“It’s probably my eyes,” said Camron. “My brother, Terrek, always blamed them for the way I won over the girls. Or maybe he’s right that I have magic. When I was a child, I saw an Azkhar fly over our ranch. We’re not supposed to be able to see them, but I did. It was big and very blue. When I described it to Terrek, he called it my lucky dragon. He said if I ever see it again, I should make a wish.”
Avalar smiled. “Perhaps the Stormfury, which is what I like to call them, was as enchanted by your spirit as I am now. It has naught to do with the windows through which you see, Camron Florne. I am a giant. I am familiar with such things. Your spirit lies behind the walls of your flesh, and there I discern your fire.”
“Please!” Camron humphed. “I’m just a human, while you, my dear, are the magic’s living heart. We’re as opposite as we can be.”
Avalar touched his brow with her thumb, brushing wisps of red hair from his face. “Everything has energy of some kind. Yours is foreign; that is all.” She shifted her pack, wincing when the straps abraded her raw skin under her tunic. Camron hurried to her side.
“I can carry something, Lady . . .”
“Avalar.” Releasing one of her three pouches of frozen meat, she lowered it into his grasp. “Avalar Mistavere, daughter of Grevelin Mistavere, protector of the . . .”
“North,” Camron finished. He swayed on his feet, struggling to balance his load.
She caught his arm; with a flex of her hand, she compelled him to look up. “You know of him?”
He grinned. “I’ll tell you on the way. Come.”
Turning, Camron pushed with his shoulders, clearing a path for her through the remains of the crowd. Avalar, following hard on his heels, hunched forward as she struggled to readjust her pack.
“I know the names of many giants,” said Camron, raising his voice above the banter from the gaggle of children trailing them. “Working in the museum has taught me a lot about this world. Grevelin Mistavere was a slave, was he not?”
Avalar sighed, her attention lifting from the little girl skipping by her knee to the sparkling domes above her. Constructed from strands of interlaced crystal into an almost invisible shield, they stretched over the buildings and streets, protecting the city from snow. “Indeed. Most of the surviving slaves yet live, even after a hundred and twenty cycles, though many cannot have children. This is why our magic stops us from aging once we reach maturity. Trentor, our leader, tells us this will continue until enough of our dead have been replaced.”
When Avalar ducked around a bright red awning, again she caused a stir. With a piercing cry, a wire-haired dog shot off down the street. She watched with mild amusement as the tiny black creature scurried away, then focused beyond it.
“What is that?” She motioned to a lofty structure that dominated the square. Her gaze lingered on the central statue in the plaza in front of the tall building—a large white raptor with wings spread wide, its silver talons curled around a gildstone disk representing the sun.
Camron followed her stare. “That,” he said proudly, “is the museum, my place of employment. Impressive, isn’t it?”
Together they circled the monument. The children raced to climb the stones cemented and wired in place next to the sculpted bird.
“Come back down; you know the rules,” Camron called in a firm voice. “Not without your parents!” He stopped with his hands on his hips, waiting until the last child—the inquisitive girl—trundled off.
“Those are the viewing rocks,” Camron explained to Avalar. “And that beautiful statue, my dear giant, honors Tierdon’s builder. He was a winged elf, they say, unique to this world, and not from it.”
“Yes, my people know of him.” Avalar risked a glance at the sky. Can you see me in your ice mirror, Ponu? she thought. Behold! I am among humans!
Camron stopped and motioned to the museum. The wedge-shaped structure crouched atop a fleet of stairs, its alabaster pillars holding high its conical roof. “Do you want to see the interior? We have fabulous treasures within from all of the cultures on Thalus.”
“I would like that very much, Camron Florne,” Avalar said. Wriggling her shoulders, she shifted her burden. “Mayhap after I am settled. If I am settled, for I know not if the elves will approve of my presence here.”
He clasped her wrist. “Of course they’ll welcome you. You’re a giant. How could they not?”
Avalar paused, admiring the museum’s walls, the intricate weave of granite and harvested gildstone that marked it as Ponu’s work. “The elves strive to protect giants,” she said. “The Eris might try to force me home.”
Camron released her and scrambled up the overlapping boulders parallel to the sculpture. He stopped when he reached the level of her nose, to set her bundle near him. Grinning, he flopped onto his stomach across an overhang of rock and propped up his chin.
“I’ll never understand why the elves consider humans a threat to giants,” he said. “Your males are twice our size! Is it because we warp the old magic? Well, none of us touch it anymore because now we know better. In fact, we avoid contact with your native creatures as much as we can. Look around you, Giant. Do you see anything magical? No! Racka-hares in the fields have more power than we do.”
Avalar’s mood darkened. Deliberately she shrugged off her pack, arranging her thoughts as she strove to rest her shoulders.
“You are young,” she said, “as am I. Bethink you. Some of you did touch our magic once, and with it, you enslaved and tortured us! By calling yourselves powerless, you demean my people.”
Camron scooted toward her, his fierce stare meeting hers. “But how is it fair to us that we have to live apart? There are no slavers of the giants anymore! Think of what we could gain from each other, my dear, if you sailed your ships to Thalus. You have a history more ancient than the elves, and we humans have insights to contribute, too, the knowledge we’ve preserved from our forebears!”
Avalar cleared her throat. Forgotten was Tierdon’s grandeur. Even the winged statue honoring Ponu blurred from her sight, replaced by the blazing spirit she glimpsed before her. “My people have no interest in the wisdom you bring from Earth,” she said and then drew a sharp breath at the harshness of her words.
She remembered Kray—how her initial reactions to the child’s family in Firanth had been violent as well. It is the memories again, she realized sadly. Oh, Grevelin, my father, how much your sufferings plague me now! It has been over a hundred and twenty cycles since you escaped your chains, yet still, I feel your anguish!
Camron winced, though his smile remained steady. “Not all of our advancements are harmful to this—” He stopped, seeing her discomfort. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’ve made you uneasy. If you could, though, please explain one thing. Why must the giants live isolated now? What is it the elves fear?”
“If I were older and had more sense, I would never . . . !” Avalar studied the stone beneath her tired feet. The flat white granite was dry around the sculpture, shielded by the dome’s arch above.
Camron, tucking his knees under his stomach and chest, rolled himself back to sit on the protruding rock, his legs folded by his hip. “What?” he asked.
“Tell anyone,” she said. “It is not something giants discuss. It is a weakness of ours, a defect, some might say. It captures two spirits and makes them one, altogether dependent upon each other. “The elves are fearful because my people are rare now on this world and because Talenkai’s survival—its power—depends on giants. So now we have restraints upon our hearts, placed there by our magic at the urging of the elves.
“And yet, this does not stop a giant from bonding with an outsider. This fate befell my father when he bonded to an elf, and I am forced to witness his pain whenever they part. I have often tried to console him.”
“Avalar, I know what friend-bonding is. There’s no need to explain it further. Not if it hurts you.”
She slanted her gaze to meet his. “Then you do understand!”
He b
linked. “I do?”
“A heart cannot be fettered. Nor can it be controlled. If a young giant’s heart should bond in this way to a human, that giant would perish ere he reaches his prime—from his friend dying of old age. Do you not see? No giant can die while we are yet so few. The magic needs us!”
Camron grimaced. “Death of the magic—of the world—if one of you dies? That’s what the elves fear?”
“Yes! This world would not endure it. Talenkai is ancient, Camron Florne. Without its magic, it would be dust, and so would we.”
He seized her bundle and sprang from the rock, landing with a thud on the frozen stone. “It’s wrong that giants should be restricted! Talenkai is your world. If anyone should have to be isolated, humans should!”
Avalar grinned. “But you breed like squeakers! Every farm I have passed had hordes of your little ones. No,” she said with a chuckle. “Your people would not fare well on Hothra.”
Camron glowered. “I’ve heard tell of these children. They were abandoned when their parents were taken, left alone and at the mercy of winter. Humans enslave humans now, Giant.”
She followed his lead and hefted her pack, grunting when it thumped her spine. Already he was striding across the common, his back rigid beneath his heavy load.
How alike we are, Avalar thought. Mayhap this is indeed what the elves fear.
“Wait,” she called. All around her, people were stopping to watch, but she saw only Camron, his red hair fluttering in the wind. “Camron, I am sorry! Camron, wait!”
Breathing heavily, he halted. “We do not ‘breed like squeakers,’ ” he said. “Each family is limited to three children, and that’s it. I’ve seen those youngsters you speak of—starved to death along the road. I’ve had to bury them, the kids who lost their parents, and little babies, who never had a chance.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Avalar spoke carefully. “Why would humans wish to enslave other . . . humans?”
“Enslave,” Camron gritted, “is an understatement. The cult mutilates their captives, transforming them into creatures forced to destroy what they love! My brother, Terrek, says my black moods do nothing at all to change the way it is, but I can’t control how this sickens me, seeing those children!”
Avalar tilted his head up, forcing his grieving gaze to meet her own. “It is well that I am here, Camron Florne. When it comes to battle, I know naught of the finer art—the dance of blade against blade. Your Eris elves shall teach me. And once I learn, I will free those lost parents, if any at all still endure. Those children shall be avenged. Like my ancestors, I shall defend the vulnerable who are in need.”
He urged her over to where people huddled in groups on the stony steps, their conversations halting when she neared. As Avalar swept them a bow, Camron smiled. “I’m glad to see you relax, Giant. You seemed so . . . uneasy when you first arrived.”
“Indeed, I was,” she admitted. Word of my arrival is spreading, she thought as more men and women emerged from the various buildings.
“They’ve never seen your kind,” Camron said under his breath. “Like me, I think many have wanted to. See that?” Camron indicated an L-shaped building tucked behind the museum, its walls merging boulders with hardened red clay. He laughed when, unimpressed, she wrinkled her nose. “That’s the arena, where the Masterswords fight.”
Avalar surveyed the barnlike structure clearly not of Ponu’s making. Even the Maerfolk’s ice homes are less crude, she thought, turning to her companion. “Show me where they are, Camron Florne! Allow me to prove my worth!”
He nodded. “Wait, and they will come to you.”
She raised her brows as he patted her knuckles, and for the first time, she took notice of his jacket. Bright blue worm-cloth adorned its front, set between panels of darker blue suede. Seashell buttons fastened the silky fabric at his throat and ran diagonally across his lean torso.
Camron stepped back. Grinning, he spread his arms and rotated on his heel, displaying both his coat and black leggings. “Like it?” he asked. “My uniform.”
She chuckled. “You have . . . done this before.”
“For the elves I have, yes,” said Camron. “I am their employee. My brother brought me here to escape our father, who was being too tough on me, or at least that’s what Terrek thought. I couldn’t please him, you see. I had no desire to carry on his work.”
Avalar dropped her gaze as Camron drifted close again, allowing her to touch the garment he wore. “How long must I wait?” Glancing over her shoulder at the square, she spotted a man with an easel not far from the large statue, his keen eyes studying her face. No doubt, he seeks to record this great moment, she mused with a snort.
“There.” Camron’s voice was soft. She followed his gesture and stared.
A pair of men approached, their jet capes rippling as they advanced without fear. Stopping to confront her, the older of the two men flipped back his cloak to reveal the distinctive ebony hilt and red tassels of his Talhaidor sword. Avalar fell to her knees at the sight. In one smooth motion, she drew her own blade and placed it at his feet.
“Roshar Navaren,” Camron said in a tone of awe.
Avalar met the newcomer’s stare as he scrutinized her, his steely blue eyes intense beneath his knitted gray brows.
“You are human,” she said, focusing on his short silver beard, the hint of dark hair on his wrists beneath his sleeves. “Yet you dress as a Master.”
Roshar’s lips twitched as he regarded her coolly above the sharp ridge of his nose. “You offer your blade,” he noted. “Giant, have you come to learn?”
She straightened where she stood. “I have. But where are the elves to teach me?”
“They live among the trees, in the shadow of Alianth’s peak,” the swordsman replied. “We are the last of their students in Tierdon. They’ve chosen us to act in their stead while they tend to their hearts’ work: the trees of their forest.” He paused. “Tell me why you have journeyed so far. It cannot be just for this. What else calls you from the safety of Hothra’s shores?”
“Giants broke their chains,” she told him. “Yet still we are not free. I wish to remind my people of what they are.”
His eyebrows lifted. “There is more to this than what you’re telling me. I—”
“It is a private thing,” she cut him off, shifting her feet on the frozen stone. She transferred her attention to Roshar’s companion—a sandy-haired young man who mimicked his mentor’s stance and stern demeanor. “Are any of you familiar with giants?” she asked, hoping to change the subject. “Have you seen us fight?”
The three men shook their heads. Roshar cleared his throat, fingering his sword’s polished hilt. “We know the legend of Redeemer, the sword that liberated your people. We’ve heard the old tales as well, of your battles against the Sherkon Raiders. Still, none of us has seen a giant. In fact, until now, we’ve doubted you exist.”
Avalar lifted her sword. Shrugging off her bundles, she climbed again to her feet. “Well, we do,” she said. “And we fight like this.”
She demonstrated, exaggerating her movements as she cut at the air with a firm, level sweep. “Our weight follows our strokes, reinforcing with our backs and shoulders. This is fighting with power, not precision. It works well against the Sundor Khan, but what I seek is skill—the finesse of the Talhaidor, the joining of mind to weapon so that I—”
Avalar, startled by the younger Master’s grimace of pain, hastened to sheathe her weapon. Roshar, his gaze locked on hers, placed a calming hand on his companion.
Once more she dropped to her knees. “I intend no harm!” she exclaimed. “I am here to learn to bond with my weapon. Will you not teach me?”
Ruthlessly Roshar evaluated her. He rubbed his chin and then glanced toward the L-shaped arena. “You cannot train there,” he said. “The ceiling’s too low for you. But we do have other places. Tye Warren here can give you a tour.”
Still trembling, Tye raised his head to meet Avalar�
�s concern. “Her heart lies open like a book, Master Navaren,” he said, “though her magic makes reading it difficult. She speaks the truth; she seeks the Swordslore and nothing more.”
Brows raised, Avalar turned to Camron. “A soothsayer?” she asked. “You said humans had no magic.” Camron ducked his head, yet not enough to hide his smile. Avalar glared. “I am not amused, Camron Florne. I have heard of new magic, the power of the warders from beyond our world. You humans brought it with you and it is a grave threat. If this is—”
“Relax, Giant.” Camron grabbed her wrist. “Tye’s magic comes from his mind and heart, as we discussed. You are safe, believe me.”
Tye stepped close and looked up, and Avalar blinked, entranced by the youth’s golden eyes. “Come,” he said. “There are rooms in this city intended for giants. Please, allow me to guide you. Along the way I will explain the first stages of the Talhaidor.”
Avalar bent to retrieve her pack.
“Go,” Camron said with a laugh. “Your dance awaits you, my dear.”
Chapter 11
GAELIN, STRUGGLING TO lift his heavy legs, trudged behind Terrek as they walked alongside his horse. He squinted at the glare above them, the overhanging glacial ice atop the frozen shale. When Terrek bent to examine his mount, Gaelin glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the warriors’ wind-burned faces as they appeared around the base of the cliff.
At the sight of their torn and chapped lips, he reached to explore his own mouth, staring at the smear of crimson on his glove as Vyergin passed by him. Through a haze of fatigue, Gaelin watched as the captain, leading his gray horse down the line, halted at intervals to encourage the men.
With a low curse, Terrek stopped. As he raised Duncan’s sagging head, Gaelin watched him cup the gelding’s pinkish nostrils with his palms, then lean in to blow between his thumbs. Rubbing the horse’s muzzle, Terrek looked up and gestured to the three wranglers waiting nearby on their sleds, urging the men with their ponies forward to pack the trail.
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