A Giant Problem

Thomas Boyle crouched on the worn slate roof of an old rectory. His lanky frame uncoiled as he considered his options. Old smoke permeated the air, and pockets of ash still clung to odd areas of the roof surrounding him. He surveyed the rectory roof, built into an old and partially destroyed cathedral. The rooftop he occupied, a newer construction attached to the ancient stone building, had seen better days. Better days had been last month.

Thomas studied the old weather-beaten wall before him, a rough stone edifice that extended 15 feet above him. This was the Cathedral of Makkarin, and Thomas needed to get inside it.

Makkarin had been a small, thriving town. In one night, all that came to a bloody, smoke-filled end. As the sun set that day, a cadre of savage giants attacked the town, burning houses and killing every man, woman, and child they could catch. A few escaped, but the giants dug in like gigantic ticks, and now they held an iron grip on the deserted town.

Thomas listened for any sound, any movement, then tossed his padded grappling hook in one smooth underhand motion. With the slightest of clinks, the padded hook caught on the balcony edge above him. Thomas yanked on the thin rope, setting the hook, then began pulling his thin, wiry frame to the balcony above.

The cathedral now served as a make-shift command post for the giants. It was one of the few places those massive beasts could fit.

“Giants! It had to be giants!”

Thomas hated everything about them. From their puffy, boulder sized bald heads to their grotesque sled-sized feet, and everything in between, he detested them. After several years and dozens of encounters, he wanted to kill every giant he met. Wanting to kill a twelve-foot tall giant that massed 1000 lbs, and killing one, were two different things, of course. As ugly and smelly as they were, their thick arms and tree-trunk sized legs made them powerful fighters, and very hard to kill. One had to use their brains to fight a giant. Few creatures could match the ferocity or savagery of a giant during battle. He was not here to kill the giants, only spy on them.

Halfway up the wall, Thomas froze, hanging in mid-air. He noticed the familiar rush of adrenalin course through his body, heightening his senses and granting him renewed strength. A low, guttural voice said something unintelligible above. A putrid stench akin to smelly feet crossed with day old dung assaulted him, almost making him gag.

Oh god! The smell!

Thomas spent the next several seconds choking down his own bile, and the low voices passed above him, rounding a corner and disappearing. They had not seen his grappling hook.

Thomas scrambled the rest of the way up the wall, vaulting over the railing. He glanced in the direction the giants went, then chose the opposite way. One giant he could handle. Two? Well, Thomas was a gambling man. However, Thomas didn’t want to take the chance of leaving his two sons fatherless, and his wife a widow. If Thomas died out here, far away from them, his wife would kill him!

Thinking of his wife, Thomas loosed a heavy sigh. They had parted a week ago on bad terms. He understood her frustration. Thomas was gone more often than he was home, and the constant worry tore at her. He would make it up to her, somehow. He just didn’t know when.

Once again, Thomas heard the low guttural mumblings of the giants that had passed this way before, and he retrieved his rope and hook, stuffing them into his weathered leather backpack. He hurried to a large, windowed door in the balcony’s wall. He shut it behind him just as the giants rounded the corner. Thomas felt relieved the door blocked their nasty stench. He hid in the shadows, surveying the space. A door stood ajar opposite him, and Thomas heard deep, booming voices coming from behind it. He crept around a large table and padded to the open door, peeking out.

The door led to a mezzanine overlooking a large hall. Through the wooden railing, Thomas observed the room. He shook his head, taking in its destruction. Smashed stained-glass windows adorned one end of the great room, with several broken pews and other debris scattered across the worn flag-stone floor. Light passed through some of the unbroken glass, provided an almost dreamlike patina of colors to the room’s interior. Giants cared little for the accouterments of modern society. They reveled in garbage and destruction, evidenced by the wanton demolition of the sanctuary.

Thomas picked up a scraping behind him, and he hid behind the ostentatious, overstuffed chair nearest him. One giant peered into the room! It was a miracle they did not see Thomas. The brute squinted through the rippled, murky glass embedded in the door, searching the room with his rheumy, bloodshot eyes. Thomas appreciated the giant was too large for the doorway. To be honest, if the giant entered the room, Thomas wasn’t sure he could control his gag reflex, and the noise of his retching would allow them to find him.

“See anything, Gulath?” A muscle-bound giant boomed. His voice was so low, the floor vibrated. Thomas had a hard time understanding the slurred words. The speaker seemed larger, perhaps 12 feet in height. He looked uglier, and more muscled, than the brute scanning the room. Thomas remained frozen.

“Nothing up here.” The two giants lost interest, resuming their rounds, and passed from sight. Each footstep shook the room. Thomas loosed a sigh of relief and returned to the open doorway leading into the sanctuary.

Thomas crawled through dust and crumbled stone to the edge of the walkway, scanning the sanctuary below. As he approached the edge, the giant’s stench reached up from below and made Thomas gag. He breathed through his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise. His only saving grace was a giant speaking below, masking any small sounds Thomas might make.

Several giants stood around what looked like a large table. With a sinking feeling, Thomas realized it was the alter. Several pools of dried blood stained its base. Large wooden planks laid across alter, creating a roughhewn make-shift table. One giant, indistinguishable from the others, stood over a large parchment with something drawn on it.

I didn’t know they could read! He studied the map.

“Give me an update! We must find it!” The giant roared. With a start, Thomas realized this must be General Goron, the military leader of the Giant hoards.

“We still search for it, General.” Another giant replied, more softly but still loud enough to hurt Thomas’s ears. Thomas understood these two. They must giant nobility! They had more exposure to the world at large, therefor learned to speak more clearly than their peasant brethren.

“We are out of places to search, my Lord. How can you know it’s here? Wouldn’t it be more... prominent?”

General Geron towered over his servant. In a rage, Goron boxed his ears, knocking the smaller giant over. “You question me? You, the illegitimate scion of a worthless farmer? I want no excuses! Find it!” Goron leveled his malevolent gaze at his servant. “Or I will hold you accountable, scum.”

Another giant approached the table, saving the cringing giant from more abuse by his master. This giant slumped over to the general, waiting for Goron to notice him. Goron glowered once more at his cowering servant, then turned his attention to the newcomer.

Thomas, busy memorizing the map on the table, redirected his attention to the newcomer. “General, the troops are in place. We are ready to attack Torangard Castle at sunset.”

“Good....” The General rubbed his hands together. He studied the newcomer. “Zanzim, did they see us moving our troops from Fort Raphim?”

“No, my Lord. We caught several spies, but none made it out alive.” Zanzim grinned. “They made a tasty meal.”

Alarmed, Thomas backed away. He had to get this information to Fort Raphim! Dust and pebbles spilled over the ledge, and the giants looked up in alarm. With a great, wall shaking roar, they dived for him, reaching over the railing and and almost catching him.

Thomas sprang to his feet, racing through the door to the balcony. He ripped his backpack off, dug through it, and removed his grappling hook. He anchored the hook, then tossed the rope over the side of the balcony, following suit. In his haste, he left his backpack. Great roars already ripped through the city, and Thomas felt the rope vibrating as several giants bounded up to the walkway above, shaking loose bricks and mortar with their lumbering gait.

Just as Thomas reached the rectory roof, a great heave lifted him several feet into the air. He let go of the rope and landed on the roof, sliding down the slick shingles toward its edge. At the last minute, he caught himself. He dangled by one hand, then let go in a controlled fall. As he landed, he rolled, using his inertia to launch himself into a full run.

Several giants lumbered down the street, coming from both directions. Thomas dived behind an overturned Apple cart as a huge spear splintered the wood. He lunged to his feet, dashing to the nearby wall, feeling for a loose stone in a panic. He found it, pushing a protruding stone as the nearest giant bore down on him. A trap door popped open, and Thomas scrambled into the tiny opening just as a giant arrived. Thomas backed away on elbows and heels.

A giant hand reached through the opening, grasping, searching the tunnel for Thomas. The giant grabbed his leg like a vice, pulling Thomas toward the opening. Thomas gripped his dagger with both hands and stabbed the enormous, calloused hand with all his strength. The dagger sank into the thorny flesh to its hilt. Blood spurted, covering Thomas’s bruised leg and hands with sticky, dark liquid. The giant howled in pain and yanked his hand back from the passage, tearing the knife from Thomas’s frenzied grip. Thomas turned on hands and knees, clambering through the narrow passage.

The stony passage ended, and Thomas pulled a rusty iron lever embedded in the wall. He heard giants searching the streets through the stone wall. Another trapdoor opened, and Thomas spilled out into the open, taking enormous gasps of air. Overcome by the terrible stench of the giant’s blood, he wretched. The disgusting stuff stained his clothes, and now he stank like one of them!

God! I hate giants!

THE END