The Mad Giant (Shioni of Sheba Book 3)

by Marc Secchia

  It was horrible.

  Shioni had no need of Azurelle exclaiming in her ear to feel sickened at what she had done. The three apprentices collapsed in a screaming, gesticulating heap of bodies, thrashing and rolling about in a desperate attempt to rub the biting ants off of them or crush them. But as she well knew, an army ant would continue to bite even if its body was broken off, and each bite stung like fire. Thousands? The pain must have been excruciating.

  Her heart lurched as she saw Anbessa and two of his lionesses come racing past her toward the apprentices, fangs bared in fury. Shioni averted her eyes from what promised to be a terrible mauling. She focused on the battlefield instead. But it was impossible to fully shut out the nearby sounds of snarling and shrieking, which was quickly cut off. She saw that the mass of Gelada baboons was breaking up. They were battling to escape the Sheban Elites rather than fighting against them. And across the river, hyena turned upon hyena; hyenas turned upon both their Wasabi masters and the Sheban warriors too. Talaku and Tariku were rallying the Sheban Elites, driving into the massed Wasabi until, with cries of fear, the hyena-painted warriors turned tail and scattered.

  Turning once more to survey the hillside, Shioni observed Anbessa standing above his kill. Baring his great canines, the Lord of the Simien Mountains unleashed a roar of terrible majesty–announcing the victory.

  Now the Sheban Elites could count the cost.

  Chapter 25: Captain Dabir’s Plot

  Glare! Trussed like a chicken bound for Mama’s pot, Shioni could do nothing but glare at Captain Dabir as he trotted self-importantly along the column of Sheba’s Elite warriors later that afternoon after the battle. Stuffy, self-righteous vulture! Egotistical son of a goat! She could think of a hundred names to call him as the warriors limped along the trail that would lead back to Castle Hiwot.

  Thunder was glaring too. He had not stopped fuming ever since she had woken from her drugged slumber to find herself lashed to his back. He was tied to the back of a cart, to his vocal disgust. Talaku lay inside the cart, trussed even more firmly than she was, with the weapons belts of about fifty warriors. But at least he was not gagged. Shioni had been gagged with a bit of cloth which was as fragrant as a warrior’s sandals after a day-long forced march. Her hands, lashed behind her back, were aching unbearably. She half-wished they would drop off and save her the pain, because she was a mass of bruises and hurts. And where was Azurelle?

  She was having a bad day.

  The Sheban Elites, having spent the remainder of the morning binding up their wounds, paused for a midday meal salvaged from the remaining rations. Dabir had appeared like the proverbial piece of rotten fruit in a barrel to reassert his authority, which caused some noticeable muttering amongst the warriors that he quelled with barked orders and kicks where his orders were not obeyed swiftly enough. As for Desta, he had vanished as completely as Anbessa and his forces. Shioni remembered thinking her ration of vegetable wot had tasted a little odd, but had been far too hungry to be picky.

  A donkey had more brains than her.

  Now she could not even kick herself. Neither could Talaku, but that made her feel no better. To think Dabir was devious and farsighted enough to carry some kind of sleeping drug with him! Jaw-dropping. Creepy. She had utterly underestimated the Captain.

  Hearing a new sound, she turned to see Tariku approaching on horseback. Hiding his hand from casual view by others, he made a gesture. Calm down? Be cool? Shioni felt as if she was a pool of lava threatening to bubble over.

  Tariku reached over to loosen her gag. He yanked the wad of cloth out of her mouth. “Water?”

  She nodded. He raised a water gourd to her lips.

  “You’re frying in the sun.”

  “I’m frying with fury, Tariku!”

  “Shh.” He looked around quickly, and then muttered from the corner of his mouth, “Not a single warrior believes Dabir. He apparently got stuck under one of the carts during the battle. I’ve smelled meat so rotten even a hyena wouldn’t touch it, that stinks less than his story. Okay? But we’ve got to get you back in one piece first. The other Captains and I are–shut your mouth and keep it shut, hear me? Here comes old hyena-face himself.”

  Unsnapping another gourd from his belt, Tariku began to smear aloe juice mixed with herbs on her face and neck.

  “And how is the prisoner, Tariku?” Dabir sounded terribly pleased with himself.

  “Suitably uncomfortable, sir.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Giving the slave-girl a drink of water, sir. We would want the prisoner fit and well to face any interrogation, sir.”

  Dabir stared suspiciously at Tariku for almost a minute, before sniffing, “Enough of that babying, soldier! Carry on with your duties.”

  “Sir.” Tariku’s face was a mask. Once the Captain had moved on, he muttered, “We plan to give General Getu the real story. Now behave yourself and we’ll get you out of this, or I’m no better than an ulcer under a hyena’s tongue. Understand?”

  “Tariku… thanks.”

  He nodded. “Medicine? More water? How’s the foot?”

  “Passable.” Shioni took a sip from the proffered gourd. Amazing stuff, Mama’s medicine! Her leg was visibly improved, but the painful throbbing in her foot remained. At least the medicine took the edge off that.

  “Have to put this back. Sorry.”

  “Wait. Thunder, where’s our friend?”

  “In your bag,” she heard; the tiniest of whispers.

  “In the cart,” said Tariku. “Drugged to the eyeballs. Dabir wasn’t sure how much to give a giant so he gave him masses. Like stunning an elephant.”

  As Tariku retied her gag, Thunder harrumphed, “If General Getu doesn’t kill Dabir first, I think Zi will do that for him. She’s furious. Hopping more than you made Kalcha’s apprentices dance, I tell you. As am I. If that Dabir dares to come near me…”

  Dance they had indeed, thought Shioni. Their final dance. It was an end grislier by far than she could have imagined. Only one orb had survived being dropped to the ground, and that was apparently safely ensconced in Dabir’s saddlebag. Along with her garnet. Well, not that a slave-girl could actually own anything!

  After binding up their wounds, and realising that their dream of raiding Chiro Leba was the ashes of yesterday’s fire, Dabir had made the decision to march back to Castle Hiwot as quickly as possible. But not without a prize. His pride would not allow otherwise.

  After all, Shioni fumed, he would have been disgraced. But Tariku’s words gave her renewed hope; hope that saw her through the day.

  Chapter 26: Gigantic

  Nightfall was deep and mysterious up in the mountains, and bitterly cold. On a clear night in the high passes, snow could sometimes fall. On such a night, the stars were so brilliant it seemed one could almost reach up and pluck them as though they were diamonds nestled between folds of dark cloth.

  It was the second night after the battle on the Mesheha River. Shioni had drifted off to sleep trying not to think about how she might have earned her first proper whipping at Annakiya’s hand.

  The touch of a blanket startled her into wakefulness. Shioni managed a muffled gasp. It seemed the only possible response to the fact that Talaku, looming over her like a shadowy crag, was the person pulling a blanket over her numb shoulders. Her captors had been remiss. Her chill was settled in the very marrow of her bones.

  His bonds were gone, as were her guards. No, there they were–sprawled senseless over the earthy mound they had been using for a pillow. They were clearly in no fit shape to protest what he was doing.

  Talaku’s thick fingers fumbled with the gag.

  “Mmm?”

  “If we could only keep the Fiuri this quiet,” he joked in a low whisper, “we’d know the meaning of peace. Peace… ah. That is denied me, in this life. That is why I must leave.”

  Shioni’s eyes leaped about. How was it that Captain Dabir’s watch could allow this? Or had he set a perimeter guard
and left no-one awake amongst the sleeping warriors… the groans of an injured man reminded her of another reason why the camp was so subdued. A night bird called softly. It seemed even the cicadas were too depressed to sing, too horrified by the deaths and injuries that had been sustained.

  “Pesky, thrice-darned knots!” Talaku settled for yanking the gag down to her neck, bruising her lip in the process. He fished a sodden mass out of her mouth. “What fools! Shioni, will you come with me?”

  She worked her aching jaw. “Talaku–”

  “I know. It would be unwise. I thought I might ask.”

  Better, then, that she left her answer unspoken. Shioni licked her lips and whispered, “Talaku, did you murder that villager? I have to know.” She might as well have slapped him. He sucked in a breath; let it out in a long hiss. “Don’t misunderstand me: I don’t think you did. I’m not saying you did. But Talaku–”

  “But I’m a mad giant?”

  Shioni took her turn to sigh. “I worry about you.”

  She could barely feel her feet and fingers. Wasn’t it dangerous, having her blood stopped up for so long? She writhed uneasily upon the hard dirt, trying to force some kind of feeling into her trussed limbs.

  “Mama Nomuula’s mother enough for me,” he chuckled. But in the darkness, his face was shadowed with emotions she could only guess at. “I did not murder that man. I’ve never touched a villager. Why should I? Well, save one loony old fellow who was lost. I help them against the Wasabi. The Wasabi tax them, you know. Cattle, goats, chickens–whatever they can get. And these people have nothing to begin with.”

  “And the stealing you do…?”

  “Did. That was my last. I was desperate. My father made me promise. And… I don’t suffer out here, Shioni. Save from loneliness. The hunting is good along the Mesheha.”

  She grinned up at him. “I noticed.”

  “You are one tough cub. After all that’s been thrown your way, you’re still smiling.” He brushed a hank of hair out of the corner of her mouth. “That lion must think highly of you.”

  “Anbessa? How do you–”

  “The warriors. There was talk of nothing else around the fires this evening. How you walked down the hill, cool as a dewy morning, chatting to the biggest lion any warrior has ever seen. You didn’t hear because Dabir is planning to brand you a witch. Or asmati–you know, one of those troublemaking spirits the mountains people believe in. So he kept you apart from the rest of the camp.”

  “Oh no.”

  Talaku nodded. “Oh yes. It’s safe to say that particular secret is a secret no longer. That’s why I began to ask you–” he stopped and peered about like a wary animal before continuing, “–no, your place is in the castle. The General will take care of you.”

  “I’m a bit scared… of your father.”

  The giant laughed silently.

  “What? What?”

  “You don’t know? Hilarious!”

  Shioni glared at him, although she wasn’t angry in truth. “Stop cackling like a hyena and just tell me!”

  “He has such a soft spot for you!” said the giant. “He won’t admit it–and don’t you go saying I told you–but I can see it in his eyes. He’s not as harsh as he might appear. Now, hush, I must make my escape.” He offered her the cloth again. “It must not seem as if we’ve spoken.”

  With a groan, Shioni opened her mouth and let him press the material back in again. He pulled the loop back over her chin, bruising her lip a second time, and settled it between her teeth.

  “I’ll be watching over you, Shioni,” he whispered. “Don’t you fear that coward Dabir. I plan to put the fear of the Almighty into him, just you wait and see.” He raised his forefinger to his lips. “Prepare to laugh–a lot. And if you get a chance, will you convince Anbessa I am not his enemy? He seems to think he and I are on growling terms only.”

  She waggled her eyebrows. She had been getting plenty of practice recently at communicating without the use of her mouth or hands.

  The giant tugged the blanket up to her neck, seeming torn, not wanting to leave. He patted her shoulder uneasily. But eventually he stood and, looming over her once more, said, “Walk strong, walk tall, and… you know where I live.”

  Talaku disappeared into the night like a cloud merging with its neighbour–living his Wasabi nickname, swallowed up by the shadows as though she had woken from a dream. For a huge man, he could move with the stealth of a sneak-thief when he wanted to. Not exactly an endearing skill, she decided. No wonder the Wasabi called him Metfo Dimmena! The evil cloud. The only problem with that nickname was that he was not evil, no matter what people thought. There was good in him. Good, fighting against his insanity… she shivered. God help him now.

  Shioni laid her head on the hard ground and wriggled as best she could, trying to find a position that had not already been prodded and bruised by rocks and sticks, or deadened by the tight ropes. Why did people pretend, anyway, that to feel numb was to feel no pain? Numbness had a peculiar type of pain all of its own! Be that as it may, her captors had not taken any care over finding her a place to sleep. But the blanket was lovely. She felt warmer already.

  She thanked Talaku silently for his thoughtfulness. A good man… a good giant! Mad, perhaps, but good… if only he did not lose his humanity to the dragon venom. Was he doomed to madness? Would he ever stop growing? And what about his comment about never having peace in this life? How unfair!

  Sleep stole over her. She dreamed of Talaku striding over mountaintops and trampling villages.

  Chapter 27: How Sheepish They Felt

  Waking, Shioni heard laughter rippling through the Sheban camp. Surprised, she jerked and tried to roll over. Her abused arms and shoulders quickly told her what they thought of having spent another night lashed together like the ridgepoles of a hut. She groaned. She was stiff, cold, sore, and still in trouble… but why were the men laughing?

  The two warriors who were supposed to be guarding her, rubbing their sore heads, were nevertheless staring over to her left, where the commotion had arisen.

  A shriek split the damp morning air, “Who stole my clothes? Who?”

  “Holy mother of God!” gasped one of the warriors. “It’s Captain Dabir!”

  “He’s as naked as–”

  “You have to see this!” declared the first, striding over to Shioni and starting to pull her upright.

  The other stopped him, “No she doesn’t! And, he’s as ugly as sin. Ugh!”

  He dumped Shioni unceremoniously upon the ground. But she did not mind. Not one bit. Her sides began to shake. Talaku! You great, galumphing idiot! He was as subtle as a wild hippopotamus with a toothache.

  Hoots of laughter surrounded Captain Dabir. Shioni could hear him storming up and down, screaming, ranting, and spitting out threats, demanding to know who the culprit was; but the more incensed and demanding he became, the more the warriors split their sides laughing. Nobody seemed inclined to help.

  Eventually, a voice she recognised as Tariku’s claimed to be able to show Captain Dabir what was left of his uniform. “Get dressed, sir,” urged the voice. “Here’s a spare–”

  “I am not wearing someone else’s clothes! I am–what? What kind of a sick joke is this? They’ve been shredded! Somebody shredded my clothes!”

  “Now, now, sir–”

  “I will not be spoken to like a child! It’s that witch, that girl-witch, I tell you!”

  “She has been tied up all night, sir–”

  “She made the baboons do it!” shrieked the Captain. “She made them!”

  “Baboons do not leave giant-sized footprints around your bedroll. Sir.”

  “The giant escaped?” Dabir’s voice faded. Then, with less conviction, he cried, “She helped him! She must have!”

  “Why don’t we get you dressed, sir?”

  Shioni was laughing so hard, it hurt. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Two hours later, she had finished laughing, but was no less so
re. It was the start of her third day in the saddle, and her third day of being treated as if she were the most dangerous of prisoners. At least her hands had been retied–Tariku’s doing. She wiggled her fingers. Much better. She could actually feel them now. But the warrior was too handy with a rope by far. She was heartily tired of being gagged, and sick of all the looks from the warriors, even though many seemed sympathetic–at least a little!

  The battered column marched down the pass on the flank of Ras Dejen, obscured in a cloud that clung to one side of the mountain but not the other. The weather was otherwise fine. Even belaboured as the column was with wounded warriors, and depleted of those who would never return to their homes, they moved quickly now–making Shioni wonder if the Sheban force was anxious to be home and put their memories of the abortive raid behind them. Without any further delays, they might even be back at Castle Hiwot by nightfall, she thought. What would the General say? And Annakiya? How would she welcome her thieving, runaway slave-girl?

  Wrapped up in her pensive thoughts, Shioni did not at first notice a new arrival. But she soon tuned an ear to the hubbub, to tempers rising in the mist.

  Thunder twitched his ears in a way Shioni had learned meant he was about to make an important announcement. “It’s your friend Kifle,” he duly revealed. “The human who runs like a horse.”

  “Umm?”

  “And that, if I’m not mistaken, is the gait of General Getu’s mount.”

  “Umm-hmm!”

  “I’d wager a lovely bucket of warm mash and all the salt I could eat for a month, that you are about to be released,” said Thunder, with a showy flick of his mane. “Want to bet on it?”

  Shioni chuckled into her gag. What could she do? Whatever happened now, happened. She was so grateful to Thunder for his unfailing kindness toward her. Clearly, he was on her side! If horses could only speak… well, he could, but nobody would take her word for it now, would they?

  “Good. Bet accepted then,” Thunder nickered cheerfully, swivelling his head to gauge her reaction with a roving eye. “Did I forget to tell you that Tariku sent Kifle off right after the battle to take his report to the General? Without Captain Dabir’s permission? Your ill-discipline is catching, say I. In the best possible way.”