A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings Book 1)

by Kevin Hearne

  “Maybe they’ll grow on you.”

  “Or slither on you,” Hanima said. “Slither slither slither—”

  “Shut up.”

  “Nope, I’m never shutting up again. They’ll flick those little forked tongues in your ear, all tickly—”

  “Ugh. If they do what I say, they won’t be doing that.”

  “What’s your title going to be, Sudhi? Serpentlord? Snakemaster?” Hanima snapped her fingers. “Ooh! How about an ‘eel wizard’?”

  He shook his head. “Not cool enough. I don’t even know if this is it or not. But if it is? I think I’d prefer to be called a charmer.”

  “Oh, that’s good, Sudhi,” Adithi said. “I like it.”

  “You should talk to them, see what you can do,” I suggested.

  Sudhi called a wheaten constrictor to him and had it coil up on his right. There was a bulge in its abdomen where it was still digesting something. On his left coiled a kholeshar, the most poisonous serpent in the world.

  “Somehow I don’t think anyone will tease me about my hairstyle anymore,” he said, and we grinned at him.

  “This is the best,” Hanima said. “Wish I knew what I was, though. Kind of weird that I’ve felt nothing so far. Maybe I have some kind of talent with fish and there aren’t any around here. Or maybe some animals that aren’t technically Nentian. Like some of those freaky creatures that live in the Gravewood. Oh! What if I could talk to gravemaws? Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “We could explore the Gravewood without fear. Who knows what’s in there? I’ll bet there are animals humans have never seen before or at least creatures no one has lived to tell about.”

  “You’re right,” Sudhi said. “There is so much we can do now.”

  “It’s true freedom, isn’t it?” Adithi said. “I can get on my horse and go anywhere and not have to worry.”

  And during our breakfast of oats and apples, which we shared with the horses, a bee landed on Hanima’s arm and did a frenetic little dance.

  “Huh,” she said, casually regarding it as she bit into her apple. “There’s a hive back there in the nughobes about a hundred lengths from the bloodcat nest.” She looked up to find us staring at her, wide-eyed, and then her eyes popped open as well. “Hey! How’d I know that? That’s my thing, isn’t it? Bees! I know what they’re saying! Where they are! I’m a, uh … I’m a hivemaster! Yeah!”

  “Hivemistress,” Adithi corrected her.

  “Whatever! That! Yes, that! You know what this is?”

  “Is it … the best?” Sudhi ventured.

  “Yes! Exactly! This is the best! You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because if someone wants to mess with me, I’ll be able to say, ‘Step back, man, or I am going to throw bees in your face!’”

  “What? Why would you throw them?”

  “Well, I will urge them to fly faceward, okay? Don’t pick at my words, Sudhi; I’m all excited! I have a thing now. Bees are my thing. But not just bees!”

  “What?”

  “I can sense other hives,” she said, her hands freezing in the air and her eyes closing. “Ants. Termites. Burrow wasps. All near here.”

  I stretched out with the senses of my kenning, seeking those specific creatures, and found the ants and burrow wasps at the limits of my range. “Where are the termites?” I asked.

  “Three leagues to the south. The other side of the nughobes.” That was a much greater distance than I could sense, as was the beehive. Hanima’s affinity granted her far more sensitivity.

  “What about other insects?” I asked. Can you sense them? Or spiders?”

  Hanima paused and shut her eyes tight, trying to find them. “No,” she finally said. “Just the kind with queens.”

  “Think of what we could do,” Adithi said, her face glowing. “Charmers could have serpents keep fields free of shrews and voles. A hivemistress like Hanima could make crops more fruitful.”

  Tamhan, who’d been quiet to this point, snorted softly and said, “That won’t be the first thing the viceroy will think of.”

  Adithi frowned. “What will he think of?”

  “First, he will think of how you threaten his power. He will look at his lost cavalry and say you’re too dangerous to live. He’ll think of how Sudhi could send that kholeshar or a flesh eel into his bedchamber at night and end his life. And so he’ll seek to control you if he can, and if he can’t, he’ll try to kill you and then get others blessed by the Sixth Kenning that he can control.”

  “Stop being a storm cloud, Tamhan,” Hanima said.

  “I know it’s unpleasant, but we need to think about this. Do you even want to return to Khul Bashab? You don’t have to. You can go anywhere.”

  They all wanted to return, which disappointed but did not surprise me.

  “I can’t go back myself,” I said, “because I killed those cavalrymen and I don’t want to be under the viceroy’s control. But you owe it to yourselves to think about what he will want from you once you submit to him.”

  Sudhi’s lip curled. “I don’t want to submit. That’s a terrible idea.”

  “It will be that or die, Sudhi,” Tamhan said. “He won’t have it any other way. So once you submit, what will he want you to do? Follow his orders. And you might not like them.”

  “What kind of orders do you mean?” he said.

  “Well, he’ll ask you to tame wild horses and put bridles on them, Adithi, so he’ll have more cavalry. You’ll be attached to the cavalry and have a military role. I can guarantee it.”

  She scowled, and Tamhan continued. “Hanima, you’ll be his leverage against farmers.”

  “What? How?”

  “If farmers don’t pay enough tax or plant what he wants, you’ll keep bees from visiting their crops.”

  “No, I won’t! That’s evil.”

  “He would say it’s good government. He’ll think of some way to exploit you that will increase his power at the expense of others. And Sudhi, you’ll be an assassin.”

  “No way. I’m not killing anyone.”

  “Not you. Your snakes.”

  “That’s disgusting, and I would never do it. If I did that even once, then charmers would be viewed as spies and assassins forever.”

  “He’s not going to worry about that. In his eyes you are resources to be used. And not just his eyes—this is how we’ll be seen by any government official. We either serve them or must be eliminated.”

  “Where are you getting these ideas? They’re horrifying,” Adithi said.

  “They’re not ideas. They’re educated guesses. Leaders will do almost anything to hold on to their position. It’s what makes them smile in the morning, the idea that they’re the boss of everything they can see under the sky. If you can help them, they will use you; if you threaten them, they will throw you to the wheat dogs. Since you are a threat but also of potential use, they’ll try to control you. That’s how it is in all the other countries.”

  Sudhi pointed out, “The blessed are sometimes in charge. The pelenaut of Brynlön is a tidal mariner. The mistral of Kauria is a cyclone.”

  “But they are elected and still serve the government. They are still controlled by the responsibilities of office. They’re not retiring to a quiet life of gardening and grumbling about the weather.”

  “Well, I could have one glorious garden now,” Hanima said, “but I don’t want to keep this to myself. I want to change things.”

  “There has to be a third option,” Adithi insisted. “A way that we can help people as we wish without the government controlling our lives.”

  “I agree that there should be,” Tamhan said, nodding. “But look at every other country with a kenning. Almost without exception, the blessed serve the government’s interests in some way. Especially those with the greatest powers. They are immediately conscripted into military service. The Raelech juggernauts, the Fornish greensleeves, the Hathrim furies—”

 
“But there are exceptions?” Hanima asked.

  “There are those who serve in helpful roles but are still technically under the government’s control. The hygienists in Brynlön who clean water and wounds and cure disease. The stonecutters in Rael who build walls and so on.”

  Adithi brightened. “My father is in a clave; he’s a tanner. Clave members get paid better for their work, and the government likes it because they pay taxes regularly. And of course the government uses them when it needs something, too, but I don’t think the government can force the clave to do something against its own interests. Why don’t we form a Beast Callers clave? Anyone can employ our services, and we retain the right to refuse work we don’t want to do.”

  Sudhi and Hanima liked that idea and Tamhan had no objections, so I encouraged them to try. “Apply to the viceroy and see what happens.”

  “Or simply announce it to as many people as possible so that the government has to acknowledge us,” Adithi offered.

  “Count me in,” I said, “though only as a member, not an officer.”

  Tamhan said, “I’d make sure you have a charter that clearly defines what the government can and cannot order you to do. And it will have to be signed by the king eventually. I would get legal advice. Move cautiously when you get to town. Hide, in fact. And if they ask—actually, even if they don’t ask—tell the truth about what happened. The viceroy’s cavalry killed Madhep, not you, and then they were going to cover it up by killing us all. Abhi acted purely in self-defense.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever come out again if I enter that city now,” I said. “Not until I get some guarantees of safety.”

  They fell silent, and after a few moments Tamhan nodded. “You’re probably right; you shouldn’t go back now. What will you do?”

  “I was thinking of following the Banighel River down to the ocean, but isn’t the viceroy at Batana Mar Din a cousin or something of Bhamet Senesh?” They confirmed this. “I won’t find a sympathetic ear there, then. Maybe the viceroy at Hashan Khek will be more open to working with me. And if not, I’ll simply live outside the cities as a free man. Maybe explore the Gravewood like Sudhi said.”

  “How will you live, though?” Hanima asked.

  “I’ve been thinking of it. I would modify my hunting skills. When grass pumas or wheat dogs take down something with a pelt—or when Murr does—I will step in after the kill and take the hide to sell, then let them eat. No waste and no death on my head, and I will have income to buy grain and apples in the cities. And what if we could establish a solid trade route between Hashan Khek and Khul Bashab? It’s not a new idea. There’s an old road going south from Khul Bashab to the Khek River, but no one really uses it because it’s too dangerous. Beast Callers would change that. We’d protect caravans from animals; the merchants pay me less than they would for river transport, and there’s no risk of bandits on the plains for them. I think I’d do very well.”

  “Okay,” Hanima said. “I think it’s good that we all have a plan. Start the clave and grow it. Improve lives in Ghurana Nent. And in the process we will allow our country to enjoy the same freedoms as the other nations.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “Protect animals as well.”

  “Murr,” my bloodcat said, and nodded his head in agreement. He hadn’t understood the rest of the conversation, but he’d understood that.

  Planning continued as we traveled north. Tamhan was quite animated as he thought aloud about how the country could, should, and would change with the Sixth Kenning. And more than the country—the whole world would be different. His excitement was contagious and we were all smiling, listening to him build us up as future legends. By the time we saw the walls of Khul Bashab, we had a rough outline of a clave in mind and a list of projects we wanted to work on. Recruitment would be put on hold until the source of the kenning moved somewhere away from the spiders, though. We didn’t think anyone would want to try that, and we didn’t want to watch regardless.

  Sudhi adopted the kholeshar viper, which draped itself around his shoulders and neck and slept most of the time, but its bright green and yellow skin gave off a clear warning of danger against Sudhi’s warm brown complexion, and it also matched the yellow stripe of his hair. Hanima, meanwhile, acquired a small swarm of bees that trailed after her and buzzed over her head in a cloud, including a young queen. “I’ll get them a hive as soon as I get into town,” she said. “Something I can take with me if necessary.”

  We parted ways well outside the vision of the guards on the wall. Adithi gave me an extra horse in addition to the one I had pulling my cart, and she would take the rest with her and return them to the viceroy’s stables, though she hoped that she would be able to keep the spotted stallion for herself.

  “When I get to Hashan Khek,” I said, “I’ll send word where you can find me. To Tamhan, I mean.”

  They each thanked me, and Tamhan hung back to say farewell. He opened his arms and embraced me, and I felt like I belonged there. A scant count to three, but it was perfection. When he pulled back, he kept his hands on top of my shoulders and spoke to my eyes. “Thank you for coming to me. For letting me be a part of this.”

  “Thank you for the many kindnesses.”

  “Nonsense. You will be safe and I will see you again, yes?”

  “I hope so. Yes.”

  “I feel we should have been friends long before this,” he said, and my throat closed up and all I could do was nod. “We will make up for lost time later. May Kalaad smile down upon you, Abhi.”

  “And you, Tamhan,” I said, giving him a tight grin and a nod, letting my hands fall from him as he did the same. I’d been dwelling on the fact that when that captain had shot at me, it wasn’t just Madhep who had stepped in front of the bolt. Tamhan had stepped in, too. Perhaps he felt as I did for him, or perhaps he merely had the heart of a hero. But it wasn’t the time to ask.

  Our eyes lingered on each other for an uncountable span, and then they fell away. He turned to join the others, they all waved, and I turned away in case my face showed how much I didn’t want to be alone then.

  I mounted the extra horse, and Murr and Eep followed along as I searched for the old trade road heading south. I found it after a few minutes, and through the dull ache of loneliness I felt the smallest kernel of hope for the future. Perhaps with our concerted efforts we’d be able to make life better for all Nentians. But for all the wonder of the kenning, I’d give it all up in an instant if I could have my family back.

  “More from Abhi in a few days!” the bard promised. “Here’s someone you ought to recognize.”

  He threw down a seeming sphere, and the form of Second Könstad Tallynd du Böll emerged. I watched the faces of the crowd and saw their expressions light up with glee upon her appearance. They hadn’t heard from her directly since his first day on the wall. Applause erupted before Fintan said another word. He let it wash over him for a while, knowing it was for the Second Könstad as much as for him, then held up his hands to quiet them and let Tallynd speak.

  When I surfaced near the docks at Gönerled, the smell of rot made me gag and I had to dive back underwater, take a clean filtered breath, then rise again, holding my nose. There was nothing alive except blackwings feeding on the dead. My sister lay among them somewhere, along with her family. I longed to find her if I could and return her to the sea, giving her a gentle farewell after the violence she suffered. But she would have to wait with all the others. My mission was to scout the enemy, destroy small targets where I could, and note what needed to be done in the fallen cities should we be victorious.

  The note taking was quite literal: I had a waterproof satchel with writing materials, food, and fresh water inside. Pulling myself up onto the docks and wicking away the moisture from my clothing, I performed the quickest survey possible: No watchers on the walls, gates wide open, bodies everywhere, even in the wells. Structures all intact. Like Festwyf, Gönerled could be scoured and lived in again if people could bear the
feeling of being haunted.

  On to Göfyrd, moving at the top speed I could manage without strain, where there were most definitely sentries on the walls. The Bone Giants had decided to stay there, no doubt because of the rich food stores, and strategically it posed a problem for us. They could strike at Pelemyn, Tömerhil, or Setyrön from there. If we struck at them, we would leave our cities open to counterattack, and we didn’t have ten thousand soldiers to throw at the walls anyway.

  I spent the night in Setyrön, exhausted from the travel and the emotional wear, confirming for their quartermaster that Göfyrd was occupied and delivering some messages from the pelenaut and the Lung.

  He told me that Möllerud was abandoned like Gönerled and he had approved an expedition of mariners, merchants, and citizens to head down there, scuttle the Bone Giant fleet, and begin cleaning up the city. I wearily noted after the next morning’s journey that the city was indeed abandoned and ready for cleanup. There was only the Bone Giant ships anchored in the harbor and blackwings circling above. From there I sleeved myself to Hillegöm, where I assumed I’d find the army that had landed at Möllerud. And by midafternoon, I did find them, but they were not inside the walls.

  They were walking—not marching, not in formation, but simply strolling—along the coastal road from Hillegöm to Möllerud. I had come upon them as they were leaving the city. No one was watching on the walls. They had left the gates open, and they had scuttled all the Brynt ships in the harbor, their masts only peeking above the surface of the water.

  There were … I don’t know how many. More than I could count. All tall, pale, and dressed in clacking bones. Some with swords, some with spears—the tools they had used to slay the people of Möllerud and Hillegöm. Looking at them from the shallows, below their actual feet, all I could see was the first rank or so. There could be untold ranks behind them. Brynt cargo carts heaped high with plundered grain and other goods rolled in the middle of the column. But near the back, there was one pale giant who was unarmed and adorned in a different fashion. The skin of his torso bore swirled patterns of dark ink, and he wore no bones except for thin hollow ones strung in three levels around his neck. Unlike all the others, he had a beard, the sort one might see only on the most eccentric Hathrim. He had twirled, waxed, or somehow shaped tufts of it into pointed spikes that radiated from his face, as if his jaw were the bottom half of a child’s drawing of the sun. Instead of basic strips of cloth around his groin and flimsy sandals on his feet, he had cloth pants and boots. And most important, he was reading something. Not a book or a single piece of paper but a sheaf of them, and there were more sticking out of a cloth bag he had slung over his shoulder. Plans? Messages? Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be poetry. It was much more likely to be information we could use. And even if we couldn’t read their language, denying them their information was a sound strategy, and this particular giant was most likely one of their leaders. Everything about his appearance spoke of status even if the markers were strange to my eyes.