FIFTY-FIVE
I’m Carried into Battle by the First Dwarven Airborne Division
There’s never a great time for Daddy Giant to come home.
But when you’re sitting in his dining room with your leg broken, the corpses of two of his daughters sprawled nearby … that’s an especially bad time. Sam and I stared at each other as the giant’s footsteps echoed louder and louder in the next chamber.
Sam’s expression said: I got nothing.
I, also, had nothing.
Which is exactly the sort of moment when you might welcome a dwarf, an elf and a swan parachuting onto your chair. Blitzen and Hearth were lashed side-by-side in the harness, with Gunilla the waterfowl cradled in Hearthstone’s arms. Blitzen pulled the steering toggles and executed a perfect landing. Behind him pooled the parachute – a swathe of turquoise silk that exactly matched Blitz’s suit. That was the only fact about his entrance that did not surprise me.
‘How?’ I asked.
Blitzen scoffed. ‘Why do you look so amazed? You distracted those giantesses long enough. I’d be a poor dwarf indeed if I couldn’t rig a grappling hook, shoot a line from the window to the birdcage, shimmy across, free the swan and use my emergency parachute to get down here.’
Sam pinched her nose. ‘You’ve had an emergency parachute this entire time?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Blitzen said. ‘Dwarves always carry emergency parachutes. Don’t you?’
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ I said. ‘Right now –’
‘Girls?’ called the giant from the next room. His speech sounded a little slurred. ‘Wh-where are you?’
I snapped my fingers. ‘Come on, guys, options. Sam, can you and Gunilla camouflage us?’
‘My hijab can only cover two people,’ Sam said. ‘And Gunilla … the fact that she’s still a swan might indicate she’s too weak to change back to normal.’
The swan honked.
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Sam said. ‘It could be a few hours.’
‘Which we don’t have.’ I looked at Hearth. ‘Runestones?’
No strength, he signed, though he hardly needed to tell me that. He was upright and conscious but still looked like he’d been run over by an eight-legged horse.
‘Jack!’ I called to the sword. ‘Where is Jack?’
From the table above us, the sword yelled, ‘Dude, what? I’m washing off in this goblet. Give a guy some privacy, huh?’
‘Magnus,’ Sam said, ‘you can’t ask him to kill three giants in a row. That much effort really will kill you.’
In the next room, the footsteps got louder. The giant sounded like he was stumbling. ‘Gjalp? Griep? I swear – HIC! – if you’re texting those frost-giant boys again, I will wring your necks!’
‘The floor,’ I decided. ‘Get me to the floor!’
Blitzen scooped me up, which almost made me black out from pain. He yelled, ‘Hang on!’ and leaped from the chair, somehow managing to paraglide me down safely. By the time I regained my senses, Sam, Hearth and his new pet swan were standing next to us, apparently having used the chair leg as a fire pole.
I shivered with nausea. My face was slick with sweat, and my broken leg felt like one enormous open blister, but we had no time for minor concerns like my unbearable pain. Across the threshold of the dining-room door, the shadows of the giant’s feet got closer and darker, though they did seem to be weaving back and forth.
‘Blitzen, carry me under that door!’ I said. ‘We have to intercept Geirrod.’
‘Excuse me?’ asked the dwarf.
‘You’re strong! You’re already holding me. Hurry!’
Grumbling, he jogged towards the door, every bounce sending a stab of pain into the base of my skull. The parachute slithered behind us. Sam and Hearth followed, the swan honking unhappily in Hearthstone’s arms.
The doorknob started to turn. We ducked under the sill and charged out the other side, right between the giant’s feet.
I yelled, ‘HI! HOW YA DOING?’
Geirrod stumbled back. I guess he hadn’t been expecting to see a paratrooper dwarf carrying a human, followed by another human and an elf holding a swan.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw either.
For one thing, the room we entered was about half the size of the one we’d just left. By most standards, the hall would’ve been considered grand. The black-marble floor gleamed. Rows of stone columns were interspersed with iron braziers filled with burning coals like dozens of barbecue grills. But the ceilings were only about twenty-five-feet tall. Even the door we’d come through was smaller on this side, though that made no sense.
Squeezing back under the sill would be impossible. In fact, I didn’t see how Gjalp or Griep could have fitted through the doorway, unless they changed size as they moved from room to room.
Maybe that’s what they did. Giants were shape-shifters. Magic and illusion were second nature to them. If I spent much more time here, I’d have to bring a large supply of motion-sickness medicine and some 3-D glasses.
In front of us, Geirrod was still staggering around, sloshing mead from his drinking horn.
‘Whoeryou?’ he slurred.
‘Guests!’ I called. ‘We have claimed guest rights!’
I doubted those applied any more, since we’d killed our hosts, but since my etiquette-minded sword was still in the next room, washing the nostril goo off his blade, nobody challenged me.
Geirrod frowned. He looked like he’d just come from a wild party at the Jotunheim Marquee, which was weird, since the day was young. Giants apparently partied 24/7.
He wore a rumpled mauve jacket, an untucked black shirt, striped slacks and shiny shoes that many patent leather animals had died to create. His dark hair was greased back but springing up in unruly cowlicks. His face had a three-day stubble. He reeked of fermented honey. The overall impression was less ‘fashionable nightclub dude’ and more ‘well-dressed wino’.
The weirdest thing about him was his size. I’m not going to say he was short. Twenty feet tall is still good if you’re looking for somebody to play point in the NBA or change those hard-to-reach lightbulbs. But the guy was minuscule compared to his daughters, who were, of course, now dead.
Geirrod belched. Judging from his expression, he was making a mighty effort to form rational thoughts. ‘If you’re guests … why have you got my swan? And where are my daughters?’
Sam forced a laugh. ‘Oh, those crazy girls? We were bartering with them for your swan.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Right now they’re on the floor in the other room. They don’t look so good.’ I mimed drinking from a bottle, which probably confused Hearthstone, as it looked like the sign for I love you.
Geirrod seemed to get my meaning. His shoulders relaxed, as if the idea of his daughters passing out drunk on the floor was nothing to be concerned about.
‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘as long as they weren’t – HIC! – entertaining those frost-giant boys again.’
‘Nope, just us,’ I assured him.
Blitzen grunted as he shifted me in his arms. ‘Heavy.’
Hearthstone, trying to keep up with the conversation, signed I love you at the giant.
‘Oh, Great Geirrod!’ Sam said. ‘We actually came here to bargain for Thor’s weapon. Your daughters told us you have it.’
Geirrod glanced to his right. Against the far wall, almost hidden behind a column, was a human-size iron door.
‘And the weapon is behind that door,’ I guessed.
Geirrod’s eyes widened. ‘What sorcery is this? How did you know that?’
‘We want to barter for the weapon,’ I repeated.
In Hearthstone’s arms, Gunilla honked irritably.
‘And also for the freedom of this swan,’ Sam added.
‘Ha!’ Geirrod sloshed more mead from his drinking horn. ‘I don’t – HIC! – need anything you could offer. But perhaps you could – BELCH – earn the weapon and the golden goose.’
‘The swan,’ I corrected.
‘Whatever,’ said the giant.
Blitzen whimpered, ‘Heavy. Very heavy.’
The pain in my leg made it hard to think. Every time Blitzen moved I wanted to scream, but I tried to keep a clear head.
‘What did you have in mind?’ I asked the giant.
‘Entertain me! Join me in a game!’
‘Like … Words with Friends?’
‘What? No! Like catch!’ He gestured disdainfully towards the dining room. ‘I have only daughters. They never want to play catch with me. I like playing catch! Play catch with me.’
I glanced at Sam. ‘I think he wants to play catch.’
‘Bad idea,’ she murmured.
‘Survive ten minutes!’ Geirrod said. ‘That’s all I ask! Then I’ll be – HIC! – happy.’
‘Survive?’ I asked. ‘A game of catch?’
‘Good, so you agree!’ He stumbled to the nearest brazier and scooped up a red-hot coal the size of an easy chair. ‘Go long!’