CHAPTER 5: TOWER TO HEAVEN

The ride through the forest was not nearly so exciting as it had been two nights ago, but this was made up for entirely by Hosha's constant whispered questions and comments about his last excursion every time they passed or mentioned something that vaguely reminded him of it.

"Was it really that fast?" and "How tall were they?" and "Tell me the part about the tree again" filled the ride until Gareth had to tell them to stop muttering like a couple of schoolboys, and even then he managed to sneak a few more in before they reached the foothills of the Moors early in the afternoon.

The whole party dismounted before they reached the waters of the River Shribble, shallow this time of year, and left the horses with the men who'd been sent along to take care of them.

This left the rest of the party to ford the river (it only came up to Tirian's knees) and climb up into the mountains on foot.

Aside from the boys and Gareth, there was a leopard, a dwarf (who had been afforded a stout pony for the journey and was now more than happy to be back on "his own two trustworthy feet" again), two other men, and of course Cinder.

Tirian had not been exaggerating in the least when he said he knew the Moors just as well as the streets of Cair Paravel. It was just the right distance from the palace that they could come out for a day and still make it back before nightfall, and they'd climbed these foothills dozens of times, though they'd never gone far enough to see giants, except from a very far distance, and those were the stupid boorish ones you could mistake for a pile of very ugly boulders if you didn't know better.

Now as he hiked with a bow on his back and his sword at his side, coarse grass giving way to slate rock, he felt even more like the children from another world that he and Hosha liked to make-believe every time they played up here, the two who had rescued his ancestor Rilian over two hundred years ago.

When they were younger they would fight over who got to be Eustace and who got to be Jill (though really they had very little idea of what the children were actually like), and it was Tirian who ended up with Jill more often than not, and of course this left Jewel always to be Puddleglum, which he accepted in order to avoid further argument but took advantage of at great length to say increasingly morbid things in the name of staying in character.

Tirian didn't think there were any two creatures alive more different than a Unicorn and a Marshwiggle, but of course that only made it funnier.

His thoughts flew momentarily back to Jewel, but this was quickly interrupted when he almost bumped into Hosha and realized his friend had stopped just in front of the first ravine.

He glanced around quickly but didn't see anything. "What is it?"

Hosha pointed down into the ravine. "Found one."

Tirian stepped to look around him. And there, at the bottom of the cliff, was a dead giant.

Its throat was blackened with old blood, loose white hair falling over the rubble where its helmet was missing, and then Tirian realized it wore no armor at all, rich but flimsy fabrics clinging to its graceful form and only adding to its emaciated look. But the puncture wound was unmistakably that of the creature who had escaped from them, and he caught a glimpse of Cinder's scratches across its face, too.

"Were they both wearing armor when you saw them?" asked Gareth from Hosha's other side, their companions all crowding up to see.

"Yes," said Tirian.

"Someone's stripped it off, then," said the dwarf. "Another giant, like as not."

"It would have to be," said Gareth. "Nothing else could have removed that armor, let alone carted it off. We couldn't carry a single piece back to the Cair for the weight of the stuff."

"So there are more of them," murmured Hosha.

Gareth glanced around. "Be on your guard." He hiked his bow up higher onto his back. "And keep moving, nothing will be gained by gawking. We can do nothing with the body now, in any case."

The rest of them moved on, but Tirian's gaze lingered on the giant. It was the first time he'd seen one of them in the daylight, and now he could properly take in the pearly glow of its skin, the elegance of its limbs. Really if he hadn't known the depth of the canyon, he would have thought it was just some kind of strange nymph.

"Tirian!" called Gareth. "Keep up, or I will send you back to wait with the horses and tell your father to produce another heir, as you will be no use to the kingdom locked in your room for the next half century."

Tirian leapt into action and sprinted after the rest of the party, skidding back into step next to Hosha as he chirped "Sorry, Sir!"

Gareth shot him a good-natured eye of warning, and the party fell back to silence as they walked.

The knowledge that there were, in fact, more giants in the area seemed to set them all a little on edge, the tone of their adventure becoming serious as they navigated the rising hills of Ettinsmoor, descending into wide gullies and through natural archways that Tirian had always liked to imagine once belonged to a civilization so ancient they could no longer even see its traces.

For a while it felt as if they might run into a giant just over the next rise or around any corner, but after several hours of careful trekking and one short rest to eat from their packs, Tirian wondered if the brutes hadn't already gone back to wherever it was they came from.

The sun crawled across the sky at a painstaking pace, beating down on their heads, casting their shadows further and further out to their right, until at last it sank into the western horizon and even Gareth became visibly restless.

It was almost completely dark when they passed out of the area Tirian knew, sheer cliff faces rising on either side of them, and he was just thinking they would have to turn back and that this hadn't been a very exciting adventure after all, when a flicker of light appeared a long way ahead.

It swelled and wavered, orange against what looked to be another cliff, half-shrouded by the nearest rocky outcropping.

A fire.

"Down," hissed Gareth, and they all ducked instantly and pressed their backs to the stone, shielding the light from view.

"Is it them?" asked Hosha in a breathless whisper, practically into Tirian's ear.

"Who else do you think is building fires all the way out here?" hissed Cinder, almost invisible in the dark except that he was standing on Tirian's feet and peering with glowing eyes around the edge of the stone.

Tirian dared to glance too.

They were still so far off that at first he couldn't see much of anything, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized the blinking flicker of the light was really the legs of huge figures passing in front of it, the faintest glint of it on their armor.

"It's them," he said, returning to full cover.

"How many?" asked Gareth, the sharp calculation in his tone reminding Tirian yet again that he'd already been in a war.

"I can't see for sure, but at least two. Armed."

"More soldiers," said Hosha.

"I don't like the sound of that," said the leopard.

"I'd like to know what they're saying," said the dwarf, rubbing his hands together. "Bet they didn't expect the prince here to foil their plan so quick."

Tirian suppressed a smile and turned his head aside so the others wouldn't see.

"We can't all get close enough to hear," said Gareth, "There's not enough cover, we'll be spotted for certain. Tirian?"

Tirian whipped back around to meet Gareth's eyes, the lord's familiar brown hair pulled into a utilitarian knot that somehow now made his gaze even sharper.

"Take Cinder and Hosha as close as you can without picking up any firelight, you're the smallest and the quietest of all of us."

Tirian's heart leapt into his throat.

He glanced around, almost in disbelief, but of course it was true, dwarfs weren't exactly known for their stealth, and the leopard's spots would be easier to see than Cinder's black coat.

Hosha's eyes shone in the dark.

"Just watch and listen and report back to us," said Gareth. "Under no circumstances are you to engage these creatures." He looked very hard at his own son. "Understood?"

"Yes, father," said Hosha.

"Yes, sir," said Tirian and Cinder nearly in unison.

"Be off, then," said Gareth. "We'll follow as far as we can."

And so Tirian crept quickly and quietly around the edge of the stone, heart racing as he ducked into the next bit of cover, mapping out his path from shadow to shadow through the jagged stony maze.

Hosha followed and Cinder streaked out ahead, disappearing easily into the shadows.

For a while he caught glimpses of the rest of the party behind them, but as the fire grew closer they disappeared into the crags, and it was only Tirian and Hosha inching closer, shooting one last silent look at each other before Hosha split off to the left and Tirian took the right.

The rumble of voices deep and thick as bull-horns permeated the air, echoing off cliffs and vibrating in the very earth itself.

To his advantage, Tirian wore no armor aside from basic leather fittings, so there was nothing to reflect the fire as he finally crept close enough to see the campsite clearly, crouching until he was crawling on his elbows over the stone.

The ground was still warm from the day's heat even as the slightest evening chill crept into the air, and at last he came to a satisfactory place just under a little shelf in the rock.

His heart pounded at the proximity, huge figures casting otherworldly shadows against maze walls.

He lifted his head just enough to look at them directly.

Firelight illuminated figures like pale marble, casting stark shadows over faces he would almost have called noble except for their sharpness, and now he saw that there were three of them, standing or seated around the fire over which something was roasting on a spit.

He laid back against the stone and gazed up at the first grey twinkle of stars, tuning in to the aching drone of voices that rang clearer in the crisp mountain air than they had in the forest, and then at last he heard something worth hearing.

"But a stronger force would play to our advantage," rumbled one, "This is a magical land, bearing properties with which we are yet unfamiliar."

"We dare not require a stronger force," growled another, though to Tirian they sounded so alike he could only tell the speakers apart by the direction of the noise. "What are we, cowards? How have I come to see such a time that my own brethren would quake at a country of men?"

"We dare not misjudge a magic with which we are not yet practised, my brother," said what he could only guess to be the third giant. This one was closer to him, on the near side of the fire. "Though our might and bravery may be great, yet our knowledge is little, and by my council it would be unwise to act now. Are we not renowned among nations for our wisdom in the arts and in war? It would be folly to take such a risk."

"The fool is he who runs from such paltry forces as these: a single boy and a horned beast, and naught but a creature that would cower before the cats of the north."

Tirian's heartbeat quickened when he realized they were talking about him.

"They leapt upon our brethren unawares, this is the only way, there was no magic in their advance."

"Yet in the land itself," argued the first voice, "In the very trees. It is a land bursting with magic. And it is one that makes me uneasy."

"Admit it for yourself," said the second, "I will not bow to such cowardice in the face of creatures like men. Have we not destroyed them a thousand times over? How now shall we cower at one errant knight? Shame upon the race who conquered Harfang if they cannot take a nation of beasts."

Harfang? Tirian knew that name. It came in the very same tales as the children and King Rilian. But these were not the giants of Harfang.

"Only this I grant, that I question how Harfang should receive us when we return with so little spoil and two heads lost. It should affront all our honor if they deny us boon for such failings, magic or none."

"Then we should advance again, seize the first beast of the tongues of men we do encounter, and bring our good work to Harfang in exchange for the chieftain's further support on this venture."

"Have we not already one in captivity? What is the purpose of keeping this creature in our company if we mean to use it for naught but its tough meat and surly attitude?"

"Of one thing I can assure you," cut in a new voice, smaller and thinner and scratchier than the others. It was so different from the giants that at first Tirian didn't even recognize it. "You shall not take me alive, nor any other self respecting Narnian back to your hole for show and prizes."

And all at once Tirian jerked upright, staring over the edge of the rock just in time to see one of the giants kick a cage he hadn't noticed before. And inside it, undeniable even in the darkness once he'd heard his voice, was Farsight.

"This one's already spoiled," boomed a giant, "Look at its wing. We must bring a fairer bounty than this, and the sooner we silence it the sooner shall my heart be glad."

Suddenly the whole scene crashed over him like a thunderclap in horrifying detail: the meat roasting on the spit, the heap of bones silhouetted against the fire, the eagle in a cage of strange twisting metal.

It was the scouting party.

Tirian clapped a hand over his mouth and doubled over against the urge to throw up, the world spinning for a moment as he clutched the stone and a cold sweat swept over his body.

Then out of the corner of his vision the dark figures of the giants moved, and his head snapped up again, panicked for a moment that he'd made some kind of noise.

But they were not turning toward him. They were looking in the other direction.

One broke away from the others, standing to its full terrifying height, and stalked across the campfire, a freakish shadow against the smoky sky, closing in on a heap of rocks Tirian could just barely make out.

For a moment the giant loomed, as if frozen, hovering there in the shadows, and with a flash of motion that made Tirian's heart jump it snatched something off the ground, like a cat pouncing on a mouse, raising it thrashing and squirming into the air.

Hosha.

Tirian bit back a cry just as the other two giants bellowed in surprise.

Metal glanced off metal and clattered to the stone, Hosha's sword glinting in the firelight, useless, and a sharp squeak of a voice choked "Ay— get off—"

Tirian's heart pounded.

The bugle of voices blended together so that he could not discern any word but one: spy.

"Do not kill it, by my blood," rumbled one above the others, "Will you waste yet another prize?"

"Men are no trophy," scoffed the captor, and Tirian could see Hosha grasping at the neck of his tunic in the firelight. "If you want a man then sack any village."

Under no circumstances are you to engage these creatures, Gareth's words echoed in his head.

What are you going to do against three giants on your own? asked a voice that sounded almost like Mal. But right now, Mal might have done the same thing.

He unslung the bow from his shoulder and snatched an arrow from the quiver, only noticing the tremble in his fingers when he tried to string it.

"There may be more," rumbled the third giant, "Ware the shadows, it is unlikely to be alone."

"It?" choked Hosha indignantly, his voice echoing off the cliffs even as his thrashing weakened, boots connecting with nothing but air. "Honestly, I'm—"

"Silence," thundered his captor, "I will not suffer two back-talking captives!"

It raised its other fist, large enough to crush a human head like a pomegranate, but before Tirian could see what was happening something flashed in Hosha's hand and the giant jerked back as if stung, the other two stepping reflexively away as Hosha crashed twelve feet to the ground.

At last Tirian threaded the arrow and pulled it back against his cheek, fletchings gripped tight between his fingers, aiming with one eye and letting it go with a twang.

Three marble statues looked toward him just as it struck the face of the one who'd been holding Hosha, and the beast stumbled back with an enraged howl.

Tirian pulled another at lightning speed and didn't shake this time as Hosha's small figure hauled itself off the ground and darted into the shadows, the second arrow flying into their midst just as two giant swords flashed in the firelight and their bearers bolted for him.

The third arrow glanced off of their armor.

He tossed the bow aside and grabbed his sword just as the nearest monster rushed in and he darted out from its powerful swing.

The breeze of metal rushed over his head.

His heart skipped a beat, feet pounding stone.

The second giant turned after him, and he slashed up but just barely missed its knees, the motion throwing him off balance, swerving just in time to miss the sword that crashed into the stone beside him.

Then straight ahead Hosha burst out of the shadows again, sword flashing at the legs of the injured giant, and a black bolt streaked out of the shadows to Tirian's left and leapt past him with a sharp yowl, connecting with the thunder of footsteps behind him.

Tirian didn't look back.

Fire danced in his eyes, aiming for the light, striving to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers as he could, but the thunder never fell any further behind.

There were no trees to slow them now.

The rest of their party must have been close, but could they help?

Under no circumstances are you to engage these creatures.

Too late.

The heat of the fire roared in his face and he ducked around it, skirting the edge of logs the size of small trees, and pushing the implications of this from his mind as the earth shook and he threw himself to the ground.

Metal crunched against stone inches from his head.

He rolled and scrambled backward, a gargantuan figure looming against a sky of sparks and smoke, silhouette blazing orange like freshly lit parchment as it raised its sword again.

And then something rattled behind Tirian's head and all at once he remembered the cage and the eagle and the scouts, and without a second thought he launched his sword smashing back into metal and Farsight burst straight into the giant's eyes.

Hot blood spurted over Tirian's face before he could shield himself, and the giant brought its hands flying up to its eyes with a shout as Farsight fluttered half-falling to the ground, one wing bent badly the wrong direction.

Tirian staggered to his feet, dropped his sword and wrapped both arms around the eagle, pulling the bird half his own size against his chest.

And he ran.

Jagged stone rushed up around them, the dead end of the ravine pounding closer, but for the moment he only cared about getting as far away from the campsite as possible, uneven ground twisting toward the cliff face.

And then out of nowhere a corner appeared, almost hidden in the shadows of the maze-like walls, and he bolted for it.

Boots slammed stone, jarring the strain in his arms, giant bellowing behind him as he leapt up a low outcropping and clutched at a jagged shelf with one hand, hauling the eagle up with the other, one wing flapping to compensate as they crawled up to the top of the ridge, a pocket in the cliffside.

He set the bird down again, chest heaving. "You okay?"

"Been better," croaked Farsight. "Tell me you're not alone this time."

Tirian glanced back toward the campsite, the giant now lumbering after them with less grace than before, leering slightly to one side as it swung and the mountainside exploded.

Tirian crashed to his knees, shielding Farsight, rubble raining down around them, just missing their pocket, and the giant pulled back, the crack of stone giving way as the sword broke free, undamaged.

Rough granite dug into Tirian's fingers as he dragged himself to his feet and glared at the monster through a haze of dust, no sword to grasp, no bow.

And then he looked beyond it and his heart leapt in his chest.

"No," he almost laughed, "We're not."

Tiny figures flooded into the firelight just as a dwarfish arrow struck the giant in the back of the neck and it wheeled around, grasping blindly for the projectile as another flew into its face.

Its wild horn-call pierced the air and Tirian leapt down the cliff face, skidding on rubble and bolting between its legs as it swung and missed by several yards, stumbling unsteadily after him.

He slid back to the flames and snatched his sword off the ground just as another arrow struck its eye and it stumbled to its knees, nearly throwing Tirian to the ground again.

With a cry he slashed up under the break in its breastplate and ducked away from a flailing arm as it fell, crashing like a tree to the stone.

Battle raged behind him now, voices shouting, figures darting in the glow of the fire as he stumbled around to the giant's head, blood pooling from under its helmet.

And then something surged inside him, something fierce and terrible, sword clenched in his fists.

"You called me a knight," he growled, the giant barely seeming to register him, head lolling as the rumble of its cavernous voice formed no discernable words. "I, the errant knight who slayed your kin in the forest."

The giant moved as if to grab at him but it was a weak gesture, impeded by its armor and the gushing wounds where there once were eyes.

Tirian took a step back but the fire within him only flared stronger, a power he'd never known blazing to life in his chest. "Let it be known that your death came at the hand of the Prince of Narnia."

And with that he launched his sword through the air and plunged it into the giant's throat, burying deep into white flesh and resting there for a moment before pulling it out to a fresh spurt of blood.

The earth shook as another giant crashed behind him on the other side of the fire.

Tirian wiped his face with the back of his hand and turned, jogging around to the other side just as Gareth pulled his sword from the brute's throat, the leopard on its back, and the third giant clutched its arm and bolted into the night.

Tirian stared after it, the rest of the Narnians watching it go, a hush like a breath falling over the camp as the thunder of its steps faded, silence rolling back into the mountains like surf breaking over a seashore.

The stillness of the night was broken only by the crackle of the fire.

And then at last Tirian caught sight of Hosha and bolted straight for him, dropping his sword to clutch his friend by both arms.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," gasped Hosha, hand on his ribs, still breathless. "You?"

"Me?" exclaimed Tirian, "Why, you fool, you could have been killed! How did they spot you?"

"I hope you three have a very good explanation for this," thundered Gareth before Hosha could open his mouth to answer.

Cinder leapt up to the helmet of the felled giant. "It wasn't me or the Prince, my Lord."

Hosha shot him a glare. "Hey!"

"Hosha?" demanded his father.

"I didn't mean to."

"Even I didn't think you quite that incompetent, though I suppose the confirmation is nice," snapped Gareth.

"It was the birds!" Hosha motioned to the pile of large curved bones by the fire, and Tirian's stomach plummeted again. "They had Farsight in a cage, and— and— that," he pointed to the hunk of meat, now blackened to charcoal. "I didn't mean to do it, I just kind of slipped… and… I guess… they heard me."

Gareth glanced toward the fire and his expression went stony, the dangerous flicker of it reflected in his eyes.

Every Narnian in the camp went terribly quiet.

"I'm sorry," said Hosha, visibly deflating.

Gareth shook his head. "Where is Farsight?"

"I took him away," said Tirian, "Up there. He's pretty badly hurt, but he's alive."

Gareth's eyes wandered for another few moments before looking back at the boys.

Hosha still mumbled, "I really didn't mean—"

"We'll talk about it later," said his father with a sigh. "You're both alright? Not hurt?"

Tirian nodded, and Hosha said "not really."

That seemed to satisfy him for the moment.

"Alright, collect your things, and scour this camp from top to bottom." The second part he addressed to the whole party. "Burying these Narnians is our first priority. We must find a way to carry them back to our own soil. Anything else that might be of use we bring back to the Cair, any sign of where these things came from, or—"

"Harfang," said Tirian, and Gareth's eyes snapped to him.

"What?"

"They talked about Harfang. It sounded like they were meant to go back there."

Hosha nodded. "I think they were some kind of scout group, or… something."

"It seems they were capturing Narnians for bounty," added Cinder.

Gareth's mind worked behind his eyes.

"They're not the right kind, though," said Tirian. "I mean, from Harfang. Those weren't the ones in the stories, right?"

Gareth shook his head. "No, you're right."

"What are they, then?" muttered Hosha.

Gareth straightened his shoulders. "That is a question for tomorrow. Now get to work, look through whatever things they left behind. Tirian, retrieve Farsight and get Rhys to look at him. I ought to have known we'd have use for a healer. Perhaps if we're lucky we'll make camp by dawn."

The whole party sprung into action, and Hosha immediately turned toward the other side of the fire, sweat and grime glistening on his face in the light, frizzy curls slipping over his eyes. "Let's take this side," he said, purposely averting his gaze from the spit above them. "If I have to look at that thing any longer I'm going to be sick."

Tirian skipped to catch up with him, stomach churning though he tried to ignore it. "Well, now you've fought a giant."

A slight smile twitched at Hosha's lips. "Yeah, and I would've killed it, too, if it didn't run away like such a pathetic coward."

Tirian patted his friend on the back just as they rounded the fire and Hosha caught sight of the dead giant, eyes and throat gouged out in a pool of black blood.

The faintest hint of pride swelled in Tirian's chest, and Hosha sighed.

"Okay, that's not even fair."