PROLOGUE:
PART TWO
Helga dodged at branches and winced as her feet in her threadbare shoes cracked against the unforgiving path of the wood, gasping for breath but upkeeping her sprint. She had seen the giant, right above the skyline, and she had ran.
She couldn't tell direction worth a damn when she was well sorted out, and now it was, frankly, even worse. She just ran in whichever direction she could muster, whichever direction seemed to be further from the giant.
She stumbled on a bit of branch fallen into the path, and she just barely caught herself on the branch of an oak, flying forward a bit, and swinging back.
Her chest heaved, her face was flushed and warm where her hair fell into it. She examined her feet as she attempted to catch her breath. Blood was starting to seep through her shoes, evidence that she was right, the pebbles and small stones were cutting their way into her feet.
She, with a frustrated, angry, wave, dismissed them, because there was nothing she could particularly do about it.
Her toes then tingled, and she felt as if something grew around them, a soft cushion.
She fell backwards in surprise, kicking her feet away, but the soft encasing remained.
She looked up at her feet, and they were encased in brown leather boots, a pair her father would never have ever bought for her. She touched them softly, with wonder.
And then the footsteps of the giant were closer behind her.
She wished she could magic away her breathing problems as she took another gulp of bruising, steely air, and took off again.
She happened upon a fork in the road, and stopped to catch her breath again, and cursed her own ignorance of the forest. It was fully possible that one could loop back up…directly into the footpath of the nearing giants. They took massive footsteps, covering the space Helga took minutes to clear in seconds.
She had chosen the wrong one, when she chose the one on the left. She ran straight into a clearing, with a cottage with a fight pursuing on the inside, and a, seemingly separate, one occurring on the outside. She wanted to curse herself and turn around, but she saw a horse, whinnying in its enclosure, as if it were deeply unhappy to be there.
And horse legs were much faster than human legs…but the risk was too great to approach the cottage. She was going to turn around, when she tripped on the toe of her boot, unused to such clunky footwear.
She looked back to the horse, and focused on the hatch of the enclosure. She stuck her hand out, focusing her energy just on the hatch, and with a curious twist of her hand, it unlocked. She realized then, that she couldn't very well magic the horse, it would choose where it wanted to go.
But strange for stranger, the horse rode up to her as if it knew her…as if it were familiar. She was fairly certain she had never seen it in her life, not that she was particularly friendly with any given horse. It was saddleless. She shut her eyes and ran her hands over the surprisingly calm horses' spine. When she ran her hand back in the other direction, it had a saddle.
She looked up, into the amazingly cooperative horse's eyes, and thought she could most definitely get used to this.
Gerald knew his thighs would ache for days as he galloped down the path. He was nearly to Arnold's cottage, whom he needed to warn as quickly as possible so he could get to the village before the giant. There was no real safe place to hide from a giant, except out of it's footpath. Warning would be enough. He had been fortunate enough to never witness it, but he had heard that a single footstep of a giant was enough to destroy an entire cottage.
He was riding up into the clearing, when his horse very nearly collided with another. Their horses reacted violently, jumping up. Gerald nearly fell off, and whoever his newfound associate was gave a shout of fright.
When the horses had the space to themselves, they circled each other pleasantly, as if the horses knew each other. The only odd thing was, Gerald knew the horse, knew the girl, knew the horse didn't belong to the girl.
"Why," he wheezed, "are you on Arnold's horse?'
"Who is Arnold?" She bit back viciously, tightening the reigns in her hand.
"How do you not know who Arnold is if you're coming down from his home," he gestured beyond her, "on his horse?" He gestured to Abner.
"Are you headed that way then?" She looked over her shoulder. "I don't think you want to be, Gerald." She leaned forward with more intensity, "have you seen Phoebe?"
He didn't want to admit he hadn't, but he also didn't want to say that if he had, he had lost her. "No," he nearly cursed. "I haven't."
She opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. She righted her horse, back in the direction Gerald came from, kicked Abner, and they continued down. She nearly tumbled off, a clumsy, inexperienced rider.
Gerald looked back in the direction he was headed. He didn't particularly trust Helga, claiming to not know of Arnold but having his horse. He wanted to check on the Shortmans, but somehow he had himself turned around, and following Helga's trot.
The horse's clicking hooves were deafening in the wood that was silent save for the now, very distant, shuddering footsteps. She must've known he was behind her, but she didn't say anything. and he wished he were in front so he could be moving slightly faster. For her awkwardness, she was moving quickly. When they came to another fork, she was choosing to move in the wrong direction. The village was the other way. Helga must've not been familiar with the wood, and the sign was poorly lit with the light of the stars as their only guide.
"Helga," he called out, pulling his horse to a stop. "You've gone the wrong way?"
"Have I?" She had galloped ahead a few yards. She pulled up, turning back with a curious look.
"Village is this way," he nodded to the right.
"Further away from the giant is this way," she jacked a thumb over her shoulder.
Gerald let his mouth fall open in shock. "You don't want to warn the village?"
Even in the distance, and the lowlight, he could see her raise a thick eyebrow, "You are, aren't you?" Abner was taking off again, she must have signaled him at some moment, "best of luck." She called, not bothering to look back. Or perhaps she couldn't, she, after all, wasn't a very good rider.
Arnold's everything was aching as he sat panting on a rock. He had run all the way past the village, or at least he thought so. His inexperience in the woods lended him not favors. The problem was he didn't have anywhere in particular to run to. He didn't know where he was supposed to be going, just not home. Home was all he wanted at the moment. He heard the distant galloping of a horse, and he groaned. He rolled over the rock, in a slow, melancholic movement. It was a half arsed attempt at hiding, but he didn't much fancy being a fugitive. Had it not been for his Grandma's frantic face and his Grandpa's sacrifice, he might've just let himself be caught already.
When he looked up from his, frankly, terrible rock hiding spot, he saw not a guard, but a familiar girl…on an extremely familiar horse. His body was racked with exhaustion, but he shoved himself up, opening his mouth to say some form of greeting and perhaps to inquire why she was, albeit poorly, riding his horse. And if she had stolen him, why she had stolen someone else's saddle…as the dark brown one she had on Abner certainly wasn't his.
Abner had slowed to a trot a few yards ahead, and Arnold smiled, sitting up on the rock, and opening his arms for Abner to come to him. With loyalty, and to the utter confusion of the girl on the horse, he did.
"…hello." She said flatly. Her hair was falling in her face. She looked nearly as exhausted as Arnold felt. Abner put his face down to Arnold's. Arnold smiled tiredly, patting the good horse on its nose. He looked back to the girl, her flushed cheeks and her eyes sparkling with a bit of the stars in them. She was just…fetching to him, if a bit earthly, with large eyebrows and tousled hair.
"Sweet horse you have here," he responded carefully.
"I think so, too."
He weighed his options. If he was on the run from the law…he didn't particularly want a horse. He wasn't sure how to take care of him, and himself as well. Horses were also loud. Arnold would now need to be quiet and sneaky for…likely the rest of his life. It wasn't much a life, but one his grandparents fought for him to have.
He didn't know how to phrase that to the girl, that the queen wanted him dead for whatever reason, so go ahead, keep the horse, so long as she love him. That would be rather bizarre, and to be frank, his new objective was less to stay out of the reach of the guard, and more to stay within reach of the girl. He didn't want to seem odd to her, and who knows, he wouldn't have been surprised if his grandparents gave her the horse, to reach whatever destination.
"I bet he likes apples and nut butter." Arnold said instead, untangling a twig from Abner's mane.
"…he does."
"He seems the type." Arnold hoped she'd feed him those often…they were, after all, Abner's favorite. He doubted the nut butter could be good for him as a horse, but he certainly wasn't dead yet.
"Are you on the run then, too?" She said finally, letting the exhaustion take over her as she leaned over, slumping as well as she could on a horse.
"Actually," he straightened, "yes I am." There were more fugitives? What was his grandparents keeping from him, exactly? Did the girl know? He felt his heart rate pick up, he would've stood, if his legs weren't still shaking. "Where are you he-"
"Well then," she looked behind her, interrupting him. "Good luck," she then squeezed Abner with her legs, and with a curious look at Arnold, he rode forward.
"Wait!" Arnold called after her, her quickly escaping figure. "Helga, where are you goi-"
He got the feeling that was no invitation to follow her, and his lungs were still burning, so he allowed himself to fall backward, on to the rock.
Gerald grabbed the torch from his bag, holding it up to light by the town candle as his horse trotted through the square. He walked his horse in to town, noting, oddly, the dead cow in the small pen…he wondered if the owner knew…he wondered if it were the work of the man who was after Phoebe. He leaned out from his horse to light every lantern they passed, ringing his bell loudly and shouting for the village to wake.
Grumbling, angry people squinted at him from windows, and stumbled out of doors.
The first eager people to arrive, looking hopeful and also as if they hadn't slept at all, were the Heyerdahls. Gerald ignored the flash of guilt that passed through him, and cleared his throat to yell at the square. He did his best not to address the Heyerdahl family at all.
"Beware," he waved his torch in the direction that he had just rode from, "there is a giant in our wood."
Murmurs fell through the crowd, be it a bit modest, but it was late. It would spread, Gerald was sure.
"A wolf," Harold spit at the ground, standing out side his family home, arms crossed. "A mysterious man," he waved his fingers at Gerald, taunting him, "and now a giant?" He lumbered his way back to his door, "give it a rest, Gerald. Find a damned hobby."
The square was mumbling their agreements, and fear flushed through Gerald's body. He started to shout his disagreements, shout his warnings, pacing his horse back and forth, but it was proving fruitless. Fingers were reaching up to set out lamps, doors were closing, groaning people were hitting their creaking beds.
Gerald, in the most despair he had ever felt, trotted around the square, shouting again his warning for the people.
"Gerald," A gentle hand was on his arm. He looked down, into the face of Mr. Heyerdahl, holding his own lantern up. "Enough," he turned around. He hung it back up on the front of their small cottage. "Thank you for looking for Phoebe." He turned out the light of his lantern, opened his door, and then stepped inside. He never looked back towards Gerald.
Gerald stared around at the square, aghast, frustrated, at the ungrateful square…
If Helga had agreed to come with him, maybe they would've…
He dismissed the thought, as he rode back past the town light.
He would have to protect the village from themselves, and seek help from the only woman who could.
The Queen.
He rode back up to the fork, and down the path Helga had left him on, as he was going to have to get to the kingdom the quick way, over the river…
And pray he didn't get lose his horse, or worse, be killed by bandits, first.
Helga didn't want to admit to being lost, or maybe she wasn't as she was moving without a general direction in mind. She slowed the horse to a walk, steadily moving down the path, thoughtfully. The shepherd boy was behaving so oddly, she almost felt guilty for not offering him assistance. But really, what could she have done for him? He was also strange about the horse, she considered, as she untangled the knot he noticed in it's hair. She hadn't heard the feet of the giant in nearly a half hour, she could only assume, and she wasn't going anywhere in particular but in the direction the giant wasn't. She had to guess that the giant had changed course, away from their village. She knew by the light of day she would be able to walk back to her cottage…perhaps show her father the dagger.
She looked up at the starry sky, and sighed. But only by the light of day.
Arnold was almost ready to have his weary legs carry him again, he just wished he knew where to go. A remote life in the wood? He felt his life as a shepherd was just about as remote as possible. He let the despair, along with the cool chill of the wind, seep into his bones, as he sat on the rock. When he heard the galloping of a horse approaching, he didn't hide.
"Arnold?!" He heard an angry Gerald from afar, but he doubted the anger was directed at him. For such a massive wood, it was peculiar he only ran into the same people…almost as if fate had it planned that way. "What are you doing?" Gerald trotted up to him, "and have you seen the girl who has your hors-
"Gerald," Arnold interrupted him, standing for the first time. He leaned in closely to Gerald. He looked down the path to see if Gerald had been followed, but in the dim light of just Gerald's torch, it wasn't as if visibility was on their side. "I am a fugitive-"
"You are a WHAT NOW?!"
Arnold shushed him with vigor. "I don't know what I've done, but I have to get out of here…" he shook his head, "perhaps, out of the Kingdom."
"Arnold," Gerald said with frustration, "although I have no idea what in God's name you're talking about, we have no time to discuss it. There is a damned giant on the loose." Gerald stared down at his dumb-founded friend. "But of course, you, like everyone else in this village, will never believe me…" He grumbled with annoyance, squeezing his horse to keep moving.
"Well, just wait a minute, you-" Arnold had to speed walk after him. "I saw your wolf, alright?!"
Gerald stopped down the path, but didn't turn back to Arnold.
"And I'm sorry."
Gerald had a boastful smile on his face when he turned back to Arnold, holding his torch down to his friend. "Well, come on then, only way out of the kingdom is to cross the river, and it'll be easier to do together."
Gerald led Arnold, slowing his, probably very tired, horse to a walk. The stars weren't good light, but they were some, enough for Gerald to be able to duck and dodge out of the way of the leaves above him. He was glad Arnold was now carrying the torch to light Abner's path. He was growing weary of holding his arm up.
"A fugitive, then?"
"Yes," Arnold looked rather annoyed with it. "If only I knew for what..."
They walked in silence for a long while. Gerald knew his friend was having an undoubtable bout of introspection, but he really wished he'd save it for later…if he didn't hear him properly, there was a GIANT in the wood… And maybe, without all that thinking, he'd walk a little faster.
But, if his friend had ran the distance the horse had ran in not too long of a time, well- perhaps it wasn't the thinking…perhaps it was just his legs.
"Would you like to ride the horse, then?" Gerald mumbled tiredly.
"I would, very much…" Arnold admitted, "but I shouldn't. If we run into the guard, I'll have to run into the wood again, at a moment's notice."
"And do we know why this is yet?"
"Not the foggiest idea."
"Right."
Gerald stopped, holding out his foot to catch Arnold, when he saw a horse at the end of the path. It was where the road forked out, yet again. One way led to the river, Gerald knew. The other, to the next village over. He squinted, but in the light, he just couldn't make out who rode the horse, or if they bear the sigil of the kingdom.
"Shall we continue?" He muttered to Arnold, "that's the only path I know of to the river…"
"I think," Arnold leaned over his foot, squinting in the distance, "I think it's a girl…" he shoved Gerald's foot out of his way, and continued towards her.
"Girls can be on the guard too, you dolt." Gerald muttered under his breath, following the boy further down the path.
Helga's inner thighs were sore beyond belief by the time she reached the second fork, and she dismounted, unsure of where she even wanted to go, or where she was supposed to be going. She saw the two approaching, but had little fear… she hadn't heard the sounds of the river yet, and she doubted the possibility of bandits. And if they were, well she had her bow on her back, and now, the dagger tucked into her riding pant.
"Are we three," She said with annoyance from her spot on the trunk of the tree, as they came closer and more into her own vision, "the only people in this entire damned wood?"
"Perhaps at this hour," the shepherd boy was grinning at her, face stretched out around the smile. It was, perhaps with less urgency in the situation, charming.
"Arnold," Gerald introduced, "this is Helga, from the village. Helga, this is Arnold. He's a fugitive, now, so if he just takes off-" Gerald shrugged. He wasn't sure why he just told Helga that, but he had been friends with Phoebe for years…and doubted Helga was untrustworthy nor a spy for the guard.
"A fugitive?" She raised her eyebrows at him from her seated position. "I thought you were a shepherd."
"You, wait-" Gerald looked back and forth between them with disbelief "you told me you didn't know Arnold, whose horse you were riding?!"
"I'm sorry, I guess I had forgotten your name." She told him. He shrugged, with a good natured smile, and sat beside her.
"It's quite alright, there."
"So, this is your horse?"
"I believe it is."
"…I'm also sorry for stealing your horse, then."
He shrugged again, and reached up to rub his hand along Abner's side.
"In my defense…it's been a long night for me," she told him honestly. "And I was going to bring him back, tomorrow, in the light of day. We were on the run from the giant for quite a while," she looked up at Gerald.
"I think," Arnold wrapped his arms around his knees, "it's been a rather long night for us all," he knocked his shoulder into hers with a laugh.
She looked up at him, surprised, maybe, with a laugh of her own.
"As well as I am glad that me, and the horse, apparently, have been able to play match maker for you two," Gerald said with annoyance, "BUT, we're on kind of a tight schedule here."
"So, no shot you'll take me back to the village," Helga shoved herself to her feet, dusting off her boots.
"Back to the vil-" Gerald nearly fell of his horse with frustration, "YOU" he pointed at her, "REFUSED to come with ME to the village."
"I thought that it was going to be giant territory." She shrugged, "honest mistake."
"I could take you back to the village," Arnold offered helpfully, standing up quickly.
"Arnold, you don't even know where the village is-" Gerald was ready to punch someone, he wasn't sure who, quite possibly himself, in the face. "HAVE WE ALL FORGOTTEN THERE IS A GIANT IN THE WOOD?!"
"Well, what did you want me to do about it?!" Helga fought back. Arnold was making an irritatingly mopey, sappy face at the girl. Gerald would strangle him, as soon as he was on his feet and out of sight of Helga.
"We," Gerald grabbed the nearest piece of his friend, namely his head, "are going to the river," He shoved his friend in that direction. "I have a Queen to warn…and you are welcome to join us, but I will be damned before I let this convoluted conversation continue a moment longer."
He galloped ahead, so angry with Arnold and the girl that he didn't really care whether or not they followed him.
"I should follow him," Arnold told Helga as he watched his friend leave. He fiddled with his fingers, "it's probably in my best interest to cross the river, too."
"A fugitive, then?" She looked up at him curiously, hands fiddling with the rope she tied Abner up with. Curiously, it wasn't one of Arnold's, it was stronger, younger. He wanted to ask where she had gotten it, but she was still speaking. "How did that happen?"
"Not sure, to be honest," he reached over to help her, his hands momentarily shrouding her smaller ones. Her knot wasn't formal, just a jumbled nest, but he made quick work of it anyway. "I will, however," he, maybe, let his fingers brush over the back of her palms as he released the rope, "let you know if I figure it out."
When her eyes met his again, he wondered if it were completely unreasonable to ask her to run away to northern kingdom with him. He would happily accept his own horse as dowry.
She was squinting at him, like she was considering him carefully, "yes, well…" She started walking down the path, towards the river. "We should get to the river, then."
Helga was trying her damndest not to be flustered with the heavy gaze of the shepherd boy, fugitive, Arnold- whatever, on her shoulders. He was his own brand of handsome, with perhaps an unusually large head and sandy, golden hair that fell into green eyes…
Not that she particularly had the attention of any man before, but having Arnolds?
It was making this odd warmth blossom in her chest, and as she led the horse along, she actually kind of wanted to skip. Or do an odd, joyous dance, or something…fugitive or not.
"So," he half jogged to catch up with her, "what had you in the wood so late, that you needed my horse to escape the giant…"
"I, um-" she swallowed, unsure of what to tell him, "I was…"
"Hey," he elbowed her, "I told you, when we met the first time. Of course, I wasn't completely honest with you…I wasn't so much meeting a girl, but looking for one," He rubbed at his neck, bashful suddenly, "I don't know what I was thinking…a wolf following a girl so I chase them? I'm no hunter, by any means…" he laughed.
Helga looked to him, his attractiveness amplified by his bravery, or perhaps stupidity. He was looking to protect Phoebe…and so was she. "I was looking for her, too." She told him.
"Huh!" he laughed, "small world."
"Small wood," she corrected, smile of her own spread across her face.
"You can say that again," Gerald annoyed voice was somewhat muffled by the river they had reached. He had stopped, dismounting the horse, holding the reins in one tight hand as he looked downstream, towards the bridge. Not unusually, if you squinted, you could just make out the bandit camp, sitting just over the bridge, illuminated by the lanterns that were always lit there. "How many do you think there are?"
"You're not suggesting," Arnold did a double take, "we fight them?! Are you?"
"Well, what would you like us to do, Arnold-" Gerald bickered back, and Helga tuned them out as she scoped out the river for herself.
Undoubtedly, there were people nestled at the base of the bridge, making it not a wonderful option, unless they liked losing their horses, and their weapons. She gently touched her dagger over her dress…she couldn't let that happen.
She wondered if she conjured up a bridge, if Gerald would notice it wasn't there before…but he had been looking at the river far longer than she had…he'd notice something amiss. Namely, a massive, convenient bridge, if one were just to...appear. It would be easier if they could just disappear for a moment, so Helga could not only save them, but perhaps, explore her power a little more... it seemed to work off of her desires but, it seemed like nothing in life really ever worked that way...
It was then, she noticed, a boulder, dead set in the middle of the rushing river, with a trunk set to the other side. It seemed as if someone else had shared their predicament, and made a bridge of their own.
"Look," she pointed, "if we can just get to the rock," she felt Arnold grab her shoulders, looking excitedly over her head. "We can cross."
"We'd have to leave the horses," mentioned a wary Gerald.
"Gerald, they're exhausted," Arnold ran a hand along their head, "what use would they be?"
"Well, I'd still like to have my horse tomorrow-"
"Gerald, do you want to warn the Queen or not?"
Helga, growing tired of the bickering yet again, instead began roaming around, looking for a fallen log. She had discovered one further up the bay, nudging it with her foot, noticing it's sturdiness.
Arnold appeared by her side, "Geralds gone to tie them up in the wood…he'll return for them at sunrise." He told her, looking down at the log. "He'll be lucky to make it to the Queen by midnight." He licked his lips, "nice choice, shall we!?"
Helga's hands were rubbed raw already from the reins, and it was only worsened by the rough, unsanded wood. With great effort, they heaved it back up the shore, to where the boulder in the river lay. They only really had one shot to get their aim right, so it was lodge him by the boulder, and not float right up the river, so they counted, and as carefully as they could throw a very heavy log, tossed it into the river.
Where it wobbled a little bit, before being forced in to place by the weight of the river.
"Well," Arnold whistled, "I wish I could say I'm not surprised that worked, but…"
"I'm not," Helga replied honestly, looking up to him with a rueful little grin. "But, then again, you've just met me."
His face had taken on a grin of it's own, and he opened his mouth to say something- and perhaps his face was nearing hers…but then, he thought better of it, and stumbled back suddenly. Helga became suddenly aware that her face had flushed, she looked around, unsure of where to put her body.
"Shall I, um-" he coughed, rubbing a hand on his hair, "shall I go first? I suppose I have less to l- well, I guess I shouldn't say that." He rambled, nudging the log with his foot to dig it further into the dirt of the shore. Helga turned around quickly, awkwardly. She was, dare she say it, relieved to see Gerald jogging back in their direction. She waved at him, even though she knew he saw them.
Arnold crossed the log ungracefully, but successfully, with his arms out for balance. Helga, however, opted to go on her hands and knees, wincing at the filth of the log…she of course, could magic that away as soon as she was out of the company of Arnold and Gerald… Although, she didn't know when she planned on being out of Arnold's company… she had never seen another Kingdom before…
She heard Gerald clamor behind her on the log as she reached the slick rock, noticing how slippery it was. She tried to place her feet, in her boots, of course, on it first, finding her grip on the slick surface. Large hands came to rest on her forearms, certainly Arnold's, and he hoisted her to him, gently, and with great care.
The boulder wasn't large, and she felt Gerald come in close behind her. They stood tensely on the rock, the sounds of the river loud and rushing past. Arnold released, her, smiling a little bit, before tersely turning around, with tiny, little steps, to step on the other log.
However, when he stepped on it, with great care and certainly not with all of his weight, it cracked…
Helga nearly jumped into Gerald at the sound, but he stayed firm, and they watched with astute horror as Arnold extracted his foot in just enough time to watch the log float down the river. She grabbed the unstable Arnold by the arms so he didn't tumble straight into the river after it.
He did his shuffle back towards her, and spoke to the two of them, "we'll have to go back the oth-"
She thought she might have imagined it, but the river, the force of the rush of the water, was slowing …as if the river had run out of water at the source….
Or something was in it's way…
Gerald had himself almost turned around to step in the other direction, when the water returned, quicker than Helga had ever heard of a river moving, as if whatever blocked it had suddenly reappeared. She heard it, and looked to her side in horror, as it rushed towards them. She thought it would inevitably splash them clean off the rock…
She, with instinct, grabbed Arnold, and reached behind her to grab some piece of Gerald, bracing herself for impact.
The water, straight coldness in the already cool air of the night, hit them with no remorse, smacking at her all the way up to her hip. She would have been forced off the rock, but someone's arm blocked her fall.
She spluttered, already shivering in the cold, and looked down at the arm who had kept her on that rock.
It was actually Gerald's as he, instead of putting his foot on the log that Arnold and Helga had wedged there, had actually put it into the water, hooking it at the base of the boulder… Holding out his arm to keep Helga and Arnold on it with him.
He was soaking wet from head to toe, and already shaking… "What," he shook the curls out of his eyes, "was that!?"
Helga supported his arms so he could stand on wobbling legs.
"We're gonna have to jump," Arnold muttered, not answering Gerald's question. He looked up and down the river, both of their logs, gone. "There's no other way," he looked to Gerald.
"JUMP!?"
Helga did not want to tell the men on the rock of her witchcraft…she did not at all… She could imagine Arnold, his face, all the admiration he held for her falling out of his eyes to the floor. She was just beginning to see it as not an option so all of them could survive.
She looked to the other bank of the river, the direction they were originally headed. There was a tree damn near the bank of the river, with a lot of the root showing. There was rot at it's branches…it was undoubtedly weak.
"Our BEST BET-" Gerald was yelling, pointed in the direction they came from. "IS TO TRY AND JUMP UP, AND GRAB THAT BR-"
If she could only distract Arnold long enough to use her magic…
She looked up at him, and grabbed his face. He looked down, clearly alarmed, not at her, but likely by being stuck in the middle of a rushing river.
She threw caution to the wind and kissed him, quickly, aggressively, so she could tuck her hands behind his back.
Arnold made a surprised, muffled 'mm!" sound, but allowed himself to be kissed, or perhaps he was kissing her, Helga wasn't entirely sure how kissing worked. Their mouths were moving in some kind of motion, and she was trying to ignore the crackling, warmth in her chest, as he grabbed her waist. She cracked open one eye, noticing his were closed and used her hands behind his back, out of sight of Gerald, and made a crunching motion at the trunk of the tree.
"AND UNLESS EITHER OF YO-" Gerald trailed off, and he must've looked back in their direction, finally. "IS THIS THE TIME?!" He yelled at them.
CRASH!
The tree fell right into the river, still half connected to it's trunk, leaves already being lost in the rushing of the water. It didn't fall at the base of their rock, maybe two yards downstream… They would have to jump into the river, and pray they could grab a branch, to pull themselves on to the tree, and climb their way back to the shore.
Arnold jumped, nearly losing his footing on the rock, and stared at the tree.
"…if that ain't the magic," Helga felt her heart skip a beat, "of true love's kiss," it, traitorously, sped up at Gerald's words. "I don't know what is."
Arnold turned back to them with a grin, holding out a hand to Helga. Helga held out her hand to Gerald.
"Together?" He asked them, squeezing Helga's hand.
"Together." They agreed in unison.
Arnold held on to Helga tightly as the water hit their bodies, and he knew, blithely, that it was his responsibility to grab a hand on the tree. But it was more chaotic than he could have ever predicted, a mess of limbs and branches and trunks, and freezing water, shoving them down stream. He never managed to get himself full on the log, however, he had a grip on it, and was able to shuffle his way, blindly, from the water in his eyes, to shore. As he felt his feet touch the floor of the water, he could have cried with joy, or cried from the sheer amount of stuff in his eyes, and he felt Gerald's firm arms grab him, hoisting him the rest of the way out of the water.
He heard Helga's voice, further on the land, yelling instructions at Gerald…and they collapsed together on the shore.
Arnold pressed his face into the grass of the earth, so relieved to be on land…and with the two of them, all three safe.
They spluttered and coughed water out of their lungs on the land, he heard Helga dump the water out of her boots.
When Arnold finally put his chin on the earth, rubbed his eyes dry, and opened them, there were boots by his face, but not ones of his friends.
On the toe was the small sigil of the Queen… He looked up at the guard, who was leaned down to examine his face.
"Captain?!" He called downstream, to the base of the bridge. "We have him," Arnold tried to scramble away, but guards were grabbing at his arms, hoisting him, against his will, to his feet. His aching feet were then dragging along the grass, his arms held by two men. He wished he had more of the will to fight back, but he had never been so exhausted in his life. There were at least three of them, if not more.
It wasn't bandits at the base of the bridge he realized… it was the guard. He and Gerald's yelling must have alerted them. He hadn't even thought to look for them on the other shore. They had almost died for nothing…
Well, he looked at Helga's alarmed face, as he was dragged away, perhaps not nothing…
He heard the futile shouts of his companions as he was pulled back to wherever the Captain was, even Gerald warning of a giant.
The guard, however, paid them no attention.
He was surprised to be lifted into the back of a carriage, but he saw no use in fighting it, and he laid his head down on the soft cushion as he heard the clacking of horse hooves pull him away from his friends.
Helga, with an exhausted, angry slump, fell backwards into the earth. "We lost our shepherd," she said with a defeated sigh.
"WHAT," a fuming Gerald paced back and forth in front of her, "IS THE POINT OF GOVERNANCE, IF THEY DON'T LISTEN TO YOU."
"I don't know, Ger-"
The ground under them shook, subtly, but in an all too familiar way to Gerald and Helga. She sat up, and quickly realized what must've stopped the flow of the river…
Gerald held his hand down her, realizing the gravity of the situation, and helped her to, albeit, soggy, feet. As soon as she was on solid ground, Gerald took off into a sprint, further into the trees, down towards the path.
"GERALD?" She called after him, feeling as if she'd never be able to fully catch her breath again, "WHERE ARE WE GOING?!"
"THE QUEEN!" He called back to her, "WE HAVE TO SEE THE QUEEN." She didn't object, because if Gerald got to his damned Queen…
Well, perhaps, Helga could get to her Arnold…
They ran dangerously, off the path and through the wood again, as they had all night, towards the lights and the sounds of the festival the Queen was throwing. She had been running all night, but this seemed to be the longest stretch of it. She had no way of telling, but she knew had she had any food at all in her stomach, she would have likely vomited by now. The wind nipped at her like a pack of dogs, biting into her skin. Her boots she had loved so much rubbing at her heels in the wet leather all the wrong ways… They already ached, sores rubbing into them.
Gerald slowed, finally, heaving, and looking like he wasn't far off from vomiting himself, and she realized they had made their way to the edge of an upscale village… a deserted one, it's population likely at the festival.
This time, they hadn't been able to out run the feet of the giant, in fact, they grew ever nearer, thumping getting louder…but subtly so, in a way that probably only Helga and Gerald noticed, as they had been at the base of it's feet not long ago. It's head had not yet risen over the climb of the trees, but it must've been near to it. Helga realized it seemed to be walking with more direction, it's target must've been the castle itself.
"They'll never let us in there…" Gerald pointed, through the town, towards the gate, which was down at the moment, but heavily guarded. "LOOK at us." They weren't yet dry, and undoubtedly peasants, by their dress. "And of course…they'd never take the word of a peasant for anything but granted," he grumbled, sitting down with a frustrated sigh. Helga, for the last time, considered telling Gerald of her magic. The giant got nearer and time was short.
But instead, she ducked around the back of the nearest house, leaving him in his moody slump.
She wished she had given herself a moment to enjoy it, but there was little time. She didn't understand her magic, but it understood her. She used her own focus and energy, albeit frantically, and her tattered, wet robe changed itself into a gown. It was sparkling blue, glittering from the hem, pulling up into the skirt. She waved a hand at her head, feeling her hair dry under it, arranging itself. And lastly, she changed her shoes, grateful to be rid of the wet boots…changing them, instead, for matching, sparkling slippers. They fit her perfectly, melting around her feet the way she could only imagine glass would, forming and contouring specifically to the shape of her feet. She looked, with despair, at her bow, as she tucked her dagger back under her dress for safe keeping. She didn't want to go without it either, so with great care, she stuffed it under the completely poofy dress as well.
She looked through the window of the cottage, grander than any from her village, hardly a cottage at all, and there was a coat hanging in the window, a fantastic royal blue. She wiggled her fingers at it, and it appeared in her hands. She couldn't help it, she gave a delighted giggle at it. And then she looked around, because as it appeared…well, it had to go through somewhere. It smashed the window in front of her. She hoped the noise didn't draw alarm.
"Helga?!" She heard Gerald call, and well, his alarm would be fine. She rushed around the side of the cottage, smashing into Gerald, almost falling to the ground. He jumped up, backwards, in surprise, "where did you-" he looked up at her dress, "WHERE DID YOU-" She thrust the coat into his hands. He looked around in alarm, and then said in a low voice. "Did you steal these?"
"There's no time!" She smacked him with annoyance, "you have a queen to warn!" And I have a boy to find, she thought to herself. She ran down the path, towards the castle, ignoring his questioning calls about how she dried her hair, and if she could do his.
Gerald gave the guard one last shot at being decent at their job, and stopped to warn them, urging them to notice the minor quaking around their feet. Helga, however, after a polite wave at them that would suggest they would know who she is, took off in a full out sprint towards the castle.
"Sir," A guard grabbed his arm, and Gerald thought bitterly, that at least being sir was better than being a peasant, "have you had too much to drink?" He waved him off with an amused glint in his eye, "go, enjoy the coronation!"
Gerald, with annoyance, ran after Helga… coronation?
He could only think about how the ground was shaking more…it'd be mere moments before the guards were proven wrong, the giant would appear over the line of the trees in only minutes… He wanted to stay and watch them discover they were wrong, but he followed Helga, distantly, through the hall and into the ballroom anyway.
The palace was truly spectacular...Helga could see her face in the glass…she looked better than she ever had. She thought, only for a moment, it had something to do with the setting. Deep, maroon velvet decorated the place in luxury, ceilings arched, yards above her head, and portraits stared at her as she hurried into the ballroom. The door was heavy, but her tired muscles threw it open anyway, finding herself at the top of a staircase, as a loud voice announced.
"I am proud to present to you, for the first time, Queen Stella, the newly crowned King Miles, and their son, Prince Arnold." The room gave way to rapturous applause and hollers. Helga, with astonishment, leaned over the bannister, and sure as the hair on her head, a sheepish Arnold was sitting, in clean clothes, looking alarmed himself, at a seat beside the throne. Helga's mouth fell open in shock. "Now, if you will join us all on the balcony, there will be a performance of the harp, but of course, not our newest…" the room laughed, still clapping. Had he lied, or had he genuinely not known?
HOW could he not know!?
Arnold looked up, and his eyes met Helga's.
He stood quickly, "wait," she saw him say, he grabbed the sleeve of whom he could only assume was his father, "that's h-"
"GIANT!" He was interrupted by Gerald, who yelled as he opened the doors of the ballroom. "THERE'S A GIANT IN YOUR KINGDOM!" He screamed at the royalty…to the giggles of the crowd.
"Son," the Prime Minister stood, "if there was a giant in our Kingdom…" he eyed Gerald from the small stage the ballroom offered. "Oh," He laughed, "it's you again."
The room laughed, too, as if there was some big joke they all found funny. Gerald fumed next to Helga, turning red. They were all there was to focus on, them at the top of the staircase. A laugh stock, practically. Helga could understand his fury, she felt it a little, too. They had come all the way across the kingdom, and they were being laughed at. A man near the bottom of the stairs mimiced Gerald, greatly to the amusement of his peers. Helga felt herself pull a fist by her side.
"Guard," The Minister spoke to the man beside him, "if you'll deal with him-" The guard made his way towards the stairs. "SO, if you'll all join us…"
The ground, with the most fortitude Helga had noticed it had all night, shook. Like a beat, the next shake was worse. The well dressed, filthy rich, people in the room screamed. Helga hated them. She hated every one of them. They could feed their entire village for a year with the money from one of their outfits, probably.
There were sounds of shouts, aside from the ballroom, heard from outside, as the beat stopped for a moment…and then a tremendous crunch…
The giant must have stepped on the gate, and then the castle. The walls shook, and velvets fell from the ceiling, candles dropping and breaking. Gerald grabbed on to Helga, as if he could protect her from a giant. She shoved him off of her with an annoyed glare. They turned around as they heard the stone crumbling from the wall behind them, all ominously, because they could not yet see the giant. The guard scrambled around on the floor, preparing lines of men, but men with swords, men not at all prepared to fight a giant.
And then the ripping continued above them, and they watched in horror as the giant ripped the stone ceiling from it's walls.
People shrieked, and ran chaos reigned over the ballroom as they ran for cover from the crumbling stone and limestone falling from the sky. A final, enormous thud was had, as the giant managed to throw the bulk of the roof to the side of the castle, and Helga could guess from the horrified screams, on to the guard.
"YOU-" A rumbling voice from above shouted, Helga getting a first good look at the giant. It was a woman, as far as she could tell, her tawny hair falling into her face, held up in the back in the forms of massive clips, clustered with jewels the size of Helga. The giant could leer into the ballroom, leaning right over Gerald and Helga… She wouldn't be able to align a lethal shot, not from that angle, and she couldn't risk to use her magic in a room full of people. "YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME NOTHING BUT PAIN" she reached down, and gripped the King and Queen a mighty fist. "AND CHAOS. CHAOS TO MY KINGDOM." The room was engulfed in screams and terror, and the guard had slashed at her wrists as she pulled the royalty to her…to no avail. Helga thought, for one, terrifying moment, that her other hand was going to grab Arnold. She reached under her skirt, and pulled out her bow, formulating a plan in her mind as quickly as she could move. Above the throne, a massive clock struck midnight. Helga paid no attention, attempting to equip her bow with shaking hands… and then she noticed her hands...
Crawling up her hands were rows of scales, not the green of Mordred's, but her own, sparkling, gruesome, dark, iridescent pink…but they were getting darker. She realized, with absolute horror, what Mordred meant by midnight. He heart shattered in her chest, and quickly, before he would notice, threw the bow into his hands. He was stammering a question at her, but she clutched the arrow she had in her hand and did as she was coming quite good at, completely ignored him.
With another leap of great faith, she stood on the bannister, as the people screamed at the giant, and jumped directly upwards, in an attempt to grab hold of the giant's shirt, made of a fabric Helga had never seen before.
Her hands nearly slipped, but her finger nails had sprouted thick, black, claws, that dug into the shirt. She swung at the side of the giant, trying to bring her feet up to dig in as well. One of her shoes fell down as she tried to right herself into the fabric, wiggling her foot around. It swung away from her, before falling straight into a pile of velvet on the stairs, safe.
She clawed her way up the giant, around the back, hoping that in her wrath, the giant wouldn't notice the tickling making it's way up her back. Helga grabbed on to one of the massive clips, sitting atop it, fiddling with the arrow in her one hand, trying to use her magic with the other.
"AND NOW, YOU WILL KNOW WHAT IT IS, TO FEEL PAIN." She heard the horrified screams of people, and a tremendous crack…the giant must've dropped the Queen and her husband. Helga's hands shook harder, but the arrow lit, finally, in her hand, in a burst of flame.
She shoved it into the back of the giant's skull.
"AND NOW I-" she stopped, and Helga slid down the hair that was beginning to be engulfed in flame… grabbing on to a necklace at the base of her neck, for her life. The giant let out a blood curdling scream, reaching for the back of her head, beginning to lose her footing, and Helga realized with fright, she had lost it. The giant, and herself, began to fall backwards.
Gerald clutched on to the bow with terror as the giant fell…as flames engulfed the top of her head. The people gave a great shout of fear for a moment when she might fall forward, but it was backwards it went, with a mighty, thunderous, crash. He looked around, astonished at the suddenly silent room.
"It was him," a meek voice came out from the eerie silence, and then a shaking hand, pointing in his direction. "IT WAS HIM," Gerald wondered, fearfully for a moment if he should run. "HE SAVED US." She cheered at him, pointing her shaking hand at his bow. "HE SHOT THE GIANT!" The room looked up at him, considered him, the boy they didn't know…the boy they laughed at. And then, they erupted in thunderous applause.
He looked down to Arnold who smiled, for only a second, while clapping for him along with the crowd. "WHERE IS HELGA?" Arnold mouthed at him, and Gerald looked backwards, with great fright, and then at the door behind him, which likely no longer led anywhere, and then bolted down the stairs to Arnold. He slipped the quiver over his shoulder, kept the bow firmly in his hand, and prayed he wouldn't need to use it…he didn't know how.
When the giant fell, she collapsed into several more houses. Helga had swung herself around the necklace with great force, and she fell directly on top of the giant. The ruble erected a great cloud of gray smoke, and Helga sat up, hacking out bits of stone pieces from her lungs, into her nearly blood-red, scaled hands…they were terrifying…so was she, she imagined.
"You," the giant was mangled badly, and the fire was set out in the fall… but the back of her head was smashed into two different buildings. It was grotesque, a river of blood flowing from her skull. "You bested me, little one." He hand came up to grab her, but with exhaustion, and the giant moved her off her stomach. "Let me die in peace," Her English was slow and deliberate, as if it weren't the giant's first language…Helga wondered, momentarily, what the language of the giants was.
The giant dropped her gently to the ground out of the way of the river of blood. She seemed so solemn, so sad, that Helga ran her hands along her thumb nail as she set her down. "I'm sorry," She spoke loudly, truthfully, "I thought you were going to kill my…my…" she searched for the proper word to use, "my someone."
The giant, with a seemingly massive amount of effort, moved her graying face to look at Helga. Her eyes were a sparkling stone color…her face was flat and square. "They," She coughed, small spatterings of blood appearing about her mouth, "they killed my someone. They took everything I had."
Helga felt tears spring up in her eyes. She felt ridiculous, at herself, at her hands and their grotesqueness, at her ballgown and her tiara… The giant soothed her giant thumb over Helga's head.
"There was nothing left for me," she told her, "I am happier to die at your hands, than to die at theirs." Helga latched on to the thumb, rounder than she was, and she hugged it tightly, letting tears spill down her face. She hugged it, and she wept, until it fell slack and heavy under her grip. She released it, and let it drop from her arms. She reached up to wipe away her tears, and realized, that the scaly monstrosity had continued up her face, the way Modred's had. Her hands shook harder, and she let out a sound that was both a gasp and a sob, collecting her horrible face in her hands.
She looked at the destroyed palace, at the people beginning to gather outside of it, and felt her hatred and resentment build up in her chest. She would have never killed the giant for the likes of her queen had she known…and Arnold…well, he'd never love her now.
And so, feeling foolish, feeling weak, she picked up the hem of her enormous dress, and ran, with one shoe on her foot, away from the palace. She hoped the wind would knock tears streaming down her face straight away, because she never wanted to look at her own hands again. And as she ran she clutched her dress, feeling it melt away into a thick, velvet cloak... the color of a robin's egg.
a/n remember when i said this chapter was going to be shorter...ha...hahahah.
thanks for reading love u & thank u to everyone who said nice things on the last chapter, let me know what u think of these twists, did u see any of them coming? i know one of you did, haha. it really does mean the world to me!
can you bElieve this is basically a PROLOGUE: insanity, ok, hah, love u, bye!
