

  “We’re not going down alone and certainly not beyond the city. There’re a lot of people going
. There will be scouts, and we’ll have plenty of warning if they come back.”

  “No, I’m not buying what you’re selling. What does ‘a lot of people’ and ‘scouts’ mean? Is the quartermaster sending an army of mariners along with us or what?”

  “Mariners are definitely going, yes, and they’ll be scouting for the enemy and cleaning up the city. Lots of families who had relatives in Möllerud will be going, too. I am sure that there will also be some who are, in fact, intent on looting.”

  “If any of them are part of the merchant clave, I won’t speak to them again.”

  “As you will. But there are some who think as I do that the giants’ fleet should either be put to use or scuttled. The quartermaster’s one of them.”

  “So you have official permission?”

  “I and others. We are to take what we want from the invading fleet and destroy the rest.”

  It took hours of Father submitting to further questioning and Mother probing to discover holes in his plans, and she did find a few, but Father knew how to handle them: “How should we address that problem, do you think?” he would ask. And in that way Mother became the architect of the future as much as he. They were an excellent team.

  Though I was fairly excited by the prospect of learning new skills, the idea held little relish for Jorry. His face was long and mournful as he listened to our parents making plans.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.