CHAPTER TWELVE

The giant swung the tree trunk down. Marasoldig lunged away. She stood and swung the battle-axe wide, its blade sunk into the giant's wrist, slicing off a hand. It let go of the tree, but swung wildly with its other arm. The giant struck Marasoldig and she was flung back hard, slamming into a broken marble column. The air knocked out of her and she dropped the battle-axe. She tried to breathe, but could not.

The giant gripped its stump and howled in pain. Dark blood sputtered every which way. It turned to Marasoldig and started for her.

Marasoldig crawled to the axe, still trying to breathe. Just before she gripped the axe, the giant's hand wrapped around her neck and she was lifted into the air. She glared down at the giant's stupid eye. A blind rage. She accepted her end. At least she left fighting.

A clear note rang out in the air. A fast little song, repeated again and again. She and the giant turned their heads.

It was Slim Rowon on the wagon, Davram beside him. He played a wooden flute.

From the ledge of the bridge a small gray mouse crawled out and stood before the giant. The giant gasped.

Marasoldig fell to the ground as the giant let her go and began to back up to the door. Soon it was flat against the wood. The mouse stopped when Slim Rowon stopped playing the song.

"Davram. Join me. Sing as loud as you want."

Slim Rowon played the flute again, and Davram soon joined. His voice rang out loud across the ravine. They sang and sang. Marasoldig finally caught her breath. She joined the wagon, climbing up.

"You are musicians. The arts," she said.

"Yes," Slim Rowon said. "We told you."

"You did not."

"Oh. I thought we did. Well, I am a flutist, and Davram a singer. I taught him this song. Oh look! They come!"

Slim Rowon pointed and laughed. From above, crawling out of the castle from every crack and window, down the cliff and to the bridge. A line of mice, thousands of them streaming down.

The wave of mice rushed towards the giant. The giant saw this horror and screamed as the army of mice covered its body.

And Davram sang.

"Magic..." Marasoldig said.

The giant, now covered in a moving coat of gray, tumbled back, falling over the edge with a river of mice for company.

The giant tumbled down into a foggy unknown depth.

Davram stopped singing and the silence was eerie. Slim Rowon was smoking his pipe.

"Now that got my blood all boiling. Let us take a breather before this next leg. What do you say?"

"We will rest,"　Marasoldig said.

Slim Rowon built a campfire a few feet from the wooden doors. The sun was soon setting.

Marasoldig was bruised all over. Her neck and face were purple and blue.

"Those colors look bad," Slim Rowon said.

"I can fight. Nothing is broken. Night is soon. Let us sleep and enter in the daylight, when evil is weakest."

"Sounds wise to me," Slim Rowon said.

"Give me the pipe," she said and Slim Rowon gave it to her.

She smoked it slowly.

"I've got avayadas as well."

"Little or big?"

"Little."

"Yes."

He gave her a handful of dried caps which she ate down. She finished with Slim Rowon's ale.

The three laid around the fire, getting comfortable. Davram hummed the song of the sun, and with the fire, they became warm and dry. The miserable rain finally to an end as well.

"You should have told me you knew the arts," Marasoldig said.

"I thought we had. Must have slipped my mind." Slim Rowon blew out some smoke and handed the pipe to her. She took it and smoked.

"Davram is also Farah," he said.

"Farah," Marasoldig said. "A rare thing."

"Yes. He is a child, though he looks like a young man. He is months old. Created by a gardener in a valley west of here."

"I will protect him."

"I saved your life as well. Will you follow me?"

"No. I would slit my own throat if I had to follow a man as useless as you."

"Enough with the insults. It was my song that brought that mouse."

"How did you know the giant would stop?"

"I've seen giants twice before. One larger, one a little smaller. My uncle speared one by catching a littler of mice and throwing them into the giant's lair, and in its panic, we would run in and pierce its heart or brain. The second time I was accompanying a great hunter of our land, Ruthor Rarlgud. He had captured a bear and let it loose on the giant. It was a close match, but the bear finally tore out the giant's throat and we scared it off with fires. Horrid things. Taking our livestock. Taking our people sometimes."

Marasoldig stared at the fire for a bit. She passed the pipe back to Slim Rowon.

"It was a good idea," she said.

"Yes."

Slim Rowon smoked then passed the pipe to Davram, who finished it.

"You fight well and hard," Slim Rowon said.

"I have been trained from birth to kill anything which stands in my way."

"Trained by who?"

"I cannot say."

"Splendid. Davram, I will teach you the Song of Ani Vatra, a young maiden fair."

He played the song on his flute, then sang the lyrics with his voice. A song about true love. An evil queen is defeated. Ani Vatra marries Vanya Ri, a prince of some other land. They live happily ever after and have nine children.

"A grotesque story," Marasoldig said. "Make believe to soften your children. Life is suffering. Not your fanciful tale. Life is violence."

"There can be happy endings," Slim Rowon said. "I will have a happy ending. I will win with gold in my pockets and a lady by my side."

"We shall see."

"Be more hopeful. We could use some good cheer."

He chewed some mushrooms down and shut his eyes. Davram soon fell asleep.

Marasoldig stayed up until the moon was over head, her eyes staring into the fire.

She stared into the dancing flame and she thought about death.