A Meddle of Wizards. Alexandra Rushe

nodded. “Right.”

      Brefreton slapped the giant on the ankle. “Keep your eyes peeled for trouble. Gertie and I will do a little scouting around and catch up later. Go as fast as you can, but don’t stumble around after sunset.”

      “Not to worry,” Tiny promised. “I be a-stopping ’fore it gets too dark to see.”

      Fumbling inside her robe, Gertie grasped a white stone identical to the one she’d given Mauric.

      “Fugvark,” she said in a loud voice.

      Brefreton clasped the green stone around his neck and motioned with his free hand. The air hummed with energy and, in a burst of light, Gertie and Bree turned into a pair of swifts. The birds made a darting pass around the giant’s head and flew away.

      “How’d they do that?” Raine squeaked in astonishment.

      “They be wizards, o’ course,” Tiny said. “Shape changers, don’t you know.”

      “Like you?” Raine asked, remembering the jumble of earth and rock that had turned out to be the giant.

      Tiny chuckled. “Bless you, no, not like me. Giants don’t be shape shifters. We has a talent for making ourselves look like what be around us. Glamour, the wizards calls it. Our size makes mos’ folks a mite uneasy. Glamour lets us move about without being seen. When I be in disguise, I may look like a bunch o’ trees or rocks but I don’t really be changing m’ shape. Wizards now, they be different. They has the magic to become anything they likes. That be sumpin’ only an adept can do.”

      “Wait,” said Raine, trying to take it all in. “I thought Gertie was a troll.”

      “Aye, she be a kolyagga, a troll sorceress.” Tiny stopped at the edge of the clearing. “Hold tight. This may be a mite uncomfortable.”

      “You can bet your arse on it,” Mauric muttered.

      Not knowing what to expect, Raine clutched the giant’s vest. Fixing his gaze on a point in the distance, Tiny lifted his right leg and jerked forward. The forest melted around them in a blur of dark green that made Raine’s stomach lurch in a horrible fashion. From across the vast expanse of Tiny’s shoulders, she heard Mauric groan.

      Tiny paused and the trees and hills shifted and righted themselves. Raine swallowed the brick in her throat and looked back. In one step, they’d traveled several miles.

      “That was amazing, Tiny,” she said, trying not to be sick.

      “Thankee,” he said, oblivious to her nausea.

      Mauric moaned. “Gods, my stomach.”

      “Somethin’ wrong wiv yer breadbasket, Finlar?”

      “Aye. It’s talking, and I don’t like what it has to say.”

      “Giant-sick, be you?” Tiny asked with sympathy. He pointed to a spot further up the mountain. “See that big fir with the scar, the one that be struck by lightning? Fix your peepers on it and keep ’em there. That way, you’ll not be so dizzy.”

      The giant took another uneven, shambling step, and the mountain and forest flowed by as before. Following Tiny’s advice, Raine focused on the distant tree.

      “Be that better?” Tiny asked when they had reached the fir.

      “A little.” It was a lie, but Raine didn’t want to hurt the giant’s feelings.

      “Warrior?” Tiny asked.

      “Ulgg,” said Mauric.

      Chapter 7

      An Encounter with Ograks

      As the morning progressed, Raine’s nausea grew worse, and by the time they stopped for lunch and to stretch their legs, she was too dizzy and sick to eat. To add to her misery, she ached all over, she was pretty sure she had a fever, and her head hurt like the dickens. This was it, her swan song. She was going to die in the middle of this screwed up fairy tale. If she weren’t so miserable, she’d be ticked.

      The giant lowered his weight onto a rock that rested against the foot of a hill and Mauric leapt to the ground.

      “Tro.” He grimaced and rubbed his belly. “That was even worse than I remember.”

      Raine took her time dismounting. Her legs were soft and squishy as marshmallows. She reached the ground and looked about with disinterest, too sick to care. They’d halted in a rocky gorge deep in the mountains.

      “Sorry if the ride be a bit bumpy,” Tiny rumbled. Removing a gigantic water flask and an enormous leather bag from his belt, the giant proceeded to make a huge sandwich of cheese and bread. “It be the extra weight, I ’spect.”

      He tore off a hunk of sandwich with teeth like boulders and chewed.

      “Best eat while you can.” He flapped the sandwich at Mauric, and a partly masticated chunk of dried meat the size of a small suitcase flew out and slammed into a tree. “Won’t stop again till dark.” With his free hand, he unhitched a saddlebag and tossed it to the warrior. “We’ll rest here a spell. I be tuckered.”

      Leaning his weight against the slope behind him, the giant quickly went to sleep with the half-eaten sandwich in his lap.

      Raine sank to the ground beneath a scraggly maple. “How far have we come?”

      More importantly, how much farther did they have to go? She felt three kinds of awful, queasy and shivery. Strange shapes flickered at the edge of her vision. Wonderful. Her headache was turning into a migraine.

      “Maybe fifteen leagues.” Mauric joined her and held out what looked like a piece of shoe leather. “Deer jerky?”

      Raine shuddered. “No, thanks.”

      He shrugged and shoved the turd-like substance into his mouth, and chewed. The contents of Raine’s stomach sloshed against the back of her throat.

      “Say, you don’t look so good.” Mauric peered at her. “You all right?”

      Raine staggered to her feet. Her stomach was cramping. She was going to hurl—on Mauric’s boots if she didn’t move and fast.

      “G-going for a walk,” she said.

      Clapping her hand over her mouth, she staggered behind an outcropping of stone, fell to her knees, and was heartily sick.

      “You can’t go traipsing off like that,” Mauric said reproachfully from behind her. “These hills are dangerous.”

      Raine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and motioned him away with a weak wave. “Leave me alone, for God’s sake.”

      “Poor lass. Let me help you.”

      Ignoring her protests, Mauric picked her up and carried her to a low boulder. Setting her down, he fetched a cloth from one of the packs, dampened it with water from the canteen, and pressed the compress to the back of her neck.

      “Maybe this will help,” he said. “As I remember, it made me feel better when I was . . . you know.”

      “Sick?” Raine’s teeth chattered. “You can say it. It’s only a word.”

      “Aye, but I prefer not to. It’s not an easy thing for a Finlar to admit.” Mauric hunkered down next to her, his blue eyes shadowed with worry. “When Gertie returns, she’ll soon set you to rights. In the meantime, what else can I do?”

      There was a ripple of panic in his deep voice. Poor Mauric. He was genuinely out of his element and rattled.

      “Put me out of my misery?” she said, only half joking.

      “And leave me to ride that giant alone? Not a chance. Misery loves company. Which reminds me . . .”

      Rising, Mauric stalked over to the sleeping titan and kicked him in the shin.

      “Ow.”