No Name for the Free

by Devin Harbison

  "You'd hope. Maybe they'd do it for some of our grapples."

  The words sounded nicer in my head than they do when they come out of my mouth and leave a puff of clouds in the air, something about saying you'd instead of we'd, but I hope Newt knows I mean well, and doesn't think about how horrible the grapple bit sounds too, when I watched too many men fall to their death without anything to grab onto. And, as I walk off, further and further away from the giant's corpse and the door where Gorm still stands, it takes all of my willpower not to look back and search for holes in the snow where those men may have landed, and gone unnoticed. Thankfully, the sight of Yemi trying to put up a tent far too large for him alone draws me away from those thoughts.

  He seems to be putting up Gorm's while that man is probably still staring up at the wall, and, because I know why there is no one else to help him set up the first of the tents in the row we build along the wall, I help him as quickly as I can and pray that my intervention is enough to end his frustration and any thoughts either of us may have of our lost friend.

  Even though I've put smaller tents up a good number of times now, I have no idea what the hell I am doing with Gorm's, so I just stand still at one side, hold up a post, and try to hold the fabric tight as Yemi does the rest of the work and complains about something that isn't my lackluster assistance.

  "It is too cold. I yearn to feel sand under my toes again."

  I think he has told me before he is from the desert, if that wasn't something he shared the first time we spoke, and, as he comes closer to finishing Gorm's tent, all I have to share back is a joke.

  "I can't feel much of anything right now."

  The joke is poor, and almost makes it look like I didn't hear what he said when I ignore his mention of sand, but it is enough to get a deep-voiced chuckle out of him in trying times. And, once he signals for me to follow him now that this tent is set up enough for Gorm to do the rest, I share some other feelings I have to let him know I did not miss the bit about his home.

  "I don't like sand too much anymore, either. You know, after I washed up on all those beaches. So, if the two of us ever end up in a desert together, you can sleep with the sand, and I'll find myself a sharp rock where I can lie down and never have to touch their fine grains again."

  Yemi looks back, over his shoulder, and has a single comment as we pass a spot where, once again, Em has set up her tent on her own.

  "Let me know if you still feel the same after a night of sleeping in the snow."

  I get the slightest glimpse of her hair out of the corner of my eye, through a crack in the flap that covers her tent, and, as hard as I try not to turn my head, Yemi notices and can't keep his comments to himself.

  "You really like that girl, don't you?"

  Seeing that the man still has some of his cheer in this snow is enough to make me smile a little, but his question forces an embarrassed rise in my cheeks that cracks the frost covering them, and heats them up from the red of the blushing that must be brighter than anyone's face in this cold, based on Yemi's expression afterwards. Not one to leave the man guessing, I tell him what I'm sure he already knows.

  "You could say that. Just don't tell Gorm I said so."

  The two of us stop to face one another once we reach a spot to set up our tent, just past where we have set up Gorm's and where Em has set up hers, and this man smiles the whole time we put the poles up, even when we both struggle to pierce the frozen dirt beneath the snow. Though, just as he was able to previously, we manage to do so eventually, and, behind him, much of the rest of the camp comes together. Men move snow from within the tents and pile it up outside each, pushing it up against the fabric to keep out the breeze, and, when any man has done this for his tent, they move to the snow in front of their space, where men walk, and do the same. This creates both a path to traverse and a place to set up fire pits or anything to hold heat and a flame, and, while Yemi and I move about the snow in and out of our tent so much that I think I could snap the fingers off of my right hand, bare unlike the left, if I tried, but, thankfully, one of Yemi's friends, or brothers, comes with fur and cloth.

  I have sat near this man and the others on many a night, and slept in a tent beside them just as many, but I still do not know his name or any of the other's, or anything at all about them really. He is one of the men Yemi shared a tent with before he took Abraham's place in ours, and that is all I know. Him and the others dress and look just like Yemi, so I'm almost certain they have all come from the same place before they joined this group, as friends or family. But, that is it. Yemi takes the pelts and fabric from tents dyed from the blood of both giant and man, because freezing to death is still worse than being reminded of those we lost, and, before the man leaves to go about his business and let Yemi and I cover our tent in his gifts, and keep some to cover our bodies tonight, the two grab each other by their upper arms, pull one another in close, and touch foreheads with words spoken by Yemi.

  "I am glad we have all made it here, no matter the cold."

  They both chuckle for a moment, and, then, his companion shares something similar to what Yemi told me before.

  "We will feel the heat of our home again soon."

  Yemi only has a single word to share in response, before he departs.

  "Soon."

  As he walks off, I am tempted to ask Yemi his name, and the names of the others, but I fear the knowledge will only burden me if any of them were to get hurt. So, silent I stay, keeping the furs Yemi passes me for our bedrolls and spreading out the bloodied fabric that makes the entire camp look terrifying, and, while I can only imagine what the guards up on the wall above might think about us all the way down here at the sight, Yemi finally responds to what I said some time ago and gives me reason to leave too.

  "I just want you to know, Fjord, you have nothing to fear from Gorm, even if he looks like he could be a giant too. You'd make a good son. Even I would be proud of you, so make sure you go to her when we are done."

  I only nod at what he says because, in the moment where I hear for the first time that someone would be proud of me in the way a father should be of their son, I don't know what to say, other than a thanks and little else but hope.

  "Thank you, Yemi. You are a good friend, and maybe Gorm will give me reason to worry less too."

  This worry is not the same worry I once had, where I so feared Gorm catching me with her. That has come and gone, long ago, as I said before we even reached the second giant, but all this time in the snow and what we have lost getting here has made me lose some of my confidence in myself after that first battle, I guess. Doubt plagues me when I let it, if I let it, and, even if I don't, I crave words and feelings like Yemi has just shared with me, when I have gone all my life without it. So, when him and I have finally covered as much of the tent as we can, with the scraps and threads of the worst of the fabric too, I look to him, nod once more when our eyes meet, and then leave him to his own desires, while I seek out mine, as simple as they may be.

  I find what I am looking for only so many steps away, standing in her tent and facing away from me, so I stand by the entry and wait, no matter how much of the chill I let into where she has built herself a home out of her belongings again. Her bed and vanity are right where I expect them, and put together perfectly against the frozen ground that will hopefully melt as her candles finally do despite probably being frozen in the back of a wagon this entire trip, but she stands before something that is either new, or I have never seen her draw attention to before, as low to the ground as it is.

  Along the far wall, she stands over a chest, lid raised, and seems to have already emptied what once hid in it. Armor now covers most of her skin, covering the dark leather she already wore with chainmail wherever it can lay, and, though I know such armor would do nothing to defend her against a painful death from the creatures we fight, it is hard to tell who she is ready to fight. When a sword good enough to kill a man hangs from her back, along with the mail that might stop
a swing or two, men, or maybe giant men like her father, seem to be the intended enemy, but, on her left arm, she has put on the same glove we all carry, perfect for climbing a giant.

  I would not have noticed it against the color of her leather were it not for the way both of her hands fiddle behind her head and neck, putting her hair into a long braid so perfectly until she purposefully ruffles the hair to make it look rough, and she then turns to incidentally show me the patches of dirt she has covered herself with to hide her fair skin.

  With those last, two details, I am sure she is hiding from men, or just trying to blend in with them, and the glove helps to ensure others think she is no different from the rest of us. I am only thankful that her armor leaves little shape to her body, if it's safety she wants, and, now that she notices me and seems unbothered by how long I may have been watching, she says something.

  "Are you going to come in?"

  I've almost been inside her tent this entire time, but the way Em spits those words show offense. So, I try to explain.

  "Of course. I was just worried about bothering you. I've also never seen you like this before."

  I am not sure if what I say comes out as rude, or if my expression gives that impression for me, but she takes further offense, I think.

  "So what? Do you not like me now that I look less like a girl?"

  Something about her mentioning how I have feelings for her, if that's what she means, makes my heart stop more than any of our battles have, but everything up to this point proves to be a ruse, when she grabs my hand and pulls me into her arms. She wraps hers around my back, and I do the same with my hands. Yet, now that I am so close to her, her changed appearance makes me smile when I find out that she still smells better than the rest of us, even with the dirt that her face rubs against my neck as she nuzzles me. Words then heat my neck too as she speaks.

  "Could I ask you to stop looking at me like you don't recognize me?"

  Her words sound kinder than they have since she first said something, not that her past thoughts were too off. It is just that her tone has changed, like she changes how hard she holds me, so tight now that the straps of both of our swords push against one another enough to send both swinging slightly, and I use that as a chance to whisper into her ear.

  "I'm sorry. It's just a surprise. Though, you're still beautiful even without a flower in your hair or braid."

  I can feel the smile rise in her cheeks as she presses against me, and, after she has enjoyed the feeling for a moment, she responds.

  "You could always wear one for me, instead."

  For the first time, I share with her what I did with the flower she gave me weeks ago.

  "Well, I still have the one you gave me when we met. I keep it inside of my waterskin."

  She laughs, and is quick to explain.

  "Really? Is that what sticks out of it? That poor thing..."

  As shriveled and frozen as it has become, I find it hard to imagine that her other flowers have not done the same too, but, rather than ask about them, I allude to the hope I have for them.

  "Maybe better weather will do some good, once we move on to somewhere warmer. I hear Yemi wants to go back home, to a desert. That might make for a good stop after we finish what your father came here for."

  After I say that, Em lets go of me and backs off, turning away from me before she responds.

  "If we get out of here."

  As she turns around again to face me, a new tone and expression forms on her face to match the feelings that just showed in her words, not the kindness or the lack of, but the fear she showed me back in the valley, and that reminder is what makes me finally ask about her new attire.

  "Is that why you are dressed the way you are, now?"

  Her words come fast as she picks at her nails and her lips, or does both at the same time with her teeth when a sentence is done.

  "No, not quite. There are giants here not like the others that may be the death of us, but that is not why I'm dressed the way I am."

  Curious, naturally, I ask what the reason is.

  "Why then?"

  She struggles to look at me as she speaks, afterwards.

  "I do not want the others to think I am weak."

  That makes enough sense, but I still wish I could rip that worry from her mind. Yet, even then, even if I know it is men she fears, I do not know which ones. It could be the people in this city, or the rest of our own men for different reasons, so I ask for more of an explanation.

  "Who do you mean? The people inside those walls or all of us out here?"

  Only one word comes from her lips after she tastes the blood from the skin her picking has broken.

  "Everyone."

  Without another word or signal, we both know it is time to hug again, as plain as day or as cold as all this snow, but our embrace is warm, comforting. I can only imagine what is running through her head. Her fear of the people she once called her own, long ago, makes enough sense. She has been gone for so long that they are foreign to her, something that makes me afraid of them too, but this was also the place she experienced so much pain. Time passed matters little here, yet I can only assume why she fears our people now too. Maybe because she doesn't want them to see how upset she is to be back here, and I wouldn't doubt that she was hiding that from her father too. So, before we lose any more time and have to stay here longer than any of us wants to, I make a request.

  "Let us go find your father."

  She simply nods as I back away from her and is happy to hold my hand when I start to walk off, but, as soon as I get outside of the tent, I have to let go when a gray shadow passes between us, only for Yemi to do the same too. Almost knocking us both down, the fool chases after one of his wolves for a reason that is unknown to us until he yells loud enough for the entire camp to hear what troubles him so much.

  "Give me back my sword, you mutt!"

  That is enough to make Em and I laugh, and I continue to smile when another one of the wolves approaches us slowly, with red around its mouth and tufts of fur between its teeth, and I do not know where that comes from until I bend down, put a knee in the snow, and scratch behind the animal's ears.

  It is quick to lift its head and show its prize, a rabbit lost from this life, and I give what I assume is a male a kind remark in response.

  "Good boy."

  Em smiles at my little interaction and puts one of her hands on my shoulder, and, before I kneel in the snow so long that I freeze in place, I put out my hand to ask for her help in lifting me up, just as the wolf walks off to show someone else the animal it caught and get some more praise for its work. So, Em and I waste no more time walking over to her father's tent, only for the sight of something else to catch my eye before we enter.

  The doors to the kingdom are wide open, as if they do not care or fear for our presence, and, with no sight of any men twice as tall as the rest of us in our camp, I only see them after more flames rise from where that giant curled up to die. By now, we're all used to the smell well enough, and the heat from the flames, renewed, is more a blessing than it is a curse no matter how bad the creature's flesh rots the air as it burns. From that side of the wall, a couple of giant men start to emerge, in pairs. Between each, a long plank is carried, and I almost think the white clumps atop what they bring inside of their home is just snow, until my mind is forced to remember the sight of the souls that jumped to their death. I figure what I am actually seeing is a blanket covering their bodies, but, as I drag Em out of the cold and into her father's tent, I only hope she didn't pay too much attention to what they were doing outside the walls, or put together the purpose that I have. And, before anything else happens, I address her father as directly as I can.

  "Gorm, what is the plan?"

  For once, I feel confident enough to make such a straightforward request, and he respects me enough to respond.

  "In and out. We should be safe to come and go, I think."

  He stands over the table with the ma
p once more, but the look in his eyes shows a daze, a confusion, that means he is truly staring at nothing, and running thoughts through his head too intensely instead. His condition worries me, but I find it easier to comment on his words than ask him what is on his mind, when they both might have the same outcome.

  "You think?"

  The question is enough to draw him away from that daze, well enough that he stands tall in his tent and almost touches the ceiling, and, while he responds, he looks at Em and I for the first time.

  "You never know with these bastards, our family, but I'm only bringing the four of us."

  He looks at me first, then Em, and the way she looks now doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. So, I continue with my questions.

  "Why?"

  The question is simple enough, wondering why he only wants four of us to go inside, and the answer he gives appears to make him unhappy.

  "Because I don't want the rest of the men to know what happens there."

  I could come up with a dozen different reasons why he feels that way, but I just hope, whatever his reasoning, we can leave with more men than we enter with. And, within the same thought, I finally consider how Em might feel about having to come along, so I stare at her with enough worry in my eyes that she quells my fear for her, with a few words.

  "I'll be okay. I promise."

  Gorm acknowledges what she says too, as I nod and he smiles, and, if he meant for four of us to come, we are only missing one, last seen chasing some animals through the snow. I take it upon myself to peek outside and see if he is anywhere to be found, but, as soon as I move the flap covering the tent's entrance, he has found us.

  "You never heard or saw what I was going through, understand?"

  I'm taken aback at first by what Yemi says, until I see one of his wolves sitting outside and start to laugh, and, while I step aside, Yemi walks in and wipes the spit off of one of his swords before he puts it back on his hip with the other right next to it, under his right arm. Certain that he won the fight with his children, I make a remark.