Books by Philip Hoy
Though what comes after you cannot yet know.
Inches from the back of the giant’s neck, you stab downward and through the first link of chain, severing the collar from around his throat. That you have broken the enslaving spell along with it, you can only hope. The choice though, has already cost you. You tumble onto the sand just short of the giant’s black-robed handlers, giving the two warlocks time to strike.
The thong of one whip wraps itself around your neck, the other coils about the wrist of your sword arm. With your free hand you grip the cable at your throat and rush your attackers, but they are swift, moving in opposite directions, suspending you between them, a constant stream of chants and snatches of song flowing from their mouths. The leather seems to pulse and writhe against your skin, aided by magic no doubt, it burrows into your flesh, binding your wrist and crushing your windpipe. They need only keep you here a moment longer and the approaching banner guards will finish you.
A great swoosh of wind passes overhead and one of the warlocks disappears, his whip fallen limp in the sand. Your sword arm free, you pull the remaining wizard to you, but before he meets your sword he is flattened by the giant’s club in a spray of blood and gore.
The banner guard turns and runs. You follow, the giant at your side, your army at your back.
***
That night, you sit beneath the stars, the ocean waves a roaring lullaby in the distance, and your campfire’s dancing flames to keep the chill at bay. Beside you sits your new friend, Barrock Oakfist, Giant of the North.
You’ve been given a large tent, room enough for twenty men, and servants to cook for and attend you. The King is well pleased, still, he does not invite you to his counsel. Just as well. You keep counsel of your own.
“How great is their army?” you ask.
The giant is slow to answer. His eyes survey the battlefield, the great cords of his neck twisting like braided rope as he turns to scan the beach and the makeshift pens assembled there. “You have dispatched or captured the greater part of it,” he says, his voice like distant thunder as his gaze finally returns to the campfire. This sluggishness is only an illusion, you know, like thunder at rest in the depth of a dark cloud. You have seen this giant strike.
“How long can they defend the city?”
“I am not the only giant,” he says. “There are more of my kind enslaved within. In the morning, when you and your men attempt to breach the walls there will be no arrows, spears, or burning oil to greet you. We, the giants will rain mountains on you from above, stones as large as Chianina bulls, taken from the walls of their own dismantled towers. And when all are dead, we the giants will be made to collect and rebuild their city for them with mortar mixed of your flesh and bone.”
“How? How is it possible to enslave so mighty a people?”
His sigh is like the breaking tide. “We were deceived, though through our own folly and greed. We came here willingly, accepted their gold, drank their draughts, and woke to discover our bodies were no longer our own, only our thoughts, and what good are thoughts when not even sleep, or the emptying of one’s bowels, or the freedom of death is within one’s will to choose.”
“How is it that you were the only one of your kind on the beach?”
“I was merely a token of power, my master’s favorite dog. Your defeat was assumed. The wizards are loath to expose themselves so. They will remain safe behind their walls.”
“Their magic must be strong,” you say. “What is its source?”
“This I do not know, but much have I seen. Their king himself is a priest of dark magic, the others, mere conduits of his will.”
“Then we will not attack the city. We will attack this king.”
His gaze lifts from the fire and settles on you. “I do not understand.”
“You and I, Barrock Oakfist, and no others. Tonight.”
To be continued…
This story is a work in progress — I’m writing it as fast as I can! More episodes in this thread coming soon. While you are waiting, feel free to return to the beginning: if you make different choices you will get a different story.
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