The Shattered Path

Chapter 32 - The Stand

The hanaran staggered along at the base of the steep mountainside. It limped, favoring its left leg, and carrying its enormous spear in one hand. Its dark skin was covered with blood and dirt.

"Bloody giants!" Jaegor exclaimed. "What next?" He held his sword before him, looking from the cage to the giant and back.

Aryl pulled his sword from the scabbard and crouched. The giant moved slowly.

Aryl's eye ran the length of the blade he held. What a terribly crafted weapon. And it hadn't been taken care of since the blind, drunken craftsman had made it. The blade was chipped and it seemed to curve ever so slightly.

"It be a hard kill, even with two of us and him bleeding," Jaegor stated grimly. "Need bows to fight giants." The scout paused to let the words sink in before he added, "We can outrun it. That leg be bad."

Aryl agreed, but that meant they would leave Aerham to outrun it. He shook his head vigorously. "No. Not unless you can open that lock in twenty strides. I will not leave my friend." He held his sword up, between the giant and himself. He could kill the lumbering behemoth. He had to.

"Aye, well if you--," Jaegor began, but cut himself short and gestured excitedly. "Another!"

Aryl felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Fear wholly consumed him. There was a second hanaran. This one was not injured and held its spear with two powerful hands. It stared at them from a low hilltop, not far away. After a moment, it began running towards them.

"Just run, Aryl! There is nothing you can do. This is exactly what Garenthil wanted," Aerham called from within the cage, voice strained.

Jaegor added. "I like it not, but we don't have a chance against two. And we can't outrun this one. If we get up the slope a ways, we can fight them one at a time." He turned his body sideways, ready to run as soon as Aryl agreed. "They will likely follow us and leave the cage be for now."

"How do we know that?" Aryl snapped. The slope was too far to reach anyhow and the mountainside closest to them was a sheer cliff at least a hundred paces high.

It was a hard decision. The uninjured giant was farther away, but closing swiftly. The bleeding giant at the base of the cliff would reach them in a matter of moments. If they didn't flee, they would have to fight two at the same time. There was no way they could win the fight. It just wasn't possible.

Aryl held his terrible blade up. His hands weren't steady; the blade trembled. He would not leave Aerham. He refused to look at Jaegor. He knew he stood between the wagon and the giants and that was where he would remain. He took a few deep breaths, but his chest felt tight. He had faced death many times in the past days. Now, he faced it again. This time, it would take him, he knew. He wished he could stop his blade from trembling so he could put up a good fight, at least. His vision blurred and he thought it might have been tears. Sweat could have dripped in his eyes just the same.

"Curse you, featherback," Jaegor spat, moving to stand next to Aryl. "This fight not be ours!" The stout man waved his blade, looking to Aryl for a response. "Do ye hear me?!" he shouted.

"I know." Aryl was stiff with fear. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't leave Aerham. It seemed now he was too scared to run anyway, to even think clearly. He had faced a hanaran before, so he tried to use that experience to calm himself, but it didn't work. It made it worse. He knew their immense strength. He knew his bones were going to be snapped and his flesh would be torn into shreds of meat.

The injured giant roared in its guttural language, waving its spear above its head. It was easily as tall as three short men. It had broad shoulders, perhaps even for a hanaran. Dark blood stained its lips and shaggy, black beard. It was injured, but it had won its last fight.