Seed of Darkness

by Little Red Hood

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

9. Chapter 8: Trapped

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 8: Trapped

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

-The Princess Bride

{O}

The alliance between the princess and the giant began the way all meetings between two strong-willed, temperamental people do. With an argument.

"We should go back to Cloister!" Isabelle sat on the shelf of rock with her legs tucked underneath her, trying to keep as much of herself covered by the golden dress as possible. The cut of the gown left her shoulders completely bare, which looked fetching at court but now drew attention when she least wanted it. Once or twice she could've sworn she'd seen Fallon giving her appraising looks and had pretended not to notice. It seemed the wisest thing to do, for she didn't want a repeat of what had happened between them in the garden. Though the sloppy kiss he'd given her still left her baffled, she didn't allow herself to read much into it. She guessed he simply couldn't wait to eat her. It was foolish to think that the man-eater saw her as anything more than a sweet treat, or a tool to be used, or any number of awful things. He was a problem she didn't have a clue how to deal with.

Keeping warm was another problem, for the air in the cave was still damp and bitingly cold, and she'd just spent an uncomfortable night trying to sleep on hard stone while a giant's snores rumbled close by. Her ribs ached. Her joints were stiff and sore. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into a warm featherbed where she wouldn't be bothered by stubborn, stone-hearted men. For a little while, anyway.

Metal clanked in the darkness as the giant adjusted one of his gauntlets, tightening it around his thick wrist. "Your kingdom is miles away and would take days to reach, even for me." The gruff words were thrown at her from over Fallon's broad shoulder as he stomped over to the cave's entrance. Placing his hands upon the boulder that served as a door, his words gave way to formless grunts as he rolled the boulder aside. The cave echoed with dry little crunches as the massive stone yielded to the giant's strength, and Isabelle lifted a hand to her eyes when sharp daylight flooded the chamber.

Wiping water from her eyes, Isabelle heard Fallon brushing dust off his hands, then his thumping footsteps approaching her ledge. The outcropping put her at chest-level with the giant, giving her an excellent view of the grooves and notches in his armor. Some of the scrapes intersected, seeming to form a twisted, scowling human face. "We're already in their territory. Might as well bring the hunt to them." There was a fierce gleam in his eyes the princess was sure she'd seen before, while galloping on horseback over a windswept field pursued by him and his marauding gang. While the smaller head wore an apprehensive frown, Fallon himself was ready, willing, and eager to cause a little carnage.

She didn't flinch when he picked her up, though it was close.

His fingers didn't clamp as tightly around her this time, which was a small blessing since he'd already bruised her ribs the night before. She was able to hook an arm around his thumb while the world moved around her, the swaying motion of his body making her stomach lurch in unpredictable ways. Being carried in a giant's meaty hand so far off the ground wasn't something she was ever sure she would get used to. Experience had taught her she could survive the fall if he dropped her, but the landing was always unpleasant.

Birds scattered as he emerged from the cave. His small head blinked owlishly, making odd little squeals. Despite the slate-colored clouds blanketing the sky, the day was still bright. Fallon sniffed the breeze, wrinkled his nose, and chose a path through the hills. Cool wind buffeted her face, blowing the hair off her brow and ruffling the sleeves of her dress as she tightened her grip on his thumb and tried not to look down.

"Have you really hunted dragons before?" Isabelle asked shyly. For some reason, she felt the need to say something to him rather than dangle idly in his grasp.

Fallon spared her a glance. "What do you think this is?" A sharp jerk of his head drew Isabelle's attention to the bone spikes he wore on his left shoulder. She'd never really had a chance to study the shoulder guard too closely before, and still wasn't expert enough to note all the details. But the triangular shape of the lumpy bone, the openings where nostrils would be, and the pair of horns jutting from between the brow ridges marked the trophy unmistakably as the skull of a young dragon.

"Oh," Isabelle said, feeling oddly chastised.

The path Fallon had chosen sloped steadily downward through tall grass, and it wasn't long before the grass transformed into stands of elder pines, spruces, and other needleleaf trees. Some of the trees were centuries old, making them gnarled monsters of twisted wood and sharp leaves that grew taller even than the giant. This brought on another argument, in which Fallon insisted he needed both hands free to clear their way and would have to carry her in his trophy bag like he'd intended to do in the first place. Of course, the princess objected strongly to this, making all sorts of dire threats she had no way to carry out but which sounded good anyway, until Fallon snarled, placed her on his shoulder in the gap between his two heads, and told her to "hold on or your corpse can ride in the bag an' it won't mind a bit."

So now Isabelle found herself even higher off the ground riding a moving mountain, clinging to the neck of the small head as though it were the mast of a sinking ship while trying not to be spattered by drool whenever it would try to speak to her. The creature acted like it wanted to complain; its wide eyes were rolling in its head like marbles while its cheeks were turning an odd purplish color. But, try as she might, Isabelle couldn't relax her grip. Every step Fallon took jostled her to the point where she couldn't help crying out in fear.

After about the fourteenth or fifteenth petrified squeak, Fallon huffed out a long, exasperated breath. "For the love of the angels, woman, how did you make it up the beanstalk without dyin' of fright?" A pair of trees in front of them were shoved aside like kindling, the snap of breaking branches tinged the air with the smell of sap and crushed pine needles.

"I didn't climb it. I was carried up in a house." Feeling foolish but too sick and scared to care, Isabelle hid her face against the small head's neck as Fallon started walking again.

Though she couldn't see his expression, Isabelle thought she heard something of amusement in the giant's voice. "So you will answer questions when it suits you." Crackling as more trees were pushed aside.

"When I'm not being interrogated," she shot back, though her voice was muffled by the small head's neck.

He answered with a grunt, then stopped walking. Isabelle raised her head, alarmed that she'd offended him, but saw his attention was focused entirely upon a tree. Standing off to the giant's left, it was a pine tree that reached the same height as Fallon's thigh. With it being so small, Isabelle could see no reason to knock it over and so couldn't figure out why the giant was so transfixed by it. Fallon sniffed a few times, then bent down, forcing Isabelle to cling even more tightly to the second head. I hope I don't strangle the poor thing, she thought as she watched Fallon reach within the branches of the tree. His hand disappeared up to his iron-clad wrist in rustling green leaves, feeling around until finally drawing out something that looked like a ball of twigs. Isabelle squinted her eyes just as something in the center of the ball flashed speckled white, and she realized he'd discovered a bird's nest, complete with eggs. He popped the whole thing into his mouth and swallowed, not even bothering to chew. Isabelle shuddered slightly, while the small head whined and spluttered, apparently put out at not getting a bite for itself.

He stopped at several more trees, finding eggs and occasionally live birds huddling in the branches. All went into his mouth without a thought. Isabelle stayed stock-still and silent, the last thing she wanted being to fall under the attention of a hungry giant.

It wasn't until they crossed paths with a herd of deer that Fallon's whole demeanor became that of a true predator, feral and wolfish. Pushing a stand of trees aside, the giant emerged into a clearing where at least twenty deer grazed peacefully. Their tawny heads jerked up, a few still with tufts of grass poking from the sides of their gray muzzles, and then they were off. Their long, spotted legs carried them halfway across the clearing in seconds, with their white tails raised in fright. There was at least a mile of open space before reaching a thicket of sheltering trees. Oh no, Isabelle thought, sensing the change in Fallon and instinctively taking hold of the small head with a deathgrip a second before the giant gave chase, bounding after the deer with long, earth-shaking strides.

Isabelle recounted few details of the chase, as she was too busy trying not to be thrown off Fallon's shoulder. Impressions of an enormous rippling wind in her face, occasional flashes of green seen through her eyelids, and chattering cries of birds taking to the sky. Every running step rattled her teeth and made her head spin, despite her eyes being squeezed shut. The thundering hooves of the deer were soon eclipsed by Fallon's heavy footsteps, and it couldn't have been more than a minute before she heard his unmistakable growl, followed by the pitiful squeals of a wounded animal. Her heartbeat skipped over itself when Fallon stopped running, and she slowly loosened her grip on his other half, feeling alternating waves of relief and helpless anger over the giant's total disregard for her. Didn't he even realize I could've been killed?

Opening her eyes, Isabelle peered out from beneath the small head's chin. For its part, the misshapen head seemed utterly cheerful, like a child who'd just ridden a fast and spirited horse. It burbled another string of nonsense at her, and the interrogative lilt at the end made Isabelle think she almost grasped its meaning.

Wasn't that fun?

Isabelle opened her mouth, then closed it, not trusting herself to speak.

More panicked squealing pricked her eardrums like tiny pins, causing almost physical pain inside her skull. She didn't want to see whatever Fallon was doing to the deer he'd caught, for the sounds were horrible enough. She swallowed around the lump in her throat when the animal's squeals were cut off by a sickeningly brittle crunch, then followed shortly by wet, grisly tearing as his hands ripped the deer's body apart. Blood tainted the air so strongly even she could smell it, and she quickly turned away from the second head when Fallon offered it a glistening piece of red meat.

The misshapen head took the treat from his fingers eagerly, gulping it down while licking smears of juice from its flabby lips. Another bite-sized chunk was offered and accepted. Isabelle tried to angle her body away from the monster while it ate. Her hands shook as she made them unclench from the base of the pop-eyed creature's neck, but a few drops of disturbingly warm blood fell on her left hand before she could pull it away. She grimaced as she flicked them off, ugly memories playing through her mind of a castle full of angry giants and a good man screaming as he died...

Her nape tingled as she felt a pair of dark-rimmed eyes upon her from the opposite side. Turned slowly to see Fallon glaring at her.

"You think us monsters for having breakfast?" he growled. Traces of blood still coated his lips, and his eyes were narrowed to thin slits of gray. A half-eaten deer carcass was clutched in his right hand, with a ragged stump where the head had been and both hind legs missing. From the north, a stiff wind blew, clearing Isabelle's head a little as it carried away the mixed scents of fresh gore, crushed pine needles, and dust-laden animal pelt.

Nervous, Isabelle swallowed hard. Keeping the left side of her face partly blanketed by her long hair, she mumbled, "I-It just seems...cruel."

Fallon stared at her, then lifted the deer to his mouth and bit into its side. Viscera and brittle rib bones disappeared into his mouth, leaving behind a neatly gouged hole any butcher would envy. His jaws worked as he chewed and swallowed. "Such is the way of the world, princess. You've lived too long inside your pretty palace if you don't know that." He sounded so reasonable. Not malicious or spiteful, just stating a fact.

It made her angry, all the same.

"But what you did to Crawe..."

Fallon shoved the last scraps of deer flesh into his mouth and chewed blandly. With his mouth full, he grumbled, "Who?"

That one word made the simmering coals of her anger erupt into red-hot flames. Ignoring the internal voices telling her not to, she snapped at him. "The soldier you ate back on Gantua!"

"Oh, that one." Fallon's cheeks bulged where his tongue appeared to be probing along the inside of his mouth. A second later a pair of broken antlers were spat out into the grass at his feet. "He was askin' for it."

Isabelle stared, then before she could think properly about what she was doing she rounded on him. "I have been out into the world, and I've found that if you treat people decently and with kindness, they'll do the same to you."

The giant snorted, clearly deeming her statement unworthy of a reply. He started walking again, forcing Isabelle to once again fling her arms around the small head's neck. That one small exchange between them had left her feeling so thoroughly drained that she felt no qualms about closing her eyes and laying her cheek against the second head's throat, Surprised, the little creature made a thin, high-pitched whistling sound, and Isabelle hung on as her world narrowed into sounds of breaking trees, clanking metal, and thumping footsteps.

Her strange little companion wouldn't stay silent, however.

"Squaweakagh!"

She lifted her eyes to meet its round, childlike, slightly mad ones. "What?"

"Pfffokk!"

"What?"

"Waaphaka!"

"WHAT?"

From beside them came a guttural cry that was halfway between a roar and an irritated scream. Chipmunks and squirrels fled at the sound, chittering in terror while scurrying through the underbrush on quick little paws. The small head clamped its mouth shut immediately. Isabelle did likewise, but not without patting the tongue-tied misfit on its chubby cheek to reassure it. Poor thing. Attached to that brute without a hope of freedom. She couldn't imagine a worse fate.

Well, actually she could, but she preferred not to think about that yet.

Small shrubs and fallen branches crackled beneath Fallon's feet as he continued trekking through the forest. Sometimes he would pause long enough to sniff the wind, then start down a different path, shoving trees and other obstacles aside as he went. His choices of direction seemed completely random to her, but must've made perfect sense to his nose. As she continued to cling to his second head, she found herself stealing glances at his rugged face, noting how different the two halves of his being were. Fallon was a contradiction, in every sense of the word. She soon found herself wondering what it must be like for someone so wild and fierce to be bonded to a freakish little twin that he could never be separate from. For the most part, he appeared to completely ignore his other self, yet had shown enough consideration to offer it a bite to eat. That's far more courtesy than he's shown me, she thought archly. Her empty stomach gave a nasty rumble, upset at being forgotten.

It wasn't long before curiosity overruled caution. "A-Are there any other giants with two heads?" she asked hesitantly. A gust of wind blew a tangled skein of hair off her brow, and she resisted the temptation to lean back against Fallon's misshapen brother and brace for an angry rebuke.

Fallon took so long in answering she was sure he would ignore her, but eventually his huge head swiveled sharply in her direction. "No," he said before turning away just as quickly. A hard edge in his voice warned her not to pursue the subject further. At least he's talking. Time passed between them in silence, broken only by sounds of rustling leaves and the thump of Fallon's feet. Slivers of sunlight occasionally poked through the clouds, sending needle- fine rays of light among the swaying trees. From somewhere in the distance came the splashing and bubbling of running water, but Isabelle couldn't tell from which direction. Where are we going anyway? Would he even tell me if I asked?

An idea came to her that might help her gather information, while keeping her on what passed for Fallon's good side. If nothing else, it would certainly placate his overbearing ego.

Turning to face the monster while keeping her position on his shoulder, the princess said, "There are...legends about you and your fight with King Erik." A querulous mumble from the second head prompted her to turn to it, adding, "And you, too."

Fallon said nothing, but she could tell she'd piqued his interest, for his eyes grew wide enough that the darkness around them seemed to retreat as the whites flashed. She held her breath, watching him as he paused once more to sniff the wind. Satisfied with whatever he'd found, he stomped forward, but not without darting a glance at her as she huddled on his shoulder.

His voice was a bass rumble. "Really?"

Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. "My mother used to tell me. Th-They've been passed down among my people for generations."

"What do they say about us?" Now he'd abandoned any pretense at being disinterested, actually slowing his strides so as to pay closer attention to her.

Isabelle's mind flew into a frenzy as she recalled the old stories, retelling what she'd heard while giving herself leave to make things up as needed. "They say your feet shook the ground when you were angry."

"That's true." He sounded pleased. The small head grinned goofily down at her. Overhanging branches trailed leaves over the little misfit's helmeted head, but it appeared not to notice.

"Go on."

"They say you could catch a thunderbolt in your bare hands."

Fallon actually chuckled, a deep-throated laugh of genuine amusement."That's almost true. We caught a battering ram in our hands right before it knocked us to the ground." His small head glanced sideways at him, snickering. For the barest instant, they became just like two human brothers reveling at past mischief. Isabelle shook her head.

"What else, princess?"

She struggled to think. There was one thing she remembered clearly but she hesitated to say it.

The expectant look Fallon gave her decided the matter for her. "And they say you killed a hundred men every day," she said, hoping the resentment she felt didn't creep into her voice.

Fallon grinned as his eyes took on the slightly glazed cast of a man remembering a happy dream. "There was never any shortage of soldiers stupid enough to attack us. We feasted well in those days."

Feasted? Revulsion soured her stomach. So many soldiers...eaten alive. Her lips pressed together as she swallowed, hard. "They were defending their homes!" Her rebuke was barely a mutter, but Fallon heard her anyway.

"And we were defending ours." The snarl underlying the words made her jump and lean away in fright. The world seemed to pause around them as he stopped shoving at a pair of thick-rooted oaks barring his way and focused all his irate attention upon her. Isabelle's pulse ratcheted up as steel-gray eyes the size of dinnerplates fastened on her face.

"Tell me, princess. What do your legends tell you of King Erik?"

Surprised, she had to force her mouth to work properly as she stammered, "Th-That he was a good King. That he fought for his people and-" Her voice faltered when she saw Fallon's lips compress into a thin line.

The second head looked at her with huge eyes and began to whimper. Was it worried about her?

A growl built deep in Fallon's throat, rose in pitch before exploding into an angry shout. "Of course they would say that! Maybe I'll tell you the truth about King Erik before I eat you." The smugness in his voice made her skin crawl. Unable to take the weight of his stare any longer, she turned sharply away. Felt her back prickle as his eyes lingered on her a few seconds longer before leaving. With a grunt, the two trees before him were knocked aside like cobwebs and the giant thundered on his way again, his thick legs carrying him forward like a trundling siege engine made of muscle and iron armor.

Isabelle's hair was whipped off her face by a cold blast of wind. "That's...fair enough, I suppose," she said, keeping her voice low and her face tucked neatly into the shadow of the second head. She didn't trust her expression at that moment, the giant's harsh words having reminded her of their gruesome pact and how it would eventually end. Above her, Fallon's little twin looked down and made soft cooing noises that she almost thought were meant to reassure her.

Half of him seems to like me. I guess that's something, she thought sadly.

She'd grown so used to the steady rhythm of his walk by now that she knew instantly when he'd found whatever he'd been looking for. His whole body went rigid, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching up so tightly they bulged like steel cables beneath his skin. "Finally," he said, triumph plainly coloring his voice as he stared down at a spot of leaf-strewn underbrush at his feet.

Isabelle had to grit her teeth against head-swimming dizziness before she could lean forward and look down to see what he'd spotted. From the height of his shoulder, the forest floor resembled a living patchwork of curling green plants, lichen-covered stones, and churned soil. A wealth of subtle signs must've been there for an experienced hunter to read, but the princess didn't need much experience in order to see what had gotten Fallon's attention. So close that the giant could've dipped his toes in it was a thick puddle of dark purple blood.

"That's dragons blood," Isabelle whispered..

Fallon glanced at her, blinking. She wasn't sure, but the slight tilt to his head suggested her statement had surprised him. "Aye. From the one who carried us here," he said, then swung his head about in sharp little jerks, sniffing. "I nearly ripped the bastard's wing off so there should be more."

And there was more. Splotches and daubs of purple ichor covered the ground ahead of them, forming a meandering trail. Isabelle watched intently as Fallon followed the trail like a bloodhound. His bulging arms swung at his sides as the length of his strides increased, stepping over blood-spattered stones and tree roots, only pausing long enough to scent the air before trudging on again. Even his second head was sniffing with its mouth set in a grim line, an expression so unlike its normal childlike self. Isabelle's arms quivered from the strain of clinging to its thick neck but she didn't dare move, not when both halves of Fallon were so keenly focused on the hunt. Just like when he chased Jack and I through the palace, she thought, then shut the memory away, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths.

They followed the trail as it looped and zigzagged up and down hills, passing between a pair of worn gray boulders whose sides were stained with drying purple. In places trees had been thrown down, while any left standing stooped like tired old soldiers, their trunks blackened and raked clean of bark. Fallon plunged ahead without slowing. Dead trees in his path broke apart like logs in a fire, twisted, uprooted, and tossed aside, then crushed under his feet. Biting her lower lip, Isabelle threw nervous glances up at the cloud-covered sky, fearful of seeing sleek reptilian shapes flitting behind the murky veil. Soon Fallon shoved the last of the damaged trees aside, revealing before them a vast open field. Here the land was mercifully flat, with only a few clumps of shrubs and scattered pink and yellow wildflowers posing as obstacles. The air was clearer here, free of the charred smokiness within the burned forest, and Isabelle felt the dizziness brought on by the giant's constant motion begin to recede a little. But her relief quickly turned to dismay when she spotted a set of grooves dug into the soft ground. Some large-bodied creature had dragged itself through the grass. Fallon took a cautious step forward. His nostrils flared wide and his fingers twitched.

Isabelle tensed, drawing her legs up and squeezing herself into a tight little ball on his shoulder. If there was about to be a fight between a giant and a dragon, the last place she wanted to be was in the middle of it. Fallon seemed oblivious to her safety. She couldn't count on him to protect her, despite his claim that nothing would eat her except him. I suppose he thinks that should make me feel better. Resigned, she clung doggedly to the second head and tried to look everywhere at once. For its part, the second head licked its bottom lip while following Fallon's gaze as he took in the scene.

It wasn't long before Fallon wrinkled his nose and glanced at her. "You can relax, princess. The scent is faint. Its not here."

Embarrassed, she gave the inside of her cheek a sharp nip. Damn giants and their fear-sniffing noses! Forcing her trembling muscles to unfold in increments as she stretched out of her battle-ready crouch, Isabelle mumbled, "Maybe it's dead."

Fallon knelt down, examined the grooves dug into the damp earth. Isabelle's senses were already on high-alert so the sudden change in perspective didn't catch her unprepared this time, though it left her fighting a fresh surge of dizziness as the entire field seemed to roll around her like an ocean wave. Fallon leaned forward, traced a finger through the churned-up soil, then brought the dirt-coated fingertip to his nose, all while the princess locked her arms tight around his spluttering second head and wished for the hundredth time that day he would move more slowly. "It's not dead," Fallon said, grimacing. His narrowed eyes swept the clearing. Isabelle watched him intently. The giant was tense - she could tell by the way the rock-hard muscles in his shoulders had grown just the barest fraction harder. Around them, tall grass swayed and bent in the wind, a hypnotic display both beautiful and deceptively normal. A moment passed before Fallon straightened up to his full height, but this time he moved slowly enough that Isabelle's pounding head had time to adjust. A small favor for which she was inexpressibly grateful. "But it is hurt and confused, blundering about in circles." Scorn was thick in the giant's voice as he flicked dirt off his fingers. His other head rolled its eyes and squawked out a word harsh enough to be a curse.

Isabelle stared at the disturbed ground, trying to see what the giants trail did seem to loop back on itself, though how Fallon could tell that the deep gouges sliced into the earth were all the work of a single dragon was a mystery to her. Wetting her dry lips, she cautiously asked, "So, what now? We wait for it to come back?"

Wind ruffled her hair and rippled the bodice of her dress while she waited for the giant's answer. It came when the corners of Fallon's mouth turned up in a grim smile. A cunning light shone forth from his eyes that thrilled Isabelle and terrified her simultaneously, prompting her to silently thank God she wasn't the one he was hunting this time.

"Aye, we wait. And we'll give it a little welcoming gift on its return."

With that, he reached up a hand and Isabelle gasped as his fingers folded around her. Her grip on his second head tore loose as he plucked her off his shoulder, then set her down in the grass near his feet. "Don't get in my way," he snarled, and the princess backed hurriedly away, her gown and hair buffeted by the wind raised by the giant's feet as he walked. He hadn't gone far before he knelt down and plunged both hands into the ground. Isabelle kept off to the side, staying to the right and a little bit behind the giant, wondering what he was up to.

From under his breath, she herd him growl, "No tools so we'll have to do this the hard way." He pulled his hands out of the ground, bringing up fistfuls of loose soil that crumbled down between his fingers. Isabelle edged around him, keeping well out of the way as the giant tore at the ground like an enemy, digging up fistfuls of earth that were flung carelessly over his shoulders.

Isabelle stared, half-wondering if he'd gone mad. "What are you doing?"

The giant ignored her, continuing to dig.

She crossed her arms. "Maybe I could help if you told me what you were doing!"

His response was to chuck a generous amount of dirt in her direction. Either by accident or design, his aim was off and she was easily able to avoid the worst of it. The exposed skin on her face, chest, and legs ended up coated in a thin layer of grime all the same, to say nothing about the dress.

Insufferable barbarian! She sank to the ground in a huff. Once again, she was being treated like a useless thing, though she'd hardly expected anything different from the bully who'd locked her in a cage, terrorized her, and tried to eat her. Spreading her dress over her crossed legs, she tried to calm herself by picking white wildflowers and tying them into the petal scraps that remained of her flower crown, but soon gave the activity up as hopeless. Her fingers weren't nearly as nimble as Ana's and most of the blossoms were half-withered already.

She watched Fallon working with his back to her, digging with his bare hands. Does he worry that I might try to escape? This was as good an opportunity as any. Maybe she could use ashes from the burned trees to hide her scent and...

It would be suicide to try, a sensible voice that sounded closest in spirit to her mother whispered. He could smell you in a heartbeat, ashes or no. And with all the dragons running about, leaving him would be a fool's gamble.

It came as a surprise when thoughts of abandoning him - or them - stirred up the tiniest bit of guilt buried beneath the layers of frustration and general hostility the old monster inspired in her. The only reason he's out here is because I was slow enough to let a dragon catch me. And though Fallon himself was less than civil, his little twin had shown her some affection, indeed, was even endearing in its own odd, clumsy way.

She shook herself. What am I thinking? Their giants! They can look after themselves!

By now, Fallon had dug a hole so deep she couldn't see him anymore, though from within the pit she could hear occasional grunts and gibberish as the brothers conversed, or tried to. Clumps of soil and rocks were being thrown out of the crudely-hewn pit, filling the air with dust and the rich fragrance of deep, moist dirt. A few times, the thrown sods barely missed her, making it necessary to scramble further away. She'd been thinking, and thought she had an inkling of what the pit was for.

When Fallon climbed out of the pit, he was covered from bald heads to bare toes in muck. Isabelle didn't dare laugh; though she felt certain that if Fumm were with them, he would've done all the laughing for her. She simply followed her instructions and stayed out of the giants way as he stomped back into the forest. He emerged moments later carrying bundles of trees under both arms. While sitting on the ground, he stripped them of their branches, snapping them off one by one until the trunks resembled blunt spears. Using an edged stone the size of his fist, he scraped at the trunks, whittling them to brutally sharp points. All the while Isabelle watched quietly, fascinated despite herself.

"You're making a pit-trap," she muttered.

The giant paused in mid-scrape, clutching the last tree in his big left hand while holding the scraper in his right. "What?"

Her cheeks felt hot. She hadn't meant to speak aloud! "A-A pit-trap. Foresters use them to kill wolves back home."

Fallon squinted at her. One corner of his mouth curved up. His second head raised an eyebrow while making a soft, questioning noise. "And how would a little princess like you know what foresters do?"

Flustered, she voiced the first answer that popped into her head. "Because I ask questions."

Fallon stared at her for a few more seconds while she sat, twisting her hands in her lap and hoping she hadn't just reignited his volcanic temper. Then he lifted his left shoulder in a strange half-shrug and bent to work over the tree again, scraping it down until it was just as sharp and deadly-looking as the others. He tested the point with a finger and nodded, satisfied.

"Aye, it's a killing-pit," he said without looking up. "The beast will cross this path again. It can't fly, so this little trick might actually work." Fallon pushed off the ground until he stood at his full height again, casting Isabelle in his shadow. Gathering the bundles of newly-made spears under his arms, he stomped over to the pit and began arranging them at the bottom, shoving them down with all his strength until they protruded like rows of straight, carnivorous teeth.

It took another hour for the giant to cover the pit, concealing it with enough loose soil that it would appear as solid land to all but the keenest eyes. When he had finished, he stomped over to Isabelle, bent down, and scooped her up in his dirty hands. She sneezed at the cloud of dust that surrounded him, fervently wishing for a tub full of hot water and soap. Though one would be hard-pressed to find a tub big enough for a giant. The thought was so amusing it almost spurred her into nervous laughter as she rested in his cupped palms. She was carried for a short distance back into the woods, then set down upon a scorched log. She'd scarcely made an attempt to smooth down her filthy dress before the giant folded himself down into a tight crouch next to her.

The small head grinned down at her. "Dwagon!"

"What?" Isabelle whispered, holding a hand to her mouth.

"Be silent, both of you!" Fallon snapped. His hands were resting on his bulging knees. Isabelle realized he was staying low to avoid being seen from a distance, for he'd chosen a spot where there were enough trees left standing to shield his body from direct view. "I smell it near."

Isabelle licked her lips nervously. The field was still visible from between the thick boughs that shielded them. Any moment she expected to see a flash of green scales or a slitted, yellow-gold eye. Gazing out from between clawlike branches, she counted her breaths and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What time is it? she wondered, swiping at her bleary eyes again. Beside her, Fallon still crouched like a grime-spattered gargoyle, but there was a significant droop to his shoulders. Peering at him, she noticed that the second head was sound asleep with its tongue lolling out of its gaping mouth, and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Fallon, though, was less than amused. He banged a fist into the side of its helmeted head, waking it into a spluttering rage, and Isabelle felt her amusement flash into alarm when both heads turned and snarled at each other.

"How long has it been?" Fallon grumbled. His brow ridge was practically hanging over his eyes in a surly frown. The small head pouted, thrusting its thick lower lip out in comical indignation.

Isabelle stretched and scanned the sky. "Six hours, I think." Overhead, the thick spread of clouds had lost some of its luster, fading from bright slate to old beaten iron. She'd long since abandoned the splinter-covered log, folding herself into a dainty ball on the ground, past caring about the chill and damp that had soaked into every part of her. She rolled her shoulders, trying to coax feeling back into her numb fingertips.

Fallon sniffed the air again, his dark-rimmed eyes taking on a slightly bewildered look that somehow made him seem less threatening. Isabelle stayed on her guard, however, mindful that a confused man is often the most dangerous. "Maybe we're in the wrong place," Isabelle said, keeping her voice light and reasonable.

Fallon shook his head vigorously. "No, I can smell it! Smells never lie!" He shifted his weight, rocking on the balls of his feet so that his toes left deep prints in the blackened soil. A crease had appeared in his forehead and the tip of his hawklike nose seemed sharper. "It should cross the path right over the trap I've set for it."

"We can always come back later and check." Isabelle sighed, not really expecting him to take the suggestion. Still sitting, she poked at an unfamiliar weed with spiky leaves, then picked up a handful of dead leaves and let them crumble between her fingers. Somewhere in the forest, a bird screeched.

A faint rattling sound reached her ears, so small and innocuous she would have dismissed it if it hadn't seemed to come from somewhere directly below her. Sweeping her gaze around herself, she noticed two pebble-sized stones laying in a clump of grass by her left ankle. The pebbles tapped against each other. Lightly, as though they were being shaken. And it was then that she became aware of the vibration welling up from deep below the forest floor. A quiet hum, almost subsonic, but sending trembling waves through every leaf, tree, stone, and bramble around them.

The bird screeched again, then more birds joined it. Dead trees shook their ruined branches, though the wind was completely still. Isabelle's right hand spasmed, became a tight fist. A trickle of crawling, primeval fear threaded through her veins, only to be multiplied tenfold when from beside her Fallon muttered a Gantish curse.

"Fallon," she said, her voice tight and frightened, "I think..."

I think we should move, she'd meant to say, only then the ground below them heaved up like an angry stallion trying to throw them off its back. Isabelle rolled several feet until her back collided against a knobby tree root as wide as her leg. Wincing with pain, she scrambled away just as the root split, exposing white inner bark stained brown with rot.

Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she raised her head and glanced around wildly for Fallon. Found him still on his feet, yet barely managing to keep his balance as geysers of mud erupted all around him, and there was no mistaking the miserable voice of the second head as it groaned.

"Oh fu-"

A green, scaly whip tail shot out of the ground, fastening itself like a snake around Fallon's leg, pulling him off balance. A second later the buried dragon exploded out of the earth in a flurry of claws and gnashing teeth, sending up a thick cloud of dirt and leaves that pelted Isabelle's face as she staggered to her feet. Panic electrified her limbs, forcing her into a stumbling run. She was close, far too close, to what was about to be a battle between titans, and needed to move now.

Launching forward, she flitted like a crazed bird among the singed pines and spruces. The hem of her golden dress, now streaked with mud and dust, flowed out behind her like spoiled honey. Stones dug into the soles of her feet, sending spikes of pain up her legs. From behind her, she heard monstrous roars and snakelike hisses. The forest floor still shook, only now the source of the trembling was aboveground as the dragon and giant rushed each other. Wood snapped behind her as more trees were either uprooted or thrown to the ground. Something massive hit the forest floor, setting off a miniature earthquake that nearly threw Isabelle onto her face. Out of breath and cowering behind a thick-bodied oak, she whipped her head around and peered through a scraggle of stick-thin branches to see the progress of the fight.

The two combatants were locked in a flailing, snarling ball amid a wreckage of smashed forest and swirling dust. Fallon was fighting on his back with the dragon bearing down on him. White wisps of smoke trailed from its open jaws as it leaned in closer to the giant, and Isabelle's heart gave a frantic leap when she heard the beast suck down a deep, rasping breath. Fire! she would've shouted, but the giant had already sensed the danger and sent a closed fist flying at the dragon's throat. The fist connected with a meaty thwack! as Fallon snarled more curses. Surprised, the fire-breather convulsed, appearing to choke while curving its neck back into an S-shape. From its nose and mouth the dragon exhaled a shower of harmless red and yellow sparks that fell in a glittering puff on Fallon's face. As one, the two brothers barred their teeth in a wicked sneer just as the dragon lifted a forepaw and raked its talons across the bridge of Fallon's nose. Isabelle gasped. Even from a distance, she could see blood flowing freely from the cut made below Fallon's right eye. Attached to his shoulder, the small head was unable to do more than curse and bare its teeth in an expression of rage and pain. Though only half his size, the reptilian crouched like a scaly cat upon his chest, its tail coiled like a choking vine around his right leg. One of the dragon's wings fluttered loosely, the membranous folds torn to ragged strips with purple blood still seeping at the juncture where wing met body.

Isabelle's breath hitched. She felt utterly small, powerless, and angry with herself. Though she wasn't especially fond of the giant, she couldn't just stand by and do nothing for him. She glanced in the direction of the open field, judging the distance between herself and the edge of the forest. Not far. And though she couldn't tell exactly where it was, the pit-trap was still out there, waiting.

You can't seriously be considering this.

A high-pitched squeal stabbed her ears like a burning knife, bringing all her attention back to the fight. The dragon had sunk its claws deep into the exposed area of skin beneath Fallon's second head, puncturing muscle all the way down to the collarbone. The giant writhed in fury, managing to smash a fist into the dragon's ribcage as it continued to gouge holes in his shoulder, hissing at the second head, trying to tear it off.

Oh bugger.

There was no more time to think. She dove out from behind the tree, feet nearly slipping as she bent to scoop up a heavy, egg-shaped stone. She ran, dodging through broken, bent trees back to where the monsters fought, getting so close she could see how the pebbly scales along the dragon's flanks rippled as it breathed. Fresh steam billowed from the dragon's jaws, and Fallon was too focused on keeping the beast's mouth and claws away from his face to notice her. But the second head twisted on its stumpy neck and caught sight of the princess just as she drew her arm back. Its eyes grew perfectly white and round when it realized what she was about to do.

"Don't!"

That was clear enough, she thought just as the stone left her hand. It sailed in a smooth arc through the air, tumbling as it flew, until it struck with a solid crack against the side of the dragon's hard, spike-studded head.

I hit it, she thought stupidly. Wonder and fear mixed in equal parts within the churning maelstrom of her mind. Until now, she'd been certain she would miss.

Seconds ticked away as the stone bounced off the dragon's tough skull, harmless as an acorn. With the dark pits of its nostrils flaring in anger, the dragon's head swiveled in a quick, fluid jerk. Slitted, eggyolk-yellow eyes fastened on Isabelle as she stood in full view, small yet regal in her tattered golden dress and wilted flowers. Fallon grunted as the dragon pulled its claws out of the shredded meat of his shoulder and began twisting its entire body to face the princess, having relegated the fallen giant it crouched upon to little more than an afterthought. Bloodstained claws clattered over iron chestplating as the dragon tensed, hindlegs quivering, foamy saliva dripping from its toothy jaws.

No dragon can resist a princess once she's trussed up and ready to be sacrificed.

Isabelle didn't wait. She bolted, shredding the hem of her dress as she ran. Behind her came the whisper-slide of scales rubbing each other as the dragon came for her. But for once, her size was an advantage, enabling her to slip easily amongst the trees whereas the dragon had to either squeeze through them or knock them down. Its broken wing dragged over the ground, snagging on every branch, thorn, or tree root strong enough to tear the inner membrane. It hissed in frustration as Isabelle stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

Arms and legs pumping, Isabelle pushed herself to the limit. She was staggering by the time she reached the tree line. The field spread out before her, wide and open with no place to hide, and when the dragon exploded out of the forest her foot slipped into loose earth and she was falling...

Uncoiling like a spring, the dragon leapt for her...

...just as the ground beneath her dropped away. To late, it saw the danger and tried to flap its wings. But its leap had already taken it over Isabelle's head and into the pit.

Isabelle didn't see the spears impale the dragon's body. She just knew it must've happened, because suddenly the whole world was filled with its inhuman screaming. No legend had ever told about the power of a dragon's scream. It was like a million mirrors being shattered and shattered and shattered, until each tormented sliver of glass was ground into sparkling dust. Sounds of a thrashing dragon body several feet below mingled with the screams while the princess tried to pull herself to safety. She wanted desperately to slap her hands over her ears, but letting go of the pit's edge would mean falling to her death among those flailing claws.

Chunks of grass and soil were coming loose in her fingers. The dragon's jaws snapped below her, and the sick knowledge that it would stay alive long enough to sink its teeth into her flesh galvanized her into a titanic effort to clear the edge.

Her foot slipped. Crying, she felt herself falling backwards.

Only to be grabbed roughly by a giant's huge hand. A giant who, when she was brought up to his face, looked absolutely furious.

\"You little fool!" he roared. Isabelle didn't flinch at the sound. It was almost a relief to hear him yelling after enduring the howls of a dying dragon. "What were you tryin' to do? Cheat me of my revenge?"

Isabelle tried to get her shaking under control, and failed. "That thing was going to kill you!" His thumb felt solid, reassuring, and the princess grabbed onto it for dear life.

"No, it wasn't!" The giant stepped away from the pit as a gout of flame shot up in a white-hot blast, the last gasp before a dragon death. Despite the blood smeared around the right side of his collarbone, the slice across his nose, and his drooping, bruised, and bloody second head, Fallon snarled out, "I had this!"

Isabelle blinked, then shook her head, feeling far too tired to argue with the stupidity of warrior men. She simply clung to his fingers, gripping his warm skin so tightly she was surprised it didn't hurt him. Not that he would admit it if it did, she felt sure. "Is it dead?" she asked weakly.

Fallon spared a glance into the pit. "Aye."

"Well, I suppose we can call it a day, then."

Isabelle could've shouted her praises to God when he agreed.

And so the giant and princess returned to the cave. Maybe the old monster sensed she was too tired to cling to his shoulder, or was making sure she couldn't escape, or simply wanted to keep her close to him. Perhaps it was all three of them at once. But for whatever reason, the giant didn't release the princess from his hand until he'd sealed her up nice and neat within his den once more, and this time she went into the darkness gratefully, too tired to fight, wanting nothing more than to curl into an exhausted ball and sleep.

{O}

If only the universe would let her.

"AAAAAGGGHH!"

The pained roar sounded muffled through covered ears, but was no less terrifying. When it had finished bouncing and echoing through the cave, Isabelle lowered her shaking hands until they rested in her lap. Patches of fluorescent moss sprouting between ridges chiseled into the cavern roof cast a sputtering green half-light on the man-shaped monster as he groaned. The princess cringed on the stone ledge that served her as a bed and stared down at the wounded giant.

She somehow found the courage to speak. "F-Fallon, maybe you shouldn't do that."

He turned, and the dark look he gave her drained the last drops of color from her already pallid face. "No, I shouldn't! That way, the wounds can fester and rot!" The giant's face tightened as he gritted his teeth, then pulled out another sliver of dragon claw embedded in his shoulder. Isabelle had already covered her ears against the earsplitting howl that followed. The small head yelped pitifully. Its round eyes glistened as though there were tears in them.

After a few moments of rough, ragged breathing, the giant's whole body sagged. "The claws might carry poison," he said, his voice deep and dragging from weariness. Isabelle stared. Sitting among the broken boulders strewn around the cave floor, with his big head bowed and blood sheeting from the torn flesh below his right shoulder, Fallon looked less like a marauding monster and more like a beaten down soldier. She'd only ever seen him seriously hurt one other time, and the injuries he'd sustained then had been even more unpleasant.

Why do I feel responsible for this?

Pulled between his fingers, the last fragment of claw slid out of his skin like a bloodstained smile. Isabelle's hands were over her ears, but she lowered them when no roar seemed forthcoming. Only breath hissing through clenched teeth; it seemed to be all the giant had energy for. The amount of blood he was losing bothered her. Giants were able to take an extraordinary amount of damage and walk away alive. Fallon was a testament to that fact, but even his uncanny knack for survival wouldn't save him without enough blood to animate his body.

Isabelle cleared her throat, working up the courage to speak. She'd seen patches of moss growing on the trees near the cave. On Gantua, Jack had used a compress made of moss to heal her cut. Whether the same trick would work with giants, she didn't know, but it was worth a try.

"F-Fallon." She gulped as the huge monster turned to regard her. A streak of crusted blood marred his face. The bridge of his hooked nose was swelling up to twice its normal size. The sight was so pitiful that, were Fallon a normal man, Isabelle felt certain she would've cried. With its ears drooping and eyes glazed, the smaller head merely twitched toward the sound of her voice, too tired for anything else.

An expectant silence fell, and she hurried on. "Th-

There's moss growing on the trees outside. It might help with the bleeding. It helped me on Gantua..."

Her voice faltered when Fallon narrowed his eyes at her. The growl that followed sent her scuttling away to the relative safety at the back of the ledge. But instead of attacking, the giant lumbered to his feet, stomped to the boulder-door without saying a word, and rolled it aside. An evening sky stroked the cave floor with weak gray light as Fallon stepped back out into the forest.

Isabelle slumped against the rock wall. Fallon hadn't bothered to block the entrance, but it was a moot point since there was no way for her to get to the ground without injuring every bone, muscle, and internal organ she had. She'd just have to wait for him to come back.

And hope he was in a good mood when he did.

Too nervous to relax, Isabelle resorted to counting the slow-crawling minutes on her fingers. She'd reached thirty-five when Fallon returned just as gruffly as he'd left. The boulder was rolled back into its place, plunging everything into semi-darkness. Hugging herself, Isabelle fought down the panic clawing its way up her throat when she heard Fallon's footsteps coming closer to her ledge. The footsteps ended, and the princess held her breath when she sensed the giant staring down at her.

Isabelle yelped in surprise when something was dropped onto the ledge at her feet. Lots of somethings, judging from the little smacks they made as they struck stone. Fallon's hulking shadow moved away, leaving Isabelle to take a shaky breath before venturing forth to see what he'd brought her.

A pile of apples, mostly green, but a few sporting sweet golden skin. Their colors were just barely visible; it was their tart smell that gave them away. After all this time, Fallon had finally thought to bring her food.

An army of emotions warred for dominance in her thoughts. Relief, gratitude, anger, so many conflicting feelings Isabelle soon gave up trying to sort them out and settled for a whispered, "Thank you."

No answer came. Of course, she hadn't expected one. Fallon's bulk stood out as a darker shape in the general darkness of the cave. She could hear him pacing around the center of the cave, a restless beast. As she bit into an apple, she caught a glimpse of his chest passing beneath a patch of glowing moss. The parts that weren't covered by armor were slathered in a thick green paste. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter smell the moss gave off as it closed his wounds. Isabelle blinked, slightly shocked.

He actually listened to me for once. A warm feeling of unexpected accomplishment spread through her belly, like she'd been tunneling through a mineshaft looking for treasure and was about to give up when suddenly all the dirt crumbled away to reveal glittering diamonds. No more shuffling footsteps could be heard, which hopefully meant Fallon had stopped pacing and was finally calming down. It had been a trying day for all of them, and Isabelle just wanted to finish eating and fall asleep. Even her bed of stone was beginning to feel comfortable.

She'd just bitten into her third apple when Fallon's voice drifted out of the darkness. "Sing to us."

A bit of apple in her throat nearly gagged her. She forced it down, then stared at the dark shape of the giant seated like a stone king in the center of the Earth. Certain he was watching her, Isabelle squirmed with the effort it took not to blush. Of all the outlandish demands Fallon could've made of her, this had to be the most bizarre. "What?"

"Sing to us. Our Father's woman could sing." She heard him sigh, long and deep. "She was a princess too."

Brief surprise was quickly replaced by panic. Singing was something she rarely indulged in, not since she'd sat by her mother's deathbed watching the life drain out of those deep brown eyes. The eyes that had so closely mirrored her own. Making music just hadn't seemed appropriate after that. "I...I...don't think I..."

Weariness colored the giant's vice as he grumbled, "Just sing."

So she did. The lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child had stuck in her mind all these years, and a wave of unreality washed over her as she sung it to a monster out of a childhood storybook. Hesitant at first, but gaining strength as the verses came back to her. Her own voice, raised in song, shocked her. It was sweet, slow, and flavored with a pinch of sadness that had more than a little to do with her current situation. Unbidden images of her mother swam before her closed eyes, and it wasn't long before the princess was fighting back tears.

When the snoring started, Isabelle took it as permission to stop. Tension bled out of her arms and legs as she folded down onto the stony ledge, curling on her side and making a pillow with her hands. Sleep was about to drag her down when she noticed it.

A pair of bright, round eyes still watched her from the darkness.

Struggling to stay awake, Isabelle whispered, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeg."

I think he meant "yes." She decided it was better to be sure, though. "Will you...he...both of you...be alright?"

Bright eyes blinked several times before the small head nodded.

"Goodnight." A huge yawn nearly ripped holes in her cheeks. Isabelle covered her mouth, but not before the small head had seen and mimicked her yawn with one of its own.

Tired and battered as she was, this made the princess smile.

{O}

"This forest is haunted."

"What?" Elmont yawned, casting a quizzically raised eyebrow up at Fye. The lumpy, stone-skinned giant had barely said a word all day. Which was a blessing, considering Fee chattered nonstop about the most nonsensical subjects. The two giants had kept up a brisk pace, and despite his considerable endurance, the worn and weary knight soon had no choice but to ask one of them for the favor of a ride. Fee had been gracious enough, and truth be told Elmont thought the long-haired fellow halfway decent for a giant. Though by the end of the day, the knight had sores from where he'd nearly bitten his own tongue off, trying not to scream while Fee described, in great detail, why sheep were the best-tasting of all the many flavors of livestock, as well as all the clever devices he'd designed to catch them. "If you lot hadn't blundered into my net, I'd have had a royal feast," he'd complained with a tired and cross Guard Captain riding on his broad shoulder. A Guard Captain who wished that, among his meager supplies, he'd thought to include earplugs. Oblivious, Fee had droned on. "Cows are tasty, but they have too many stomachs. All that grass in their guts colors my teeth green after awhile." Elmont had kept glancing at Fye, wondering if the big giant felt the same way about all the inane chatter. But Fye had stayed stoic as ever as he'd led their small party deeper into the wilderness, saving the knight's sanity without even knowing it. Hiking through miles of highland forest and rolling hillsides while having to put up with two jabbering giants would likely have driven him mad.

Having ended the day's search without finding so much as a whiff of Fallon or Isabelle, they'd decided to make camp. The giants had knocked over several trees, clearing a space big enough for them to sit in. They'd used the timber to start a fire, and now sat round the crackling flames. Elmont lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and resting his chin in his hand. Let himself appear to relax while still keeping a close eye on his man-eating companions. At the moment, their bellies were full from having caught, skinned, and ate what amounted to an entire herd of deer, so Elmont had no fears of being speared on a stick and toasted over the fire. Not for this night, at least.

"Haunted?" he asked, keeping his tone polite but curious. Elmont was pretty sure Fye didn't like him. Then again, it was hard to tell. The stone giant's face seemed frozen in a perpetual gloomy frown.

"Just like the Gargoyle Grove back home," Fee said. He was using a forked tree branch to pick at his teeth. Elmont winced at the complete lack of manners.

"What do you mean 'haunted?'" Elmont studied the giants carefully. Fye was unreadable as ever, but Fee appeared nervous, darting quick little glances out into the surrounding forest while continuing to scrape at his teeth.

"Can't you smell them?" Fye growled. He threw another whole tree on the fire. Flames blazed up with sizzling little crackles, painting the giant's carven face with wavering red and yellow light. "Dark spirits are everywhere."

Elmont tried and failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Aren't you fellows a little big to be scared of ghosts?"

Fye's face seemed to twist in on itself in a way that amplified his normal surly expression by five. "Not ghosts, you fool." The ground shuddered as the giant settled himself more comfortably upon the grass. In the light of the fire, his face appeared sharper, ghoulish. "This forest reeks of the Fay."

Fay? The Good Neighbors? Fairies!? He'd heard of them, of course. Commoners whispered about them to their children, telling little girls and boys that so-and-so would get them if they didn't behave. Then there were the old wise grannies who hung scissors above doorframes because fairies supposedly couldn't come near iron. He'd even heard of a few superstitious peasants swearing that their children had been whisked away by fairies and that the smiling, giggling infant in the cradle wasn't their natural child, but really a straw doll made to look like their child. No properly educated person believed any of it. That the giants believed it only showed how unrefined and simple they really were, despite their remarkable size and strength. Elmont shook his head. "Dragons. Giants. Fairies. what else is there to worry about?"

"Gnomes!" Fee supplied helpfully.

Elmont sighed and flopped down upon the grass, wincing when the pommel of his sword jabbed him in the back. Overhead, the stars wheeled, bright chips of ice spread across a dark cloth. The sun had set hours ago.

Fye's craggy eyelids drooped as he yawned, his thick-lipped mouth stretching into a gaping black cavern. "We should sleep and cover more ground tomorrow."

"I don't want to sleep in a haunted forest," Fee complained as he threw his giant-sized toothpick into the fire, "but I'm too tired not to." He wrapped his arms around his middle, hugging himself like a frightened toddler.

Fye's deep voice rumbled. "Perhaps the human will take first watch," he said, his dark gaze falling on the knight, "since he's not afraid."

Bloody right I will, Elmont though as he sat up. As if I could sleep with you two man-eaters at my back all night. "Splendid idea! You two need your rest, after all." He sat with his sheathed sword resting across his knees as the giants made themselves comfortable, laying themselves lengthwise upon the ground so that their lumpy bodies appeared melded with the earth, like old, crumbling fortresses.

Before shutting his eyes, Fye growled a warning. "Don't fall asleep," he said while staring hard at the knight. "And don't leave the fire."

Elmont nodded, acknowledging the giant's words while showing nothing of his irritation. For God's sake, I'm Captain of the Royal Guardians, man! Do you think I don't know my own business? He lifted a hand to the badge affixed to his armor, tracing a finger over the royal insignia only the King's Chosen wore. The mark of a lifetime of training, discipline, and hardship. Just like a giant to underestimate a human. They think our size makes us weak.

It wasn't long before the two giants were immobile as brick houses, and their rumbling snores filled the night like two colossal millstones grinding together. Sleep became as likely for Elmont as acquiring Fee's taste for raw sheep. Chewing on the strips of venison that were left for him, Elmont watched the dwindling fire, its red glow dulling from a roaring inferno to a gentle crackle. He wondered if the giants expected him to keep it going all night. I suppose I could throw a few logs in, he thought with a trace of black humor. Not as good as whole trees, but it'll have to do.

It wasn't hard to find enough wood. Pieces of broken trees were strewn all over the camp. He fed the smaller pieces to the fire, taking care to avoid stumbling against the two slumbering monsters as he did so. With that done, he sat back down and tried to lay out plans for the morning. Where they would search and how wide a sweep they would make. The giants could cover vast tracks of land in a single day, but if the slightest detail were missed then the entire venture would be for nothing.

The possibility of failure got him thinking, inevitably, about Isabelle. Where was she? Was she with Fallon? And would he keep her alive if she were? Elmont ground his teeth at the thought of Isabelle suffering the same gruesome fate as Crawe. I swear, if that ugly bastard lifts a finger against her, I'll make him eat that extra head of his.

Hours passed. The night seemed to deepen around him. A few crickets chirped sluggishly, their cheery song weakened by the chill in the air. Elmont leaned back, studying the stars. In the foothills of the mountains, the night sky seemed bigger. Clearer, as though a scrim of dirt had been swept away and the Earth was just a little bit closer to Heaven's silvery light.

"Hehehehehe!"

Elmont's head shot up. Senses that had been going lax went on full alert. That sounded like a woman's laugh!

Soft rustling sounds came from the foliage around the camp, like little hands pawing through leafy branches. His pulse quickened as he stood, keeping his sword sheathed but ready at his side. He cast a quick glance at the sleeping giants, who didn't so much as twitch. In the firepit, red and yellow flame still popped and leaped, casting a circle of wavering light. But the laughter had come from the darkness beyond the light.

"Princess?" Elmont called out cautiously.

More tittering laughter came, followed by more rustling leaves. Whoever was out there wanted to be heard.

Isabelle? What would she be doing laughing like that in the forest at night? Maybe she wanted him to leave the two giants and was trying to tell him so without revealing herself. It would certainly fit her mischievous nature, but she was old enough to know that this was neither the time nor the place for such childish games.

Still, if it was her...

He had to be sure. Sweeping his gaze over the campsite, he fixed its location in his mind before buckling his sword at his waist and stepping out of the warm firelight into the deep night chill.

The forest swallowed him. Dry leaves swirled past his ankles, blown on a breeze that had sprung up suddenly, as though summoned. Whispering voices rose and fell around him, raising goosebumps along his leather-clad arms and lifting the fine hairs on his nape. Though certain the soft whisperings were no more than trees sighing in the wind, once or twice he caught recognizable words congealing out of the formless sound. Intruder! Treekiller! Murderer! The sensation of wooden claws digging into his back became overpowering. Threatening enough to make him quicken his pace, though every time he checked, he saw nothing behind him.

The night air thickened, taking on almost physical weight. The scabbard of his sword bumped against his hip as he walked. He hadn't drawn the blade free yet, though the urge to do so was strong. He straightened his shoulders just as a trickle of air brushed across his face gently, as though a small winged creature had flown past unseen. All around, trees seemed to be watching him, sizing him up like an insect about to be dissected. His spine stiffened as something light and fast as a rabbit streaked across the path in front of him, quick pattering of feet the only sign of its existence. Judging from the sound, the thing had scurried off to his left, into a grove of birch trees. Clustered in a tight circle, each slim, white-barked tree stood frail and dead-looking as skeletons beneath the crescent moon. A tightness was in his stomach as he debated on whether or not to follow. Something about the stand of birches felt unnatural, even dangerous. This is ridiculous. You've been in forests at night before, man! he berated himself. Steel up! Resting a firm hand on the pommel of his sword, he stole cautiously into the circle of trees.

"Isabelle?" he called. Slender white trees loomed all around him, trapping him, their branches entwined like old lace.

"Brave knight." Elmont's whole body stiffened as the unfamiliar voice echoed all around him. It was low, yet somehow musical. Definitely not Isabelle. "Brave knight on a quest."

"Who's there? Show yourself in the Name of the King?"

Soft rustling from above him, then something leapt lightly down from the closest tree. Elmont gazed, openmouthed, at the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Clothed in green satin that hung down to her ankles, with lily-white skin and an oil slick of dark hair flowing down her back, the girl glided toward him, each delicate foot seeming to barely skim the ground. Elmont noted, wondering, that the tips of her ears were pointed.

"Yes, I am on a quest." The knight felt his skin growing warm from watching the girl's movements, the sway of her hips. Everything about her was lithe and graceful as a young sapling. He swallowed, trying to coax moisture into his dry throat. The girl was now right in front of him, her skin bright as salmon scales in the night. Those eyes are the deepest shade of green I've ever seen.

Seconds ticked by before he remembered what they'd been talking about. "I'm looking for the princess of Cloister."

She giggled. The mischievous smile drew attention to her full red mouth and high cheekbones. "A Cloister is a Cluster is a Clister," she said, a high, sing-song lilt to her voice. Slim wrist bones pressed against pale flesh as she lifted a hand to touch a finger to her upper lip. Elmont found the sight mesmerizing. "Thunder's Child wants to kiss her."

Thunder's Child? Elmont shook his head, thoroughly bewildered. The girl leaned in closer, and the knight found himself engulfed by the smell of mint, sickly-sweet and cloying. Thoughts became muddled, half-drowned under the sweetness. He had to force himself to focus. "Have you seen the princess? Is she all right?"

"As right as right can be." She laughed, running both hands possessively over his chest. Mint wafted from her skin like fog, drenching the air around her. "Why don't you come and dance with me?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Emerald eyes locked with blue.

Dance with me. An echo in his mind. Sharp. Commanding.

Later, Elmont wondered what broke the spell for him. There'd been no magical dart, no invisible hand, or anything of the like to make him turn his head away from that marvelously sparkling green gaze. Though he thought there was a moment, a brief flash of a second, where he'd been drawn down into the lake of her eyes and come up spluttering, choking on the brown, putrid-smelling slime at her core. Even of that, he couldn't be sure. It was simplest enough - not to mention more reassuring - to believe that he was brought back by his unwavering commitment to his country, King, and Princess.

That, plus a lifelong abhorrence of mint.

He stepped back quickly, letting her hands slide away from him. "Sorry, miss. I'm afraid I don't dance." And steel rang as he drew his sword.

The girl leapt backwards with unnatural speed, landing on all fours like a bristling cat. Hissing, her once-luscious mouth drained of all beauty as fangs shot out of bleeding gums. All plumpness melted out of her cheeks until the skin that was left stretched tight over thin facial bones, transforming her face into a half-starved, emaciated mask. Tangled black hair whipped around her head, wild and coarse as a horse's mane. She growled deep in her throat, and the tips of her pretty pink fingernails blackened as they sprouted into claws.

When she spoke, her voice was guttural and deep. Not in the least beautiful.Breath reeking of gangrene and burrowing maggots filled the air as she screamed. "Kill him!"

From all sides, black shapes launched themselves. Elmont stumbled back, keeping his sword up as they came for him. Things with stick-thin bodies and fingers that curled and bent in impossible ways. They moved too quickly for him to make out details, until he got a clear view of a pair of burning red eyes when one creature leapt for his face. Reflex took over. His sword sliced air, cleaving through a small, brittle body along the way. The monster fell in two pieces at his feet, causing the others to pull back. They formed a loose circle around, hissing, their red eyes fastened warily on the sword.

Elmont continued to back away, brandishing the sword as needed, until he was out from beneath the canopy of birches. Inhuman things still followed him as he sped back to the campfire, gnashing their teeth as they chased him, pinching and biting whenever they were close enough. Whenever his pursuers got too frisky, he turned and threatened them with the sword, whereupon they would retreat to a safer distance. It did not, however, stop them from attacking, if their idea of an attack was to pelt him with spoiled fruit. But as long as the sword was in his hands, they didn't dare approach, and he was certain he knew why.

Iron and steel together. Perfect defense against the Fay.

The light from the fire shone through the trees like a beacon. Before taking the final three steps that would bring him into the safe circle of light, one of the monsters threw caution to the wind and sprang at him. Silhouetted in fire, Elmont got a glimpse of a twisted, gray face fringed by a thick mat of silvery beard. Thick lips pulled back over a mouthful of canine teeth as the creature drew a clawed forelimb back, preparing to swipe at Elmont's eyes. The crackling fire, the creature's face, everything became a muddled blur as he moved. Wet warmth spattered in huge drops over the knight's face as he ducked under the creature at the apex of its leap, slicing metal across its belly. It tumbled back to earth in a heap of spidery legs and arms, mewling pitifully as it dragged itself away.

Once more within the sputtering firelight, Elmont fell to his knees. The white-knuckled grip he'd maintained on his sword eased up, the blade landing in the grass with a soft thump. As he'd suspected, the dark beings out in the forest were unable to come any closer.

Don't leave the fire. Fye had known, damn him.

Sore from being pinched and poked, not to mention dripping with rancid fruit juice, Elmont let his chin droop to his chest. Sprawled out in the grass, the blissful snoring of the giants filled the night around him.

There came a brief stutter in the near-synchronized pattern of sound. Elmont glanced up to see Fee crack open one bleary, unfocused eye.

"Wussa goin' on?" he asked, his voice slurred from sleep. 'Didja find us some sheep?"

"No," Elmont said, rubbing his shoulders and wishing with all his heart for a beehive to stick in the giant's mouth. "Go back to sleep."

{O}

AN: Having sweated and agonized over this chapter, first thing I want to blurt out is that I'm really starting to wish Fallon's second head had a name. I mean, I can't call John Kassir's Fallon "Fallon" because that might confuse him with Bill Nighy's Fallon when I actually mean the entire being that is Fallon and...you get the idea. And having to refer to the little guy as "the small head" or "the second head" gets boringly repetitive after awhile. So, I'm curious. To my readers and reviewers, what do you guys think would be a good name for Fallon's second head? I can't promise I'll use any of them in this story, but if nothing else this little query should provoke some entertaining discussion within the JTGS fandom!