Gojen and Sandorin reached the pass by midmorning the next day.

They began making their way along the narrow, rocky trail, dismounting here and there to guide their horses over unsteady terrain. Sandorin looked about him, and he could see why Gojen described their surroundings as 'creepy;' among the boulders and knobby trees that clung tenaciously to outcroppings of rock, he saw what looked like the bodies of Giants, strewn about in varying positions, all made of stone. Hands larger than his entire body reached out as if beseeching for mercy, while others had massive heads ducked beneath limbs the size of tree trunks, warding off an unseen blow.

"My father's tales were true," Sandorin said. "These rocks were once living souls."

"Makes sense," Gojen agreed. "Also makes you wonder what offenses the poor sots committed." He pointed further up the path. "There's one over here that doesn't seem to fit in, and his presence in this place has always puzzled me."

Sandorin followed him, and they climbed over a patch of fallen rock to stand before one of the unfortunate figures.

"He's Human," Sandorin said. "He's almost my height, while these others are at least ten times that." The face before him was young, too; he looked to be only a few years younger than Gojen.

"No, he's not," Gojen said, and he stepped up next to the stone man. "See his ears? They're small and rounded, unlike your pointed ears and my kidney-shaped ones. His head, too, is rounder than a Human's." He clapped a hand on a rocky shoulder. "And his garb is like the others. He's a Giant."

Sandorin snorted. "I've never heard of a Giant this small." Gojen was right, though; the young man's head and ears had the same shape as the larger statues, and he wore the high-wasted breeches and cropped vest that the others wore.

Gojen stared at him. "Surely you know about their other form?"

Sandorin blinked. "I…yes," he said, vaguely recalling centuries-old lessons. "But he appears old enough to take his true height. 'A Giant is considered a man among his kind when he can achieve his true stature at will,'" he recited. "Somewhere in their sixth century, if I remember correctly… Giants share our longevity, give or take a few thousand years. But he looks a little older than that, not too far from my age."

"He's definitely a mystery," Gojen said, and he patted the statue and walked back to the main path.

Sandorin moved up to take a closer look. He appeared to be a very comely youth, lithe of figure yet finely muscled, and Sandorin reflected that he would have found him attractive, if he had been living. Even being of stone he had a handsome, expressive face, but Sandorin's gaze was drawn to the wide, frightened eyes, a mouth whose lips were frozen mid-plead, and a slender hand held out to ward off an impending doom. The hurt, bewildered expression in the stone eyes moved even Sandorin's cold heart, and he reached out and rested his palm against the outstretched stone.

The earth rumbled beneath them.

Startled, Sandorin stumbled back to where Gojen stood.

Gojen gripped his arm. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"Nothing! I but touched my hand against his."

Gojen shook him. "By the Lady, look at his hand."

In the center of the mottled, gray stone palm, a small patch of golden-tan skin appeared. Sandorin and Gojen looked on in fascination as the tawny patch grew, turning cold stone into living flesh.

"Gold eyes," Gojen whispered as the young man's face was transformed. "Giant's eyes." He drew his sword.

Sandorin did the same, although he sensed he would not need it.

When the last bit of stone disappeared, life returned to the wide, golden gaze, and the young man collapsed to the ground. "No! Please! Father, don't!" he cried out.

"Easy now," Gojen said, and he rushed over to help, only to be knocked several feet away. "Banor's balls, he might be small, but he still has a Giant's strength!"

Sandorin strode over and gripped a flailing arm. "Stop that," he commanded.

The young man gazed up at him, a myriad of emotions crossing his face. "You… you're an Elf!" he looked around wildly, and then looked back at Sandorin. "Who are you? Where is everyone? I don't understand."

"I am Sandorin of Kinza'an, son of Komon of Kinza'an," Sandorin replied, aware of the great strength in the arm beneath his fingers.

"And I'm Gojen Shand, son of Only My Mother Knows," Gojen said, brushing the dust off his breeches as he rose from the ground. "We can't help you with your other questions, lad. You have a name?"

"Gokur Shiningbrow, son of Petrar Shiningbrow," he replied with the automatic promptness of a well-born son, and he let Sandorin help him to his feet. "I don't understand," he repeated, looking around at the tumbled rocks, and the other stone giants that littered the area. "My father brought me here, and my mother and my brother Nakur were here too, pleading with him to stop." He stared at his hands. "He pointed and me… a-and he said the Words of Stone, and then all of a sudden I couldn't move, I couldn't see, and I felt so cold."

Petrar Shiningbrow. Sandorin and Gojen exchanged a glance, both recognizing the name of the legendary ill-tempered Giant king. This is his son? Sandorin thought.

Gokur looked at Sandorin, his gaze full of wonder. "You touched me, just now… and I don't know how, but I am free." He dropped to one knee. "I pledge myself to your service, Sandorin of Kinza'an. My life is yours for a thousand years." He caught the edge of Sandorin's tunic, and lifted it to his lips.

"Stop that," Sandorin said, batting his hand away, more than a little embarrassed by the young man's declaration. "And get up."

Gojen stared up at the sky, frowning at the storm clouds that were gathering at the edges of the horizon. "As much as I would love to learn more about you, Gokur, we need to get moving, and fast—I want to be inside an inn when those rains come."

"An inn! I want to be inside an inn too!" Gokur clutched his stomach. "I am very hungry."

Gojen laughed. "I wager you are—I think you've been here for a few hundred years." He looked at Sandorin. "We can't just leave him here, Sandorin."

Sandorin sighed. "Well, his strength could come in handy."

"What do you need?" Gokur asked. "I can help! I pledge—"

Sandorin waved him off. "Yes, yes, I know. For now, you are in charge of my horse, and you will carry all my gear."

Gokur nodded vigorously, and he scrambled over the rocks toward one of the horses.

"Not that one! The other one!" Sandorin shouted, and he turned to Gojen. "This is all your fault."

Gojen shook his head, smiling. "I'm not the one who touched him." He took the reins that Gokur handed him, and then he gestured at the massive stone bodies that surrounded them. "But for all our sakes, Sandorin, don't touch any of the others."