Jill Williamson: To Darkness Fled

I cannot do this anymore. The voice belonged to Sparrow. I do not know why you have allowed this to go on. The task is too difficult. I want to go home. I miss my family. Please, Arman, help me get home.

Achan withdrew and rolled over, peering through the dark in Sparrow's direction, ashamed for intruding on the boy's mind. But Sparrow's words confused him. Sparrow was a stray. Strays were orphans. What family could he possibly miss? And why had he come along if he hadn't wanted to? Had someone forced him? Achan's stomach began to boil, slowly at first, then violently. He pulled his fingers into fists and squeezed.

If that little fox was still working for Macoun Hadar…

Achan awoke choking. Someone was dragging him by the neck of his tunic, off his bedroll and onto the moist ground. The wet soil seeped into his britches. He gasped for air. Sparrow. Macoun Hadar had sent the lad to kill him. The traitor! Achan grasped the spongy moss, searching for his sword.

Pig snout! He'd left it drying in the tree.

His fingers found the hand on his tunic. He pried-

"Your Highness!" Sir Caleb released Achan's shirt and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Get your sword. Quick."

Achan paused to catch his breath, surveying where he'd last seen Sparrow. The boy pressed against a shadowy tree trunk, his already pale face ghostly in the dim light.

Heart pounding, Achan watched the knights scrambled about, packing up gear. "What's wrong?"

"Do as I ask," Sir Caleb said. "Quickly please."

Achan clambered to his feet and the tree that held Eagan's Elk and its scabbard. He pulled the belt around his waist then froze.

He could see, albeit dimly, yet no torch burned in their camp. He whipped around. Three balls of flame danced on the dark horizon, obscured by gnarled trees, drawing nearer as if someone were carrying them up the game trail.

Achan latched his belt around his waist. "Who is it?"

"Ebens." Inko strapped on his sword, leaving his bow in the tree.

Achan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What are-"

"Giants," Sparrow said.

Giants. The word winded him. In the past few months, so much myth had been confirmed reality: the existence of Owr, the Kingsword, bloodvoices. And now giants.

Maybe Arman was the one God after all.

The knights stowed the packs in the branches and stood, swords drawn, facing the game trail. Surely they weren't going to fight? Achan considered himself brave enough but saw no reason to take on one giant, let alone three. "Uh…shouldn't we leave? Escape or something?"

"No point with Ebens on our tail, and we can't have them telling others they've seen us." A vein pulsed in Sir Gavin's forehead. "Besides, there are only three."

Achan focused on the line of torches, which now seemed but a breath away. "But…three giants."

"Correct." Sir Caleb threaded his arm through his shield. "Mercenaries. Sent to kill you."

Fitting. People had been trying to kill Achan for the past few weeks. Now that his true identity had been revealed, he'd best get used to it. But how had they found their camp?

And just how giant were giants, anyway?

"They'll likely try to burn us out." Sir Caleb lifted his sword to the edge of his shield. "Watch for fire and be ready."

Achan drew Eagan's Elk. Sparrow gripped his little sword, fingers interlaced as if to pray, and held it straight out in front, as if he were stretching to see how far he could reach.

Achan sidestepped to the boy. "Ever held a sword?"

Sparrow's wide eyes darted to Achan's. He took a breath as if to argue, then deflated and shook his head.

Great. "Best stay back, then."

"Look sharp!"

Achan crouched at Sir Gavin's warning. A single flame fell through the air, partially obscured by the twisted branches. It landed in the canopy above and smoldered.

"What now?" They'd lost their chance to flee undetected.

"Hold your position," Sir Gavin said.

Sir Caleb glanced at the smoking branches. "I doubt the trees will burn. They're too damp."

A reason to thank Arman for the slime. Then two more burning arrows struck the canopy, producing thick, putrid smoke that coiled around them. Achan tugged his tunic over his nose, but the smoke clouded his vision, diminishing the glow from the giant's torches. His eyes watered.

"Be staying low." Inko gripped his longsword with both hands. "It's not being so smoky near the ground."

Smoke furled around Achan until he couldn't see. He coughed, the rank fumes invading his senses. He sank to his haunches and found clear air near the ground. Three sets of boots stood before him, lit by a pale yellow glow from ahead.

Sir Gavin's voice burst in Achan's mind. Stay back, lad.

Madness! How could they fight giants blindly?

Wood splintered. A tree, trunk and all, slapped into the soppy soil to Achan's left. He gripped Eagan's Elk tighter and peered under the golden, swarming haze. Sparrow cowered behind a stump to his right, the knights stood straight ahead, and-Achan squinted and leaned forward-something moved beyond the knights. Side to side. Swinging.

The knights held their position. Squishing footsteps set Achan's arm hair dancing. He hopped backward, lost his balance, and put a hand on the moist ground to steady himself. More steps squished from the direction of the swinging…

Club.

Two sets of thick, pale legs stepped into view, bare and tattooed but not much bigger than a man's. Where was the third giant? Surely the giants couldn't see through the smoke. The knights crouched. Achan inched back a step. A sharp branch poked into his thigh. He stifled a cry just as a high-pitched battle song rose above it.

"Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!"

Mother! Sparrow's voice surged in Achan's mind. Where have you been? Are you well? We are being attacked by giants!

Achan spun around, looking for the boy. He no longer hid behind the stump.

A woman's voice, kind and oddly familiar answered. Where are you, dearest? Are giants in the Council chambers?

What in blazes? Sparrow had told Achan his parents were dead. So who was he calling Mother?

A guttural scream tore Achan away from Sparrow's curious exchange. The pale legs charged. The knights answered with a war cry. All three struck low, from back guard, slicing their swords through the giants' legs like scythes harvesting wheat. Achan cringed as horrifying screams ripped though the air.

The giants fell like the trees, their pale, hulking bodies slamming into the soggy moss.

That was it? If these three could defeat giants so easily, perhaps two hundred and forty more like them really would be a formidable army.

The giants' torches lay spluttering but for one distant flame. Achan strained to see under the smoke. Past the fallen giants, across the clearing, a white-haired, cornstalk of a man squatted, all limbs. Pelts covered little of his body. His milky white skin glowed as if his blood was made of moonbeams. He held a spear in one hand, a torch in the other. He stabbed the torch into the moss and withdrew an axe from a sheath on his leg.

It wasn't over.

Sir Gavin! I see the third one.

Aye, lad. We're watching him.

The giant tipped back his head and yelled another trilling battle cry. "Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!" He sprang off the ground, taking long leaps into the clearing, the wet moss squishing with each step of his fearless charge.

A grunt and the clash of metal made Achan jump. He stared into the haze backlit by the distant torch. The silhouettes of four men fought, three against one much taller. The foggy shape of Sir Gavin's long hair and beard flew about. The lanky shadow parried each blow with the crook of his axe and kicked out a long leg that sent Inko's figure flying.