The initial shocked disbelief soon turned to anger, and as is often the case when an exciting tale is repeatedly retold, it quickly became grossly exaggerated, until even the messenger birds became caught up in the web of misleading whispers and began reporting the people of Faia had gone collectively insane. The rumours spiralled. There had been a terrible plague fallen upon Faia and the villagers had burnt most of the village. Indeed, the sickness was so severe and disabling that its victims were voluntarily jumping into the fierce bonfires in an attempt to cleanse themselves of the malady.
No one in Eronth was safe it was surmised, from this nonexistent, mysterious plague, which the birds claimed swiftly manifested itself with no discernible symptoms. No large festering yellow blisters on the tongue, no feverish shaking of limbs. The story spread from beak to mouth. There were elders among them who retained memories of the last plague that had taken over a quarter of Eronth’s population.
Scholars and peasants studied the Tremite Book of Life, finding numerous references to this affliction. As fear grew, the power of the Lightcaster intensified. Numerous candles and offerings were made to the goddesses, but their prayers remained unanswered. New rumours flew until the messenger birds had little time to forage for food, so engrossed were they in relaying the news. Creatures of the sea were reported to have been on land. Khartyn, one of the favoured Crones of Eronth, had collapsed in grief over the loss of her friends, and was incapable of handling her normal duties. The Wezom Faery people had been spotted walking through the streets of New Baffin, and most frightening and strange of all, dead bodies had been discovered in that city with blood flowing from their ears and nostrils. It was even whispered that what was occurring was the early symptoms of the end of the world, the Twilight of the Gods. All the divine beings would turn to dust and be lost to recorded history, no mortal would survive, and the Dreamers would awake to be reunited with Lepso and atone for the murder of their brothers.
‘Rubbish!’ said Geferd out loud to the sky as she watched the messenger bird fly away, his small body shaking in excitement at the latest news from Eronth. ‘By the breath of Lepso, these messenger birds have scandalous tongues and the brains of a bogie! Twilight of the Gods indeed! Wish that it were, for then we giants would rule again!’ She caught sight of the look on Angerwulf’s face as he watched the tiny speck of the bird.
‘Don’t tell me you believe that rubbish! Those birds are renowned for taking a tale and spinning it into a legend. Lice-carrying gossips!’ She shook her fist at the air.
‘Don’t be too hasty,’ Angerwulf said. ‘Remember the strange tale Fareirrod had to tell us when he last returned from Faia? He too spoke of witch burnings.’
‘Oh, of course, if Fareirrod said it, then it must be truth!’ Geferd said, hands on hips. ‘Between the ravings of the winged messengers and your lazy good-for-nothing brother, it’s a miracle I have any senses left to speak of! Fareirrod says this, Fareirrod says that,’ she mimicked. ‘How much longer do I have to tolerate him living with us? No decent giantess will look twice at him, not that I could blame them. It’s a fact you had more than your fair share of the looks in the family. I can’t do anything without tripping over him.’
‘Please Geferd, try to be patient, and quiet,’ Angerwulf said, glancing around him. ‘It hurts his feelings when you speak in that manner. He doesn’t understand your heart is much softer than your tongue. Besides, we have more important things to think about.’
‘Not that rubbish!’ Geferd said. ‘Angerwulf, how you can take it seriously is beyond me. Little Amolda would have more sense than to listen to the ravings of a lice carrier!’
‘But if it is true?’ Angerwulf asked. ‘What would it mean to us as a family if the bird speaks the truth?’
Geferd made a great show of thinking this over while she moved some trees out of the way that were blocking the entrance to their cave. ‘All right, what does it mean?’ she said finally.
‘A chance for us to reclaim our land!’ Angerwulf said. ‘Think on it, Geferd. If Mary is dead, then her laws are held to no account. We can move out of the Wastelands and back into a more prosperous area. Why, we could grow vegetables and raise livestock.’
‘Amolda could see ilkamas and islaes,’ Geferd said, warming to the idea. ‘What has he here? Boulders and aged, rotting Azephim, endi bushes and vultures. If we could only raise him nearer to Faia then he has green plains and crops fresh from the ground.’ She moved over to her husband, an unfamiliar hope rising in her great eyes. ‘Oh! I shall kill that lice carrier if his words prove to be false!’
‘And I,’ Angerwulf echoed, feeling a pang in his heart that his wife had to live under the conditions they had endured for so long.
‘Then what would be the harm,’ Geferd began, forgetting that she had doubted the messenger bird’s words, ‘of making a trip to Faia to see if the rumours are true?’
Angerwulf thought hard, not wanting to see the spark of life die in her eyes. ‘If they are not, and Mary lives, then we will face the penalty for daring to enter Faia as a group. The High Priestess has shown scant patience in her undertakings with the giants in recent times. In Amira’s name, the provisions and cloth she has provided us with are meagre, and Amolda is growing so quickly I can no longer keep up with him. Still, what she has to give us is better than nothing and nothing is what we will be left with if we disobey Eronth law and travel together’
Unexpectedly, Geferd bawled her resentment to the sky. Beneath their feet, huge cracks forked in the floor of the desert bed and an arrow of silver lightning split the sky.
‘Mamma mad!’ A voice came from inside the cave.
‘See! Do you see what you made me do?’ Geferd shrieked. ‘You’ve woken our son!’
Old habit forced Angerwulf to duck. His wife was not above uprooting trees and throwing them at him when her passions were aroused.
‘All right, my little one,’ he said. ‘We will call a meeting of the giants of the Wastelands and inform them of our decision to travel as a group to uncover the truth.’
Geferd showed her satisfaction by filling the air with a great purring.
Dawn broke over the Wastelands to the sight of Angerwulf crouched by the small campfire he had supervised all night. From inside their home cave came the sounds of his wife and Fareirrod snoring, as if one were trying to outdo the other. Angerwulf marvelled that he was able to sleep at all when his brother and his wife made such a noise every night. Occasionally the snoring was punctuated by chuckles from Amolda as he found something highly amusing in his dreams.
There were still many stars in the sky, and Angerwulf hugged his knees, staring at them, wondering about the possibility of life on distant planets. He had found himself unable to sleep as he had lain beside Geferd and worried over whether they were doing the right thing by breaking Eronth law and travelling to Faia in a group. Still, how could the Faiaites banish us from populated areas? He had felt a pain in his heart when he noticed the hope in Geferd’s eye of their banishment to the Wastelands coming to an end. The more he meditated on that hope and how it had vanished as quickly as it had come, the angrier he became. Who are these overbearing Faiaites that they would dare to banish the children of Lepso and Amira? We are the original custodians of the land, it is they who should be sleeping on hard earth in caves in the Wastelands, receiving whatever charity we feel fit to provide to them. Geferd had been cantankerous and moody for so long he had almost forgotten the pain causing her discontent. I have been a bad husband to her, he thought. All she has accused me of is true.
Never before had it occurred to Angerwulf to disobey Mary’s strict orders regarding giants. Now it filled him with shame he had forced his wife and children into exile from their homeland. Why, the High Priestess is not even Eronthite born, he thought in rising anger. She is naught but a Crossa, not even a conscious one at that! The tale of the Bluite Crossa, Mary, was a part of Eronth legend. She had been pulled through the doorway, so the story went, by the grace of the
Dreamers when her Earth family had been slain in front of her eyes.
What sort of giant am I? Not worthy of the name of Amira, to blindly obey a Bluite woman and force my family to live under these wretched conditions. May the High Priestess be made to atone for the sins she has inflicted upon my family, and upon all giants of Eronth. I hope they did burn her. Lepso’s teeth! She deserved to die and die slowly for the injustice she has bought upon the original children of this land. Dark thoughts continued to fill his mind as the night moved slowly towards dawn.
When dawn had broken over the bleak, bleached landscape of the Wastelands, Angerwulf stood up, stretching out his cramped muscles and reached in a lazy yawn to the heavens. He had made his decision overnight. He would call a meeting of the Outerezt giants, but if they didn’t wish to break the vow they had made to Mary, then his family would march on Faia regardless. He could hear Geferd as she scolded Amolda for some transgression as he marched towards the cave. He couldn’t wait to see his wife’s expression when he informed her of his decision, and he prayed he would witness light return to her eyes.
A gathering of giants was not an everyday sight in the Wastelands — in fact, the giants themselves couldn’t agree on when they had last called everyone together for a meeting. Some of the elders claimed it had been seven Turns of the Wheel since they had met to discuss petitioning the Faiaites for more land, although the younger giants said no, it had only been three Turns and the topic discussed had been how they could push the Azephim farther back into the Wastelands to allow the giants more living space. This disagreement caused a heated argument among the seventy-five or so giants gathered for the hastily arranged meeting. The giants were normally reclusive. Their size made it practical for them to be so, and they preferred to live either solitary lives or in the company of their immediate families. Thus, any meeting called by one of them was always regarded as being of great importance.
Angerwulf had called the meeting shortly after his family had breakfasted and prepared by dressing in their finery. The summons was made by blowing into a bull’s horn in a coded sound that only giants understood. Amolda stood by watching his father produce the sound — a low, throbbing noise immediately filled the Wastelands around them. Amolda’s eyes and cheeks were flushed. The boy giant could not remember anything as exciting as this.
Geferd had taken special care with her preparations. Her jet-black hair stood out from her head in spikes, with tiny shells and leaves plaited around each strand. Coloured ochre rubbed over her cheeks gave her a flushed look and she wore her best dress of bright gold, one of Mary’s many donations over time, calculated to keep the giants on side. Angerwulf felt his old desire for her return when he saw her face radiant with joy at the thought of leaving the Wastelands. Even Fareirrod had taken special care with his dressing and had woven several vulture bones through his hair in an artful way. He too had ochred cheeks and wore an outfit fashioned from twigs, dried leaves and Solumbi fur. Amolda was wearing bright blue breeches, tunic and cape that Mary had sent from Faia, no doubt it had belonged to some adult-sized Faian male, but already Amolda was bursting out of it.
Angerwulf privately despaired as he often did when he looked at Amolda. How were they going to maintain a wardrobe for their growing son? Yet he also rejoiced at the fine appearance his family made. He had chosen to go without clothes altogether, although around his penis he had hung a Solumbi claw, a trophy he had taken when one of the beasts, starving, had unwisely wandered too near the cave where his family were camped. It was not the most comfortable accessory he could wear around his genitals, but the claw was highly revered among the giants and would make them take him more seriously when he talked.
Over the course of the morning, the giants gradually arrived, some in groups and others by themselves. All had taken special care with their appearance, adorning themselves with an odd mixture of Faian cast-offs and Solumbi fur. Each giant was greeted with whoops of excitement from Amolda when he felt the ground tremble beneath their tread. As more arrived, darkness began to spread across the Wastelands as the vastness of the crowd gathered tended to block out the sun. This gave an ominous appearance to the event. Trees and bushes were trampled and species of small animals Angerwulf had never seen before, fled from bushes and scrub in terror. Geferd was positively tittering in excitement at having such an enormous crush of visitors, interspersed with waving her large hands in front of her face, fanning herself to cope with the great mass and ordering Fareirrod with clips under his ears to serve their visitors with plates of snake bite rolls and wasp cakes.
Fareirrod was busy making eyes with a pretty young giantess with whom he had been attempting to mate for half a Turn of the Wheel, but she ignored him to flirt with a trio of young male giants who had emerged from the Wastelands wearing the skins of aged Azephim. Amolda played happily with the voting offspring of the visiting giants, as groups of neighbours stood together and attempted to become reacquainted. True, they all lived virtually on top of each other, but because of their solitary nature, their need for privacy was well respected by all the giants and they could go many Turns of the Wheel without seeing each other.
Angerwulf was chided about Geferd’s voice being heard all over the Wastelands and the minor earthquakes she had caused that season, much to his deep embarrassment. However, he found it difficult to harbour resentment towards his wife when he spotted her laughing with a group of giantesses whom she had previously claimed she couldn’t stand. Their children played nearby, taking turns to see who could lift large boulders. Angerwulf was proud to see Amolda persevered, going varying shades of red as he lifted an enormous stone over his head before dropping it onto the ground, where it made a loud bang. Realising the assembled crowd had fallen silent, and were waiting expectantly for him to speak, he fought his panic. None of the giants was very skilled in social small talk. Angerwulf jumped onto a rock to attract their attention.
‘My old friends,’ he began, his voice seeming to fill up the heavens. ‘No doubt you have received news from your messenger birds describing the burnings rumoured to be occurring in Faia villager?’
‘Lightcaster!’ one giantesses screeched, amid murmuring. The company fell silent again.
‘Whether it be a Lightcaster or not,’ Angerwulf continued, warming up, upon noticing Geferd beaming up at him. This was his proudest moment and he was determined to milk the maximum effect he could from this scene. ‘Whether it be a work of the Lightcaster,’ he repeated, trying not to lose thread of his thoughts, ‘it may be so, it may not. But what I, Angerwulf, do know is that Mary, High Priestess, is dead!’ There was a loud cheer from the assembled crowd.
‘May she rot in the Underworld!’ Geferd yelled, not to be outdone from her moment, and she spat on the ground.
‘So, if she is dead,’ Angerwulf continued, sensing the giants were beginning to get restless and he was in danger of losing his audience — many a giant meeting had been terminated abruptly by the giants wandering off mid speech, ‘if she is dead, then the old rule returns. Her rule does not apply. Us big ones don’t have to live in the Wastelands, and raise our families here. We could return to Faia, where we originally come from.’
Now there were more cheers and shouts of ‘Angerwulf’s a good fellow!’ and ‘Kill everything!’ from some of the wilder, younger giants.
Sensing the mood was about to turn Ugly, Angerwulf spoke as quickly as his brain could transmit to his tongue. ‘We do not have to kill the small ones, but we can drive them out, make them live in the Wastelands!’
The cheering intensified and the giants began to beat their chests, singing their native songs in the old tongue that had been passed down. For a moment all division was put aside as they swayed as one, beating their chests in immense slapping sounds and singing the rhythmic verses. Main of them were crying at this point, lost in memories of happier times when they had lived in lushly vegetated areas and partook of the goodness of the bountiful, brown soil. Then they had not been forced to eat snak
es and insects of the desert.
‘Stop! Stop!’ It was Fareirrod calling, standing on another rock facing Angerwulf, the wind whipping his long dark hair back from his face. ‘You big soft brains! Have you forgotten the vow? The sacred promise? We swore on the blood of Amira and Lepso, for pity’s sake! A giant’s word may not be worth gold, but we honour our word! Just because Mary may be dead . . . think, neighbours! The messenger birds might be setting a trap for us. Even if she is, we still have the drones of Faia to deal with. Their magics can destroy us easily! They don’t want us ruining their lovely green village!’
An ominous silence descended and the giants turned to Angerwulf, with eyes that begged for a speech delivering promises and miracles. Angerwulf found himself unable to say a word. He stared at Fareirrod, shocked at hearing his brother speak more than a few words at once, words that seemed to make sense. The giants waited expectantly.
Angerwulf found himself pushed from his rock and Geferd stood in his place.
‘It is Fareirrod who is the soft brain!’ she called. ‘I, Geferd, wife of Angerwulf, should know for he shares our cave. He is so lazy he does not even move out of the way to clean up his shit. He uses it for a pillow!’ There were guffaws of laughter. ‘Lazy, good-for-nothing Fareirrod!’ Geferd continued resorting to a much-loved insult. ‘No decent giantess would ever have him! He is just too idle to move on the Faians. Fareirrod would prefer to live in a hole in the Wastelands than a nice home. He is so slothful he would not want to walk into Faia to tell the small ones the giants are coming home!’ she screamed into the wind, conveniently forgetting it was Fareirrod who made the frequent trips into Faia to collect their provisions. ‘Do not be fooled, old friends, by this talk of vows!’ She raised an oversized fist up into the heavens and Angerwulf, looking on from the ground, knew his moment of glory was gone for ever. ‘Giants do not need to honour the small ones’ vows! Amira and Lepso would want us to take Faia back for ourselves!’
A Fire in the Shell: Circle of Nine Trilogy 3 Page 18
