Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (32 page)

If magic was the only thing keeping his slaves in check, why wouldn’t Gilderick protect his mages? Why wouldn’t he lock them up in his castle at night and keep them safe behind the reddened walls? It made no sense to leave them out in the open, to risk having them picked off one at a time. But that’s exactly what he did.

And to make matters worse, Gilderick began to send his guards out into the Fields during the day, ordering that they watch the slaves. The guards swarmed about them thickly, pikes clutched in their hands. Kael thought the giants ought to have been worried. There were too few mages to go around, and if the guards decided to beat them senseless, it was likely that Finks and Hob wouldn’t be able to reach them in time.

But instead of hunkering down and behaving themselves, the giants grew restless.

Hardly a day went by when threats and insults didn’t spill over into a fight. The giants would gather in clumps on the edge of a field, taunting one guard or another by name. They’d remind him of the life he took to buy his way into Gilderick’s army, bring his mother and sisters into it, and it wasn’t long before he’d charge at them with his pike raised.

The slaves had no trouble beating the guards. Though their scythes were humble tools, they were also very effective weapons: they cut easily under the guards’ pikes and popped them deftly from their hands. Then once their opponents were disarmed, the slaves pummeled them soundly with their fists.

Kael was convinced that the only thing that kept them from starting an all-out war was fear for their women — that, and killing a guard might just be the last grain that tipped Gilderick’s scale from
mad
to
raving
. And nobody wanted that to happen.

Still, the giants didn’t seem to be able to keep themselves from fighting. By the time Finks and Hob arrived to put an end to one scuffle, another would pop up in its place. After a long day of chasing the slaves, the mages would have to spend the night with their powers stretched between four barns. They were so green by morning that Kael thought every day might very well be their last.

For Doyle and Gaff, that day came at week’s end.

An explosion rocked them out of their sleep one night, breaking so loudly over the empty plains that Kael thought the whole roof had fallen down upon them. The giants sat up on their pallets and waited. Every ear strained against the haunting silence of the night, trying to figure out what had happened. But they heard no answer.

In the morning, the mages were tight-lipped. They lashed the giants out of the barn and ordered them to go about their chores as usual. Kael knew something must’ve happened, but he likely wasn’t going to hear it from the mages. So as he worked, he hung close to a patch of guards. He was able to stitch most of the story together by listening in on their chatter:

Supposedly, Doyle woke in the middle of the night and swore that he’d heard something scratching at his window. So he’d fled to Gaff’s cottage in a panic.

When Gaff heard his door slam open, he thought Scalybones was coming to rip his skin off. He hit Doyle in the chest with a spell that exploded so violently, it blew the front part of his cottage off.

No sooner did Doyle’s body land on the other side of the courtyard than the guards charged in. They saw Gaff, tangled in his sheets and tumbling down the stairs, and thought he was a ghost. It was only after they’d already skewered him that they realized their mistake.

Now that all of the mages at the Pens had been killed, Kael thought for certain that Gilderick would call Hob and Finks inside the castle. But he didn’t.

Instead, he seemed to think his army could do a slavemaster’s work just as well. One day, they saw Dred and a whole company of lightly armed guards marching towards the Pens — each with a wench-tongue at his hip.

“Gilderick won’t beat them for nothing,” Brend said, when several of the giants expressed their worry over dinner. “So as long as they keep their hands to their tasks, they’ll be all right.”

Kael couldn’t help but think that he sounded uncertain, and the others must’ve felt the same way: the giants still glared daggers at the guards as they worked, but stopped trying to taunt them into fights.

*******

The days turned sullen quickly. Not long after Dred had taken over the Pens, they heard the guards laughing about how he’d had beaten two slaves from the seas to death. The giants feared other killings would follow.

“No, that’ll be the end of it,” Brend tried to assure them, on one particularly soggy afternoon. “Gilderick’s made his point, and he won’t risk wasting another man.”

As much as Kael wanted that to be true, he didn’t dare believe it. He’d already made the mistake of believing he could handle the mages, and his meddling had only made things worse: Finks went to the Pens, and more guards were sent out to watch the Fields in his place. Hob’s spell covered all four barns at night, and though the threads of his power were so thin they were practically invisible, Kael knew they would still serve their purpose well enough.

He couldn’t get through the spells without setting off the alarm, and there were so many guards on patrol at night that he wouldn’t risk trying to sneak out again. He was stuck, then — caught up in a problem he’d created. And the giants were stuck with him.

There was only one tiny crack in the miserable, worrisome clouds, only one small beam of light that could brighten their dark days, and it came from a most surprising source.

Kael never told Jonathan of their plight, and so his letters kept pouring in. His maps were much improved. When the giants fell asleep, Kael snuck them from under his pallet and read them by the moonlight, locking their every detail into his memory.

But useful as the maps were, it was actually Jonathan’s rambling letters that Kael found the most helpful: the tales of his exploits in the kitchen tower turned out to be the best salve for the giants’ wounds.

Kael took to reading them over dinner, when the giants’ spirits were all but crushed from the long day of lashings. The fiddler’s merry accounts teased smiles onto their faces, prodding them with ridiculousness until he had them stoked into rowdy bouts of laughter:

Never thought I’d say this, but Uncle Martin was right: there’s not a woman across the six regions that could hold her own against a giantess!

Believe me, mate — I’ve been all over. With most women, I’m hardly around them for a few minutes before I’m dealt a sharp slap about the ears. And for what, I ask you? A man can’t help but admire certain things, and it’s hard to be secretive about admiring said things when a man’s got to tilt his chin down so far to do it. So when I set foot in the kitchens, I thought I might as well kiss the old ears goodbye.

But I’m pleased to say that I’ve been wandering around for days and haven’t caught so much as a cross look. The ladies around here are so tall, that all the best bits are at eye-level. A man never has to worry about getting caught staring. All I have to do is turn around and — oops, there they are!

A roar of laughter shook the beams above them and nearly startled Eveningwing from his perch. Kael’s face burned so hotly that he thought he was in real danger of setting his collar ablaze. He usually tried to read ahead and filter out most of Jonathan’s nonsense. But that time, he hadn’t been paying attention.

At least Brend wasn’t amused. While the others chuckled on, he bellowed over the top of them: “That fiddler had better be watching where he looks! If his beady little eyes light on my Clairy — I’ll tear them out!”

But fortunately, Clairy was one of the few lady giants that Jonathan hadn’t been able to find. Though Kael had doubted in his ability to stay focused on much of anything, he’d actually done a fairly good job of finding the giants’ loved ones: Clairy, Darrah, and a couple of others were the only ladies he hadn’t checked off his list.

They might be in the upper tower,
he’d written, after Brend had asked after Clairy for the dozenth time.
I’m not sure what they’re hiding up there, but the old witch won’t let me anywhere near it. And even the lady giants turn un-helpful when I ask. Tell your friend I’ll keep trying, mate!

Then one day, they finally got some news. Declan went into the stall after dinner and popped immediately back out. “He’s found her!”

Brend looked up, a shocking amount of porridge clinging to his chin. “Found who?”

“Clairy.”

“Clairy?” When Declan nodded, Brend shot to his feet. “Clairy! Oh, is she all right? She’s not hurt, is she? Out of my way, you!” He bounded clear over the trough and shoved the giants aside, charging his way into the stall.

By the time Kael got there, it was so packed full that he had a difficult time seeing anything around the wall of bodies. He weaved his way forward until Declan pulled him into the corner, where he could see a bit more easily.

He caught sight of Eveningwing — who must’ve gotten dressed in a rush: he was shirtless and his pants were buttoned crookedly. He held a leaf of parchment in his hands and seemed to be looking frantically about him for Kael.

“Go ahead and read it,” Declan hollered to him. “He’ll never reach you, and Brend’s trousers might split if you make him wait any longer.”

The giants chuckled at this and a few reached over to slap at Brend — who indeed looked near to bursting. So with a smile, Eveningwing began. And Kael had a feeling from the first sentence that Jonathan’s news was going to be trouble:

Fate must hate me. All my life, I’ve dreamed of winding up in a place like this — what bloke wouldn’t want to be trapped in a tower filled with food and tall beauties? Free to wink in nearly any direction and catch a smile? Free to eat as far as his belly will stretch? I thought I’d have to die before I ever found a happiness like this.

But alas, no sooner did I find it than it was taken from me — stolen by a thief every man longs for … and fears. Her hand has pierced the heart of both urchin and King, and now she’s finally come for me.

I speak of none other than
love
.

Kael groaned. He knew very well where Jonathan’s prose would take them, but the giants seemed oblivious. They were so captivated by the words that they hadn’t heard the riddle.

And when he tried to warn them, they shushed him.

It happened swift as a crackle across the skies: one moment I was a humble fiddler and the next, I was struck — cast down upon my knees by a beautiful and fearsome sight. I turned, and she stood before me, her eyes snared me with a light I shall never forget — like two stars fallen from the night. Her hair wound in pale, crossing torrents down her back. Oh, even the rivers of the realm would blush at her curves!

She smiled at me, her lips parted like the rose in bloom, and her words struck my ears in the sweetest chord: “Ho there, wee fiddler. Care to help me start an oven fire this afternoon? That’ll really set the old witch off.”

Of course, I had no power to refuse her. A beauty
and
a prankster? Oh, Fate! Oh, skies! I can’t explain it, mate — but I feel as if we’re two patches sewn to the same shirt. We’re a matching set, she and I. There’s no hope for me now!

And — on a completely unrelated note, of course — would you ask that Brend fellow how he’d feel about having a handsome, pirate fiddler for a brother? Just like to hear his thoughts before I pop off and ask her.

It took Brend a moment to catch on. But when he did, he roared so loudly that Kael had to cover his ears. Poor Eveningwing burst into hawk form and shot out of the roof, leaving his breeches behind. The crowd of giants fled in every direction, scattering like bugs from the light. They dove for the safety of their stalls as Brend began to rant:

“Oh, no! He’ll not be popping anything, that little snake. If he even thinks — why — I’ll pop
him
! I’ll pop his tiny little head from his shoulders — I’ll pop the color straight out of his eyes!” Brend snatched Kael by the front of the shirt and hurled him from the crowd. “Tell him, rat — tell that fiddler what I mean to do to him! If he so much as
looks
at my Clairy sideways, I’ll …”

Kael spent a good hour pretending to write down every gruesome end that Brend promised Jonathan, should he try anything with Clairy. Though what he really wrote wasn’t anything Brend would’ve been happy about.

He thought Jonathan’s sudden love was actually a good thing. In fact, if he could get Clairy to trust him, she might just be able to sneak him into the upper tower. It sounded as if she was a rather resourceful giantess, at the very least.

Kael felt bad about tricking Brend, but he convinced himself that it was for the best.

Chapter 29

Dante

All of the long hours of the day ate away at Kael’s plan. The passing time gnawed at it, chewing tirelessly until it was stripped down to nothing more than a thin, wobbling skeleton — a patchwork of hope held together by a single hinge:

If.

If
they were ever able to slip past the mages, Kael thought he had a pretty good idea of how to free the lady giants. But that one little word — that
if
— grew into a wall so high and thick that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get around it.

He spent his days thinking about how to climb it. And at night, it tormented his dreams. He might’ve gone mad worrying over it, had it not been for
Deathtreader
.

Whenever he found himself at his wit’s end, he would bury himself in
Deathtreader
’s words — drowning out the clamoring of his problems with one of the book’s many tales.

He never got tired of them. Ben Deathtreader seemed to have been a very powerful healer, and he’d devoted his whole life to unlocking the secrets of the mind. But his methods were not boring, like Amos’s had been. Instead of using herbs or salves, he used mind-walking to enter the minds of his subjects and cure them from the inside out.

His adventures were astonishing things. He’d once cured a man of a plague by chasing a horde of goblin-like monsters out of his left ear. When Deathtreader came across a woman who’d been trapped in sleep for weeks, he wandered through the corridors of her mind, opening and closing every door, searching until he found her locked up inside one of the rooms. He freed her, and she immediately woke.

But Kael’s favorite tale was the last one — where Ben claimed to have gotten lost inside the mind of a madman:

Though hardly a moment passed in the world I left behind, inside this madman’s head, the time felt like decades. I was trapped — nothing made any sense.

The stairs only went in one direction: some led up, others led down. To get upstairs on a downstairs stair, I had to walk backwards. If a door looked real, I found it was only an illusion painted on the wall. If a door was so crudely drawn that I was certain it was an illusion — it would open! The hallways would twist and turn, shimmering at their ends like the unreachable horizon across the seas.

And the walls … the walls were eerily silent. The secrets did not scream out to try and deceive me, but seemed to understand that I would deceive myself.

I wandered for so long that I began to thirst — which I knew was madness, because the soul cannot thirst … can it? Had I been trapped for so long that the walls were trying to draw me in with their silence? Did they seek to consume me, to plaster me against their sides and make me a part of this horrible world?

No — no! I would not let this happen. In my desperation, I began to think about the way I’d come in. I realized that I had dropped
downward
— that I had
fallen
from reality and wound up inside the halls. So I knew that if I wanted to escape, the only way out was … up
.

No sooner did I think this than a door appeared upon the ceiling above me. I did not question the absurdity of it all, or wonder why a ceiling would have a door — I wasted no time in opening it and climbing free.

Reality came back in a spin of brilliant colors. I found myself in my own home once again, my mad subject sat across from me — the food between us was still hot. I watched him devour his meal in silence, and thought what a shame it would be to house such a powerful secret … and yet, never know it.

For it was inside the head of this madman that I discovered the key to all power, to shrugging off every limitation and seizing onto a whisperer’s true potential: insanity.

Yes, reader — mad as it sounds, insanity is doubt’s only cure.

Kael closed the book, his head still tingling with
Deathtreader
’s last, potent words — and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Declan sitting across from him.

“What are you reading?” he demanded. He jerked his chin at
Deathtreader
. “Where’d you find that book?”

“It’s nothing — and Jonathan sent it to me,” Kael lied. He tried to stuff it under his pallet, but Declan’s arm shot out twice as fast. His thick fingers clamped down over Kael’s wrist and he twisted, forcing
Deathtreader
out of his hand. “Give it back,” Kael snarled.

But Declan ignored him. He flipped
Deathtreader
open. “Does Brend know about this?”

“No, because it’s not any of his business.”

Declan’s brows dropped low, shadowing his eyes. “It’s all handwritten …” He turned the book this way and that. The dry pages hissed in protest. Then he snapped it closed. “Did you write this?”

“Of course I didn’t —”

“I may not be able to read the words, rat,” Declan growled, “but I can certainly read
you
. And I’ve been watching you closely from the day you stepped into our Fields.” His lips curled over his teeth, like the warning of a cornered wolf. “I’ve tried trusting you, and it’s only got us flogged. None of the others might be able to see it, but I do. I see everything. And I know you’re hiding something —”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Kael lunged for the book, but Declan held it out of his reach. “Give it back — you’re going to ruin it!”

“Is this some kind of letter? Have you been sent here to spy on us? Yeh,
that’s
what it is!” he growled triumphantly, thrusting a finger at Kael — who’d looked up at the word
spy
.

Yes, he was technically spying — but not on the giants. And he might’ve been able to explain this, had he been talking to anybody else. But Declan was so eager to catch him in a lie that even if the truth had landed on the end of his nose, he still wouldn’t have seen it.

So Kael didn’t try to explain himself. Instead, he made a frantic lunge for
Deathtreader
. His fingers brushed the tips of the wrinkled pages before Declan jerked it out of his reach. Kael hadn’t been expecting him to move so quickly. He fell forward — and accidentally grabbed Declan’s forearm.

An image flashed before his eyes, startling him for a moment. But as the image began to take shape, Kael realized what was happening: it was the same thing that’d when Kyleigh showed him her memories. He realized that the image before his eyes must be one of Declan’s memories — and he knew he should pull away.

But he didn’t. And it only took a moment for the story to swallow him up.

He stood in the middle of the plains, a whole host of giants spread out around him. He saw the world through Declan’s eyes, as if he lived inside his body. The giants he walked among stood together in neat lines, fully armed for battle. Kael was too short to see over them and when the lines grew too thick to weave between, he dropped on his hands and knees.

He crawled through a forest of massive legs towards the front of the line. He’d barely gotten a glimpse of what lay ahead when someone grabbed him around the belt and pulled him to his feet.

“Ho there, little Declan!” a deep voice boomed. “What are you doing the whole way out here? I told you to follow your mother.”

The giant the voice belonged to had a deep-cut brow and a large, hooked nose. Even kneeling and hunched, he still towered over Declan.

“I came to join the fight, father.” Declan’s small voice rang confidently inside Kael’s head. “I saw the banner of Callan Horseman, and I knew this was where I ought to stand.”

Callan’s eyes were kind as he shook his head. “You can’t fight with us today, son.”

Callan’s face came closer as Declan stood on his tiptoes. “Please, father. I may not be as big as the others, but I can still —”

“No, your size has nothing to do with it. Any man would be proud to have his son stand beside him in battle. But this is not a fight we’re going to win.”

“We aren’t?”

This worried question didn’t come from Declan, but from the man standing next to Callan. For some reason, he was so faded that Kael couldn’t see his face, just the foggy outline of his body.

Callan turned to him, his eyes suddenly hard. “I’ve heard tales of these warriors — these
whisperers
who rebel against the crown. Steel means nothing to them. They wiped out half of Midlan’s army with the flame from a single candle; they sunk the pride of His Majesty’s fleet with a shirt button. Nothing can stop them, when they march as one. No, we’ll not win today.” Callan stood, and his voice boomed out across the sea of giants as he added: “But by the plains mother, we’ll rattle them.”

A noise like a thunderclap cut across Kael’s ears as the giants rapped their weapons against their breastplates. Callan raised his scythe over his head, and with his every sentence, the giants rapped again.

“The earth will tremble where we meet. We’ll clobber them so hard that their
souls
will have bruises. Oh no, they’ll not soon forget the name
giant
— because we’re going to carve it into their skulls!” Callan spun to the fields, and the fury of his thunderous words must’ve traveled the whole way to the seas as he roared: “For Prince, for clan, for homestead!
Charge
!”

The giants swarmed out to meet the whisperers — and in spite of his father’s warning, Declan ran among them. The giant in front of him took an arrow to the helmet and fell. With a cry that rattled Kael’s ears, Declan picked up his scythe.

The rhythm of his charging steps matched the furious pounding of his heart. Declan’s eyes locked onto the whisperer who’d fired the arrow, and Kael was surprised to see his mouth gape open in fear. When his second arrow flew wide, the whisperer turned and tried to sprint for his life … but Declan caught him.

No sooner was one man dead than he flung himself onto the next. With every kill, the light seemed to dim and the noise grew louder. Soon, the world went black and the sounds of war raked against Kael’s ears. He heard Declan’s heaving, snorting breaths, heard the screams of the whisperers he met. And then very suddenly, everything went quiet …

The darkness faded back as Declan’s eyes snapped open, and Callan’s monstrous face filled his vision. A large gash leaked blood down his forehead, and he looked worried. But when he saw Declan’s eyes, he let out a triumphant roar.

“He’s alive!”

Declan’s breath quickened when a host of voices echoed his cry. Giants swarmed around him. Several reached down to clap him heartily on the shoulder.

“Fate’s been kind to us today — we’ve beaten them back,” Callan whispered. A shadow crossed his face for a moment, and his eyes hardened. “Your older brother fled, the coward! But I’ll flay him on my own time. I’ll not let him ruin your day.”

The world spun as he hoisted Declan onto his shoulders, and Kael could see the huge crowd of giants gathered around them. There must’ve been hundreds of them — men from every clan. Their faces passed in a blur as Declan’s eyes swept over them.

Kael saw two figures he might’ve recognized: they stood at the back of the crowd, and were far shorter than the others. But Declan’s head spun away before he had a chance to study them.

“We’ve all of us been shamed today,” Callan bellowed. “And I’m most shamed of all. For it wasn’t your General who led us to victory, but this little fellow, here.” He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded much huskier than it had before. “From this moment on, we’ll know him as
little
no more — but as Declan, a lion among men!”

The giants grunted and beat their scythes against their breastplates. They smiled up through their bruises and wiped the blood from their eyes with impatient swipes. But to Declan’s ears, one small voice cut over all the rest:

“You did it, brother! You did it!”

There was a frustrated grunt from Callan as he bent down. “You too, eh? Do none of my sons listen to me?”

He fished a little boy out of the crowd and popped him onto his other shoulder. This boy was young, perhaps no older than six. He patted Callan’s wounded head gently. “I
did
listen, father,” he insisted. “I waited for the battle to end
before
I came out.” Then he turned to Declan, his face open and glowing. “I saw you fight. You fought well, brother —”

The earth trembled as the memory shattered. The sky went black and the rain pounded him in lashing drops. He held someone in his arms — the same little boy as before.

The glow was gone from his face. His mouth hung slack. His eyes were empty. Kael clutched helplessly at the wound in the boy’s chest, but it was too deep to mend.

Voices swam through his ears. He couldn’t hear what they said. There was a rage building inside his limbs that he had no power to control. His ribs stretched against it, threatening to crack. His muscles swelled, trembling, screaming. Blood burned the backs of his eyes as he searched the crowd.

He found a face — his vision blurred so horribly that he could barely make it out. But he knew who it was. And he was going to pay.