Title: Seed of Darkness

Rating: T

Summary: A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

Disclaimer: I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

Chapter 7: Stone

My child, what are you so afraid of? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry you away?

- The Frog King

{O}

Darkness.

It was the only thing to greet her when she opened her eyes. Deep, velvety darkness that enveloped her like a shroud. She blinked, feeling itchy flakes of crust clinging to her eyelids. Awareness came back to her in stages as her mind tried to drag itself out of quicksand-thick unconsciousness. She lay curled on one side upon something hard and uneven. Against her skin she could feel cool silk and knew she must be wearing one of her more costly dresses, the kind specially reserved for balls or feast days. Was Father throwing a party?

Where am I?

She mulled the question over, still struggling on the borders between sleep and wakefulness. Closed her eyes, then opened them again. The darkness wasn't leaving like it should. And she thought she could hear sounds, strangely muffled but distinct. By straining her ears just right, she could barely pick them out. Water dripping, squeaks, and throaty growls from some large and dangerous animal. Who would let a monster into the palace?

Monster in the palace. That thought felt more like the fuzzy outline of a memory. A shiver washed over her, bathing her skin in cold, prickly ice. She curled her right hand into a fist as a tenuous defense against the knowledge taking shape inside her head. I'm not safe.

What happened to me?

Her heart began to beat faster as the sense of wrongness grew. She inhaled deeply and immediately wished she hadn't. Around her was a musty smell. A smell like rot inside an old, abandoned graveyard. Her half-submerged consciousness shied away from the association, would've retreated back into sleep if not for the lingering feeling of immediate danger buzzing through her thoughts like a persistent gnat. Laying completely still, she shut her eyes and concentrated, descended into the oily mire that filled her skull and dredged out the last thing she could remember.

A huge, two-headed man reaching for her. Screaming as she fell out of a tree, only to land on something tough and leathery. Losing consciousness as giant fingers tightened around her body...

Isabelle jolted into full wakefulness with a small, panicked cry. Her clenched fist flew out in a mindless swipe at the air, and she had to stifle another cry of surprise when her knuckles contacted some sort of barrier. The material was tough, but gave slightly. Her fingers scrabbled against it, found it was all around her, sealing her in. For a few mad seconds she had to fight down the urge to scream wildly, convinced by the darkness and the invisible barrier that Fallon had finally swallowed her and she was trapped in his belly. Just like every nightmare she'd ever had of being eaten, only it was all too real.

Think! a hard, defiant voice buried under the polished veneer of the proper lady she'd been taught to be scolded her. You're still in one piece! You have your senses! Wherever you are, you're not dead. Not yet!

Her chest heaved as she forced herself to calm down. Trembled as she sat in the darkness, her dress pooling around her legs. Little by little her eyes adjusted well enough to see the golden fabric clinging to her form, and she thanked God that - aside from a few rips and tears - the dress was intact enough to preserve her modesty. The thought of Fallon seeing her unclothed was almost enough incentive to remain hidden away in the dark.

It took another moment of gathering her nerve before she felt steady enough to extend a finger out to touch the barrier again. It sprang back with the same elasticity as before. By trailing her fingers over it she could tell it was greasy yet rough, with many fine wrinkles. She almost drew her fingers away when they encountered a row of sharp bristles embedded into the material, like stiff hairs.

Her empty stomach gave a nasty lurch that was half-hunger and half-revulsion. Whatever she was trapped in felt organic. like tanned deerskin or oiled leather.

Or the cover from that strange journal.

She snatched her hand back as though she'd touched a live coal and scooted away from the barrier, trying to reach the center of her prison, only to cry out again when something cold brushed against her palm. Her eyes were almost accustomed to the dark, and so it was easy for her to make out the shape of the gleaming pale thing next to her hand. With trepidation, she picked it up, and her hands began to shake upon seeing the toothy, elongated jawbone and empty eye sockets outlined in stark white. Bile spattered the back of her throat as she stared at the last remnants of some poor creature that had been hunted, killed, and skinned by her captor.

Her grip loosened and the skull dropped, cracking loudly upon the uneven floor. Glancing around, she could see several more glimmers of sun-bleached bone around her, and a suspicion began to grow as to the nature of her surroundings. Tilting her head, she squinted her eyes until she could make out a subtle green glow at the apex of what passed for the ceiling. A picture entered her mind then of the hip pouches the giants carried for storing weapons or trophies, and she shuddered all over as the realization of where she was broke over her in a cold, cold sweat.

She was in a sack sewn together from animal skins. Fallon, with his typical goodwill, had stowed her inside a bag of bones.

With the leftovers. The thought crawled out at her like a spider from under a bed. It didn't take much imagination to envision the two-headed monster eating the flesh from captured animals, as well as humans, then saving the bones to gloat over later. Claustrophobia surged, threatening to close her airway to a pinhole. She had to get out of here.

Fighting back nausea, she began to search. It was easy to spot the larger chunks of bone. Femurs. Skulls. A pair of antlers twisted together. Smaller fragments crunched beneath her knees as she sorted among the piles of death, ignoring the gritty feeling, between her fingers as she held each piece up, examining them critically. Most of the bones were old. She had to turn her face away when a spinal cord crumbled to dust in her hands, sending up a vaporous cloud of white powder. Coughing, she waved a hand to clear the air, then continued digging, determined while still feeling like a vulture picking over a carcass.

Her breath left her in a relieved sigh when she found what she needed: a rib bone. Thick, curved, and - when she laid a fingertip against the pointed end - sharp enough for what she had in mind. Crawling backwards until she fetched up against the bag's side, she then turned and jabbed the knife-sharp bone into the sewn-up skins. The tip buried itself in the patchwork of dry flesh, and Isabelle spent a few fleeting seconds pondering what, if anything, she could do if she got out, for low, rumbling growls still thrummed through the confines of the bag. Fallon, or one of his companions, was definitely out there. There's no help for it, she thought as she wiggled the point around, trying to make a hole. I have to do something.

But it was proving harder to tear a hole in the bag than she'd thought. She gritted her teeth as she sawed frantically at it with the bone shard, but whatever creature had died to make a giant's purse had come with very thick skin. The hole she'd made was scarce big enough to put a finger through. Her hands began to sweat, making the bone slippery, and after what felt like an entire hour had gone by with only minor progress she threw the crude tool down in frustration.

She sat in the darkness breathing heavily. Folded her hands in her lap and considered her situation. Jack and Elmont were far away, with little chance of reaching her anytime soon. She was on her own, as surely as if she'd been carried back to Gantua. For all I know, I may have been. The possibility made her want to lie down and give in to despair. She bit her lip and hugged herself, trying not to think about what Fallon might be planning to do to her when he was hungry or just wanted someone to torture. Then an even more frightening possibility occurred to her, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to deny it. Fallon said the Crown wasn't controlling him anymore. And if that's true, then something must've happened to Jack.

She felt her heart give a painful squeeze as though a live snake made of shearing knives was writhing and coiling inside her chest, mercilessly shredding any hopes for the happy future she'd planned. If Jack were hurt or dead, then her kingdom was lost and monsters would roam Albion as they had in olden times. A tear wound its way down her cheek and fell, landing in a warm little droplet on the back of her left hand. The same hand that bore her engagement ring, its clustered diamond center sending out barely visible flashes of colored light in the darkness. Misery filled her like bitter wine as she stared at the beautiful golden band symbolizing her love. Without Jack, what would become of her?

A giant's dinner, her stubborn-self replied. That's what you'll become if you don't try to get out of this mess! You're always saying you're not a fragile, helpless creature, now PROVE IT!

She closed her eyes while taking a deep breath to steady herself. Then opened them and groped around until her fingers closed once more upon the bone-knife. Spent a moment feeling out its smooth curves and ridges. They felt solid, reassuring. Tilting her head back, she more closely examined the green glow above her. If she was correct in thinking it was the opening to an enormous bag, then she could possibly escape that way. If she could just get to it.

Using the bone-knife like a claw, she wedged it into a seam where two skins appeared to be sewn together. It was a rib bone, curved and strong, and would serve as an anchor. Like the giants with their hooks, the giddy thought flashed through her mind as she attempted to pull herself up. Her arm muscles, already stiff from laying on a hard floor, now burned with the effort. Aside from the bone-knife, there was almost nothing to hold onto. A few times, she had to take fistfuls of the grisly skin in her free hand or risk falling, and for each inch of progress made there were several more inches lost from backsliding. Always present was the fear that the lumpy bag might crumple in on itself and smother her beneath folds of old wrinkly hide.

Just a little further...

After what felt like hours of struggle she felt a draught of fresh, cold air against her cheek. The green glow, which had seemed remote as the monastery belltower before, now filled the circular space above her. She saw, with some relief, that drawstrings thick as ropes were strung across the opening. They must've meant to keep the bag shut, but were loose and thick enough to serve her as handholds. Above her, she could make out indistinct shapes beyond the green light, and the rumbling growls were growing more intense, like an angry bear snarling in its sleep.

Isabelle dipped her head, took a moment to gather herself, then reached out a hand to grab at the closest drawstring. There was a frantic moment where her fingers grabbed at empty air and she felt herself falling, then - by sheer luck mixed with more than a little desperation - she caught hold of the fraying rope. The next few moments passed in a blur of panting struggle as she was forced to drop the bone-knife so she could take the rope in both of her sweaty hands, feeling like a spider scaling a dark, tangled web. She used the drawstrings like rope ladders, pulling herself up and over each one, then catching hold of the one above it. She'd almost reached the rim of the bag when her right foot became snagged, and she fell forward, the breath rushing out of her in a short, sharp cry as the bag tipped over and she was carried down with it.

Bones rattled and bounced around her as she was spilled out onto hard, cracked ground. She lay, her bruised chest heaving and her arms trembling from exhaustion. A white lily broke free from the scraps that remained of Ana's flower-crown to drift like pale gossamer before her eyes, circling slowly before disappearing in the dark. The skin of her palms felt rubbed raw and swollen, like they'd been thrust into bags of sand and left there for days. Yet despite her discomfort, a nervous, happy little laugh made its way up her throat. I did it! Whip-thin tendrils of hair fell across her face as she allowed herself a brief smile. The cold stone beneath her provided some relief for the burning, and she pressed both palms gratefully against its surface, letting the coolness soak into them before pushing herself onto her knees to have a look at her surroundings.

It was a world of sculpted stone. Rock formations spiraled up from the ground like twisted teeth, along with other half-seen shapes outlined by flecks and daubs of fluorescent green. Some kind of moss, it was reasonable to assume, for the air seemed to exhale dampness and the salty reek of brine. Water dripped from a roof that was so high up it was nearly lost in shadow, showing only faint edges of glistening wet, moss-rimmed rock. Isabelle felt goosebumps raise along her arms and trail over the backs of her legs, as the sheer silk of her dress proved ineffectual against the seeping cold. The whole place resembled a dark, dripping mouth.

A cave. She amended herself as another loud rumble shivered the air. No, a giant's den. Panic welled up within her. Where was Fallon?

Her answer came in the form of a huge, lumpy shape slumped close beside her. A pair of bone shoulder spikes, their yellowed surfaces glowing an unnatural green in the half-light thrown off by the moss, gave away the presence of the giant just as another growl tore from his throat. Snores, Isabelle realized as she backpedaled, seeking the darkness behind a stone column that was free of the glowing moss. He's asleep...and snoring. It was almost ludicrous enough to make her burst out into peals of manic laughter, if the sense of danger hadn't compressed her lungs like a stone around her neck Even unmoving and dead to the world, Fallon gave off a menacing power by grace of sheer size alone.

Isabelle huddled in shadow, watching the giant sleep. He could almost pass for a rock sculpture himself, with only his breathing giving away his true nature. Fluorescent green shone off him in patches, revealing little bits of steel armor, his huge hands folded together in his lap, the muscled contours of his legs thrust out like felled tree trunks in front of him. She imagined both of his heads drooping down to his chest as he leaned against the rock wall, though it was too dark in the cave to properly see them.

Something blue flashed in the corner of her eye, making her jump. Her eyes bore into the spot she thought it had originated. A second flash came, this one so bright it dazzled her dark-adapted eyes. Curious, she picked her way among the stones, placing each foot lightly, careful not to dislodge anything that might awaken her captor.

The flashes came from a crescent-shaped opening, a chink so narrow and precise it was as though an infinitely-sharp sword had cut a half-moon into the cave's stone flesh.

She edged toward it, winding her way through the stone pillars, slapping a hand over her mouth when something that felt like it was made of whiskers and wet fur skittered across her bare feet, squeaking. Another snore boomed, prompting her to cast nervous glances up at Fallon when she was forced to cross the uneven ground directly in front of his feet, his close-packed toes sticking up like blunted stalagmites. Wan, green-tinged light flickered, casting eerie shadows among the lumps of eroded stone.

Upon reaching the chink in the wall, she realized it was actually the cave mouth. Fallon had rolled a boulder before it, stoppering it up like a cork in a wine bottle. The boulder itself was massive, a rough, moon-shaped plug of gray-black stone that was impossible for her to even consider moving. Her desperation grew as she felt a tendril of cool open air sneak in through the chink between the boulder and the wall to brush lightly against her forehead, lifting up a few loose strands of damp hair. If I'm careful, maybe I can slide through. She felt around with her fingertips, gauged the size of the opening. Found it wide enough to slip an arm through. Forcing her way out could possibly be done, if she didn't get stuck.

She sucked in her breath, flattened her chest and stomach as much as she could, then wedged herself inside the gap. From outside the cave came another flash of sapphire-bright light, followed by a muffled rumble. Stone scraped her back as she worked her way further in, until she had her entire right arm and shoulder outside. Stinging rain pelted her open palm, forcing her to draw it back. Freedom, however, was no closer as she found it impossible to extricate herself any further, no matter how much she shifted or squirmed.

Her chest hurt. Her body felt too tight, too cramped. Claustrophobia threatened as her lungs screamed for release. And, through fear-induced awareness of her surroundings, she noticed something else. Something that turned her blood into clear, crystalline ice.

The snoring had stopped.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

His drawling voice echoed throughout the cave, bouncing off stone columns and other, less-definable shapes. Isabelle's pulse beat hard and fast in her ears as she heard a heavy body shifting itself, and saw, within a halo of green light, a dark, mountainous man-shape. Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants as she shrank deep into the unforgivingly small space between the boulder and the wall, trying to meld herself with shadows and solid rock.

"And we'd hoped you would like the little nest we'd prepared for you." His rumbling voice oozed thinly-veiled sarcasm. A tense silence descended. Then Isabelle flinched when, after a moment, the sound of something brittle being crunched split the air. It was too dark to see much but her imagination filled in quite nicely, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the horribly familiar feeling of being tiny and trapped washed over her.

...looking out through the bars of a cage while some hideous thing roamed outside...

"You shouldn't go out there," he continued, his rough voice now more subdued. "A storm rages and the dragons that hunt the hillsides would soon devour a tasty little treat like you." There came a birdlike squawk as the second head chimed in but, as usual, she had no idea what it said.

Neither did it calm her disintegrating nerves to think that everything the intelligible part of Fallon had told her was probably true. He's trying to lure me out, a clear, rational voice in her mind struggled to shout above the din of terror-fueled hysteria. Think! This cave is huge. There might be tunnels or side-passages I can hide in, if I can get past him...

Her hands slapped over her mouth, turning her shout into a whimper, when a heavy thump came from somewhere disturbingly close by. Flashes of steel armor, a muscular torso, and a pair of round, mismatched heads appeared etched in strokes of sickly-green whenever the monster stepped near a moss-covered stone. "Hiding again, Your Highness?" The familiar sneer was back in his voice, soaking it with contempt. "You should know by now you cannot hide from us."

Every muscle in Isabelle's body was balled up tight, coiled like springs ready to snap.

"You are frightened, princess. The fear-scent clings to you like flies to a corpse." Another thump sounded, this one from right outside her hiding place. Isabelle's breath hitched. "I thought a descendant of King Erik would have more guts than this!" The giant's even tone turned black with sudden fury. A second later his fist slammed into the rock face just above where she had pocketed herself, sending dust and stone flakes pattering down like dirty rain.

The shock of his fist hitting the wall broke the last, fraying thread of Isabelle's resolve and she bolted out of the crevasse, her arms and legs pumping as she ran for the darkest corner she could reach, the hem of her dress ballooning out around her feet.

It wasn't long before she was being swept off her feet by long, thick fingers. Her heart felt as though it would burst from terror as she kicked and writhed in his grasp. Adrenaline and desperation made her fight harder than she ever had before, to the point where Fallon almost dropped her when she raked her nails over the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. She was too preoccupied to catch the half-amused, half-annoyed expression on his face, but once she started attacking his thumb a rumbling growl drifted through the fog in her ears.

"Calm down, girl!"

His snarling words only increased her desire to fight, to run, to get as far away as she possibly could...

"ENOUGH!"

A roaring giant could never be ignored. Isabelle went absolutely still, making no sound except ragged gasps for air.

"Better," Fallon said, his voice once again smoothing into a calm, yet threatening, drawl. His fingers shifted so that her spine was kept straight and rigid, no matter how hard she tried to lean away. Lank strands of dust-streaked hair brushed her face as she was forced to look up at him. Tremors coursed beneath her skin upon seeing the harsh angles of his face illuminated in ghostly green. His gray eyes bore into her, making him seem, if anything, thoughtful. Like he was tallying her virtues and faults in one long, well-organized list.

It made her angry.

"If you're going to eat me, be quick about it," she growled, sounding much braver than she felt, then mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. What if he decides to do just that?

Fallon, apparently, could smell bluffs as keenly as he could smell blood. He chuckled, while his smaller companion made cawing, wheezy sounds. "You'd make a dainty mouthful, princess. Except we already feasted on the bears that until very recently called this cave their own." He paused, making wet, smacking sounds, and Isabelle knew without being able to see clearly that he was licking his lips. Her heart did a summersault inside her chest. "They were fat and juicy enough to last us for a while. So you will be our hostage, until we are hungry again."

"Like old times, isn't it, Your Highness?" The cave seemed to slid out from under her dangling feet as Fallon took a single step, putting himself closer to a patch of glowing moss. She could see him fully now: his hooked nose with the nostrils flared, his thick, black eyebrows, the dark folds of skin ringing his eyes and, most frightening of all, his sharp-edged teeth exposed in a big, gleeful grin. His free hand came up, a dark blur, and then she felt his forefinger pressing into the curve where her neck met her right shoulder, brushing aside her hair in a caress that was surprisingly gentle.

And yet she couldn't stop herself from pulling away.

He snarled, his teeth flashing in the moss-light like pieces of green glass. The angles of his face sharpened while his eyebrows drew together, and Isabelle let out a yelp of pain as he squeezed her. "I should rip you apart and end the line of Erik forever!" he shouted, and began to pace with her in his grasp. Stony clefts and spiky, half-seen rocks spun around her as the angry giant slashed his arms through the air, making her head whip painfully to one side. Any stalagmites in his path were kicked over like sand castles, and he paused for a moment by a sheer rock wall to lift up his free hand and dig furrows into it with his fingers, defacing solid stone as easily as a child playing in clay. The small head, whose fever-bright eyes were round and wide as a clown's, squawked and jabbered at him, but was staunchly ignored. Through gut-churning fear and dizziness, Isabelle spared a brief second to wonder if the little creature was scolding its counterpart.

Panic flooded her senses, making everything too bright, too clear. Fallon was in a mood to kill her. Her mind raced, snatched at the first thing she could think of that might buy her a little more time.

"B-but if you kill me," she said, sounding pitifully small and scared, "you w-won't find out what I know."

Bits of disturbed rock pattered down around them as Fallon stopped his pacing. The pressure around her ribs eased a little, allowing her to gulp down huge lungfuls of air. After a moment spent catching her breath, she looked up to see him glaring down at her, his gray eyes narrowed to slits. "And what do you know, princess?

She gulped, found her voice, and said, "I know about the woman you took in. The one who wrote the book-"

The rest of what she'd meant to say was silenced by his roar. "WHAT OF IT? She left us long ago and took our Father's heart and sanity with her!" Isabelle cried out as her captor hurled a fist at the cave wall again, crushing glowing, moss-coated stones so that a flare of green light burst throughout the cave. Everything was brought into sharp contrast: the fantastic, nightmarish shapes of mineral deposits on the cave floor, Fallon's huge, thickly-muscled arms, the gleam of light off his armor, his twisted, furious face, and Isabelle became so certain of her own imminent death she began to sob. She couldn't help it, despite all her pride and self-control. Pride wouldn't save her from those gnashing, terrible teeth.

Fallon paused, his chest heaving. Glared down at her while his smaller head rolled its eyes and bobbed on his shoulder like a drunkard, all the stomping and raging apparently having affected its equilibrium as much as hers. Underneath her own misery, Isabelle began to feel a small bit of empathy for the misshapen monster fused to Fallon's body, seeing in it a fellow prisoner unable to escape its fate.

Air pressed down on her shoulders as Fallon lifted his hand, bringing her up until they were almost at eye-level. Isabelle kept her face down, trying to hide her streaming eyes behind a curtain of hair. "There is something I wish to know, princess, and you will answer," he said, lowering his voice until it once again assumed the ominous tone of an interrogator. Small things chittered in the dark corners and recesses that the moss-light couldn't penetrate, and now that the giant had regained some semblance of control Isabelle became conscious of the fact that she was shaking in his hand. "Why did you summon us back to Earth?"

Confused, she blinked up at him, her tear-blinded vision making his craggy features appear to waver. His grip was lax enough now that she was able to extricate an arm, then place her hand lightly upon the hard surface of his thumbnail. "T-to save my people and my kingdom from the dragons..."

"Really?" He smiled then, a knowing, oh-so-amused curve of the lips that showed a brief flash of teeth. "Is that all? Or did you seek a way to avenge yourself for the death of your Father?"

What? Isabelle felt as though a draft horse had kicked her in the stomach. "How did you know about th-?"

"Did you think I learned nothing while being ordered throughout your city by that insufferable boy?" His face twisted, going from casually amused to stormy in the blink of an eye. The small head squinted at her and let loose a sharp bark that almost sounded like Gotcha! "I know things now you did not deem fit to tell me upon our first meeting, Isabelle." His accent took her name and softened the consonants, turning it into a half-whispered melody of vowels. Hearing the giant speak her name for the first time felt uncomfortably intimate, and she had to look away.

His toothy grin got even wider. "I will make you a bargain, Your Highness," he said, his voice dropping a register, becoming solemn and deadly serious. "I will help you rid your kingdom of the wyrms and avenge your Father. But when the last dragon is dead or fled, I will have my own revenge on the House of Erik."

What? Isabelle stared at him. A maelstrom of emotions whirled inside her. Confusion. Fear. Hope. Despair. If he meant what he said, then she still had a chance of saving her people.

But at a price.

The kingdom comes first. Always first.

She gulped, struggled to make her throat work. "If...if you have me, then will you leave the rest of Cloister in peace?"

The giant seemed to consider it. His second head watched everything from its place on his shoulder, looking vaguely surprised. The only sounds were her pounding heart, accompanied by dripping water and an occasional clap of thunder from outside.

"Agreed."

It was strange, feeling both relieved and horrified at once. Isabelle let her head droop, not wanting the giant to see her torment.

He must've sensed it anyway, for he started to pace, carrying her with him. Her eyes remained downcast, watching the crags and dips in the cave floor sweep past beneath her while she maintained a grip on the giant's thumb. Her teary vision made everything a blur of confused movement, until suddenly his fingers were replaced by cold air as he released her. She dropped, the breath rushing out of her when her back thudded against hard rock.

"Your King has no power over us now, princess," Fallon said, his voice laced with the barest hint of warning. She lay on her back staring up at him, cold and shivering and sick at heart. "Don't try runnin' off again."

Then he left her, his bulky body melding with the shadows at the very back of the cave, where the spectral glow of the moss didn't reach.

She sat up, taking in the view. He'd dropped her onto a ledge, a narrow shelf of rock overlooking a drop so sheer even the most daring climbers couldn't have scaled it, making escape a non-issue.

All she could do now was huddle in dapples of shadow and ghoulish light, terrified of the bargain she'd just made. Bringing the giants back was my idea. This is all my fault. She tried not to think about her father, how the spinal crunch of his head being bitten off still haunted her. Tried not to think how she'd just given Fallon permission to murder her in exactly the same way. Not yet. He has work to do first. That thought consoled her. A little.

She reminded herself of her people. How she was doing this for them. Maybe the kingdom will be saved, she tried to cheer herself. Maybe Jack's still alive.

Either way, she was doomed.

Curling up on the stone ledge, Isabelle let the tears make salty tracks down her cheeks, even as Fallon's rumbling snores resumed from somewhere in the darkness

It's my fault.

{O}

Jack felt like his neck was about to snap from staring up at the behemoths surrounding them. Standing back to back with Elmont, he drew a sword that felt reassuring as a feather in his sweating hands. Fallon's skin had proven too tough to cut with a blade. If the four giants towering over them were anything like their leader, he doubted they'd even feel it if he tried to slice them.

"Um," Jack called over his shoulder to Elmont, hoping the knight would still be able to hear him above all the growling and snarling, "what's the proper course of action in a situation like this?"

"Die, most likely." Elmont managed to sound as calm as if they were having a training session, but Jack caught his underlying tone of weary resignation. Jack wasn't about to take his eyes off the giants long enough to glance at his friend, but he could imagine the knight's appearance right now: his mouth set in a grim line, taking a defensive stance while both hands gripped a sword's hilt hard enough to make the tendons stand out like wires in his wrists, and his sandy blonde hair damp from the cold mist in the air. "Unless you happen to have a spare Crown?"

"Sorry. They only made one."

A man-shaped shadow blotted out what little Jack could see of the sky. Foe's ugly snarl and narrowed eyes said all that was needed about the burly giant's intentions. Jack raised his sword as the monster bent down and one of its enormous, wrinkled hands reached for him...

"HALT!"

Foe froze in mid-grab when Fumm's roar cut through the growling and stomping. There was a brief scuffle as the black-haired giant shoved through the circle, pushing Foe and Fye aside in order to have a clear view of the two humans. Jack craned his neck, trying as best he could to look the giant in the eye. Though his face wasn't a complete mask of fury, Fumm did not look happy. At all.

"I should kill you for this," Fumm said, his gravelly voice sounding strained. The corners of his mouth turned down, making him resemble a bulldog about to bite. "Do you realize what your carelessness has done?"

"We lost Isabelle." Having finally said it aloud, Jack could feel despair strolling in through the gates of his heart and making itself at home. She can't be gone. She can't be!

"And you let the dragons take the Crown!" Fumm's angry shout was almost a roar. Beside him, the other giants shuffled restlessly. "Once they deliver it to their egg-mother, we will all be her slaves!"

His words ended on an eruption of furious growling. Foe actually drew his sword, the metal made a bright streak in the deep night. Fine drops of cold rain began to dew the backs of Jack's hands, along with his shoulders and hair. An instinct born of years spent living in tune with the land told him a storm was building.

Egg-mother? Jack was about to ask what the deuce the giant was talking about when he heard the metallic scrape of a sword being sheathed behind him, and suddenly Elmont was at his side. The knight regarded Fumm coolly, showing no trace of fear.

"You're not the only ones with problems. Our princess was taken!"

Fumm's hard expression didn't change, but Jack thought he caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Concern? Worry? "If the dragon does not kill her, she will have to face my brother. Fallon is the best tracker of us all. I doubt she would be able to escape him."

Jack couldn't contain his fear. The thought of Isabelle, all alone and at the mercy of that two-headed freak..."He'll eat her!"

"Not without my permission, Which I don't intend to give!" The defiant shout hung in the air, weighted with conviction. The ring of man-eating teeth and huge, knob-knuckled fists seemed to close even tighter around them when Elmont squared his broad shoulders. He stepped in front of Jack and approached Fumm, unruffled by the unfriendly stares falling darkly upon him, only stopping when he stood dangerously close to the black-haired giant's feet.

"I'm going to look for the princess," Elmont said, his voice steady and firm. "And wherever I find her, I'll likely find the Crown. You lot can either stand there and growl, or help me."

Silence fell. Tension lay thick and hot in the air, yet Elmont remained standing tall. Jack was beyond impressed with the knight. To talk to a mob of giants like that showed either tremendous courage, overwhelming self-confidence, or suicidal craziness. Maybe a little of all three.

Fumm hissed, letting out his breath in a long, slow rush of air. Something feral seemed to drain out of him, and he nodded. "We will honor our alliance with you until the battle is won." Unhappy muttering followed on the heels of his declaration, but no other giant tried to challenge him. They all apparently knew who was boss now.

Turning to his companions, Fumm began issuing orders. "Fee. Fye. Go with the human and help him recover the princess and the Crown." He paused. "And Fallon as well, if he still lives. Foe and I will remain to guard the human city."

"I'm coming with you!" Jack shouted as he turned to face Elmont, but the knight shook his head.

"No, you're not, Jack." Elmont's voice was stern. "The people need you to lead them. You're still the King."

"But-"

"Go with them." Elmont grasped Jack's shoulders and turned him to face Foe and Fumm, who were already heading back to Cloister. "I swear I'll find her, Jack, but you have other duties to worry about now."

It was the hardest decision Jack had ever had to make. Everything in him screamed to go with Elmont and rescue the princess, to be a hero again. Abandoning the sweet, innocent girl that he'd loved at first sight felt like betrayal. Maybe not deliberate, not the sneaky, underhanded Roderick-style of betrayal, but betrayal nonetheless.

But Elmont was right. He was needed elsewhere.

The night closed in around him as he turned to go.

Jack isn't happy and I don't blame him, Elmont thought as he watched his friend's departing back, his shoulders slumped under their burden of responsibility and grief. The horses they'd brought with them had all either been eaten during the dragon attack or broken free of their tethers and made for parts unknown. Jack was in for a long walk back to Cloister, if Foe or Fumm didn't offer to carry him.

A heavy footfall from behind him was a reminder that he had giants of his own to deal with. Elmont turned to see Fye looming over him. The giant's craggy face seemed frozen in a mask of distaste. His heavy brows hung over his squinting eyes like cliffs and the frown he wore seemed to be chiseled from stone.

Elmont addressed the brute in his most intimidating voice.

"What guarantee do I have you won't eat me?"

Fye responded immediately. "None."

"Oh, don't worry, little man." A more cheerful voice called from directly behind Elmont. The knight turned to see Fee standing there, his head crowned by a mess of lanky hair while his giant toes wiggled in excitement, and realized the two monsters had hemmed him in without him even being aware of it. Oh, bloody hell, he thought, suddenly wishing he had a nice, arrow-slinging crossbow with him. Make that several hundred.

Fee grinned, showing every one of his chipped teeth. "We're about to have lots of fun together!"

{O}

AN: I need some feedback here, guys. Is Isabelle too whiny? Last thing I want is to make the heroine of this tale whiny and annoying. This chapter was shorter, but it was hard to write and I'm still not sure I did the images in my head justice.

One other thing worth mentioning. Fallon speaks of himself interchangeably in both the 1st and 3rd person. When he wants to include his small head, he uses "we." When he means "me and me alone," he uses "I." A minor detail but I thought I'd point it out so there's no confusion.