Page 10 of Greed of Giants
The air settled, the tightness vanished as the music faded.
I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and studied what lay ahead. The land dropped into a valley, wide stone stairs leading down. Where greenery had surrounded the archway, the slope below descended into barren patches ofbrittle ground and sand. Pillars and towers rose from the desolation. Whatever had happened here had devastated everything, for nothing grew except stone.
I followed the barren ground to the stairs, great slabs of rock, as much a part of the earth as the dirt and the grass. Each one took three strides to cross, and stepping down sent a grunt of effort from my lips. I counted fourteen steps—every other one intricate with swirling designs, the rest plain.
At the bottom, a ring of mountains rose in the distance, and a rumbling purred through the air, like a giant beast sleeping. I stilled.
A shape rose from the ground, a giant hand, large enough for me to climb onto, fingers spread wide as though it had been buried alive.
I glanced back at the stairs, wondering where the horned dog had gone. But nothing moved except for that odd golden shimmer. It coiled around the stone fingers, then faded, as though my eyes were playing tricks on me.
The music returned, as if someone plucked an instrument. Curious. Was it the wind moving through the stones to create it? Such a phenomenon would be worth recording. I moved toward the music, skirting the giant hand, until I came to a sheer wall of rock. It rose like an impregnable mountain, towering out of sight. I pressed my palm against it.
It was cool to the touch. Hollow?
The mountain rumbled as though responding to my touch. Then it shook so violently, I lost my balance.
Stone scraped across my hands as I fell, cutting them open. Shallow cuts that bled all the same. I lay flat as theshaking continued, grasping for something stable to hold onto.
Was this punishment? Were the spirits angry I’d reached this forsaken place?
At last it stopped.
I lay still, holding my breath, waiting, grateful I’d worn my armor so that I wasn’t too bruised.
Something soft and wet nudged my fingers. The little horned dog licked my hand, then panted, tongue lolling out. He wagged his tail and then trotted away.
I lifted my head, and the sight stripped me of words.
Reverence came over me as I pushed first to my knees, then to my feet.Thiswas the gate to their land, and somehow the spirits had chosen me to see the ruins in all their beauty. The stone wall had slid back, opening into a square.
I stood on a slab of alabaster shot through with a glittering hue. More stairs led down into a valley, a path full of statues, archways, and crumbled towers. More giant hands stuck out of the rust-red ground, but my attention was drawn to a statue chained to an archway. Green vines curled around it, and in the distance, the tip of a mountain caught fire.
I wanted to study it all—to look at everything, capture it, write it down, understand the mystery of the giants and what had happened to them. What caused the Great Sundering? Were they as wicked and greedy as the tales claimed?
But first, before I documented everything, I’d see about the statue.
Something about it compelled me.
I climbed down the steep stairs, walking among the fallen stones. Beyond the hands lay round stones, some spiked like crowns, others like weapons. Yet the music haunted me, pulling me forward to find its source, and somewhere in the distance, a persistent thunder rumbled.
The chained statue was carved in the shape of a man with long hair and bulky muscles straining against bonds. Except the chains were real. Cracks covered the stone, as though it were a shell about to crumble. It would be a shame for such a work of art to be destroyed. I wondered who had carved the giant and why they’d fixed real chains to an archway.
A sharp bark drew my attention. The horned dog had wandered off and was digging furiously near a fallen pillar, tail wagging. I hesitated, torn between the statue and what had captured his interest.
He yanked at something, then sat back on his haunches, looking up at me expectantly.
Something white flashed among the ashes.
I dusted away the debris, my fingers closing around a hard, circular object. As the ash fell away, it revealed a scroll, protected by some kind of rigid yet bendable material I didn’t recognize. Ancient. Preserved.
I turned it over and opened it, catching my breath as words embossed in gold filigree appeared. Written in a language I understood.
I’d studied elder tongues when I made my bid to become part of the House of Scholars. It took a moment, but slowly I recognized the words. An instructional guide. Some sort of spell.
The words seared into my mind, and a strange compulsion made me open my mouth.
I read aloud, words of a spell or a song. Words of freedom. Release. As I spoke, something foreign came over me, welling up, layering over my voice. A command gushed forth. I stood straighter, facing the arch where the chained giant waited, my lips moving, reading almost without comprehending.
