David Tallerman - Giant thief

"You don't really think I'm crossing that?"

Saltlick looked at me questioningly. Then, apparently not seeing any reason for concern, he pointed to the far side.

"Home."

I gulped. I'd never been afraid of heights. I'd never been particularly afraid of bears either, but that didn't mean I'd wrap my head in fresh meat and thrust it into one's mouth. Knowing there was no going back didn't make the prospect any more appealing.

Estrada and I followed Saltlick as far as the end of the crevasse. He carried on without pause, as if there was no difference to walking between stone walls and terrifying expanses of emptiness. In less than a minute he'd reached the midpoint, where he paused to see if we were following. The bridge was so narrow that he barely had room to turn around, and his feet sent pebbles dancing off the edge.

It was only as I watched them fall that I understood where we'd come out. The span hung over a strip of broiling sea far below, which separated the mountainside we were on from the landmass towering ahead. That was the giant kingdom, hidden on a pinnacle all its own, held apart by this narrow causeway. It rose like the ramparts of some impossible fortress from a froth of white water, and behind, the ocean stretched crystal blue to the horizon.

"Follow?"

Saltlick's cry made the whole span tremble. "Keep your voice down!"

Cowed, he waved instead.

I looked to Estrada, vaguely hoping she would volunteer to go first. She merely stood watching me, arms crossed, a wicked smile playing over her lips.

"Fine. All right."

I closed my eyes, stepped forward.

Then I realised I was standing on a narrow band of rock over a chasm with my eyes closed, and hurriedly opened them again.

The wind wasn't as bad as I'd expected. Its constant push and tug was more unnerving than dangerous. The harder part was knowing where to look. At first, I focused on Saltlick. That meant I couldn't see where I was putting my feet. I looked down instead, saw how vast the difference between background and foreground was, and felt my legs turn to mush. I dropped to hands and knees, and panted icy air into my lungs.

The fear that an enthusiastic gust would tear me free soon overcame my giddiness. I fixed my gaze once more on Saltlick, who stood waiting now on the far side. I began moving again, this time letting my eyes drift slightly to keep myself on track. My pace would have shamed a baby, and only made the ordeal seem to go on forever. I dared a proper step. When I didn't tumble straight over the edge, I took another.

It was faster going after that. Still, by the time I rushed onto solid ground, Saltlick was staring at me as though I were insane. He'd lived all his life up here, no wonder he didn't grasp the concept of vertigo.

That thought brought another close behind it. "Are we there?"

Saltlick pointed. The opening at this side was wider, and its slight slant meant that only there, on the cusp of the bridge, could I see the gateway at its end. Where the walls ran almost sheer, a palisade of logs filled the gap. The fact that Saltlick seemed surprised by its presence suggested it was a new addition. Security had obviously gone up in priority since Moaradrid's visit.

I looked back and saw Estrada crossing the span. If she was even slightly nervous, she hid it well. She practically skipped across, and finished with a bow as she stepped onto solid ground. Ignoring my scowl, she pointed to the palisade and said, "Should we knock?"

In answer, Saltlick paced into the passage. Half way to the barricade, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and hollered. It sounded like a single word, but I couldn't quite make it out over the cascade of stones and loose dirt he'd shaken free.

"Keep it down, Saltlick!"

He ignored me, and howled again. The second time was even louder and just as incomprehensible. I cradled my head, expecting half the cliff to come tumbling down. Saltlick filled his lungs for another effort. Just in time, a voice called from beyond the palisade: two muffled syllables that sounded something like his name.

The logs swung back and up with a creak of straining timber. Two giants stood beyond, one struggling to knot a length of rope around a post driven into the ground. These two looked subtly different from Saltlick. They were smaller, their features weren't quite so coarse, and though their bodies were equally lumpy, they swelled in noticeably different places.

"Ohhh," I mumbled, as my brain struggled to fit the incompatible concepts of "giants" and "women" together.

"Shol Tchik!"

The giantess who wasn't busy keeping the gate open flung her broad arms around Saltlick, who looked both overjoyed and abashed. Releasing him, she rattled off a long sentence in incomprehensible giantish, clasped his hand in hers, and dragged him inside.

Estrada and I followed at a distance. Having just about come to terms with the shock of female giants, I could finally turn my attention to our surroundings.

One glance and my jaw fell open. Whatever I'd been expecting, this wasn't it.

As far as I could see, we were at one end of a bowlshaped plateau, ringed on every side by low escarpments to form an immense natural arena. The ground sloped steadily down ahead, before rising to greater heights of mountainside at its distant far end.

None of that was so surprising. But the thick border of grass to either side, the line of trees that swayed ahead? Here the breeze, crisp to the point of chilliness just instants before, felt comfortably warm on my skin, and moist, almost clammy.

The dirt road we were following — which was more of a path by giant standards — descended from the gate, down a short embankment to meet the tree line. To either side I could see that planks had been laid, covering narrow crevices and punctures in the ground. The grass beside was wilted and brown and the air danced with heat-haze. I thought of the medicinal baths near my hometown of Conta Pelia, which drew from a spring heated deep beneath the ground and ran warm through even the harshest winters. Was there something similar beneath this plateau?

We passed through the edge of the woodland. The trees were vastly tall, bare-trunked for most of their height and then exploding into great canopies of fo liage at their peaks. They were widely spaced for the most part, spread like columns in a grand hall. Looking around to see if we were close to the giant settlement, I made another strange discovery: between many of the trees, huge banners of coarse fabric had been stretched from bole to bole. It reminded me a little of the streamers of drying cloth that dyers sometimes hung across the alleys of Muena Palaiya. Although they were all decorated to some degree, with swirls of symbols in various shades, I didn't think they were purely for show. Occasionally I saw one suspended lower than my head height, but most were so lofty that Saltlick could have easily stepped beneath them.

As we made our way deeper into the forest, Estrada and I hurrying to keep pace with Saltlick and our guide, I noticed more details. I saw how the banners would frequently meet to form a corner, or even a triangle or square, and how some of these shapes were topped with canopies of the same fabric hung taut between the trees. I realised that where crops were being grown — stands of green cane, a grain that looked like wheat but grew far taller, bushes laden with heavy purple and yellow fruits each as big as my head — the banners separated one from the other.

Then it hit me. They were rooms — giant-sized rooms. As soon as I realised it, the whole scene seemed to flip end on end. Gone were trees and banners and sheets, and in their place a giant-scaled town, with walled fields and gardens, highways, vast public areas and enclosed chambers that would offer privacy from anyone of giant rather than man height.