David Tallerman - Giant thief

"We'll get it back."

I knew it wasn't true. I could see in his eyes that he knew too: that he'd brought hope to his people only to snatch it away again. My witless attempts to help had only made things worse. I decided that overall it might be easier to have my head lopped off by Moaradrid — easier at least than having to see the results of more of my mistakes. I turned and hurried up the bank.

Saltlick bounded ahead, caught hold of the rope and began to hoist the gate open. As soon as there was a gap, I ducked and slithered through. I sprinted through the crevasse and came out on the other side, to the narrow outcrop that met the rock span. I saw Moaradrid. I saw his men. I saw Alvantes, and my heart sank.

He waited just in front of the warlord at the dead centre of the bridge. A half-hearted attempt had been made to bind and strap his mutilated arm, but it was largely defeated by the coils of rope that bound him shoulder to wrist.

He was barely recognisable as the man I'd once found so formidable. His skin was sickly-pale, he was dishevelled and dirty, and only the way he held himself upright despite obvious pain and exhaustion hinted at his former strength.

Moaradrid too appeared tired, and though his leg wound was better bandaged, the linens were pinkstained, and he stood uncomfortably. Even his men, waiting on the far mountainside, looked worn out.

Moaradrid acknowledged me with a curt inclination of the head. "There you are."

I stepped onto the beginning of the bridge.

"Here I am."

"Are you prepared to get this over with?"

I took a couple more steps. I heard Saltlick arrive on the outcrop behind me, and felt an urge to say something, anything, to delay the moment when I dashed his hopes for good.

"You won't win, Moaradrid."

He was smiling, but the smile seemed frozen in place. There was no trace of it in his voice as he said, "Stupid little thief. No understanding of anything bigger than yourself. Of course I'll win. What's more, I'll be a good king. Far better than that oaf in Pasaeda."

I took another step. "Let him go."

Moaradrid gave Alvantes a nudge that made him stumble towards the edge. "Please. Choose your words with a little care."

"I mean… it's me you want. Me and the stone."

"My stone. Yes, I'd like that back. You I care little for. Though maybe if you were dead you'd finally learn to keep out of my business."

"I'll bring it to you."

"And quickly, please. I think your friend is getting dizzy."

I gulped, tried to keep my voice steady. "I can see that. So once he's safe on our side, you can have it."

Moaradrid's smile dissolved. "What do you think is happening here, you ridiculous mooncalf? Have I come all this way to haggle like a market trader?" Abruptly, he caught hold of the rope behind Alvantes's shoulders and shoved him to the very brink, so that only Moaradrid's grip kept him from tumbling into the ether. "Be careful, thief. Irritation makes me careless."

I took out the giant-stone, held it out over the edge. "I have a similar problem. Only in my case, it's blind terror and vertigo."

There was that smile again. Then, with cat-like fluidity, Moaradrid drew Alvantes back to the centre of the span and gave him a light push, as of encouragement, towards our side. "You've been paying attention after all. Have your guard-captain then. He's a fair trade for a crown."

Alvantes started towards me, and with each shambling step I feared he'd topple over the edge. I doubted very much that they'd fed him or given him water since the battle, and that combined with blood loss had left him on the very point of collapse. Alvantes might be a pompous ass, but I knew in my heart he was a decent man, and it appalled me to see how he'd been treated.

It struck me that I truly wanted to hurt Moaradrid, as he'd hurt Alvantes, Panchetto, Saltlick, Estrada and so many others.

Yet what hope was there of that?

I began walking.

There was barely room for Alvantes and me to pass each other. He looked round at the last moment. Though his face was knotted with pain, his voice was perfectly calm when he spoke. "Don't let him win, Damasco."

"I don't think I can stop him."

Alvantes gave me one last glance and stumbled on, towards where Saltlick and Estrada waited. Saltlick would look after them, far better than I could. Stone or no, he'd protect them — I had to believe that. I didn't dare look at them, for fear my resolve would evaporate entirely.

Instead, I kept walking.

I'd half-expected Moaradrid to scythe my head from my shoulders the moment I came close enough. I was a little surprised when he simply held out an upturned hand. His sword hung at his side.

I could fight…

I could wrestle him, force him over the edge…

I placed the stone in his palm.

In that split second, I felt nothing but relief. All I'd done since I first set eyes on it was run, and I was tired out with running. Moaradrid allowed himself a shuddering sigh, as if he too was briefly overcome. Then he drew himself together, held his head high to glare down at me.

"So our business is done."

I had to ask, for all I knew I shouldn't. "Isn't this the part where you kill me?"

He laughed. "I thought you were starting to understand. No, thief, I'm not going to kill you. That's not how power works."

I nodded, as though I had the faintest idea what he meant. "Well, then."

I turned away. Of course I didn't believe him. Of course I expected a scimitar between my shoulder blades. But what could I do? Though I wanted to run, I didn't. There'd been a sense of sympathy between us, almost an understanding. Even if it only existed in Moaradrid's insane mind, it might still last, if only I kept calm. If I ran, I knew he'd change his mind.

So I placed one foot ahead of the other.

I walked across that sliver of rock, hardly daring to breathe.

And I stepped onto solid ground.

Alvantes was sat on a shelf of rock, while Estrada tried hopelessly to unpick the ropes that bound him with only her fingers. Alvantes, for his part, was struggling not to wince every time the slightest impact jolted his mutilated arm. I guessed he'd live, so long as the wound wasn't infected. Saltlick stood a little to one side, still holding the disfigured staff, and though he must have been devastated by the loss of the chiefstone, he didn't show it.

Our fight for the Castoval, for the safety of the giants, was over. We'd lost, and Moaradrid had won. But at least we were all alive, and that was a better outcome than I'd expected.

Of course, the day wasn't over yet.

"Giant."

The word rang out clearly behind me.

"Giant, pick up your friend there and choke him to death."

Saltlick jerked to attention. He gazed over my head to where Moaradrid still stood, stone held high in one hand, the other pointing towards me. Saltlick's eyes grew wide, his mouth hung slightly open, as though someone had slapped him.

"I know you heard me. Obey your chieftain."

Saltlick took a laboured step towards me.

" Obey your chieftain."

I wanted to back away. I knew there was nothing behind me except a very long fall.

"Saltlick…"

One moment his hand hung at his side, the next it was around my throat. I hadn't even time for a last breath. My lungs heaved in my chest. Pinpricks of light exploded, a waterfall of sound cascaded through my ears. Through it, dimly, I heard Estrada's voice. "Saltlick, oh no, you don't have to, you don't have to listen to him, not after everything…"

The words continued. It was too much trouble separating them from the sluice of noise. Why listen when Saltlick wasn't? He'd been told to kill me. Killing me was what he was doing.

Only he wasn't. Not quite.

He was strong enough to crush my throat like a bundle of dry twigs. Yet I was alive. It hurt beyond imagination, but I was alive. Maybe Saltlick was having trouble after all — just as when he'd resisted me in Altapasaeda.