The King of the Giants was silent for a very long time after she left. His eyes kept finding Mikahl, then lingering on the few inches of Ironspike that were exposed, and softly glowing at his hip. He was pondering the news of more dark creatures attacking people in his kingdom. Before running into this group, Borg had killed a red-eyed Hell Boar as it came up out of Westland’s Reyhall Forest into the mountains. The thing had run rampant through a herd, and almost killed a herdsman.
The leader of the wolf-pack returned just after dark. His muzzle showed pink and bloody in the firelight. Borg went off after the beast, and returned with a freshly killed doe. It was obvious that the wolf pack had killed more than one deer, because they all had bloody snouts and paws, and the doe Borg carried was intact, save for a small chunk that had been torn from its neck.
While Borg and Vaegon dressed the meat, King Aldar politely told Mikahl that he would speak to him later, after they had eaten, and in private, if Mikahl wished it so. Mikahl declined the need for privacy. As far as he was concerned, his friends could hear anything King Aldar had to say to him about the scrolls, the sword, and King Balton’s wishes. They were wrapped up in all this now as much as he was. At least it seemed so.
The savory smell of the doe’s haunches roasting over the open flames should have given Mikahl an appetite, but the fear and uncertainty of what was written in King Balton’s scrolls, and what the Giant King might tell him, turned his stomach into an icy knot.
Sensing his discomfort, the leader of the wolf-pack nuzzled his side, and sniffed at Ironspike’s exposed blade, until Mikahl started scratching him behind the ears. Again, the big wolf leaned into him.
Oddly, Mikahl found a deep and calming comfort in the weight of the powerful creature. He was thankful for it.
Chapter 39
“I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on,” King Aldar said after they had all eaten. “I think it would be best if I just tell you everything I can remember.”
The sun had long since left the sky. From behind a small bank of clouds, a half moon shone brightly, lining its edges in silver. Around that, hundreds upon hundreds of twinkling stars spread out as far as the eye could see. The air was chilly, but the fire was warm and blazing brightly.
Hyden used his bedroll to make a palette for Princess Greta, who insisted on sleeping near the horses. The horses didn’t mind the oversized girl so much as they minded the wolves, who were constantly watching over her. Mikahl and Hyden had done their best to soothe the animals, and for the moment, they seemed to be at relative ease.
“The blood recently shed on the sacred ground of the Leif Greyn Valley, around the Monolith, violated a pact that was made a very long time ago.”
The Giant King produced a pipe from a pocket inside his fur. He looked into its chamber, seemed satisfied with what he saw, and then lit it with a flaming twig from the fire. The chamber glowed as he puffed, and a billowy cloud escaped his mouth as he continued.
“Four, or maybe five, centuries ago, I forget exactly, but it’s not important. Way back then, a foolishly curious human wizard called forth a demon. This demon came to the earth unbound, and it quickly consumed that wizard’s soul. I forget the wizard’s name, but what’s important is that he was the High King’s Wizard.
“After tapping all of the wizard’s knowledge, the demon consumed the High King. His name I remember. King Steven he was called. He started war upon war, and by the blood of the dead, called forth more of his demon kind until he had an entire army of dark beings to command.
“It is also said that those human warriors, whose hearts and battlefield deeds were cruel enough, were sometimes granted a dark gift as well. When they were mortally wounded, they didn’t die. As undead, they fought on, and the Demon King’s army grew stronger and stronger, attacking us, the elves, and even the dwarves, when they could root them out of their holes.
“The Demon King was an abomination to all that is natural, and eventually even the dragons, who rarely meddled in human affairs, took offense at the dark power he had amassed. The elves lent their unique might, as did the dwarves, and of course the humans. Together, they battled the dark hordes, for what seemed like an age. Back and forth the battles turned, back and forth, until it began to seem like a hopeless fight.
“The demons were winning, even when they were being beaten on the fields. The very act of fighting them, of defending oneself, gave those dark things a feast of hatred and fear to feed upon.”
Hyden, excited and into the story, almost blurted out, “What happened then?” but he caught himself, remembering who it was that was speaking.
“Then one day,” the Giant King continued, “a human man came forth, a brave swordsman who was willing to give his life to right the wrong the human wizard had committed. He really just wanted vengeance for the death of his lover, but the bards, I think, like to leave that part out of it. He wasn’t afraid to die trying to exact his revenge though, so that gave him a sort of power over the demons.”
“Pavreal,” Hyden said aloud. He flushed darkly at the stern glances King Aldar, Mikahl, and Borg gave him for his interruption.