Nothing else is said between all of us, as Yemi heads off towards Gorm while the rest of us look for horses to untie and ride, and, as I am untying mine, I discover how long exactly it takes Em to get out of bed and approach me. A few tents down, I get to watch as she moves in my direction, between making sure that the horse is saddled right, so that nothing goes wrong during the fight. She didn't have to go through the process of changing any clothes or armor at all, so, besides getting out of bed, it seems all she did was put her hair in a braid again, without the dirt on her face that no other man in the camp could match, thankfully, this time. And, now, her back carries her sword, like she too is ready to fight, or, instead, Em prefers the safety it makes her feel, I hope, since I do not want to see her get involved. That worry explains what I first say to her, in a tone that can only be described as bothered.
"What are you doing with that sword?"
Asking her that is my way of asking if she is planning to join us, without having to ask her not to, and it seems the way I ask is innocent enough for her to respond with a joke.
"Not to catch rabbits, that's for sure."
With that, I assume she is intent on catching something much larger or, rather, killing it, so, instead of asking any other question that skirts around the issue, I get to my point as directly as I can.
"I don't want you to get hurt, Em."
Naturally, she tells me what she has told me, or shown me already.
"Did I not show you that I can handle myself?"
Em speaks confidently, and I do believe that she can handle herself, but there is a good reason that doesn't matter with what we are doing. So, without thinking about what I am really saying or the wounds I am cutting open, I come out with the only response my mind can.
"Yes, but Abraham could handle himself too."
I say that with so much pain in my voice that it is obvious his death still weighs on me, but, no matter the pain it causes me, I do not think it is right to bring it up like that to anyone, especially not as a reason to stop Em from doing what she wants to. Thankfully, she takes what I say in stride, and uses what I said to reinforce her thoughts.
"I thought you might be able to use the extra help now that he's gone. I'm tired of hiding in my tent while you all fight and risk your lives too."
I would prefer she not be involved, while I still can understand where she comes from, so, before I agree with one, single restriction that I hope she will agree with, I ask something else about what she is trying to do, that I think is obvious.
"Will your father be okay with it?"
This whole time I've been messing with the horse and holding his reins, both so that he doesn't roam off and so she doesn't have to see directly how much of what she is saying bothers me, and it is only when she takes my hand, and gives me a few pieces of the past, that I stop giving my attention to the animal and focus entirely on her.
"He taught me how to use a sword long ago, and we learned how to use the grapples together, when my father only had a few men with him. That was just a couple of years ago, and he had me try after he did, so I didn't just stand around with Newt watching."
Those details of the past are something I have never heard before, naturally when so many people try to avoid the bad that we have left behind, but I can imagine what she described. Gorm, Yemi, Abraham, and a few other men trying out the grapples that Newt, however long he has been around, had just finished, and Em, maybe thirteen or fourteen then, growing tired of not being able to take part. The way I recreate that in my mind makes me smile, but, even though the smile is because of thinking about all of them being happy before the hard parts of our journey began, long before myself and the rest of the men showed up, Em is still stuck on a feeling I haven't been direct about, that she has already asked about once.
"Do you really think I can't handle myself?"
I can understand why she would be stuck on that, but it is not the reason why. We can all handle ourselves and put up a good fight, but that doesn't change my biggest fear, which I make known to her.
"No. I just can't handle losing you, too."
Those words change the expression in her face from bothered to a smile that can't help but be sad, and, while I struggle to look at her as I think about the future I have imagined with that single thought, Em lifts both of her hands, cups my cheeks, and kisses me on the lips. When we are both done, I finally share a demand and question, at the same time, that I should have started with.
"I need you to ride with me, okay?"
She smiles with much less sadness than her last one, and, as she steps beside the horse, her words joke and rush us both.
"What are we waiting for, then? I've always wanted my knight in shining armor, keeping me safe on the back of his horse during battle."
Whether there is any truth to her joke or not, I can't say. I wouldn't be surprised if that was a dream when she was a young girl, if her people know what knights are when all of them seem afraid to wear anything heavier than leather, but, deep down inside, I have a feeling that it will be both of us keeping each other safe, rather than one or the other. She gets on the horse after I do, and we both fit well enough in the same saddle, with the only object separating us being my sword that I'm certain this horse would be happy for me to get rid of. Though, he, or she since I didn't really look, proves themselves strong enough as we wander on over to the other men, with the rest of the riders behind us, and another scene plays out in front of us.
All of the men have stopped talking to one another or standing around doing nothing just to look up at the wall beside us, and I am so late to look up at what they see that the distraction comes into view first, in the form of five logs sliding down ropes from the top of the wall. These logs look a lot like men, with their clothes, hairy heads, and bodies with just as much fur, and the sight of them gives everyone reason to rejoice when it seems like Gorm's brother, Fern, and the four old friends have kept their promise and brought, or stolen, weapons that are a true blessing.
The same ballistae I could see all the way from the treeline, at the top of the city's walls, are now carried by each of the five giants, and, on their backs, they all have quivers big enough to hold a normal-sized man. Fortunately, those quivers carry the bolts for the weapons, even though I would not be opposed if a couple more fighters popped out of them too, and I'm able to get a better look at the ballistae in their arms as Em and I grow close enough to hear Gorm and Fern laugh when the two embrace one another. Sadly, by the time we have stopped beside them, Fern is sharing news that is less than happy.
"She does not have much longer, brother."
As they hug the best they can, considering Fern carries a weapon that's as big as himself, Gorm swallows the pain for the time being and comes up with a response.
"That is okay. She will rest soon. I am more worried that you all will have little time left when your king discovers you are gone, with his weapons too."
I can tell Em is saddened by it all as well, once she wraps her arms around me tighter, but I also find it interesting that Gorm would refer to his other brother as their king, not his kin. Though, it doesn't surprise me that the man was only playing nice when we were in that throne room, so he could get what he wanted. I could see myself doing the same, but, for the time being, Fern points out that there is something else we should all be worried about.
"We shall worry about that later, I think, if any of us make it back alive."
The six, giant men, Gorm, Fern, and the four others, all laugh at their impending doom, somehow, and I fear for my life only briefly before I tell myself that I need to focus now, and that these men are only mad. What follows is our small army setting out to find a giant, or some giants, and we only leave the wolves behind to watch over what little we leave, not that it matters much. Off of the land the city sits upon, we travel down a hill alongside the city's wall, where I once thought Fern and his men rid their land of the dead giant's body, but, down in the valley, we find nothing,
for the most part. I fear the siege weapons losing control going down the slope, and breaking at the bottom, but Newt knows well enough what he is doing, or I hope, as most of us move on and let him use the men in charge of the weapons to ensure safe passage for his creations.
While we move along, I only grow more tired of the surrounding lands, how one valley just leads to another with mountains on all sides, yet this valley is a little different. There are no trees, shrubs, no vegetation at all, and the only detail that makes it seem more or less like a wasteland is the snow that is constantly shifting—picking up and setting down—with the blowing wind. Despite that, we can still make out footprints. Where the snow is so deep that it reaches up past Gorm's knees, and Em and I can even scrape it with our feet while on the back of the horse, we can all still make out the steps the giant took to reach the city's walls a day prior, and I have no doubt they could see and hear him coming the entire time, just as they can do now.
Looking back, I can see the city's wall from the side, where it seems to go higher and higher as the ground beneath the walls rises upward, until you reach the highest point in the city, where the keep is dug into the castle, and the only other detail worth mentioning for some time is how the normal men not on horseback struggle so much to make it through the snow, try to clear some path for the weapons rolling up behind us, and that they take respite in each of the giant's prints, where the indentation is so prominent that, in the rising and setting of the sun since, only a fingers-length or two of snow has come back to fill the space, either by falling fresh from the sky or by setting itself there where the wind can no longer move it, after having done so to get it there.
That is how uneventful the trek is, and, by the time we reach something else of note, enough time has passed that, based on what I can see of the sky, I think it is midday. Because of that, I am happy we set out so early, but it's hard to feel much of anything when I hear Fern speak to Gorm quietly enough that few others can hear, but for Em and I, Yemi, and Fern's men since we all walk at the front.
"Do you see it?"
That question makes Gorm slow his pace enough that most of the men behind him stop entirely, and, when he stops soon too, he explains why.
"Yes. This is where we should gather ourselves."
Enough of the snow moves around and flies off of the mountains that it is difficult to see anything up ahead, but, with the way the sun partially hides behind it, I can tell we are in the shadow of a mountain now, where the snow goes from light to dark upon a distinct line. To find the edge of a shadow so massive is daunting, but, rather than let it eat at me, I focus on what else I can make out if I squint hard enough, and, though the land ahead is darker than the land we come from, I can make out a section at the bottom of the mountain where something darker lies. It is a mouth, I think, the mouth to some massive cave, and, as I move my eyes back across the lands between here and there, I am finally able to make out much else, like the wind has decided to suddenly let up now that we are here.
At first glance, I could easily mistake the objects I see as sticks and boulders, but, unfortunately, they are remnants of armies' past. Swords sticking out of the ground, armor that does not shine without the light of the sun and lies flat on the ground where its owner died and left it to sit loose on what is left of them, if anything. I think the horse senses the emotions that set into me, for, like it is sharing its similar feelings, the animal groans and moves around enough with its front hooves that it eventually finds something to crack beneath the weight, what I can only assume are the bones that have yet to freeze beneath a layer of ice and snow never to be seen again. And, if I can see as many weapons and pieces of armor as I do now, it would not surprise me if dozens of armies have tried to do what we are here to do now. This is a graveyard for hundreds if not thousands of men, more than the home of the first giant we fought, and, with the different types of armor I can already see, I would not be surprised if Gorm and Em's people had stories of them all.
There could be past generations of their people that tried and failed. There are pieces of armor so large that I can only assume their people once wore armor too, with the failure here being why they gave it up, and I see armor that is much smaller too, like that of normal men. Maybe that is how Em knows what knights are, if there are stories she was told as a child of roaming armies of men in shining plate trying to do the same as we are today, but what catches my eye more than anything else is the armor structured like no chest or body part I have ever seen. Elongated and in odd shapes, I do not know if time or the giants have done that to the remnants of the past, or, if once upon a time, men brought armored animals and beasts to fight these giants too. And, with all the thinking I am doing while Gorm signals for the men to spread out and ready themselves, one sound distracts us all. A blaring noise from behind, all the way back at the start of the valley, alerts us all, and, when it is done, I ask Em what it means, thinking that they are shouting to warn or frighten us.
"What is that noise?"
I have to speak loud enough that she can hear my words behind me, but, as she responds, all she has to do is lean in and whisper in my ear for me to hear.
"A horn. She has passed on."
There is little emotion in her voice, but anyone could sense the sadness in the air, and the way Gorm and Fern act shows the pain too. No tears are shed, unless they all freeze before they can drop down their cheeks enough that they can be seen, but the two brothers take one another's arm and bow their heads, just enough to keep them from touching foreheads. They take some time to let the horn echo through the land, and then enjoy the silence that follows, but, no matter how much I try to understand and respect their pain, I can't help but feel that such a noise will alert what we have come to fight. Thankfully, it is not much longer before the two men stand side by side, normally, and Gorm shares the first of his words, as strongly as he can.
"Today may be the last day of our lives, but it will be a bloody one!"
The only noise to follow his words is the whistling of the wind, and the faint sound of his voice traveling off, so you know everyone listens, feeling different emotions with such a thought. To die is quite a lot, but we have all been through so much. There is something special about the fear too, as Gorm makes known.
"To die beside one another here is an honor, for, no matter what happens, we will live on! The stories they will tell of us, they will live on beyond the children we never got the chance to have, beyond their children, and their children's children. So, do not fear death. Embrace it if it must come, but die fighting, for there is no greater way to greet death but with a smile on your face and the lust for blood running through your veins!"
I can feel the fear and intensity of what comes pumping through my own veins already, and the few shouts that follow what Gorm says only makes my blood pump more. When he then asks us all a question, the response forces the fear to be gone.
"Are you with me, now and forever, no matter the odds stacked against us?"
Our leader, even if he does not want to be seen as such, is the first to ready his weapon in his hand, and, while everyone else follows the example he sets, we shake the valley, the mountains, the snow, the whole earth with our shouts, so loud I know we must have alerted the giants that we are here, and let the city behind us know there will be another graveyard here soon, either our bones, those of the giants, or both. Only myself, Em, Yemi, who shows up beside our horse, and Fern do not let our voices loose, but, to all others, Gorm shares a few more words and then meets the shouts too.
"Today, we will kill more giants than we ever have!"
Yemi laughs at the possibility, and I get a little excited, between the shouts of the men that fill me with even more rage, that we will be facing giants, not a giant. And, faster than any of us can discover what fear is again, Gorm takes a horn from his brother and blows into it so hard, as he turns to face the mountain in front of us, that it's too late to turn back. I don't want to, either. With the sound of the horn
Gorm blows into being enough to wake anything in a hundred miles, the first of the giants starts to creep out of the cave ahead, almost as large as the one outside of the city yesterday. It crouches out of the mouth of his home, and stands up, looking at us and the light, or neither at all with the way one of its hands covers its ugly face, so our archers ready their arrows to light, all confident enough to carry more than one in their bow strings. Newt and the men he orders around on his tiny legs, in place of Abraham, ready the trebuchets to let loose too, with all of those defenses spread out through the valley, and, while the first of the giants, soon followed by a few more, struggles to decide what to do and figure out what is going on, as all of them seem to be rising from a slumber. Our next round of shouts is the first warning of what comes.
Dozens of us rush forward, and Em and I lead on our horse, despite the odds. I can only be thankful that we have the advantage of being on the advance, so that we do not meet the creatures with just our bodies. The sound of our horses' hooves moving through the snow and occasionally stepping on a piece of bone or metal eventually drowns out the shouting behind us as the rest of the men try to keep up with our six horses. Most of the first volley of arrows line the ground ahead, and not the beasts, but the light they emit and the few that hit the giants help me count six of them, as dark as the land gets this close to the mountain's base. Then, the first of the trebuchets hits. A boulder the size of one of the giant's heads cracks the first of the beasts square in the face, shattering its skull and sending it toppling, so, when I see Em's sword reach out beside me, I speed our horse up with a few kicks to meet the giant as it falls into the snow.
Its arm, as it lays motionless for a few moments, looks just like a log, and I think that is why the horse is not afraid to leap over it, so that, as we rush by the giant's head, Em cleaves through the flesh and its brain like butter, when the bones underneath are already shattered. How quickly we have already felled one only makes the men even more fearless, so, once I turn us around to weave back to the rest of the men, I can barely fall back before the first of the grapples go out. Men fly through the air with arrows, boulders, and the bolts from Fern's ballistae, all at once, and the best the giants can do is toss back icicles the size of our horse.
No Name for the Free Page 18
