A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings Book 1)

by Kevin Hearne

  “Wondered if you were going to let me suffocate,” she said.

  “What? Of course not!”

  She coughed a few more times, and I could hear her brush rubble off her tunic, and then a scraping sound and a few sparks in the darkness announced that she had a flint and candle in her pouch. Both flint and candle, she claimed, were Hathrim-enchanted, but it still took a while to get it sparked up. Once it finally lit, she gave me a cursory glance, then looked at her long dust-covered hair with dismay. “What happened, stonecutter?”

  “The seals gave way, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop them all by myself. We should have built the wall from the floor up, and there wouldn’t have been any danger of a cave-in.”

  Temblor Priyit froze, her eyes narrowing. “So I gave you the wrong orders. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. Ordering me to break the seals on the ceiling and build the wall from the top down was the wrong call.”

  “I see. So I’m to be blamed for this?”

  “It’s not assigning blame; it’s recognizing how we got here. At the same time, I should have thought of it earlier. And I should have paid attention to the seals when I dropped the wall the rest of the way. It was my fault, and I expect the Triune will punish me accordingly.”

  “Punish you?” The temblor’s mouth twisted into a broad grin made lurid by the candlelight, and she raised a hand, palm up. “We won! The Bone Giants are dead! Baseld is safe!”

  “It doesn’t feel like a win when all our soldiers are dead.”

  She waved my objection away. “The Bone Giants did most of that. Fewer than a hundred of them were able to retreat.”

  “So you can just shrug off the unnecessary deaths of close to a hundred soldiers?”

  Priyit gave me an exaggerated shrug to demonstrate that she could. “I didn’t kill them. It was an accident.”

  My mouth gaped. I had no problem taking my share of the blame, for I had indeed been responsible. What shocked me was that Priyit didn’t seem to feel responsible for any part of it or even question whether perhaps we should have begun our work as soon as we’d passed the populated areas rather than go farther into the tunnel. The enemy was crushed and she was alive, and that was all that mattered to her.

  The temblor handed me the candle and pulled her long hair into a knot in the back, waiting for me to say something, and when I didn’t, she gestured in the direction of Baseld. “Well? Shouldn’t we be going?”

  “Not yet. The dead need to be spoken for. We should sing the Dirge for the Fallen.”

  “Oh.” The temblor folded her arms and looked down. “I don’t feel comfortable with that. I grew up with Kalaad, you know, in Ghurana Nent.”

  “But you’ve been blessed by the Triple Goddess, and these soldiers were under your command.”

  “Yes, and I’m grateful for their blessing and honored by the faith the Triune Council has placed in me. But I don’t think I’m the best person to sing the dirge. You go ahead; it’ll mean more coming from you.”

  I had never met Temblor Priyit before that day—I’d only heard what Gaerit had told me—but right then I was positive that I didn’t want to know her any better. If she thought I was simply going to leave to spare her any discomfort, she was wrong. Especially since it appeared that she might not suffer any other discomfort for her role in these deaths.

  A sob built in my throat as I thought of Gaerit buried somewhere nearby, unseen, and I launched into the dirge straight away, because the first verse was to the poet goddess and once past the first two lines, every singer’s voice improved and could not be shaken by emotion.

  Kaelin, let not my voice falter

  As I sing this Dirge for the Fallen:

  Let not the passage of time alter

  Or diminish the honor earned,

  The victories won, the friends well met,

  Or the lessons learned.

  I hoped the temblor would react to that line, but she kept her eyes downcast. I’m not sure she thought there were any lessons to learn.

  Raena, salute these warriors of Rael

  Who spat defiance at cowardice:

  They never meant to fail

  In defense of that they cherished,

  But rather fought to the limits

  Of their skill till they perished.

  Dinae, our soldiers come to your embrace,

  To rest forever in the earth:

  We shall remember their faces

  Until someday we join them there,

  And then we too will nourish life

  And leave behind all warfare.

  My voice certainly broke after that. I let my sorrow cry itself out while Priyit waited. The trade-off could and would be rationalized as the temblor saw fit, I knew: four hundred lives against six or seven thousand was more than acceptable. Except that I was the one who was supposed to make sure that it would never come to that. The trade-off for me couldn’t be rationalized. I would forever be bereft of a fiancé, most likely bereft of friends, and recognized as that stonecutter who was not quite strong enough to do the job, who killed nearly a hundred soldiers, created orphans and widows and robbed families of their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. My chest felt like it was tearing apart inside.

  I remained standing in place for a long, countless time, feeling the weight and loneliness of it all, and the temblor held her silence for as long as she could, the best gesture she could make, I supposed. But eventually she made a throat-clearing noise, and I oriented myself to the direction of Baseld. I parted the earth before us as we moved, letting it fall back in behind us as we passed, determined to put one foot in front of the other until we saw daylight again.

  Eventually you come to a point where you have no choice but to be about the business of forever.

  When the temblor and I emerged from the collapsed tunnel into Baseld, rocks and dirt parting before me, a small group of people were waiting. They had shovels in their hands and rags tied across their mouths to reduce dust inhalation. They thought perhaps the cave-in was only local and wanted to get back to their homes somewhere near the entrance of the Granite Tunnel. They had been attacking the cave-in with boundless optimism, trying to clear it away.

  They started to pepper me with questions immediately, glancing at my Jereh band to confirm that I was a stonecutter and not a juggernaut or some other Earth Shaper.

  “Stonecutter, what happened?”

  “How far does the cave-in go?”

  And then, when they saw the temblor, the questions were fired at her:

  “Is the garrison all right?”

  “Did the Bone Giants cause this?”

  All of that at once, and more that I didn’t catch. They needed answers, and I felt nothing so much as the need to hide: to collapse in bed and stay there for days. But I was trapped.

  Someone pushed between the shoulders of two men, who at first looked annoyed and about to say something, but they closed their mouths when they saw her Jereh band. It was a courier but a different one from the courier who had given me orders from the Triune Council. She was shorter and sharply featured, with a bladelike nose and well-toned shoulders.

  “Stonecutter Meara,” she said. “Temblor Priyit. The Triune requires a report immediately. Please come with me.”

  I didn’t want to go, not before the Triune. But I didn’t want to stay, either, and face these people. So I didn’t resist when the courier took my arm and escorted me through the assembled excavators, the temblor following.

  “Hey, wait!” said one of them, a stout man with a thick beard. “Tell us what happened first!”

  “No,” the courier replied, saving me the need to respond. “The Triune will hear it first.”

  As soon as we got past the press of bodies and had some space before us, the courier turned to us. “I am Tuala, courier of the Huntress Raena in service to the Triune Council.”

  She already knew who we were, so I merely nodded and said, “Honored.”

  “Have you e
ver run with a courier before?”

  I shook my head, but the temblor nodded. Tuala focused on me.

  “All right. You’re going to jog behind me, and it’ll continue to seem like an easy jog even when we’re traveling at top speed. But keep your mouth closed. You don’t want a bug to fly in there while we’re traveling that fast.”

  “No, I—oh, that’s disgusting. Are they going to splatter on me?”

  Tuala pointed to several discolored spots on her armor. “Yes.” I almost felt like returning to answer the questions of the locals, but the courier smiled. “It’s not that bad. But wear these.” She pulled goggles out of her belt pouch and handed a pair to me and another to Priyit. “A bug in your eye wouldn’t feel good. Plus it protects you from the wind.” She had her own pair and put them on. “Come, let’s be on our way.”

  She began to lope downhill and checked over her shoulder to make sure we followed. I jogged after her, uncertain for some reason that I was doing it right, even though I rather enjoyed jogging as a rule. Perhaps I would be doubting everything I did from now on.

  For the length of two houses nothing seemed unusual, but then I noticed that the houses began to move by much faster even though I wasn’t trying to run any faster. And in a matter of seconds we were traveling so quickly that I felt the skin of my face pulling back, the loose folds of my clothing snapping in the wind. It was exhilarating to experience such speed but terrifying as well. I was thinking about some of the larger beetle species of Rael and imagining the impact if one of them slammed into me.

  And then it happened. I felt a hard thump against my rib cage, as if someone had flicked me with their forefinger with all the force they could muster, and it stung. I looked down and saw a green splash of entrails on my tunic. It robbed the experience of fast travel of much of its romantic associations, and I wished I had a miner’s helmet.

  After a while, even at the relatively slow pace I was keeping, I began to get winded. I shortened my stride and gasped out a “Sorry” to Tuala, uncertain that she would hear me. She cast a glance back at me.

  “Don’t worry. You can walk if you want to now. You’re completely caught up in my kenning. Just don’t stop.”

  I slowed to a walk, chest heaving, and found that it was true. We were still flying across the land, every step gobbling up fifty feet or more as the earth took our lightest step and pushed us forward. Even at that speed, however, running due south, it took us hours to reach Killae on the northern shore of Goddess Lake. When we arrived at the Triune building, which was surrounded by sculptures erected by the nation’s most celebrated stonecutters and artisans, I took a few steps to become accustomed to everything moving slowly again. Tuala checked in with the cluster of guards outside the door and informed them that she had an urgent message from Baseld. I didn’t speak a word to the temblor while we waited and doubted I would ever speak to her again.

  The councillors had retired for the evening and would need to be summoned, but she led us to the Council chamber to wait and take some refreshment.

  I drank three glasses of water and then confessed I had a dire need to relieve myself. Tuala led me to a fancy privy designed by Brynt hygienists and trimmed in polished granite flecked with metals.

  Given a small space of privacy free of distractions, I let worry seize me as I did my business. What would the Triune do to me once they heard what I had done? Throw me into a salted dungeon somewhere, cut off from the song of the earth forever? Execute me for criminal incompetence? Have me work in the mines the rest of my days to pay reparations to the families of those I’d killed?

  “Whatever their sentence, Meara,” I whispered to myself, “you deserve it and will greet it like an old friend.” I washed my hands and face, gave up on trying to make my bug-spattered clothes presentable, and composed myself to deliver the news without emotion. I even said that to my reflection in the mirror: “You will deliver the news without emotion. You have nothing left but duty.” I felt strong as I left the privy, and after a short wait to allow Temblor Priyit to finish her report, Tuala introduced me to the assembled members of the Triune Council in the chamber: Dechtira, Clodagh, and Carrig.

  “Welcome, stonecutter,” Dechtira said. “We have already heard from the temblor but would like to hear your version of events. Please tell us what happened.”

  “The entire Granite Tunnel is collapsed. The Bone Giant army is destroyed as a result. But so is half of Baseld’s garrison.” And my betrothed, I did not say. And my shiny dreamt-of future. And my sense of self-worth.

  Questions and answers followed with a close focus on why I could not control the unraveling of the ancient seals keeping the tunnel intact. The seals themselves required some explanation since none of the councillors was a stonecutter. Carrig noted drily that I had proved why we needed physical support to shore up the magic of the stonecutters, ugly and costly as it might be. “We’ll have to shore up the Basalt Tunnel as soon as possible.”

  And despite the fact that essentially it all came down because I cracked under pressure or that it could have all been prevented if I had simply built up instead of down, the Council did not seem especially upset about it.

  “The deaths of the garrison are regrettable,” Clodagh said, and the callous dismissal of their lost lives, so close to what Priyit had done, nearly took my breath away. “But Baseld is safe, at least. You saved it from certain sacking and untold civilian casualties. We shouldn’t have sent you in alone to do such a massive job, but we had no choice. You are not to blame.”

  I knew she meant the words kindly but could not imagine her being more wrong. If I was not to blame, then who was? If I had not buckled under the strain, those soldiers would be alive. The Granite Tunnel would still be a tunnel instead of rubble. Had I thought to question Priyit’s orders in time, maybe Gaerit would still be alive and we’d still be getting married in a few months.

  Silence fell in the chamber as the Council stared at me and I stared back. I waited for the other members to contradict Clodagh, but they did not. Gradually I realized that they expected me to say something.

  “Um. Begging your pardons, what is to happen to me now?”

  “Happen to you?” Carrig said.

  “Yes. I mean—” I looked down and licked my suddenly dry lips. “—my punishment.”

  “Punishment?” Clodagh said, her face scrunched with incomprehension. “You saved a city. We commend your service to the Triple Goddess, and now you may go back to your duties.”

  “Oh. So I’m to go back and face the families. I see.” I nodded. “That’s fit. That’s just. Thank you.”

  “Now wait a moment,” Dechtira said. “Clodagh did not speak for the entire Council right then.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No,” Dechtira said. “There is much for us to discuss in private. Stonecutter Meara, take your rest in our guest quarters, but under guard, of course.”

  “What?” Clodagh exploded. Dechtira ignored her.

  “Return here in the morning for your punishment.”

  I looked to the other two councillors for confirmation, and after a moment of exchanged glances among themselves, they nodded at me to indicate they were in agreement.

  Tuala led me to a room I would have appreciated in other circumstances, but I had eyes only for the bed and its down pillow. I wanted only a few hours of sleep to put the worst day of my life behind me. Every day henceforward would be miserable but not quite as bad.

  There were fresh clothes waiting for me when I awoke, free of insect remains. I changed into them after visiting the washroom and then stepped into the hall, and there a guard escorted me to the Council chamber. I had to wait for a few moments but eventually was ushered in to hear my sentence.

  “Our unanimous decree,” Dechtira said, “is that you cross the Poet’s Range in the company of the courier Tuala and aid the Brynt city of Tömerhil however they ask. Your services are to be provided free of charge. And after you are finished there, you are to travel to
whatever Brynt city you wish and help them rebuild. You will have a stipend for modest living expenses from the Raelech embassy wherever you go. But you are never to return to Rael. You are banished.”

  No more days spent occupied with decorative flourishes, then. A lifetime of rebuilding. Yes. That would be my path to redemption. The temblor might have been awarded a medal or something, but I didn’t care. She was unaware that she had anything to atone for. But I needed some way to balance out what I’d done, and the Council had given it to me. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I thanked them.

  When the bard returned to his accustomed form, I was startled to discover that my cheeks were wet. And I wasn’t the only one. I’d heard, of course, that the Raelechs had collapsed the Granite Tunnel to defeat the Bone Giants because they didn’t have sufficient forces at Baseld—we’d all heard that—but I didn’t think anyone knew that it was a mistake. Or that someone out there thought of it as a disaster rather than a victory.

  What Meara had said—being about the business of forever—gave me much to think on. I’m still not ready to move on from Sarena and don’t know that I ever will be. Perhaps my eternity is to be forever a widower. But I had a growing hope that I would be more than that, and I hoped Meara would be, too.

  A few days of normality and happy kids restored Elynea to the point where she bestowed at least one tired smile per evening. Sometimes more. She hadn’t found another job yet but seemed much more optimistic about it. After she departed in the morning and the children were safely off to school, I grabbed my rapier and marched down to the armory to resume my training with Mynstad du Möcher. I began with an apology.

  “Sorry about the other day,” I said.

  “Oooh,” she said, wincing as she took in my bruised face. “You must have run into someone mean.”

  “Not at all,” I said, smiling. “She was very kind and kept all my teeth in my head.”

  “Back for more?”

  “Just training this time, if you’re available. I’d rather not get rusty.”

  “Good. I could use the workout.”