My gaze lingered on the prison cart and my stomach churned like a trampled snake. The warped poles were stained nearly black and scraps of cloth and other material were stuck to them, grisly flags torn free from their long-forgotten owners. I shuddered as I imagined the people thrashing against those poles until they broke their own bodies open, desperate to free themselves of the grim fate that awaited them. I no longer wanted to bring the lost majesty of the legendary Hustyn to life; I wanted to warn everyone that vast evil existed and walked the land, and to be careful where they tread--and who they followed into the forest.
For the wounded man knew these brutes. He had a purpose here, a purpose yet to be fulfilled.
Malak had gone silent, his body rigid next to mine. I would have inched away, crept back into the forest like a fox slinking away from a guard hound, if I had been capable of movement—or if he had fled the clearing, as well. Instead I watched in growing horror as the first giant scratched its filthy head, glanced around the clearing, bent toward the man in front of him and spoke.
"You Are AloNge," it said, clearly struggling with human speech. Each word started with a harsh bark. Its voice was thick with mucus and rumbled like thunder.
"For the moment, oh Great One," the man said. "They are close."
The giant leaned in, its face inches away from the wounded man's. I could see the effort it took for him not to recoil from its fetid breath. I looked again at the rolling cage. Is that what this was, then? Was that horrible thing meant to whisk its prisoners off to some horrendous kitchen or human-stained pot? Were these things...shopping? A new wave of sickness washed over me and I nearly gagged aloud.
"Not Closh EnouGH," it rumbled. "WhaTT Trickery is thiSH?"
The man raised his trembling hands. "No trickery, your greatness, I assure you." His voice wavered with fear. "Only. These are special ones, oh strong one. They will more than suit your needs—for now and henceforth. But the danger to me has increased and my costs have gone up. I grant you this latest group, if you have sufficient additional gold, and wash my hands of it. You'll have no need of me or..."
The words came out in a rush and then were cut short as the giant covered the man's head with a single gnarled hand. Its lip curled upward in rage and the wounded man squealed, the horrified sound muffled by the fingers digging into his flesh. Then Malak stood and stepped into the clearing.
"Stop!" He yelled. "Here! They are here! I have them!"
For a moment, the giant relaxed its grip and the wounded man slouched, limp but breathing heavily. He might have been sobbing. Then the full impact of Malak's words hit me and I was filled with fresh terror and disgust.
"Here? You..." I could not complete the sentence. Malak had a hand in this villainy? And we had followed him willingly...! He turned from my shocked expression and took a few steps forward, pulling off his hat and holding it in front of him. I didn't know what to do. My legs were frozen, my heart beating hard and fast, like a horse at full gallop.
Then another shape broke free of the trees. Short and squat, moving quickly, head lowered and a mace in either hand: Seymuhr, rushing headlong toward the giant. A strange, off-key noise split the night as well and after a bemused instant, I realized what it was.
He was singing.
