Grayson

Don’t tell anyone I told you,” a girl said, “but he said he talks to her. Says she’s alive.”

“That’s so sad,” a second girl said.

From some other place a gruff voice demanded, “Bring me another platter of sausage rolls.”

A moment of silence teased Grayson that the voices might go quiet, and then: “You can scarcely expect me to pay attention to every word you say,” a different man said. “You prattle on endlessly. No man could do better than I do.”

From farther away a woman said, “He could have saved him and didn’t. For that I can never forgive him, but undermining him will not be easy.”

And then from much closer: “You don’t talk to me,” a boy said. “Be quiet, be quiet.”

Grayson agreed with the boy. The voices had started the night before Randmuir’s men had sighted land. He had no way of silencing them and ignored them as best he could. Was he going crazy? Did that happen to people as young as him?

He trudged along through the snow beside Danno, the two of them bringing up the rear of the line. Randmuir had anchored the Malbraid in a cove and led an exploring party inland. The pirate wanted to take shelter until winter ended and wanted a place that was far enough away from the Armanians that they might not know where he was, but close enough that he could reach them if he wanted to. He had sailed up the coast for three days, and when a forest of massive trees had come into view, he had anchored, formed a landing party, and come ashore.

It had to be time to stop walking soon. The snow came up to Grayson’s knees, and his toes had long ago gone numb. Probably because Satu had sawed off the front ends of Grayson’s boots when he’d caught him limping around the ship. Grayson’s feet had grown as fast as his body, and the boots had become far too small. They fit much better now that his toes had room to stretch. He had wrapped his feet in rags before putting on his boots this morning, but the rags were stiff with ice now. A few leagues back he’d played around with his magic and found that he was able to let only his feet walk in the Veil. There was no hot or cold there, and his toes felt better. Doing this made his feet invisible, but the fact that he was tramping through deep snow at the back of the line made him fairly sure no one would notice. Besides, everyone—including him—was looking at the trees.

Never could he have imagined such trees existed. They were twenty times as tall as any tree Grayson had ever seen. They had long reddish-brown trunks that stretched toward the sky. The branches didn’t even begin until the upper part of the trees—far too high to climb—and they were covered in thick layers of snow, like icing on a cake. If Grayson looked long enough, a black bird would fly between branches and knock down a clump of snow.

The line of men curved up ahead and Grayson spotted Burk. The bully still hadn’t recognized Grayson. Probably never would, since Grayson now looked older than Burk. The thief turned soldier had quickly abandoned the Igote and become a pirate when held at swords’ points in Randmuir’s attack on Emperor Ulrik’s Baretam. Burk was now walking with the mantic named Fonu, who was one of King Barthel’s men. Grayson didn’t know when Fonu had come aboard the Malbraid, but he’d brought with him two shadir. Grayson had never seen him perform any magic, but he wore a hip flask that reminded him of the kind yeetta warriors wore to hold their root juice. Grayson didn’t like to see Burk making friends with anyone so powerful. And he didn’t like the sight of the two shadir—Ragaz and Haroan, Fonu called them. Ragaz the slight was as red as cranberries and looked like a horse’s tail, all wisps of long hair. Haroan was a common shadir and took a more dignified form of a brown wolf. He walked alongside Fonu the way Rustian walked with Onika. Neither of the creatures had learned that Grayson could see them, and Grayson hoped to keep it that way.

“I’ve got some kind of road here!” Satu yelled from the front of the line.

Randmuir and several others crouched with Satu to examine the snowy ground. Grayson kept back out of sight but strained to hear what was said.

“Looks like wagon tracks,” Satu said. “Pulled by a horse, maybe?”

“Big hooves for a horse,” Randmuir said.

Beyond the cluster of men, something moved, gray and black.

“Danno,” Grayson hissed. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Danno asked, not even trying to be quiet.

Now two things moved: the gray-and-black thing, still dead ahead, and a brown mass off to Grayson’s right.

“Something is out there,” Grayson said, backing toward one of the massive tree trunks.

A trilling chorus rang out, loud and fierce. It seemed to come from all around them simultaneously. Grayson didn’t wait around to see what it was. He dove behind the tree and pushed into the Veil, instantly feeling safer, but the yells, grunts, boots trampling over the snow, and more of the high-pitched trilling kept his fear running high.

Danno! He suddenly remembered poor, tiny Danno.

Still in the Veil, Grayson crawled through the gigantic tree trunk and peeked out the other side. Randmuir’s black-clad pirates lay in the snow. He saw Burk and Fonu’s bodies and wondered if they were dead. A few other pirates had cowered behind trees like Grayson. Satu and Randmuir had hidden behind a burly bush. Danno was lying on his stomach in the snow, hands wrapped over his head. Haroan crouched over Danno, a satisfied leer on his wolfish face. Ragaz cackled as he swooped over the frightened men.

Grayson saw no one else.

“We could take Eudora away,” a woman said. “There are others in the royal line she could marry.”

“Give it back!” a girl yelled.

“I told you I don’t have it,” said a second girl.

The voices in Grayson’s head seemed louder now in the surrounding silence. He concentrated hard to push them down, straining to hear any sounds over those in his mind.

A rock flew through the air and smacked Randmuir in the head. The pirate captain slumped over. Satu just managed to catch him.

Another rock struck Satu. The man roared, dropped Randmuir, and drew his sword. He marched out to the clearing. “Show yourselves, you cowards!” he screamed.

A rock shot out of the forest and hit Satu square in the forehead.

He collapsed in the snow.

Not a soul moved but Ragaz the shadir, who flitted from man to man, crowing. Danno opened one eye and peeked at the scene. Relief rushed over Grayson. His friend was all right. Just pretending to be hurt. Grayson wanted to call out, wave him over behind the tree, but the silence of the forest smothered his courage. Someone was out there, watching.

“Wee datla wa ahkeeah.”

Though the voice had spoken in a foreign tongue, Grayson’s magic allowed him to understand the meaning: “Load the prisoners.”

Warriors stepped out of the forest. All of them were huge. Beyond huge. They were—for lack of a better word—giants.

Grayson caught his breath. They were twice his size!

Well, not quite. They were about three or four heads taller, but Grayson was certain this was who Onika had meant.

He counted four. All were male. All wore patchwork leather that was crisscross stitched with leather cord and trimmed in white—colors that blended in with the trees and snow. They had pale skin like Onika, and one had braided yellow hair and wore a brown animal skin as a cape. Grayson scrambled to remember the exact words of Onika’s message from Sir Kalenek.

“Hold tight to your secret until you come to those twice your size.”

What did it mean? Should he reveal his magic? Now?

The giants pulled a flat-bed cart into the clearing and began to pile the pirates’ bodies onto it.

“Skin is strange,” one giant said.

“Looks like dirt,” said another.

Randmuir roused, but a giant punched him in the head and he slumped over again. As the giant bent to grasp Randmuir’s ankles, Satu jumped to his feet and stabbed the giant in the lower back with a knife.

The giant screamed in fury and dropped Randmuir. He spun around to meet his attacker, but Satu was ready. He’d retrieved his sword from the snow and drove it into the giant’s stomach.

Another giant bounded forward and bashed his fist against Satu’s face. The pirate collapsed, his face cracked like a coconut.

“No killing!” the yellow-haired giant yelled. “Dead slaves are useless.”

But the giants weren’t looking at Satu. They stood in silent awe, staring at their slain comrade who was still bleeding in the snow.

The yellow-haired giant approached, took hold of the sword’s hilt, and pulled it out. From the back, Grayson saw that the animal-skin cape the giant wore had a hood that was partly the skin version of the animal’s face.

“What is it?” a giant asked.

“Like a stick,” said the yellow-haired. He whacked the flat of the sword against a tree, then tried and failed to break it over his knee, his braids and cape swinging with the effort. “Sharp like black rock. Others carry these weapons?”

“Yes, Toqto.” A giant near the cart pulled the sword from Randmuir’s scabbard and lifted it up to the yellow-haired giant.

“Collect them,” Toqto said. “To study. Don’t like a weapon that can kill the Yeke. Now finish loading the cart.”

The other giants each ran to the body of a pirate. A fifth giant that Grayson hadn’t seen before stepped out from behind a tree and stalked toward Danno. He was by far the shortest of the giants, though he was still two heads taller than any pirate. His leather was black, stitched with zigzags rather than crisscrosses. He wore a wolf-skin cape with the hood up, which made it look like he had the face of a wolf. He crouched in front of Danno, side by side with Haroan, though he couldn’t see the wolf-like shadir. He reached out.

“Stop!” Grayson pushed through the tree and out of the Veil. “Don’t touch him,” he said, standing. “He’s my friend.”

The giant turned, and Grayson could see the face under the hood. Huge brown eyes fixed on his, so intense it felt like such a look might cause pain if Grayson let it go on too long. A beard the color of fire clung to the giant’s cheeks and chin. He pushed off the wolf’s-head hood, which showed that his hair was bright orange as well.

“Speak Yeke, dirtman?” he asked.

Grayson crouched beside Danno, tapping his shoulder. “Get up, Dan. Hurry.”

Danno jumped to his feet at Grayson’s side. The orange-haired giant reached for Grayson, so he stepped into the Veil, ran to the giant’s other side, then pushed back out.

“Over here,” he said.

The giant turned, grunted in surprise. “Dirtman moves fast, Toqto,” he said over his shoulder. “Magic is here.”

The other giants had loaded the pirates onto the cart and stood guarding them with obsidian-tipped spears.

“Always you are last, Ulagan,” Toqto said. “Be quick about your task or your uncle will beat you again.”

Ulagan scowled, then lunged at Grayson, who again pushed through the Veil, this time exiting beside Toqto.

“Ulagan speaks the truth,” Grayson said. “Don’t doubt him again.” Then, just to be safe, he popped to the middle of the clearing, well out of anyone’s reach.

Ulagan dropped to his knees in the snow. “A god-man! Ah-oom.”

Toqto and the other giants knelt as well, some calling out, “Ah-oom, ah-oom.”

Shocked by their behavior, Grayson thanked Arman that he had listened to Onika’s message. But now what?

“What word carry you from the godhead?” Toqto the yellow-haired asked Grayson.

A word from God? Grayson scrambled for something true. “Listen well to me.” Onika had often started that way. But what did Arman want to tell these giants? “The God, um, the godhead is named Arman. I am his servant. He has brought his chosen people to this land. Many enemies followed, but all who come in the name of Arman should be given aid.”

For a long second there was silence. Grayson waited, unsure if he’d said the right thing or not. Just as he opened his mouth to try something else, one of the giants nodded.

“As you say, god-man, it will be done.” Ulagan the wolf stood and walked toward Grayson, who had to remind himself not to be afraid of the orange-haired mountain of a man. “If it pleases you, I will walk as your protector.”

Grayson fought the urge to smile. “A god-man needs no protector, but I would not deny anyone the pleasure of serving me.”

From the cart, Fonu snorted. He and his two shadir were staring. Several of the pirates were awake now and looked on Grayson as well, some with wonder, some with fear. Grayson had shocked them all, no doubt.

Ulagan bowed. “As you say, god-man. What of the little one?”

Danno stood shivering in the snow, eyes full and frightened. “Danno stays with me.”

“We go,” Toqto said.

He set off through the trees. The giants pulled the cart after him. Ulagan followed with Grayson and Danno.

Grayson didn’t like having brought himself to the attention of Fonu the mantic and his shadir, but he had likely saved the pirates from whatever horrible fate the giants had originally planned. Was that why Arman had wanted Grayson to show his powers to these people? To protect them? What was he supposed to do now? He wished he could ask Onika, but he had no idea where she was or if he’d ever see her again. He was on his own now, alone with his powers and the permission to use them.

Arman, keep him from doing something foolish.

As they trekked through the snowy wood, Grayson asked Ulagan many questions. They were headed to the village of Zuzaan, which was the home of the Ahj-Yeke, which translated as forest giants. These giants were ruled by a headman named Bolad mi Aru.

“He is my uncle,” Ulagan said. “I am from the Uul-Yeke.” This translated as mountain giants. “We follow the wolf and keep no slaves. When my father died, I came to live here.”

“Sorry about your father,” Grayson said. “Why do the Ahj-Yeke take slaves?”

“To hunt the tsok.”

The translated word seemed wrong. “They hunt beetles?”

“Oom. The tsok live in the narrow caves beneath the mountains. Yeke are too big to gather them. Many Yeke believe the tsok give strength, but Uul-Yeke are strong without them.”

“What is he saying?” Danno whispered to Grayson.

“He’s talking about his village. I’m trying to learn more about them.”

“They killed Satu,” Danno said.

“Because he killed first. Don’t worry. I don’t think they mean to hurt us.” Though Grayson wasn’t sure about that.

He tried to keep Ulagan talking just to drown out the continual voices in his head. The two girls were still fighting. He’d heard no more about the woman named Eudora, but now a man was arguing with his wife about a tear in his shirt, and two other men were discussing ships that had been destroyed by ice.

Several hours later the group entered a village of stone houses, each domed with snow-covered thatched roofs. The snow on the ground had been cleared to form a ridged pathway that wound around the houses. They met only two giants out in the cold, and both stepped off the path to let the cart go by. Grayson caught sight of several pale humans, clad in furs and raking paths in the snow. Two more pales were struggling to pull a cart loaded with a stack of longboats made from some kind of animal skin. After the fifth or sixth turn, the giants passed into a clearing and approached a whole-stone fortress built into the side of a mountain. An aboveground river in a deep crack ran along the front of the fortress, and they could not enter until some giants inside lowered a walkway over the crack.

Toqto entered first, followed by the cart, the wooden wheels of which clattered over the walkway. Ulagan, Grayson, and Danno brought up the rear. The winter chill lessened inside, but it was difficult to see. Grayson kept close to Ulagan as the giant walked through a spacious and empty chamber. In the center of the room, a half wall bordered a stairwell that zigzagged several levels up and down.

Toqto left the others behind and climbed the stairs. He was holding Satu’s bronze sword. “Bring those two along, Ulagan.”

Ulagan led Grayson and Danno up the stairs behind the golden-haired giant and his strange brown animal cape. Ragaz the shadir followed, trailing alongside Grayson’s feet. The rest of the pirates remained on the entry level.

Though Grayson was as big as a grown man now, the height of each step felt awkward to climb and quickly made his legs sore.

“Where are we going?” he asked Ulagan.

“Toqto must report to the headman. We captured you and your friends as slaves, but if the headman sees your magic, he might change his mind and let you go.”

That did not comfort Grayson in the least. “They mean to enslave us,” Grayson murmured to Danno. “Ulagan thinks I should try to convince the headman not to.”

“Can you do that?” Danno asked.

“I don’t know.”

They ascended two full flights of stone steps and entered a warm and bright room. Grayson’s cheeks tingled at the change in temperature. In the center of a torch-lined wall, a large pile of sticks and bark covered with blankets of fur and leather created a sort of nest. Atop it sat a giant, cross-legged and cross-armed. He had pale skin like Onika, but his hair was black and done up in four fat, looped braids that hung with their ends tied back at the top, where they were lashed in tubes of hemp and red yarn. Like Toqto this headman also wore the hide of a brown animal over his shoulders like a cape, though his seemed to have been taken from a much larger beast. He wore a crown of animal claws, which looked like twigs on such a large head. He had a square, scowling face and dark, suspicious eyes. His massive shoulders and arms were twice as wide as Ulagan’s.

Toqto the yellow-haired bent to lay Satu’s sword on the floor by the nest, then went down on both knees. Ulagan knelt beside him, looking nearly two full heads shorter.

“Sixteen slaves captured, Headman,” Toqto said. “Dirtmen from another land with skin like soil and weapons that do not break. Among them this god-man, who can do magic. He chose Ulagan as his protector.”

The headman picked up the bronze sword and inspected it. “Show him to me.” His voice was low, like a growl.

“Move forward, god-man,” Ulagan the wolf whispered.

Grayson slipped around the giants and came to stand at Ulagan’s side. With the giant kneeling, they were nearly the same height.

“Why come you to us, god-man?” the headman asked in his low voice.

“Arman, God of all gods, sent me to you,” Grayson said, slightly terrified, but he believed Onika’s word, so he felt justified in making the claim. “He has brought his chosen people to this land and asks that you give aid to all who come in his name.”

The headman grunted. “Not know this god you speak of. Why should I release slaves?”

Grayson scrambled for an answer. “Myself and this youth Danno are the only servants of Arman here. Release us, keep the others, and you will have earned the favor of Arman.”

“Magic he wields is impressive, Uncle,” Ulagan said.

“Show me this magic.”

Grayson considered popping over to the headman to put up his animal hood, then popping back, but that seemed a childish prank. “My magic has many abilities,” Grayson said. “The first is to speak any language. I can also travel at a thought.” He jumped through the Veil, appearing on Toqto’s left, moved to the doorway, then popped back where he had been standing.

A smile stretched across Bolad’s hardened face, revealing several rotten teeth. “Very well, god-man. You and your friend will go free. But first you must share story tonight at feast where you are honored guest.”

After leaving Bolad mi Aru’s chamber, Ulagan took Grayson and Danno to the bowels of the fortress and into a steamy stone chamber. The air smelled sour, and at first Grayson couldn’t see. Slowly he made out that the steam was rising from a reamway that ran past the far end of the chamber. The sight of an underground river in this new land filled him with memories of home. Several pale men were cleaning the floor. Another sat cross-legged next to a stack of animal-skin longboats.

Ulagan left them to bathe. In spite of a few mosquitoes, the bath was the most comfort Grayson had experienced in months. Somehow the water managed to warm his very bones, which had been frozen for weeks. He might have stayed in that reamway for the rest of his days had the voices not seemed so much louder in that place and had Ulagan not come back to fetch them. The giant brought clean clothing: scratchy hemp shirts, some leather breeches, and two pair of soft fur boots, which shockingly fit.

“Things little brother outgrew,” Ulagan told them. “You are hungry, oom?”

“Oom,” Grayson said.

The giants feasted in an open chamber on the ground floor of the fortress. A fire pit in the center cast golden light over the room, making the pale faces glow. Bolad had a second nest throne situated on the wall opposite the entrance. Though currently empty, it was the first thing Grayson saw upon entering the room with Ulagan. Larger groups of giants sat on swaths of fur or leather with a collection of stubby candles between them. There were no tables. Pale slaves carried around paper-like bowls filled with greasy meat, some kind of flatbread, and what first looked like rounds of wet charcoal.

Ulagan approached one such slave. He took a piece of flatbread and used it to pick up a chunk of meat. “Eat bread and meat.” He gestured toward the tray. “I avoid tsok.”

Danno and Grayson exchanged glances of disgust, then examined the pile of beetles. They were black and slimy—covered in some kind of sauce. They each grabbed some bread and meat. Ulagan began a conversation with another giant, so Grayson spoke to the slave. The man looked to be in his twenties, but the rings around his eyes made him seem much older. “You’re human.”

“I am Conaw, taken from my village in a raid. Who are you to be treated with such courtesy?”

“I am Grayson. And this is Danno. I can, uh . . . I can do magic.”

Conaw’s eyes widened and he lowered his voice. “If that is true, you must free us. For too long the Puru have had no champion.”

Free the slaves? Could that be Grayson’s purpose here? “I will think on it,” he said.

Conaw smiled and bowed his head. “Enjoy your dinner, Son of Gray.”

“Oh, I’m not . . .” But Conaw was already walking away.

A cheer rose up, drowning out all other voices. Bolad mi Aru entered the room with two giants, followed by Randmuir and his men, whose hands were bound behind their backs. Four more giant guards ended the line.

Ragaz the shadir flitted over to Grayson, circled his waist, and soared back to Fonu, who stood behind Randmuir. The creature whispered in his master’s ear. Fonu’s gaze settled on Grayson, and the look in the man’s dark eyes made him shiver.

Bolad’s men had the pirates sit in a row along the wall adjacent from Bolad’s nest, where the headman had already taken his seat. Grayson and Danno remained with Ulagan, standing against the wall opposite the pirates.

The headman helped himself to some bread and meat and a handful of beetles from a slave’s tray, then uttered a strange trilling cry, “Ah-loo ah-loo ah-loo ah-loo ah-loooooo . . .”

The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on the headman.

“The forces of winter have brought to us a god-man and his tribe of dirtmen. Come, god-man, and tell us the tale of your people, your god, and your magic.” Bolad motioned Grayson forward.

All eyes fixed upon Grayson. He glanced at Randmuir and the other pirates, noting their mixed expressions of curiosity, frustration, or annoyance. Grayson must be careful. More than anything, he wanted to return to the Armanian king, where he would find Jhorn, Onika, and Sir Kalenek. He recalled what Onika liked to say when she caught him in a lie. “Truth brings freedom.”

So Grayson told about growing up in Magonia with Jhorn and Onika. He told about Onika’s prophecies of the Five Woes and the Rescuer who would lead them to safety and how Sir Kalenek had done just that, taking them on a journey across the Painted Dune Sea. He told about the destruction of Lâhaten, the sinkhole after the flood, and traveling underground to the Port of Jeruka. Then of sailing on the Baretam all the way to Armania, getting lost when he’d tried to board the Seffynaw, and how thieves had stolen the dinghy. He shared how the Five Realms had died before his eyes and sank into the sea like a castle made of sand when the tide comes in. How he had ended up with the Magonian witches. How he’d used his magic to hide. And when he came to this part of the story, he pushed into the Veil, drawing a gasp from the crowd. He exited the Veil beside Bolad’s nest, which brought forth a second gasp, this time with applause and cheers. He went on to share how the great Rescuer Sir Kalenek had saved him again. How Grayson had rowed through the dark sea and sung to the serpent. How he had come aboard the pirate ship and joined their crew.

He rather enjoyed the way the audience hung on his every word, and he realized then that his story was truly remarkable.

He ended with how Ulagan and his group had brought them here, and the giants cheered.

Bolad cut through the din with a request. “Show more magic!”

Grayson relented and made a show of popping around the room, swiping paper bowls of food and delivering them to others, snuffing out candles, and tugging on fur rugs or leather mats. It was far too long before he finally got to sit and eat his fill. He was well into his third piece of meat when he heard a voice in his head that was different from the others.

“I know what you are.” The voice belonged to Master Fonu, who was seated across the room.

Grayson met the man’s gaze, fighting back the urge to shiver.

“A root child is the proper term,” Fonu said in Grayson’s mind. “Master Jhorn shouldn’t have taken you from your mother.”

The air tickled Grayson’s eyes. Jhorn hadn’t taken him from anyone. Grayson’s mother had died in childbirth.

Fonu chuckled, and the nearby candlelight reflected in his dark eyes. “Your thoughts betray you, boy. I wasn’t certain you were that specific root child, but that you know Master Jhorn is all the answer I need. Your grandfather and aunt will be happy to know you are alive and well. Ragaz, tell them.”

The red shadir vanished. Grayson’s mouth went dry as he realized he’d fallen for Fonu’s trap. But how could the man hear his thoughts? Mantics couldn’t do that.

“It is a new magic,” Fonu said. “Help me and I will teach you to use it.”

Grayson shook his head, trying not to think about anything.

“No? Then I will kill your friend.”

Beside Grayson, Danno started to cough. The boy grasped his throat and wheezed.

Magic! Fonu still must have access to evenroot. Fear burned in Grayson’s stomach. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Agree to translate for me, and I’ll stop,” Fonu said.

Translate? That’s all he wanted? “I agree.”

Danno stopped coughing. Grayson fetched him a cup of water, and the boy guzzled it down.

Gasps across the room pulled Grayson’s attention to Fonu, who stood with his hands unbound and lifted like some kind of jester about to perform. A wave of one hand and a food tray rose from a slave’s grasp and floated in the air.

“Behold, I am Fonu, great sorcerer of Haroan the wolf god.”

Reluctantly, Grayson translated.

Fonu waved his other hand and Bolad mi Aru floated into the air, nest and all. Around the room, giants responded with shouts, gasps, and whispers.

“Down!” the headman yelled. “Put me down.”

“Free my companions and give us your best rooms,” Fonu said. “We will be staying awhile.”

Grayson translated this, to which the headman replied, “Oom, free the dirtmen.”

Fonu returned the nest to its position at the front of the room. Some of the giants clapped. The guards set about untying the pirates. Ulagan leaned close to Grayson, his brows knit tightly.

“He blasphemes the wolf. Is he a servant of your Arman?”

“No,” Grayson said. “He is not.”