Niya’s breaths pumped harsh in her lungs as the heavy movements of the animal fought with her own as she sent a blow of her magic toward the feline.
A wink of red sparked out of the corner of her eye, Alōs shoving the Prism Stone into his pocket before he twisted, pushing out green pulses of his powers.
But the damn cat was nimble. Because it was a cat, and it pounced away from each surge of their spells.
Niya wondered then if animals held the Sight or if they could merely sense magic, as they could sense other oddities humans could not.
But Niya’s musings were soon stolen from her as the stone floor began to rumble with new meaning.
“Giants!” she cried as she and Alōs turned to find five of them crashing down the hall behind the cat who chased them.
Normally she could gather and use the motion around her, but this was too much. Everything charging toward them only made Niya feel like she was drowning in her gifts rather than controlling them.
Alōs cursed. “Stop using your magic,” he rushed to say as they continued to flee back to the domed room.
“But why?” she shouted. Even if she could not do much against the giants, hopefully it could buy them a little time.
“Because we’ve seen how they treat those gifted,” Alōs said hurriedly. “It will almost ensure our deaths.”
His words sank in, adding to the weight already pushing her down. They were not going to escape.
For her father had been right—in a few quick strides the giants were upon them, more arriving at the other end.
They were trapped.
Niya scurried to the wall of the hall along with Alōs, attempting to bury themselves into the vines, but then large hands swatted down, ripping out plants in violent yanks.
She was knocked unsteady, the thick motion of so many moving at once dizzying her bearings further. Somewhere at her side she heard Alōs call her name, but her head spun, and in the next moment she felt a force like boulders shove her from the wall, and she was dropped into a large glass cage.
She hit against the hard surface, bumping into Alōs as it was turned and twisted until finally righted. She collapsed onto the wooden bottom, Alōs beside her, as they were swiftly lifted up and brought eye level to a circle of toothy-grinning giants.
A distant meow could be heard far below.
“Visitors,” one rumbled, his breath fogging the glass.
“And at this late hour,” tsked another.
“Our chief will not be pleased,” a female pointed out. “But once they’re cooked up with some of his favorite seasoning, he’ll be happy.”
“So you are cannibals,” Niya couldn’t help blurting out from where she crouched.
The giant holding them spun the cage, causing her and Alōs to fall back.
“How odious you smalls always are,” he said. “Cannibalism would mean we eat our own kind. You most certainly are not our kind.”
His companions laughed as they made their way forward, parading her and Alōs past all the other giants. They drew quite a long procession as they entered a throne room.
A twinkling canopy greeted them, more firebugs hanging from jars, while thick trees stood like columns leading up to a pillowed dais. On either side, Niya glimpsed more beasts gathering in the dim light, their green and blue skin blending into their environment.
The giant who carried them stopped a few paces away from the front of the throne room as drumbeats pounded out.
Niya’s heart thumped along with the heavy rhythm, fear prickling over her skin as Alōs stepped closer to her. A brush of a finger ran along hers. I am here, the touch seemed to say. While she was grateful for the reassurance, Niya had entered many throne rooms before, stood before the oppressive gaze of the Thief King, and because of that, she had learned how to bury deep her dread and stand tall before all.
She might have been small compared to those in the room, her gifts trapped under their weight, but her courage matched them in size.
With a hardening gaze, she clenched her hands into fists and trained her eyes on the new giant who entered. He walked with a hunch, as though he were a tired mountain, a thick layering of necklaces weighing down his front beneath a silver beard.
Settling into the pile of pillows on the dais, he rubbed his drooping eyes. “Tell me, Dthum, what was so important to summon me from sleep and those of us who were still making merry?”
“Sire, I caught some night crawlers.” Dthum placed their cage on the ground before the chief’s large feet. “They had made their way into the manor.”
The crowd rumbled with the news as the old giant blinked his eyes clear, leaning forward to peer at them through the glass.
“It has been some time since we have had smalls here,” he said, curiosity lighting his features. “Some time indeed. What herbs have you risked your lives to come for?”
Alōs stepped forward. “We have stolen no plants, sire.”
“Of course you haven’t,” said the chief with a wave of his hand. “To steal means you have already successfully absconded with the items. You haven’t successfully done anything. But you are here. In my manor. Which means you risked your life for a reason. So I shall ask again: Which herbs have you come for? Mystical Moss? Make Me Fly Ficus? We may not be gifted creatures, but we are collectors of many magical items and know how to harvest some of the powers the lost gods took with them. And we only keep the most rare in the manor.”
“We do not care for your botany.”
The chief threw back his head, letting out thunderous laughs, soon echoed by his subjects. “Of course you do,” he assured. “You smalls are all the same. Always taking, never giving. Do you know what it is like to be constantly stolen from for centuries? We have found ways to quiet the ships on our shores, however. Islands with monsters are much more peaceful than one would think.” The chief displayed a row of file-pointed teeth.
“My companion speaks true.” Niya stepped forward. “We are mere explorers who have heard of what lives on Hallowed Island. We are not here to take anything but to observe. Look at us for the truth. We come only as two and carry no purse or sack for looting, merely the clothes on our backs. We have come to see for ourselves if rumors of the cannibal giants were accurate. We can now see how unjust Aadilor has been to your kind. You are much more than that. You are great creatures, with intelligent minds and beautiful horticultural skills.” She gestured to the lush, leafy room. “Let us leave, and we can carry tales of your wit and engineering. We can help give you trade rather than thieves.”
The old giant studied Niya from his perch, an amused spark entering his dark eyes. “Well spoken, small female. If such words had been given in times past, they may have moved me. But you see, we have grown comfortable in our isolation. In fact, we have thrived in it. While your intentions may be sound, we know the tales of war and greed of your kind. Peace is never long at hand. I fear your trip here will end the same as all the others. The only question which remains is who would like to be eaten first.”
A true pang of fear entered Niya’s chest then, and she looked toward Alōs.
Was this really it?
Had they made it so close to the finish line for it all to end now?
The idea of her death had always been a faraway vision. Inevitable, to be sure, but never now. And certainly not here, eaten by giants.
A shiver ran through her, and whether her magic was useless or not, she would not go down without a fight. Her powers swirled ready in her gut, a growing ball of fire. If she could not burn these thick-skinned giants, surely she could burn the plants that surrounded them.
She waited for Alōs to give the word, a nod, some signal for them to start their final dance.
But he appeared unmoved by the chief’s words as he dusted off the bits of dirt from his coat and shirt. “Doesn’t such monotony bore you?” asked Alōs.
The chief’s brows lifted. “Does eating exotic, well-seasoned meat ever bore you?”