Giant Page 3

  He gasped. It came from a faery! Though bedraggled and smudged with dirt, the tiny creature flickered ever so slightly. Pale blue light glowed on her whole body, from the tip of her nose to the edges of her wings, which seemed as evanescent as rainbows.

  With greatest care, Big Feet picked up the faery and held her in the palm of his hand. Smaller than his thumbnail, she quivered, glowing weakly. Slowly, she seemed to revive, straightening her two antennae, which each ended with a rounded knob that resembled a bell. Gold in color, those bell-shaped knobs were the only parts of her that weren’t radiant blue.

  The faery’s light grew stronger, bit by bit. Finally, she opened her eyes, which shone as bright blue as the sunlit sky.

  For several heartbeats, the faery looked up at Big Feet. Then she shook her antennae—and a slow, somber ringing filled the air. For those golden knobs were indeed bells. And now they rang out in sorrow.

  “My family,” moaned the little faery, in a voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. “My family—my whole colony—attacked without any warning! By that . . . that . . .”

  “Wyvern,” finished the giant. “They is truly bad, horribobilous things.”

  Leaning his face closer, so that his bulbous nose almost touched the delicate creature in his hand, he said softly, “I’m so verily sorry for you.”

  The faery ceased ringing her antennae bells. Peering up at the giant, she said sadly, “Today I lost everything. My family, my home . . . everything.”

  She paused, quivering. “But I also found something.”

  “What?”

  “Someone very brave.”

  Big Feet blushed, his nose turning bright red. “You is muchly too kind. All I did was—”

  “Try. You tried to help.” Looking deep into his eyes, she added, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, little friend. Certainly, definitely, absolutely.”

  Her strength regained, she beat her glowing wings and floated gracefully upward. She glanced at the terrible destruction around them, her wings whirring so fast they looked like a pair of tiny blue clouds upon her back. Once again, her bells chimed sorrowfully.

  After a moment, she turned back to him and said softly, “I’m glad to have met you, big friend.”

  He nodded. “Me too, ever so muchly.”

  The sound of her golden bells lightened a bit, almost to a ring of gratitude. “Go now . . . and live with light.”

  “You too, little flier.” Scrunching his nose in thought, he said, “Little friend, little flier . . . could I maybily just call you LF?”

  “Elf? That’s a pretty strange name for a faery. But sure, if that’s what you’d like.” She floated closer, hovering above his nose. “And what shall I call you?”

  “Big Friend is good enough. Certainly, definitely, absolutely.”

  5.

  BRIGHT FLAMES

  Dusk was deepening by the time Big Feet approached the city gates, covering the surrounding hills with veils of shadow. Even before he left the forest’s mesh of trees, he saw the bright flames of the bonfire. Reaching high above the walls of giantstone that surrounded Varigal, the flames slapped at the darkening sky and shot sparks upward.

  Young though he was, he’d seen a few such bonfires before. And he knew that those flames rising from the city’s vast market square could mean only one thing.

  Celebration! he thought gleefully. Something special must be happening tonight.

  Then he realized, with a tingle of delight, that every celebration meant food. Lots and lots of tasty, mouthwatering food.

  Indeed, as he strode through the main gates, he caught the scent of roasting ubermushrooms . . . one of his most favorite treats. Fincayra’s largest mushrooms, they grew only in the darkest groves of spruce and swelled to the size of a giant’s fist. Roasted on an open fire, glazed with thick apple cider, and dusted with tarragon and thyme, they had always delighted him. Especially when he dipped them in honey . . . which he did with almost every kind of food.

  As he turned into the market square, the enormous bonfire crackled and snapped ferociously—reminding him, for an instant, of the wyvern’s angry snarls. But that memory quickly vanished, replaced by all the colorful sights and wondrous smells of a festive celebration.

  Giants of every description filled the square, some of them standing taller than the stone columns holding intricate sculptures, carved by skilled giants long gone. Wearing colorful hats and vests and capes made from rough barkcloth or silken grasses, they traded stories and jokes around the bonfire, jostled each other in games, swilled barrel-size flasks of ale, or hurled fallen trees onto the flames. One pair of giants, twin sisters with lavender hair and square jaws, made soulful music with their enormous fiddles, while giants young and old danced to the songs. The two guards from the gates arrived, having left their posts to join the fun; immediately, they set aside their treespears and picked up huge flasks of foamy ale.

  Over by the gargantuan tables loaded with food, Sister Behemoth waved enthusiastically at Big Feet. He waved back, somewhat awkwardly, not wanting to tempt her to give him another kiss. Then he spied Lumpster and Greeno, who were busy throwing sacks of grain at a painting of a wide-eyed dragon on the side of a building. One sack burst open and sprayed grain all over a surprised old fellow who was juggling several of the biggest garlics Big Feet had ever seen.

  Continuing to maneuver through the crowd, he nearly tripped over a giant who was lying on her back while someone painted her face with radiant colors. At last, he spotted the person he most wanted to see.

  “Motherly!” he called, seeing Vonya in animated conversation with her good friend Umdahla, whose azure-blue hair was unmistakable.

  Vonya promptly said goodbye to Umdahla and strode over to join him. Clearly dressed for the occasion, she had tied back her bushy hair with a rope and decorated it with white pelican feathers. She wore a handsome plaid blouse and her finest barkcloth skirt. And in the spirit of celebration, she had donned her favorite wagon wheels, all painted bright yellow, three on each ear.

  “My son,” she said as she hugged him to her chest. “Back from your outing, are you?”

  “Yes indeedily.”

  She studied him with care. “You look different. Maybe,” she added with a twinkle, “you’re feeling even more grown-up?”

  He almost grinned. “Mostly I’m feeling hungrily!”

  “Go eat, then.” Vonya nodded, clinking her wagon wheel earrings. “You’ve earned your supper.”

  As he started to walk toward the food tables, he paused and asked, “What’s this celebration about, anyway?”

  She merely chuckled. “Go eat. I’ll tell you later.”

  Needing no more encouragement, he jogged over to the ubermushrooms turning on a spit by the bonfire. Even as he approached, the giant who was roasting them—a wide-shouldered fellow whose nickname, Sideways, came from how he needed to turn to pass through any doorway—greeted him merrily.

  “Come fer some tasty mushers, have ye, laddie?”

  Big Feet nodded enthusiastically. With a practiced twist, Sideways speared a freshly roasted mushroom and tossed it over. The young giant smiled gratefully as he caught it, then immediately dunked it in a huge tub of honey.

  Seconds later, he bit into the treat and savored its sweetness as honey dribbled down his chin. He made quick work of the mushroom—and then did the same to two more.

  Moving to the food tables, he drained a wooden flask of pear cider before gobbling down a plate of lemonleaf wraps filled with minced elk. Barely pausing to take a breath, he downed a cinnamon doughnut as big as his nose, a bowl of cashew meganuts, two slices of still-steaming apple pie (sweetened with extra honey, of course), a gigantic slab of mountain goat cheese, one overflowing handful of fried locusts (commonly called “crunchybugs”), and half of an enormous sea trout stuffed with hot chili peppers. Plus, for good
measure, another honey-dipped mushroom.

  He licked his sticky fingers—more to catch every last drop of honey than to clean them. Just then, above the din, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Big Feet!” called Vonya. “Come over here.”

  Still licking his fingers, he sallied to her side. “I never get tired of hearing you call my name.”

  She peered at him, a mysterious glint in her eyes. “Ah, but that’s the last time I will ever call you Big Feet.”

  Confused, he sputtered, “What? Why everly . . . what? Why?”

  Vonya drew a deep breath and said proudly, “This big celebration is because someone earned his true name today.”

  “Really? Who?”

  She ruffled his scraggly mane. “You, my dear. This celebration is for you!”

  “Me?” he asked, still confused.

  “Yes indeed. Word has it you saved somebody’s life today.”

  He blinked at her in amazement. “How could you everly know that? And besides,” he added modestly, “she was really tiny—very, very smallsy.”

  “Small?” she retorted, her turn to be confused. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. After all, she fit snuggishly in my hand. Wings included!”

  “What in the world do you mean? We’re talking about Sister Behemoth! You saved her life at the cliffs, didn’t you?

  “Oh, that! Yes, I did.” He beamed, finally understanding. “Forgive me, Motherly. I’ve had a busily day saving people.”

  “Evidently.” Her smile then melted away. “But there’s one thing I just can’t forgive you for.”

  He hunched defensively. “What terribibulous thing did I do this time?”

  She tried to look at him sternly . . . but that only lasted an instant. “You ripped your britches again!”

  Pulling him close, she tousled his hair and said softly, “I don’t care a bit, my jelly roll. And I’m very, very proud of you.”

  He relaxed into her hug. For the first time this busy day, he felt neither very big nor very small. All he felt right now was . . . loved.

  “After what you’ve done today,” she said gently, “I believe you’ve learned the most important thing about being a giant.”

  “What’s that?”

  Just then someone tossed another tree on the bonfire, making the flames rise even higher than before. Her face aglow in the reflection, she answered with a single sentence: “Bigness means more than the size of your bones.”

  6.

  TRUE NAME

  Big Feet pulled himself back from Vonya’s embrace. Pondering her face, so bright in the bonfire’s flames, he asked, “Bigness isn’t about your bones? What in the worldly world does that mean?”

  Before she could reply, someone shouted—loud enough for even a gathering of festive giants to hear. “Attention, all of you! Attention!”

  Heads turned in the speaker’s direction. Conversations stopped midsentence; those eating fish and doughnuts and mushrooms paused; even wrestling adolescents froze. Lumpster, who was just about to throw another bag of grain at the wall, turned abruptly—too abruptly, as it happened, since he hurled the bag right at the juggler, flattening him and sending all his garlics flying.

  “Thank you,” declared the speaker, who was standing on top of a wooden platform used by merchants in the market square.

  A rough-looking fellow with tree branches braided into his hair and a belly the size of a boulder, he seemed entirely comfortable being the center of attention. Though he’d long ago earned his true name, everyone called him Blaster for his extraordinarily loud voice. Because of that quality, in fact, he’d been elected the mayor of Varigal. For what could possibly be more important than a loud voice to call to order a meeting of rowdy giants?

  “We are gathered tonight for a very special occasion!” So loud did he bellow that hundreds of pigeons, roosting in the rafters of the nearby buildings, took off in a frightened whir of wings.

  “And that is,” Blaster continued, “to give someone his true name. One of the youngest giants in history ever to gain such an honor.”

  Raising his hand, he pointed. “I mean you, Big Feet. We’ve all heard about your bravery today at the cliffs.”

  “It’s true!” shouted Sister Behemoth in her squeaky voice. “He saved my life!”

  Blushing so much that his nose could have been mistaken for a ripe sweet potato, Big Feet shuffled awkwardly. “Really . . . I just did—”

  “Something spectacular,” finished Blaster. “Now come on up here.”

  Unsure, the young giant hesitated. Then, drawing a deep breath, he made his way over to Blaster and clumsily climbed up beside him. Although it creaked under their weight, the platform held firm.

  “Today,” the mayor declared in a gravely serious tone, “I will greet you for the very first time with a traditional Giants’ Salute. As you may know, this salute is given only to someone who has earned our very highest respect.”

  Placing his hands on the honoree’s shoulders, he bellowed, “I salute you!” Then he raised his hands and slammed them down on those shoulders with great force.

  Big Feet staggered, but with all his strength, kept himself from crumpling under the blow. The platform, however, wasn’t so sturdy. Its wood cracked and burst apart, dropping both giants to the ground.

  Almost everyone, including Big Feet, burst out laughing. But the mayor tried to retain a sense of decorum, even as he climbed back to his feet and brushed the debris off his belly. “Ahem,” he said loudly. “Consider yourself saluted!”

  The crowd released a unanimous cheer. “Well done, well done!” shouted several giants, raising their flasks of ale and half-eaten doughnuts. Even the toppled juggler got to his feet and cheered—before tripping on one of his garlics and falling down again.

  “For giant-size bravery!” cried Sister, blowing the honoree a kiss. Unfortunately, in her excitement, she also sprayed slobber over several bystanders.

  Catching Vonya’s eye, Big Feet grinned broadly. She grinned back at him as her moist eyes reflected the firelight.

  “Now,” announced Blaster, “comes the most important part of the evening.”

  Turning to face his young companion, he declared, “By the power vested in me as your mayor, I will now reveal your true name. It is the name chosen by our elders this very afternoon.”

  All around the square, giants with gray or white hair nodded solemnly. Some wore curly beards or flowing manes; others had lost most of their hair except for their eyebrows. Every one of them gazed at Big Feet with expressions of pride and admiration.

  “Your name,” the mayor continued, “comes from the giants’ oldtongue—the ancient language of Fincayra’s first people.”

  Big Feet stood his tallest . . . which was, indeed, impressively tall. He waited to hear his true name spoken aloud for the very first time.

  “It is, of course, a relatively short name,” said the mayor, “because of your relatively short time with us so far.” He inhaled deeply and intoned: “Shimastimomolegavendernoodleterianoleeyami.”

  Pausing to take another breath, he added, “For everyday life . . . we’ll just call you Shim.”

  Facing the crowd, he cried, “Let’s hear it now for Shim!”

  The crowd burst into thunderous cheers and applause. They threw hats, food, flasks of ale, and even a few boots into the night sky. “Shim!” they shouted merrily. “Here’s to Shim!”

  Finally, as the cheers died down, the mayor cleared his throat. Never to be denied the final word, he declared, “This is a night of great joy for us all!”

  “No,” countered one lone voice, quavering but still loud enough to be heard. “No, it most certainly is not.”

  7.

  DANCE OF THE GIANTS

  The crowd of giants, so recently boisterous and joyful, fell completely silent. But for the steady
crackle and snap of the bonfire, not a sound could be heard. Everyone, young and old, turned toward the speaker, an elderly giant who had only just arrived at the gathering.

  Lunahlia, realized Shim. Like every other giant in Varigal, he recognized her—and watched in silence as she slowly made her way through the crowd, leaning heavily on her gnarled oaken staff. Her long white hair fell like a waterfall across her shoulders, glistening in the firelight. But more luminous still were her eyes, which shone like embers.

  Lunahlia was one of the oldest giants alive. More importantly, she was a true seer. Often, she looked distracted, her mind watching scenes that had happened elsewhere in Fincayra . . . or that hadn’t happened yet. The residents of Varigal, when confronted with something mysterious, would often say, “Only Lunahlia knows the truth.”

  Though Shim hadn’t seen much of the seer, he had joined Vonya a few times when she’d visited Lunahlia’s giantstone cottage on the farthest edge of the city. While the purpose of those visits had been to ask Lunahlia for help interpreting one of Vonya’s dreams, Shim had always felt like something more was going on. Lunahlia had continually watched him, as if she was trying to assess his character. Or maybe read his future. No wonder he’d always been uncomfortable in her presence—and very glad when those visits had ended.

  Now, as Lunahlia stepped into the center of the gathering, she raised her eyes. She looked directly at Shim—and scowled.

  Meeting her gaze, he shuddered. Though he’d only just been lauded for his bravery, he now felt weak in the knees.

  For a long moment, she watched him, twirling a strand of white hair in her wrinkled hand. Then, to his surprise, she spoke to him telepathically, sending words right into his mind.

  “Remember what you can of what I am about to say, young one.” Lunahlia paused, twisting the tip of her staff into the stone pavement. “But most of all . . . always remember that you really are a giant.”