Thorwal must have been covered by glaciers once, Janna thought. The landscape was hilly and littered with boulders of all sizes. She had to get really low in order to be able to see the ground at all because of the dense fog that covered the ground in the morning. At nightfall she had cleared a small valley of rocks and laid down, huddled in her sleeping bag. She wondered how Laura slept, without anything but the clothes on her body. She was worried.

The day before, Janna had been stupid and continued walking while the fog was still dense, and lost the track of Laura's footsteps. When it cleared, she had to double back to where Laura had turned north west. Laura had found food however, as evidenced by the remains of a village Janna had found in her path. Twenty or so people who had been able to get away and returned, mourning for their crushed and eaten neighbours and loved ones, had still been there. Laura had smashed every last house in the village, and so Janna could see the shocked faces of the survivors when they saw another behemoth approach.

Janna had eaten them all but it had not been enough to fill her. Once, she had to turn away from Laura's track and find food for herself. Half the village she found had filled her belly, the other half was in the Erlenmeyer flask, awaiting to become her breakfast. Water was easy to come by in these parts and so Janna did not need the flask as she had expected.

She got up and stretched, yawning. She didn't feel sorry for the people as she poured the first few onto her hand and into her mouth. In fact, she still liked the way they crawled over tongue and tried to get out before she tossed in another handful. Their screaming and begging was cut short when her boulder sized molars turned them into mush. A few were still alive and unhurt when she swallowed though. That way, they lasted a little longer.

Combine all their mass and she'd end up with probably as much as a small serving of fries, even though people were a lot more nourishing than the latter. The same way one does not count fries in a takeaway box, Janna had not bothered to count the people in the Erlenmeyer flask either. They were food, whether they liked it or not, and Janna's time was limited.

But having to wait for the fog to clear, she could allow herself to have some fun.

The next handful of people remained longer in her open mouth, letting them look for a way out. Most shouted and screamed on their knees but some tried to climb over the row of lower front teeth and over her lower lip after that. When the first three were on her lip, Janna sealed her mouth and sucked them back in, giggling. She coated them all thickly in saliva and gave them a last view of light. Now, no one was able to try and escape any more. She swallowed them alive, every last one.

Meanwhile, the ones in the Erlenmeyer flask were going crazy. They saw what the terrible giantess was doing to the others and knew in their hearts that they would be next. Some of them tried scratching the glass futilely in order to escape while others simply sat on the ground praying.

Swafnir this, swafnir that, Janna was not able to make out any whole phrases over the moaning and crying when she put her ear against the mouth of the flask, but the name Swafnir was a reoccurring theme.

“I'm Swafnir's daughter.” She told them cruelly from above. “He told me to eat you all.”

Unexpectedly, that seemed to enrage the contents of the flask and a tide of insults washed against her ear as she listened.

“That is a lie, you evil woman!” Some female shouted over the others.

Janna shrugged: “You got me. I'm not his daughter. But guess what? I'm going to eat you all anyway.”

She lifted the glass to her face and smiled at them, as they backed away in terror.

“But,” she allowed, “when I'm done gobbling you up, I'll need a few to clean my teeth for me. Your icky little bones get stuck in between my teeth, you know.”

This was a proud, defensible people and still they hung on her every word, powerless, when she said that. She poured the next load of them into her mouth and allowed the others to watch as she chewed and swallowed. She knew what it looked and sounded like from her own perspective and that was gruesome enough. What the villagers in the flask saw, heard and felt, she could only fathom. It was easy to forget that the tiny people probably knew everyone that was being pulped in between her teeth as the chewed, utterly without mercy.

“Mhhh.” She made and smiled. “I have a question for you. If your god loves you – why did he make you so small?”

Janna was getting wet and warm in between her legs. Maybe she had time for a little self-indulgence before the fog cleared. It didn't look like it would go anywhere within the next hour or so. Maybe it was earlier than she had expected. It was hard to tell.

She poured only a few people on her hand so that she could swallow them whole. Feeling them struggle in her throat was always nice but to feel them in her belly she would have to eat alive more than she had left. Still, the knowledge that she could just digest them alive was intoxicating. Being powerful was good. Being big was good.

She swallowed all the rest of them, except for ten which she earmarked for mouth hygiene.

Over the next hill, barely thirty centimetres high, at her scale, there was a small rivulet. On her hands and knees she had to feel around like a blind person until her fingers touched water. She dug a little to create a basin were enough water could accumulate that she could use and drank a few hands full before removing her t-shirt, jeans and panties to wash herself. She brushed her teeth as she usually did too, scrubbing with her finger, to get the worst off. The tiny people would take care of the rest.

Her would-be mouth-cleaners looked at her in awe when she came back, butt naked. She was still wet, but pleasing herself had to wait. Over the next hill she squatted over another trickle of water and relieved herself. The amount of piss tripled the size of the puny little stream and she could not help but smile at the thought that maybe someone downstream would wonder why his water tasted like pee. She had to poop too, and that all but blocked the rivulet. The wipes she had brought were almost used up. After they were gone, she would have to use water and her hand. She shuddered.

The air was cold and damp in the mornings but she enjoyed the short times she spent naked, the freshness on her skin. Her clothes were filthy as always. She put on her bra first, then her panties and jeans and lastly the shirt Furio and his Horasians had burned holes into.

“Anyway, where were we?” She asked, finally turning her attention back to the flask.

They hung on her lips like attentive little dogs.

“Hmhm.” She chuckled at them. “Here is the deal. I'll put you in my mouth and you will clean my teeth, understood? Afterwards, I let you go.”

They nodded fearfully.

She laid down on her right side first to let them clean her teeth there. Thorwalsh were slightly taller on average than other people in this world, and generally stronger too. The ten of them got the job done quite quickly.

One woman leapt out of her mouth and started running but Janna squashed her lazily underneath her thumb. That made the others work quicker. When the rest was done after approximately fifteen minutes, she got up and fished into her mouth with her fingers until she caught someone. It was some man.

“Nope.” She said simply, and put him back in, searching for someone else.

There had been a wiry blonde girl she had set her mind on. When her thumb brushed over firm, tiny tits she knew she had found her victim.

“What are you doing?!” The tiny thing screamed as Janna nonchalantly tore off her wet and drenched dress. “You said you would let us go!”

Janna waited until the girl looked at her mouth before she swallowed. Then she opened it again to show her that all were gone.

“Noooo!” The girl cried out and Janna could only chuckle again.

'What did she expect?'

The button on Janna's jeans was already open. She took her living toy over to the basin and shook her under water for a while to get her clean. The girl coughed and wheezed afterwards while Janna studied her.

Her less than shoulder-long hair was woven into cute little braids on her head. She had the beauty of youth on her face, tiny, perky breasts and a bush of blonde pubes between her legs. She was delicate and pure but still promised to have some fight in her. All that Janna wanted.

“You were going to...”

'Let us go.' She likely would have said but Janna did not wait to hear, before she pushed the tiny girl up her pussy.

A living, breathing, sentient being was inside her, for little more than the stimulation it produced when it fought kicking, screaming and punching against the confinement of her sex. She sat down on the hill, two hands in her jeans, playing with her self. The hill flattened out a little beneath her, a testament to her awesome godliness. Technically, abusing and ultimately killing one tiny person more or less made little difference with respect to how many she had just consumed for breakfast but it felt different entirely.

'Fuck one of you to death and I feel a little guilty.' She thought. 'Gobble up a hundred of you, and I only feel like I'm having a snack.'

The Thorwlash girl might have grown up to be a fearsome shield maiden and Janna enjoyed every minute she spent inside of her. Unbidden, her thoughts went to Steve. She didn't know why, it just happened that way.

'Is it wrong to imagine that tiny, strong, little guy inside of me?' She pondered.

But in the scheme of things, who would stop her? Maybe she should have taken him and Christina along for the journey, but how, when she had to eat entire villages full of people along the way? She hoped they were alright in Lauraville though.

The struggles inside her went on and Janna leaned back indulging in thoughts of Steve. When finally her pussy had killed the tiny girl, she laid back and relished in the afterglow for a moment. The day before she did not have this much time, she remembered. The fog looked like it had actually gotten thicker.

'No!' She cursed in her mind and got up.

There was only supposed to be fog in the mornings when the rising temperature evaporated the water that had accumulated on the grass and moss in the night. She could barely see anything now, even higher up than before. When she stood, she found herself in a sea of clouds and mist that reached up to her just to below her tits.

She discarded her plaything and crawled blindly to gather up her things. Two lamps, night-vision goggles and batteries, Laura's sleeping bag and the Erlenmeyer flask. She rolled everything up in her sleeping bag to carry the things and switched on one of the lamps to see if it would help. The light only made it worse as it reflected in the mist however.

This was not good. She remembered where Laura's footsteps had been of course but finding an imprint with her hands took a while. She felt for the next and went on. At this rate, she'd never find her though.

Going into the general direction of the tracks was nothing short of gambling with an outcome that was insecure at best. What time was it? The sun was hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. Janna worried even more at the thought that Laura might be caught in the same fog, cold and probably hungry as well.

Was Laura still angry with her, still out trying to prove that she could make it on her own? Or had she been injured maybe, or lost. Why didn't she simply follow back her own footsteps? The answer was clear and Janna realized that she was afflicted by the same peril. Simply going back would not serve for there was nothing left to eat.

'You stupid girl, Laura.' Janna thought. 'Why did you have to squish those you did not eat in that village?'

Andergast was to the east, Nostria to the south, or south east or even south west too. The Thorwalsh were a seafaring people which meant that there had to be sea to the west. But if Laura had gone there or maybe turned around already, Janna could not tell.

She had felt so powerful a moment ago and now so impotent that it drove her sheer mad.

'Allies.' She thought. 'I need allies.'

Her mind went to Furio and his Horasians.

Surely, tiny people would have no problem spotting Laura's tracks. To them, the chucks' imprints in the ground were as long and wide as houses. But blind as she was Janna could only sit on the ground and wait for it to go away.

-

“All the little people go squish, when I step on them. Squish when I step on them. Squish when I step on them. All the little people go squish when I step on them. Squish, squish, squish, squish, squish!”

The ground beneath Laura's feet turned slippery every time she brought her foot down. Somewhere between five and seven thousand people lived in the city of Thorwal, or so Jarl Kalf had said. That was under normal conditions, however, and right now, with some huge raid going on, no less than three thousand or so were missing from the city as well as almost all of the war ships. Still, it was the largest city Laura had laid eyes on thus far and so she was in a very good mood, every stomp turning more fleeing people into mush.

“All the little people turn to mush when I step on them. Mush, when I step on them, mush when I step on them.” She sang with a markedly innocent voice.

Those people who tried to fight her, hacking and stabbing into the rubber of her shoes with axes and spears, were simply ignored until there was a large enough group of them that she could crush. She reached to the ground and grabbed hold of a random group of people. Two fell down to death and injury and most of the others were injured by the way Laura's fingers crushed them, holding them stuck in awkward positions against the palm of her hand. They would have been seven or so, but Laura never stopped to count. She dropped them into her mouth during which another one of them fell down, and started chewing.

“All the little people go crunch when I eat them up. Crunch when I eat them up. Crunch when I eat them up.” She sang with a mouth half-full of half-eaten people, involuntarily spraying bits and pieces on the fleeing ones below.

She had entered from the east gate of the city, just north of the Bodir which flowed into the sea here. Outside the east-gate was the practise yard, but she had only stopped to flatten a few training Thorwalsh there before moving on. In the middle of the city, there was a canal which joined the regular haven with a little lake where ships and boats could dock during the worst of winter and autumn storms. Everyone on her side of the canal was either making for the boats or over one of the two bridges to get to the west gate and make their escape that way.

There were a few remarkable buildings Laura could point out by their colourful ornamentations, but what Kalf had told her about them was already forgotten. She recognized the three enclosed compounds he had mentioned however, home to the three large families of Hetmen who ruled city and jarldom of Thorwal as a council.

Like tiny villages of their own, the ovally shaped enclosures were framed by palisades. The nearest one was to her right, sticking out like a pimple in the cities outer defences that were made of wooden walls in front of earthen dikes. She went over there and flattened everything, walls, houses, people and domestic animals all. Taking out the power structure was important, or so Jarl Kalf had said. He was a stain on the bottom of her foot now, but Laura did it anyway, just to see what would happen.

The day before, after that dreadful fog had finally cleared, Laura had found herself in Kalf's jarldom. With a huge part of the Thorwalsh population living in the city of the same name, the capital of Kalf's jarldom had only been another petty village of a few hundred Laura would not have taken particular notice of. While she was stuffing her belly with his people and life-stock, the young ambitious jarl had approached her.

She didn't kill him outright because she was hungry and thus noticed quickly that he didn't seem to mind her eating his subjects at all. In fact, he ordered his fighting men to herd the people to her and keep them from running away. That was all very good until Laura had eaten her fill. With her belly squirming full of people, she had just been going to crush all the rest of them under her feet when Jarl Kalf managed to make her laugh.

“Thank you for the food little guy, but I'm afraid I'll kill you all anyway.” She had said, getting up to start squishing people.

“Your language is wrong!” He had replied, shouting up at her. “You need to say: Thank you for the food, Jarl Kalf, I'll make you king of Thorwal for it!”

Laura had laughed and agreed, even to the condition not to kill any more of his people. The evening was spent with a huge fire, some singing and dancing, rejoicing and praising Jarl Kalf, or King Kalf as he had started to fashion himself, for turning the terrible giantess peaceful to them. Kalf told her everything about Thorwal there was to know, what places she should crush, which people she should find and kill, what the people would do when she attacked and so on.

The next morning, this morning, Laura had stepped on him and their agreement both when she ate the rest of his people for breakfast and crushed the tiny jarl under the soles of her feet before even exchanging another word with him. It was Sir Ludwig all over again and she wasn't going to suffer that.

The huge city was hard to miss and now she was right inside it, the people behaving exactly as Kalf had predicted. With the fleet gone however, there were not nearly enough boats to fit them all, plus most of the fishermen had already put to sea in the morning.

A few steps and she was over the thick of the mob again, crushing fleeing people with every step on her way to the harbour. She walked over the docks, squishing men, women and children under her feet. Her shoes filled with water when she pushed the boats and ships under to sink them. When she turned back to the tiny people, the squelching sound of her drenched footwear mixed with the sound of people squelching under her weight. Now they were trying to flee the other way.

To trap the boats in the winter-harbour, she walked over and blocked the canal by dragging her foot through a row of houses and pushing the rubble into the water. She made sure to crumble the bridges as well and went to the other side of the canal, stepping on the people still trying to flee to the west gate. It was happening way too fast for the tiny population and they started losing their minds as Laura walked over them.

South-west of the west gate, perched on a hill above the cliffs was the Ottaskin of Hetmen, what ever that meant. It was were the hetmen convened to rule in a great long-hall and had been high on Kalf's list of buildings to demolish. Ten stomps later, everything there was plained. Down, far south, Laura could see the dungeon keep, basically a stone castle that was used to pen up criminals in peacetime. Locked up, the prisoners would not go anywhere however, and Laura could turn her attention elsewhere first.

She took a detour through some buildings on the west side on her way back east, crushing the people that had accumulated around the wharf again before marching through the shipyard were more people had gone looking for boats that would take them away from her.

The other two enclosures of the hetmen families were almost empty by now but she flattened those too. She had met the mob of crazy people that wanted to fight her when she had walked over the docks for a second time and decimated them to but a few dozen. Still they came, screaming in their pathetic, helpless rage, pathetically slow on foot, following the path of destruction in her wake.

The rest of the city did not look too bad except for where she had stepped on houses. She had stepped on streets most of the time, preferring to see the ones she was smushing. The streets she had walked on were littered with dead Thorwalsh, or what was left of them, and a few half-squashed ones, the least lucky of which still alive.

Laura was out of breath from all the squishing but felt amazing otherwise. A few ships had gotten away, and many people had fled or were still fleeing through the gates. It was alright, she thought. After all, razing a city without anyone living to tell the tale would be pointless.

By the time the screaming mob of madmen had gotten to her, Laura had slipped out of her shoes and socks. It was time to squash some people between her toes. The Thorwlash were better equipped than Andergastian villagers however, which she learned when the mob managed to prick the delicate skin of her bare feet with their stupid weapons.

“Outch!” She cursed and hopped a few steps back.

The nasty little fighters came after her, spurned on by their seeming success. Either that, or they were sheer mad, Laura concluded. She turned around, waited for the right moment and let herself drop onto her behind. There was a sudden, awkward wetness beneath her butt after and any lucky survivors were sprayed with blood and gore. A red splotch and a dent in the ground were left when she stood up, trying to brush the remains of smashed corpses off her rear. That was the last of any resistance she encountered.

There was no way of telling how much time had gone by but it could have been only minutes at the most. And Laura was not done playing yet.

A face-splitting grin on her face, she moved along the outer defences. Three meters high, they posed more of a barrier to those that were fleeing rather than a defence and so she took special care not to crush it. Back at the east gate, a wooden tower house without doors, some few hundred people tried to squeeze through out of the city.

“Get ready, little guys!” Laura announced when she arrived. “Here I come!”

The screaming and crying was all they could throw against her. On the outer edges, people tried their luck fleeing into opposite directions all over again, but in the middle of the mob, they could neither get back nor forth. Laura's bare foot slammed down on top of them with the audible squelch of dozens of bodies. She laughed like a maniac as she stomped.

The tower house crumbled easily under her weight as she pushed it down on top of more people. There was a reasonably large pasture next to the gate and people tried to flee that way too but were blocked off by the herd of maddened cows Laura had not bothered to trample yet.

Within seconds, her feet were smeared with mud and people. She stopped stomping and moved over to just walk back and forth over the dissolving crowd, their bodies crumbling, popping beneath her as she went.

“Aw, am I too heavy for you?” She mocked a male youth whose lower half disappeared under the ball of her foot.

He tried to crawl away but his body still clung together enough to deny him even though he was completely crushed from the pelvis down. Laura released him, watched him crawl a few centimetres before ending him with another step.

“No, please!” A woman begged and futilely raised her arms before Laura's foot squished her.

“Swafnir, help us!” Someone in a group of four screamed ere her foot pressed them into the ground, crushing them.

“I'll need a foot-bath after this!” Laura announced to no one in particular.

Her feet were red and brown on the bottom and sprinkled with drops of blood and gore further up. The force she was able to create stomping was enough to make the ground shake ever so slightly.

Carefully, she placed a foot over a wooden, straw-roofed house and pushed down until the building was level with the ground. Nothing in there was sharp or large enough to hurt her. The next house exploded in a spray of splinters and debris as she stomped down on top of it. One, two three, more houses fell beneath her. When she trod into a hearth, there was a brief feeling of warmness that went away as soon as Laura withdrew her foot.

“All the little houses get smashed when I step on them.” She sang happily, starting to skip through where before hundreds had lived in peace and harmony, crushing, smashing and destroying everything in her path.

Boats were floating on the waters of the winter harbour, pushing against each other, unable to get through the blocked canal. The harbour itself was enclosed in palisades of it's own, with just a single gate for entrance and exit. There weren't many people at the gate, but still Laura jumped into the air to land on them with both of her feet at once.

The spray of gore was worse enough to hit the surrounding palisades and sprayed a reddish taint onto the brown wood. After that, she toppled a nearby warehouse, fifteen centimetres high maybe, and used the rubble to block the gate to anyone who would try to flee after. Sure, some would find a way down the outer city walls or over the inner city stockades but she was sure that a big part of them would be trapped for later consumption that way. This city was simply too large to destroy in one sitting.

Where no houses stood and no crops were planted, there were pastures of cows and other livestock. On the western hill over the cliffs, all the way from dungeon keep to Ottaskin of hetmen, sheep grazed or ran around frightened. All in all, Laura would be able to live a while off this place, if she cared to. Surely, there were some people in the buildings too.

She trampled more houses on the east side before making her way back to the west gate. She noticed that the west part of the canal was richer than the east, smaller, with more houses that had stone foundations and lower storeys. Some times, when she trod on a building, some people that had tried to hide would rush out of the others nearby and run down the street towards the gate. Over there, another blob of people had accumulated, worsened by everyone Laura chased out of their homes.

The west gate was larger, wider, higher and actually had doors that could be locked up. When Laura stood over them, she made sure to keep the group together with a few precise stomps around the edges. Then she leaned over and closed the gates. It felt like toying with a fragile plastic model. A woman got stuck in between the two three-meter-high gate-doors when she closed them and Laura made a pitiful face before pushing harder, crushing her. A handful of earth blocked the gate after that, trapping her prey.

“Hello.” She greeted them sheepishly.

When anyone tried to run in any direction, she made sure to send them rushing back into the crowd with a stomp. It didn't take long until they got the message. She crouched down in front of them, grinning.

“Squishing all your little friends made me hungry and it's past time I had my lunch.” She informed them.

On cue, her belly rumbled with anticipation.

“May Swafnir smite you for this!” Someone screamed.

Laura chuckled.

“As far as I understand, your god is a whale. Who is stupid enough to worship a whale when they live on land, huh? You brought this on yourself!”

“Please!” Some started begging, going down on their knees. “We'll worship any gods you want!”

A few more firm in their beliefs started protesting that sentiment in turn.

“I'm not here to argue religion.” Laura giggled, amused. “I'm here to eat you.”

Some boy tried to run from the left side of the crowd but Laura caught him, tossed him into her mouth and swallowed. The tiny people before her still stared at her mouth as though they expected to see him emerge from there at any moment, unable to fathom that she could actually turn someone into food that easily.

“Aaaah.” She opened her mouth, showing them that he was gone.

The whole crowd gasped and Laura couldn't help but giggle again.

“There's one thing though.” She said after plucking out two women from the crowd and regarding them in her hand. “Somehow, I can't eat naked people.”

She tossed the females into her mouth and crunched them in between her molars a moment after. For a glorious moment, the tinies looked at each other in confusion. Then, as though they had discovered a sudden pestilence in their garb, they rushed to get out of their clothes as fast as possible.

Some of them were even naïve enough to look at her with triumph in their eyes as all stood butt-naked before her. There were old people, middle aged people and young ones but the women far outweighed the men by number. It made sense, she thought, because even though Thorwlash women were tough and defensible, the men, still larger, stronger and socially disposable, did most of the fighting. Ironically, they were safely away now, raiding some distant place with Olaf, the hetman of hetment. Kalf had told Laura to make a point of killing Olaf's wife, hetwoman Jurga Trondesdottir, but as it turned out it was impossible to look for and point out any particular three centimetre tall person while one was hell-bent on crushing as many others as possible.

She'd turn up eventually, or maybe not. Maybe someone would recognize her clothing or jewellery in a pile of mashed persons. Maybe she got away on one of the ships, or out the western gate. Maybe she hadn't been in Thorwal in the first place, but on some voyage. It didn't matter.

Laura reached for a particularly defiant-looking man past forty, pushed him onto her tongue and swallowed. To Janna she had complained about eating old people and 'limp old dicks' in her mouth, but the hardship of her journey to this place had toughened her.

“Actually, I can eat anyone I want.” She informed the naked people. “But you taste a lot better without your clothes on.”

In her head, she counted while she ate. Thorwalsh were taller and burlier than other people she had seen, especially the scrawny, half-starved Andergastians, which served her very well. When ever someone dared to say anything, cry, whimper or beg a little too loudly, Laura would put them in her mouth and either chew or swallow them whole. By fifty eight, the remaining hundred or so were as silent as a grave.

No one dared to try and flee any more. They just stood and watched stoically as more and more went down her gullet. By seventy two, she felt like she had eaten a full plate of food, by eighty eight, she just could not bring down any more of them. A noisy burp let her buffet know that she had had enough.

“You're lucky I'm full.” She told them, rubbing her belly under her shirt. “For the rest of you I have a special task. Don't worry, it won't kill you.”

They were all ears. Obediently, like little ducklings, they marched under her over-watch, over to the dungeon keep. When the last one was inside, Laura sealed the gates behind them. The old castle looked as though it had been carved out of a rock. The walls around were about five meters high to the little people and the bulky tower that throned over the cliffs easily four times as high. Laura broke any ladders she could see and blocked any entrances to the tower and to the top of the walls with rocks she simply broke out of the cliffs by her side. She crushed the yard's singular wooden building in between her hands and cleared the place of anything that could be used to build something that might be used for escaping the castle from inside.

“Yap, you're trapped.” She winked at the worried looking men and women when she was done. “We'll have some fun later.”

The cliffs crumbled a little under her weight when she sat down and watched out to sea, playing in the water with her feet. The mix of mud and gore was stuck so closely, that she had rub with her fingers to get it off, especially in between her toes. The water was not warm by any measure, but did not feel cold either. Like the rain that had to go on for hours before it bothered her, her body seemed more resistant to cold than it used to be.

Of course, she thought, her skin had to be half a meter thick, or even thicker. Janna would know exactly no doubt, but she wasn't here. That night, when they had fought, Laura got lost on her way back to the ship. It was so dark that she could not see anything at all, panicked and ran.

She came back to her senses the next morning, hungry and thirsty. She tried following her footsteps back but found nothing that she could eat or drink that way. So she turned again, finding a small village. Jogging, she could cover great distances very quickly she learned but even thought she found water, she did not come across anything else to eat before the fog. So many times, she had been sure that she would die on that journey.

She feared starving or freezing to death in the night. It had not come close, in truth, but the fear had been real. She slept curled up into a ball in any reasonably dry place she could find. She had passed a few remote farms during the day and even a meadery, that made wine from honey. She had eaten everything and everyone she could in those places and even drank the barrels of mead in the cellar.

Laura hoped that Janna wasn't following her, for there was nothing to eat that way at all, or close enough.

Out at sea, a number of boats of all sizes as well as one larger ship lay in waiting.

'They think I'll move away from here.' She thought. 'And then they want to dock again and look for survivors.'

She pondered marching into the sea and try catching the ships. While chasing people through the streets of Thorwal and crushing them under her feet, she had felt like a genuine Godzilla. Who said she couldn't be a terrible sea-monster if she wanted to?

She broke a piece of rock out of the cliff-side next to her. The limestone felt somewhat like dry clay in her hands. It was hard, sturdy and dry but she could break it with a little effort. The rock went flying in a high arch towards the ships but missed, splashing. Laura threw another. No doubt the ships would sink if hit but she was simply too bad at throwing to test that hypothesis.

The next rock broke into two smaller ones that were shaped quite flatly. Laura aimed so as to make it skip on the water, which worked for three jumps before it crashed into the sea in front of the ships, splashing the sailors with water and rocking their puny little vessels hard. Laura wasn't going to hit them at this rate but she threw the last stone none the less.

“Sing me a sailor song.” She commanded into the castle next to her before picking out some random boy.

He screamed like a little girl as Laura threw him, making his puny little body skip. After he crashed into the first wave his body went limp but flew on regardless, propelled by Laura's comparably godlike power.

“Huh, still no singing?” She asked and picked a girl next.

She managed to skip no less than five times, but still Laura couldn't score a hit on the boats. There were small windows in the tower, Laura noticed now, little more than crenels for shooting arrows. But behind a few of them, faces peered through, trying to see what was happening. Prisoners, Laura knew. It was one of them that started the gloomy, slow sailor song that echoed loudly on the walls of the yard as more and more people picked up the tune. It had nothing of the jolly, cheerful songs Laura had heard at Jarl Kalf's, but it might have had if it had been sung differently.

The beat was slow and stomping but picked up speed as it went along: “Yo, ho! Shields and axes, beat the Hooo-ras! Come now, spears and daggers! The seas belong to uuus!”

After the first verse the hole yard was singing: “Yo, ho! Shields together, on to the enemy waaalls! If we, die together, we meet down in Swafnir's haaaalls!”

“Yo, ho! Kill the giant!” A young man in the yard rose up in voice above the others, altering the lyrics of the song. “Drive your spear through her eeeeeye! Big bitch, come to slay us, this is the day you diiiie!”

“Yaaa!” Some cheered and applauded before Laura's thunderous giggling brought back the reality of their situation to the forefront of their minds.

The old ones looked even more dread than before, for they had known the momentary hope had been a false one from the start.

“Nice song.” Laura commented. “Really nice. So, you'll kill me, huh? And how exactly will you do that?”

He was young, and scrawny for a Thorwalsh too. Maybe he was a little too stupid to take on a raid or else he had other obligations. The Thorwalsh were a remarkably free people after all. He stood, staring at her, scrambling for words.

“You want to fight me?” She asked in a friendly tone. “One of my butt cheeks could squash you alone.”

“Someone will kill you!” He blurted out, awkwardly. “A great warrior! He will strike you down and you will die, like all the monsters in the stories!”

“Gunnar, shut up!” An old man cursed at him.

The young man was no doubt interrupting what the old man thought tobe the last few moments of his life with his buffoonery.

“Don't tell him to shut up, you have to encourage him!” Laura laughed into the yard. “Here Gunnar, I'll give you a chance. Let's get rid of that old guy keeping you down and then you can fight me.”

The young man looked helplessly as Laura's fingers came for the old man, pinched him effortlessly and raised him up. Under pressure, he popped and squished in two before Laura ground him to a smear in between thumb and index finger.

“Urgh.” She made, shaking the gore of her fingers.

Gunnar trembled and fell to the ground, still watching her hand that had just squished a man as easily as anyone squished a fly.

“Always with the negativity.” She said frowningly. “We can't have that, can we. Now come, my brave, little warrior.”

When the blood stained fingers came for him, he ran but Laura had him a moment later.

“What's the matter, don't want to fight me any more? You have to believe in yourself! Do you think any of the heroes in the stories ran away crying? No! They believed in themselves and that's why they succeeded!”

She had him in her grip carefully, not giving enough pressure to hurt him, but enough to prevent him from jumping to his death. Beneath the cliffs was a small, stony shoreline where her feet had already dug impressive craters just by being there, half way into the water. She put him down in between. He looked left and right in panic but saw that he could not escape that way. Then he turned out to sea and back to her again.

“What are you waiting for? Attack!” Laura encouraged him but he made a run for it instead and tried to get behind her heel and onto the other side of her foot.

It worked but he did not get very far for Laura simply put her foot into his path again.

“Ahh, I see.” She smiled. “You're a nobleman. Of course you'd let the girl attack first.”

“No, please!” He begged as Laura put her foot down on top of him.

It was just a dab though, nothing serious, but enough to push him down face first into the ground.

“Wow, you're harder to kill than I thought!” She said with as much astonishment as she was capable of and dabbed her foot on him again, reversing any efforts he had put into getting back up.

She put on just teeny bit more pressure but acted as though she was expending herself.

“What are you made of?! Is this sorcery or gods' work?!” She asked when she had released him.

Gunnar stood up and looked at his body, finding to his surprise that everything was where it should be. Laura repeated the process, crushing him longer under her foot this time, relishing the feeling of his puny little body moments away from pulverization. It would be more believable if she twisted her foot but that would instantly tear him to shreds. Instead, she raised her foot slowly, and sure enough, he pushed upwards against it with his puny little arms.

“I can't push down!” Laura whined frantically. “He's too strong, how is this possible?!”

When her foot was away and he was up again he looked at her in defiance.

“Swafnir is with me!” He proclaimed. “Fear not, I will save you all!”

Laura gave a quick look over into the castle only to see that no one had heard his words.

“Swafnir!” He screamed and lunged at Laura's foot in lack of anything else he could reach.

“Ouh, ouh! Please, no!” Laura slowly withdrew her foot from his beating, scratching and biting attack.

It had barely tickled her but she pulled her feet up onto the cliff where he couldn't reach them.

“Get back here so I can kill you!” He roared at her.

Laura chuckled involuntarily. Yes, this boy was a little simpler in the brain department.

“What are you laughing about, you monster!?”

“I wasn't laughing, I was crying.” Laura got her act back together. “But if it must be, I shall play my part! Have at me, hero! Take this!”

Her toes came for him.

'Uh, oh, was that a sliver of doubt I saw there?'

He fought as before but wrestled with her toes now that could defend themselves on their own. Laura scrunched, wriggled and released, careful not to hurt him.

“Ahh!” He cried eventually after getting stuck in between two toes and Laura squeezing just a little too hard.

She let off him and gave him a few moments respite to catch his breath.

He looked a little beaten up and held his side with a hand but after a few moments he screamed: “You can't hurt me!” And charged at her again.

Laura couldn't hold it in any more and let out a burst of giggling laughter as he wrestled with her toes. She played a little rougher now too and also pushed him away into the water. She pulled him under, let him back up, grabbed him with her toes and raised him up only to let him fall into the cold wet and get pushed under by her foot in the next instant.

'Poor guy.' She thought. 'Did he get it yet?'

She realized that she was toying with his life and wouldn't be done playing before he was dead. She loved it. After a brief while of Gunnar increasingly fighting for his life, she let go of him and set her feet back at the shore. Instinctively, he swam for land and came trotting out, water dripping from his scrawny, naked body.

“And the brave hero fought but he saw that she was too strong for him.” Laura narrated ominously. “Oh, no, here come the terrible toes again!”

She ploughed him over and pushed him into the ground, swashing left and right ever so slightly.

“Could he win this fight?” She stopped, raising her toes above him. “No.”

And she brought them down on top of him, grabbing him along with so many tiny rocks and pebbles, and scrunched until he was crushed to paste in between flesh and stone. Her mouth imitated the sound of his body being ground up for the tiny people in the castle. A few splashes in the water and what was left of him was washed off to be eaten by the creatures of the sea.

“Anyway, Gunnar's dead. Who's next?”

But they looked a tad too gloomy to be any more fun to play with just now and so she turned her attention elsewhere.

-

“I ought to have you flogged for getting drunk on your post, alas, lex magica does not permit me.”

Furio woke from his slumber, atop the tower, next to the table, feeling like drawn and quartered. He was still drunk, blissfully sparing him from headache for now, but the rest of him was like a wrecked ship unfit to sail. The speaker was Emilio Rieu, standing over him, his hair freshly washed and oiled.

“By rights, all men should fall under the same law before the gods.” He said, sniffing.

Lex Magica described a royal decree establishing special jurisdiction for mages. If a magicus was reasonably accused of a crime, he was to be tried by a superior mage or, preferably, a council of such. Originally, this was done to stop the peasants from burning them as witchers but today it was kept on to protect the infinitesimally small number of mages from the hazards and errors that plagued the common justice system with it's dungeons, torturers and confessions.

That did not mean that magici were free of punishment however. On the contrary, the guilds were keen to keep their image clean in the eyes of common men and thus often ruled much harsher. The grey guild was more lenient of course, but could be savagely strict when they feared endangerment of their apolitical, generally tolerated stance in society. The white guild, which Furio was a part of, always ruled harshly on anybody, arcane, as one of their mages, or mundane, as part of it's role in the Praios Church's inquisition to root out demon-worship and heresy. In the army, judgements were stricter still and commonly followed the accusing officer's recommendations, if found justified.

But they would not flog such an asset as Furio had turned out to be.

He spat on the ground and got up. He had a mission, an important one, and that was a far better shield than any special jurisdiction in the world. He found a piece of parchment crumbled in his hand but could not remember what it was about. Eight Maraskan characters were written on it, along with a longer text in Garethi coal scribbling. Clearly, Lee had given it to him, or else put it into his hand after he had passed out. The General was nowhere to be seen now, of course.

He couldn't read the Maraskan writing but it seemed that the Garethi gave the explanation for some kind of idiom. The hand was far too crude as that it could have been any professional scribe's work.

“Once upon a time, there was a general, hunting for a tiger.” It read.

Furio had to blink a few times before he could go on: “When he spied the beast, perched upon a cliff in the fog, he strung his arrow and loosed. But when his men came to see the carcass, they found that it had only been a rock that looked like a tiger.”

He rubbed his eyes. This was clearly a clumsy translation of another Maraskan fable.

“But the arrow stuck in the rock, like in the flesh of any living creature, and he asked himself how it could be. So he shot another arrow at the rock, but as many as he shot, all bounced off the hard stone. When all arrows were shot, the general said: 'Of course the arrow does not penetrate the rock, for I believe it is a rock!'”

Furio crushed the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the brazier that was barely smouldering by now. The story was almost insulting, as if Lee believed success or failure depended upon whether or not Furio sufficiently believed in himself. It didn't matter what he believed, all that mattered was what she believed. She, that meant the one hundred meter tall monstrosity called Janna, who killed with childish ease and evidently liked to eat people. Any man with sense would be as far away from her as possible, yet he was going to go out and look for her. Maybe Lee was right, he thought, maybe a little self-confidence couldn't hurt, but that might have been the remnants of snaps speaking in him as well.

“Did you just throw the general's orders into the brazier?!” Captain Emilio's voice was shrill and rang in his ears. “This is mutiny!”

Furio was beyond caring about this man.

He staggered past the captain and down to the foot of the tower, Emilio protesting all the while. He only stopped down to eat a few remnants of an officer's breakfast and rued it a moment after. His stomach felt as though it was filled with crawling rats.

“Furio the red!” A passing pikeman hailed him cheerfully when he arrived outside.

Looking down at himself, he saw that his white-golden robes were still covered in the dried blood from his head wound. A fresh one would be hard to come by here. When he looked out to the field, he saw soldiers busily collecting bodies and throwing them on carts. There were so many of them, most crushed beyond recognition.

He secretly wondered how long it would be until Janna would do the same to him if he wasn't killed by something else before finding her. Why didn't she simply come back? She had liked the food, but had insisted that she had to look for her friend, the other terrifyingly huge she-titan called Laura. Maybe she had not found her yet. In any case, Furio should be going or else he'd never catch up with her. Maybe that was best, he thought. That way, he would be able to stay alive at least. He remembered Lee and his stupid parchment though and had to admit that it was fitting after all.

“Mage!” Emilio had come to pester him again. “I will put you under arrest if you do not answer me!”

“I need men.” Furio said plainly, entirely out of the blue. “The best of the best. A mission behind enemy lines.”

Emilio looked snubbed for a second, then swallowed hard. He knew that it came from the general himself. As the table turned, so did he.

“H...how many?” The spineless man asked, stuttering.

“Enough to protect me.” Furio replied. “Not enough to cause a diplomatic incident.”

The captain was obviously clueless as to how many men that meant.

“I'll have the remaining heavy horse assemble in the yard within the hour!”

“No.” Furio patiently shook his head.

Heavy cavalry was short of unstoppable against anything lesser than a pike-wall on an open battlefield. But in the dense Andergastian woods, Furio reckoned it would be wiser to have a more flexible force by his side. There were men who could traverse forests quickly, even on horseback, but the second royal guard of horse did not count among them, nor did the lighter cuirassiers. Also, Horasian heavy cavalry on Andergastian territory would be seen as a clear violation of peace as Andergast was a Garethian protectorate. It had grave political implications, that could even spark a continuation of the Garethi-Horasian war. No one wanted that, especially not now, and especially not the Order of the White Pentagram, to be sure.

“Give me ten skirmishers.” He said finally. “Ten light infantry, five crossbowmen and five sappers to overcome obstacles as well as three Nostrian scouts with knowledge of the terrain. We need provisions and horses, no cold-blooded war horses, just sure footed ones in good health.”

Skirmishers, in the Horasian army, were light foot or horse that harassed enemy formations, maneuvered a lot and could fight with light crossbow as well as one handed weapons. They were adapt to react quickly to any given situation. Sappers were fighting builders of sorts. Their duty included such tasks as building improvised bridges, rafts, roads, tunnels, traps and encampments but also sabotaging enemy artillery, bridges, boats, buildings and fortifications. Their job was dirty and very hand-to-hand when it came to sabotage behind enemy lines. Thus, they were a skilful bunch by necessity, the best of them anyway.

Emilio did not need to be asked twice and Furio was grateful for it. While the captain did as he was bid, the mage went to collect his things. A book about the intricacies of the Nostro-Andergastian conflict that he had barely touched since he came here, his sleeping bag, pipe and pipe-weed or tobacco as the wild, dark-skinned Mohr of the southern jungles called it, his book for notes and drawings, coal, quill and ink, parchment, unfinished letters...

His hand shook as he drafted a new letter to his family.

“Dear Father and Mother.” He wrote. “Dearest siblings. Hail Horas! Hail the emperor!”

He chewed on his lip and took up a cup of wine that stood abandoned there. He had to get his head in order now, sober up on horseback later. It wouldn't serve to go half-masted upon the crucial preparations of his mission. The vintage was stale and sour but it helped him get on track all the same though his stomach grumbled in rebellion.

“You will be pleased to know that I have been summoned for a mission of great importance. I dare not say much, but much of the future might depend on it. I write this letter in haste, as duty awaits. If I am killed in the line of duty, I ask only that you not forget me. Do not grieve for me but keep me in your prayers and know that I left my life for empire and emperor, long may he reign. Know as well that I forgive you, father, for wishing your son was just as all the others. Do not ask for my body to be returned to Bethana, do not ask to look upon me after I am slain. If all is well, I shall write to you again soon as I can. May Praios give you light, may Hesinde give you wisdom and may Phex lend luck to your endeavours.”

He put the quill aside, threw a handful of sand on the parchment and shook it off. Then he folded it and scribbled 'Bethana, Montane' onto the back, leaving it by the empty cup. While he wondered if he should write any other letters to friends and acquaintances someone stepped in front of his scribe-board.

“Maestro.” Rondria Loraine said softly, but not entirely confident. “I am pleased to find you here.”

His mind pieced it all together within an instant.

“No.” He cut her off. “No, you are not coming with me.”

She looked at him, startled. Then, she bit her lip in guilt.

“The guild wants to know...”

“If the guild wants to know what I am doing, they ought to send me a proper mage, not some acolyte! Hypperio has enough courage to send a child in harms way, but not enough to face the dangers himself! If that is his understanding of duty, I ought to duel him to the third blood and teach him some bloody honour!”

Furio was not as fuming with rage as he acted. He was getting giddy, if truth be told, and relished the opportunity to scold his rival of the same rank. There were no duels between mages, their persons were much too precious. It was just some saying.

“Maestro, I am to be your student.” Rondria said abashed.

“You are not!” He replied sharply. “You are a tool of Hypperio's to look over my shoulder.”

It had dawned upon him that every mage in the world wanted to be able to do what he did. The implications were potentially horrible and it was his responsibility to not let the knowledge get into the wrong hands. The girl looked at her feet, the leather cap on her head shining in the tent's candlelight.

“This mission is far too hazardous.” He explained, softening only slightly at her saddened gaze. “As well you should know, having been in the behemoth's mouth. If you think that I believe that you are here of your own volition...”

“This could be a great opportunity for me.” She allowed in a cheeky, feminine way.

She looked up at him, knowing that her eyes might have the power to move him.

“I do not want to remain an acolyte forever.”

Furio exhaled through his nostrils. He left her standing there, moving over to his bag of things, retrieving his pipe and stuffing it with the damp, brown weed. When he turned she was standing in front of him, conjuring a tiny flame from her index finger which she lent to him to light his pipe.

Soon, thick smoke danced in the air like a posse of spectres.

The girl blew out the flame from her finger, regarding it as though the fact that it had not burned her skin fascinated her.

“Flawless elementary manifestation.” Furio commented. “But that is easy. What else can you do? I saw your Armatrutz and found it quite impressive.”

“I wanted to be a healer, a saviour and protector of the weak.” She replied. “So I studied defensive spells and healing spells in the beginning.”

“And then?”

“Then it came to me that rather than to shield from evil, we should root it out and destroy it. So I focused on fighting with sword and staff.”

He took a drag from his pipe, the fumes resonating in his lungs. The bronze pommel and white hilt of what was presumably a sword protruded ever so slightly from under her white cloak and she had her staff ready in her hand. If what she said was true, if she truly was good at fighting, then maybe he ought to take her on after all. Two mages were always better than one.

“That sounds more befitting to a student of the Academy of Sword and Staff in Gareth.” He said sceptically. “Bethana relies more on magica combattiva, I seem to recall.”

He had started circling her while he spoke and could see that she had entered into the beginnings of a defensive stance as though she expected her fighting skills to be tested without warning.

“I'm having trouble with fire magic.” She replied, a hint of tension in her voice, constantly keeping her face aligned with his. “I can summon a simple manifestation but my ignifaxi go where they will and I dare not summon an ignisphereo for fear it will blow up in my hand.”

“There are other elements than can be employed to do fighting.” Furio lectured, changing the direction of the circle. “Though I grant you they are far less thoroughly understood. Fire's primary purpose is to destroy and consume after all, making it a natural tool of aggression.”

“But doesn't it also warm us?” Rondria asked with a cock of her head.

Furio smiled: “Yes, but what happens if it is left to itself? It consumes and destroys randomly, houses, forests, if you allow it. To use it for our purposes we must confine it, guide it, bend it to our will. Just as we have to do with Janna.”

She stopped matching his movement and just stood, thinking. In his mind, Furio reached for his staff, left standing next to the flap of the tent, leaning on a wooden chest. By his will, it came rushing through the air, flying directly into his grasp.

“Ha!” He shouted and made it spin at Rondria's head one-handed.

He had anticipated to halt the blow way before her skull, making her snap back and realize that she wasn't fit to accompany him on his mission. As much as he wanted her to be his student, a young girl was simply no fit consort for such a venture. But with a clack and metal ringing, white wood met bronze. He had horribly misjudged the strength of the attack and would have hit her had she not been so quick. In retrospect, the entire idea of trying her like that seemed more born of alcohol rather than reason. He smiled, contemplating his drunken foolishness.

Rondria had ducked down and drawn her blade to meet his blow in one motion, quick as a cat. She stood up, still matching the force of the staff against her sword. Furio saw now that she was left handed, holding the staff in her weaker right hand even in combat.

“Very good.” He had to admit. “But what if I had a crossbow?”

She beat away his staff and crossed her arms above her head.

“Fortifex! Try to hit me!” She challenged him.

He summoned a cloud of fire, not particularly large or hot, just enough to singe her eyebrows if it hit her. It travelled through the air at walking speed but burst into a beautiful puff as it collided with her invisible, arcane wall.

“Hm, hm.” Emilio cleared his throat at the entrance of the tent. “Must I remind you, that fires in tents are prohibited? Come, my lord mage, your men are assembled.”

He turned stiffly on his heel and was out without waiting for a reply.

“A good Fortifex.” Furio told his student tapping against it with his staff. “Not an easy spell at all, but a very useful one.”

She lowered her arms: “But it's just another defensive spell...”

“Hmm.” He made broodingly, drawing on his pipe. “Fortifex and Armatrutz both belong to the element of ore. I fear there is no Archofaxius known to us, however, but there are Orcanofaxius and Frigofaxius, both variants of the similar fire-spell.”

“Air and ice.” Rondria pondered. “Would you show me, master?”

Furio had an itching in his fingers but it would not be prudent to use up too much of his powers, especially not while he was drunk.

“We have wasted enough energy for one day.” He said, smiling. “Come, I want to see those men that will protect us on our journey.”

“So, I'm coming with you, master?” She asked, almost cheering.

Furio stopped: “What delights you so about the prospect of coming with me? Yesterday, I remember you crying after you almost became Janna's meal.”

Her enthusiasm seemed to cool a little.

“I am ashamed of that.” She admitted. “I have resolved that I should overcome my fear and help protect others from her.”

'If only we were.' He thought miserably.

If truth be told, he did not know what would happen after he, against a whole host of odds, convinced Janna to ally with Horas.

'After they do not need me any more, what would stop them from making her crush their enemies? First the giants, then the Thorwalsh, then...Gareth perhaps? And what if they asked me, to ask her to do that?'

Janna was a weapon of mass destruction, akin to dealing in summonings of demonic pestilence and the like. Furio did not like it one bit, yet he still rather had her be on their side than anyone else's. And who said that they would not turn her against occupied Maraskan, Black Tobrien and the Haunted Lands? Janna could crush the demon worshippers and their army of the dead just as easily as any common man. A zombie's hacked off parts lived on until he was chopped up sufficiently but a pureed corpse the likes of which he had seen the soldiers hoist on the wagons would never rise again.

“But you are not here on your own accord entirely, are you?” Furio asked, looking deep into Rondria's eyes.

She blinked. There it was. Now it was to see whether she would speak the truth or not.

“I am to gain your trust.” She said, downtrodden. “Master Hypperio...”

'Wants the formula to Bannbaladin, to satisfy his ambitions.'

“...is a coward, and an insufferable zealot on top.”

He couldn't believe his ears for a moment. Such words into the wrong ears could get her a punishment, a harsh one, perhaps a lashing and being thrown out of the guild. Her face turned into an iron mask as she awaited his reaction. He ought to scorn her, shun her and report her. But he chuckled, mildly at first, then ever louder until they both burst out laughing.

“You had the truth of it yesterday, master. And I'd rather be the student of the one who uncovers mysteries in person than of the one who sends acolytes to get eaten alive.”

“We might get eaten alive, though, still.” He cautioned her. “There is a good chance we die on this mission.”

“We are in the army, at war with giants.” She replied. “There ought to be more to it than carrying messages and fixing the wounds of fools who hurt themselves at practise.”

“Ah, a sense of adventure.” Furio replied but knew he had to take the wind out of her sails. “You should not glorify it though. Death, I mean. Go out on that field, have a good look at those corpses and see if you mean to end up that way.”

She bowed her head again.

“You are young.” He continued. “Maybe a voyage such as this one will help you grow wise yet. I will not deny you. Let us go.”

Emilio had assembled the best troops available indeed. Some had the looks of seasoned, mean bastards about them, while others were young, strapping, tall and no doubt excelling in their field. The crossbowmen wore their puffy tabards under a cuirass, heavy crossbows with winches at their feet. The light infantry was clad in brigandine and light plate on arms and legs, topped of with sallet and gorget. They carried swords or one-handed war hammers and green, wooden shields with the golden eagle of Horas emblazoned on it.

The skirmishers' crossbows did not have winches and looked much simpler. They were not as strong but faster to make ready, fire and reload. Still too strong to be drawn by hand, a metal device called a goat's foot was used, employing the force of a lever to pull the string back behind the triggering mechanism, so that a quarrel could be inserted. They wore brigandine but lacked the additional plate as well as shields.

Where all other soldiers were more or less clean shaven with the exception of the occasional moustache, sappers wore their traditional whiskers. Their armour was less uniform than their facial hair however and Furio counted mail, brigandine, gambeson and even some boiled leather. Their weapons were especially remarkable, for they doubled as tools. A thick, wooden shaft, bonded with steel, on it's end a long spike, an axe blade and a hammer head.

The spike was useful against horsemen, the axe against un-armoured and the hammer against armoured foes. It was called the Warunker Hammer, but what the city of Warunk had to do with it, Furio would have to research in some book of history. Apart from it's fighting uses, the tool could perform many tasks, basically any one needed an axe or a sledge hammer for. But that did not mean the sappers did not have to carry a load of smaller tools as well. All together, they would be laden the heaviest, Furio judged, but they would be necessary if the forest got too dense or rivers needed to be crossed.

The Nostrian scouts looked rather scruffy in comparison. Dark greens, greys and browns made up their clothing and not a piece of armour among them. They wore hooded leather half-capes around their chest and shoulders however, to shield them from the rain. For arms, they only carried dagger and short-bow, more meant to hunt and cut food when scouting rather than to fight.

“Where we goin', milord mage?” An older skirmisher asked through a mouth of brown, rotten teeth. “If you don't mind me askin'.”

“All in good time.” Emilio presumed to answer.

Maybe it was best to not speak too loudly that of their destination. Garethian spies, if there were any, would surely prick up their ears. They'd see them cross the border into Andergast no doubt, but scouts often crossed there, to see if anything was coming their way. A fighting force was a different matter, but perhaps he could come up with a believable excuse.

“Many people in the villages north of here are serving false gods.” Furio proclaimed, more loudly than necessary. “It is the intention of the holy church of Praios to bring faith and reason to those who still err in their ways. You are to protect me whilst I spread the true faith of the twelve. With the chaos the giants sew, Andergast has not been able to keep up with it's duties. But where others failed we shall prevail, with Praios' blessing!”

“And Rondra's iron kiss, if need be.” The soldier concluded, bowing his head.

He put on his helmet and mumbled something into it afterwards but Furio neither heard nor cared for what it was.

“That's hard to believe.” A younger man commented, scratching the back of his head, but was promptly and rudely told to shut his mouth.

Furio waived Emilio's offer of having the men demonstrate their skills but insisted upon seeing the provisions. If they rationed reasonably it should be enough for seven days, he reckoned and hoped that it would suffice. If not, they would have to forage if there was anything that could be foraged at all. Pictures of smashed villages, their inhabitants eaten alive, passed before his mind.

They set out as soon as his pipe was done. The eyes of those still collecting bodies, or pieces of bodies, off the field followed them as they rode past. Janna's footsteps were easy to follow and easy to tell from Laura's as well. Janna's terribly high leather boots had a half-square heel that notoriously pulverized anything beneath it, be it tree, horse or man. It covered an area of maybe five by four meters, leaving deep imprints in the ground. Laura's tread was slightly lighter but had a pattern to it as though some artistic mind had taken to modelling every one of her steps like stucco on some high lord's castle's ceiling.

Any tree either of them tread upon was crushed to splinters, broken and bent, or driven into the earth. Other trees were lying around, rooted up and forgotten. They had not gotten trodden upon but found themselves in the way of the she-titans' feet when they were walking. Sometimes, this made the way easier, other times, it forced Furio's party to take a detour around.

“So, we're following her. I figured as much.” The soldier with the rotten teeth said next to Furio, helping him to lead his horse over some large, twisted roots. “Just make sure to bewitch her again so that she don't eat us, will you, milord mage? I have a daughter, looks almost like her. Wouldn't want to get eaten by that whore, pardon the expression.”

Lack of further alcohol intake had finally crushed Furio's mood entirely by then, and he trotted along wherever the scouts said they must go. The soldiers feared the forest, he could tell. Crossbows ready as long as they could without damaging them, the men's heads spun at every crack or rustle in the undergrowth. By that, and an absurd amount of Phex's luck or Firun's blessing, they turned up a stag, running away from them down a swath. Three quarrels later and the animal's hind legs were incapacitated.

They butchered and quartered it there to be skinned and cooked in the evening.

It wasn't long before they had to cross the river where Laura and Janna had simply stepped over it, perhaps without even noticing. It was time for the sappers to prove their worth. The first raft was constructed quickly and two men set out to cross the river with a long rope while the others constructed a larger raft for the horses. Then, within an hour, one by one they brought the others across, one man and his horse at a time.

Afterwards they dragged the rafts into the undergrowth and marked a nearby tree with an X and an arrow pointing to where they were hidden, in case the party had to move back across.

Laura and Janna had walked this way twice, once coming and once going back. Where they had used their exact path twice, the destruction was so great that Furio's party could almost gallop through. Mighty trees, hundreds of years old, had been smashed like dry brushes under the titanic feet. It was enough to make anyone uneasy.

They found a few horse and human tracks as well, which was another cause for concern. Broken men, if sufficient in number, were a danger to anyone good and just. Furio forced himself to be on his heels. It would not serve to have his mission rendered a failure by an ambush of their own Horasian heavy horse. That they were on this side of the river indicated two things. First, that they had no intention of sneaking back into the army, hoping that their absence had not been noted, and second, that they had must have grouped up. Crossing the Ingval with horses, as they seen for themselves, required a group of people.

If they were in fact the missing Horasian heavy cavalry was uncertain however. They might just have easily been a band of raiders, an Andergastian knight and his entourage, or something else entirely. In either case, the tracks crossed the giantesses' path as a group first, then came back over a larger area in smaller groups, then the direction did not make any sense at all any more.

In wasn't long after that before they found the first corpses. The first was in one of Laura's footprints but he was not squashed beyond recognition as one would have expected him to be. Rather, his head had been ripped off along with part of his spine, the blood that collected on the compacted ground still red.

“Load crossbows.” A skirmisher advised, absolving Furio of the duty to give the command.

Rondria climbed off her horse and rushed to the man, feeling him.

“He's still a little warm.” She said, her voice shaking with fear.

He didn't wear the green and gold of the Horasian army but a brown surcoat over what looked like none uniform clothes. Emblazoned on his back was a white stone-oak tree, marking him for some Andergastian man of arms. A bowman, as evident by the Andergastian long-bow by his side.

'Could the broken men have slain him?' Furio pondered.

They could have decapitated him, no doubt, but not tear his head off like that. This looked like the work of something larger, stronger and more dangerous.

“Engasal.” One Nostrian scout informed them, pointing at the white stoneoak tree. “We should be close by there anyhow. West of here, if we didn't get lost. And that's a giant footprint.”

He pointed and Furio thought he meant Laura's footprint at first. Then he saw the imprint of a barefoot upon the earth, almost half a meter wide by over a meter long. That was what he had feared most, all along. A giant-attack in these woods had the most potential to kill them all. But as it seemed, there had already been an attack, though it wasn't clear who was attacking and who was defending at all.

A few dozen meters onward they found three spear men with similar surcoats, killed in various ways, one crushed to death, one smashed upon a tree and another one decapitated. The ground was torn here, indicating battle, it's traces moving along the path Laura and Janna had crushed into the woods.

'Someone was fleeing.' Furio thought. 'And this way was easiest. But it happened long after the she-titans came through here.'

“With me!” He shouted, eager to get to past this.

There was no leaving Janna's and Laura's tracks. Not in these woods. Maybe if they went fast they'd be able to come upon any enemy by surprise, or else pass by them quickly. Dead horses, dead men, blood littered their path.

“We shouldn't go here, milord mage.” Another scout advised, quivering.

The corpse of a giant, eight or nine meters tall blocked their path behind the next trees. He had dozens of arrows in him, the wounds still slowly leaking his life's blood, but they were not what had killed him. A huge lance, almost a pike by some measure, stuck out out his chest where his heart was, his wild, bearded face a grotesque mask of fury and sheer hatred, his eyes still gleaming with it.

“Peraine have mercy.” Someone commented upon looking at him.

“Thank Praios it's dead.” Someone else replied.

Furio didn't know which god to thank. Half of them seemed somewhat appropriate. But the fighting only really started here, it seemed.

“You, what do you make of this?” He asked one of the scouts.

“Ah, not good, milord.” He said through clenched teeth and sour, frightened face. “Sheer bloody horse-dung if you ask me. These are female giantess tracks. More than one, for a certainty. We should go back.”

“Pah, we killed giantesses before.” A young soldier proclaimed boisterously.

“With artillery.” A veteran turned him down.

The faces of his party were hard to read, Furio found. Some frowned sceptically, unsure what to do. Others had hardened as though anticipating a fight whilst still others looked around frightened.

“What are we doing, master?” Rondira asked him with soft, pleading eyes.

It looked as though this was already a little too much adventure for her.

“We are in this now, child.” He replied softly. “We have to-”

“Drop your arms, Horasian scum!”

His head whirled around to where it had come from. The voice sounded normal, human and reasonably far away.

“Who speaks?” He asked loudly after an ear-deafening silence.

“Sir Uriwin Oakhard of Engasal! You are in the lands of my brother, Sir Geldrick, drop your arms and go the way you came, lest we loose upon you!”

So they had bows upon them, Furio thought. That was bad news indeed, for Andergastian longbows were the most infamous weapon in the Andergastian arsenal with a killing range of more than two hundred yards, the only thing the armed forces of this kingdom could justifiably be proud of.

“It was not our wish to intrude into your lands, Sir Uriwin!” He replied, diplomatically. “We are here on behest of the holy church of Praios! We saw your fallen and thought you needed help! I am Furio Montane, servant of the Order of the White Pentagram!”

“There are no witches to be burned here, priest!” The voice came back, clueless. “Go back to your army!”

“Threatening a servant of the highest of gods is akin to blasphemy, Sir!” Furio roared into the woods.

The insolence of the man had was more than he cared to endure, good intentions aside.

“What of this giant here, did you slay him?”

“Aye, I did.” It came back, proudly. “But there is more, the way you are going. In your own interest, turn about and be gone!”

“Your men lay slain in the dirt, Sir knight!” Furio replied. “In Rondra's name, come out here and let us parley. On my honour as a mage, we shall not harm you!”

Finally, his opposite understood, but remained stubborn.

“Your kind is not welcome here, sorcerer! For the last time, drop your arms and turn about, in Queen Effine's name!”

Furio nodded at Rondria who nodded back, though frightfully so.

“Then you leave me no choice! Men, dismount!”

Crossbows at the ready, shields in front, the men formed up towards the speaker. The young acolyte stood by Furio's side, spying into the woods for any sign of arrows.

“Be damned then!” The knight screamed.

“Now.” Furio whispered and Rondira crossed her arms.

Whistling through the undergrowth, five arrows came flying towards them, crashing into an invisible wall, breaking and splintering with audible cracks.

“Ahhh!” The knight screamed as he burst forth.

He was alone, an arming sword in his hand but not even a shield in the other. He was dressed in mail, head to heel, mail fists, mail coif, mail cloak down to his ankles and mail britches that even enveloped his feet, the white stone oak tree painted onto his chest.

The crossbows thrummed but waisted their payload just as the bowmen had into Rondria's Fortifex. The charging knight looked ferocious and brave as he came up the far superior force alone, sword in hand. His splendour was short lived however as he smashed against the invisible wall, crashed onto the ground, dropping his weapon, chain-mail ringing merrily.

Rondria dropped her arms and the light infantry overwhelmed the confused man within seconds, the crossbowmen and skirmishers moving past, looking for archers.

“Stay your bows or your fool of a lord is killed!” Furio called at them.

There was a silence, only disturbed by the cursing and struggling knight before five archers came out, holding their bows above their heads in surrender, exchanging insecure glances with each other. Furio's men took over, disarming them and forcing them to their knees, while the knight was still wishing death and pestilence upon their necks.

“Is that one of the famous knights I have heard so much about?” Rondria commented dismissively.

“Do not underestimate him.” Furio lectured her, watching the stubbornly struggling man. “A knight in armour is a force to be reckoned with, well trained and deadly, especially on horseback.”

Sir Uriwin Oakhard spat at him, missing by half a foot.

“Nah, my lord, that is not very honourable.” He added darkly.

A sapper had prepared a noose and threw it over the knight's head.

“You attacked a servant of the faith on a holy mission.” The bearded man grinned into his ear. “You'll hang for this, Sir knight!”

“Vile sorcery!” He grunted, fighting against the hands that pushed upon his shoulders. “May you burn in the nether-hells for all eternity, Horasian scum!”

“Hang him!” The men shouted.

“No.” Furio commanded and their vigour died down.

“These lands need their lords and sirs, they are the only thing that can restore order, I am afraid, even fools like this one.”

Sir Uriwin looked at him, silent but not entirely trusting the broth.

“There are giants ahead.” Furio addressed him. “Tell me how many.”

“Three, we think.” He replied through gritted teeth. “They went after my main force after they routed.”

“What were you doing here, so far out of your castle?”

“We had reports of a Horasian force massing upon our borders. We came to see if it was true, as did the giants, it seems to me.”

“I thank you for your honesty, Sir.” Furio nodded. “There is a force indeed, but only to sure up the border against the giants. We are not in violation of Andergastian lands.”

“Are you not?” The knight replied, hinting at the men at arms.

“A necessary violation.” Furio said without further explanation. “Your kingdom seems ill prepared to deal with the giant threat.”

“Not much longer.” Sir Uriwin replied sternly. “Her royal highness is to marry the good lord Edorian Zornbold. He has consolidated an army under his banners, ready to strike against the ogrish hordes. He has already adopted Sir Eckbert, late King Aele's bastard son and heir.”

“And the one-hundred meter tall girls that caused the destruction we are standing in?” Furio asked, awaiting whether or not the knight even believed they existed.

“They destroyed everything north west of the capital.” He replied sourly. “If you came up with an idea of how to contain them, please, let me know.”

“I will.” Furio smiled. “Unhand him.”

The men were as surprised as was he, but he did not take long to catch himself. He got up, shook their hands off and threw the rope down to the ground at Furio's feet.

“His sword.” Furio nodded and Sir Uriwin snatched it from the hands of a perplexed veteran.

He held it firmly in an iron grip, glaring at Furio for a few seconds before sheathing it.

“Honour demands he not attack me, for I have captured him but shown mercy as well.” He explained to Rondria who looked uncertain of Furio's wits.

“Only Rondrian virtues save your skin now, sorcerer!” The knight spat at him, nostrils flaring.

Furio sighed tiredly but declined to antagonize the downtrodden man any further.

“Fighting a knight with sword and staff is ill advised.” He lectured instead. “Fulminictus goes through armour as it does through air however and fire spells will melt those butted rings together and cook him in his own mail.”

“I wear an amulet against your evils!” The man proclaimed proudly, looking at the young, female acolyte as though she was some demon.

He took it out from under his ring-mail, a grey disk hanging by a leather thread. Furio saw that Rondria was casting Artefacto, to see what kind of anti-magic the artefact was inspired with. There seemed to be runes or pictures on it, but Furio could not sense any strong aura.

The young acolyte walked over to him and grabbed the thing, tearing it off his throat. He looked as though he couldn't believe she could touch it without dissolving into dust.

“You paid gold for this?” She asked him snidely, folding the thing in her hand before tossing it at his chest. “You bought yourself a piece of tin, my lord, congratulations.”

Furio smiled.

“We are not your enemies, Sir.” He said softly, drawing the knight's attention back to him. “I propose we attack those giants together. In turn we gain free passage through your lands and a letter with your seal, affirming that we are friends of Andergast.”

By the look of him he was past thirty, seasoned and not without intelligence, though very limited in wisdom and tolerance. Furio clenched his teeth in anticipation. A letter such as he had in mind could spare them lot's of troubles down the road. It may even grant them entry into castles, villages and cities should they need to buy supplies. It might even allow them to press provisions from peasants without having to fear large repercussions. Most importantly, it would likely prevent any diplomatic repercussions.

Sir Uriwin chewed on his tongue for a while, looking as dark as the night that would be upon them in a few hours before he nodded grimly.

“Fine.” He said. “But I do not want you in my brother's lands any longer than necessary.”

“You have my word.” Furio said, bowing.

“Are you sure this is prudent, milord mage?” A skirmisher asked as they marched on, carefully and slowly.

Rondria Loraine looked unsure as well. The horses were tied together, led by two infantrymen behind their party. Sir Uriwin had recovered his lance from the dead giant's chest, holding it in his mailed fists, pointed forward. All crossbows were made ready to fire and the archers had arrows knocked onto their strings.

“Dealing with the giants is still the primary objective of our intervention in Nostria.” Furio explained freely. “And I dare not bypass them to fall into our backs in the night when we can fall upon them unsuspecting now.”

That made enough sense for the men to understand and it even convinced Furio himself. If truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing, but he would not let that show to his men. Still, their bones rattled with fear, every one. Everyone except Sir Uriwin it seemed. The knight had an aura of determination about him, and an obvious disregard for death.

“Give me another human, mine is dead.” They heard a ruff voice echo through the trees.

“Noo, please don't, ahhh!” Someone screamed before his voice was cut off.

The voice laughed evilly as others cried for mercy.

“They are killing my men.” The knight grunted and looked at Furio with widened eyes, ready to charge.

“Hold on.” He cautioned him. “We have to surprise them.”

They sneaked through the undergrowth, careful not to make too much noise. Furio was mindful of the knight's chain-mail and the sounds it made but the screaming and begging of the soldiers was loud enough to drown out the ringing of steel and cracking of branches under their feet.

On a clearing created by Laura's and Janna's careless stride they found them, three giantesses, huge and terrible. They were sitting in a circle around a group of disarmed men at arms, a few torn and flattened ones piled up next to each of them. They were torturing them to death, one by one it seemed, taking new ones from the centre whenever they were done with one.

“Have mercy!” One man begged before the heavy rump of a giantess pressed him down.

She giggled and hopped up and down on her arse, the multiple tons of her body mercilessly crushing the man beneath her. She was more muscular than any woman Furio had ever seen.

“I love it when they beg.” Another, considerably more feminine-looking giantess grunted and twisted the neck of the man in her hand slowly until it's breaking point.

There was one under her as well, though unmoving and seemingly forgotten. The third one had two men beneath her. She was fat and ugly, her belly swollen, hanging over her waistline laden with a heavy pair of tits. She was eating a man, not like Furio had seen Janna do, but rather like a person would eat a leg of chicken. She had just finished gnawing off the flesh of his arm and turned her attention to his leg. Mercifully, the man had died or else lost consciousness. Blood, thick and red, ran from the corners of her thick lips, grinning with satisfaction.

“I smell humans.” The smallest, thinnest giantess said suddenly, whiffing at the air like a dog.

“Pah!” The fat one made before saying something in a growling, ogrish tongue that Furio couldn't understand.

She pointed at the men before them though, indicating that she must be smelling them. That giants had a highly developed sense of smell was news to Furio, though it did not seem far fetched, considering that humans were their prey.

“Urshak has not come back, go look for him.” The muscular giantess grunted, taking a man from the middle before depositing him in between her thighs.

She interlocked her feet and stretched her legs like some show wrestlers did to squeeze their opponents into surrendering. Her opponent was only a fraction of her size however, and her muscular thighs crushed his bones with ease as she squeezed with all her might. Blood dripping from her victims mouth, she grunted with satisfaction before dragging his half-dead form beneath her rump to let her bodyweight finish him whilst she already dealt with the next victim.

“Urgh, fine!” The first giantess stood up and started walking, but not without angrily stomping down on another defenceless man, crushing him with a quick series of audible cracks from his bones.

She was coming directly for Furio's party hiding in the undergrowth.

“Hold.” Furio commanded with a balled fist. “Wait till she is close enough.”

“Now!” He screamed when she was almost on top of them and the crossbows thrummed, bolts slamming into her.

She cried out in terror, making a step back and forward at the same time, losing her balance. Not sooner had her rump hit the ground as Sir Uriwin charged forward, burying his lance in her belly, driving it up beneath the cage of her ribs and into her heart, screaming madly.

“For Horas!” Furio roared, letting the infantry attack.

With their short, one-handed weapons there was little the men could do but their sacrifice was necessary to keep the giantesses occupied while the crossbows were being reloaded. The bows could shoot faster but even the Andergastian longbows would lack the strength to penetrate deep into their huge targets' flesh.

The giantesses were taken by surprise and scrambled to their feet. Standing, they were infinitely more terrifying, especially these two, Furio found. He had to make a decision of which one to attack first.

“More humans to crush!” The fat one roared and made his choice for him.

His hand went to his shoulder, his lips mumbling the formula, his mind concentrated on the intricacies of the spell. The Ignifaxius burst from his fingers as a lance of hot, all consuming flame, striking her into the chest a moment after.

“Aaaargh!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, so loudly that some men cowered on the ground, holding their ears, their arms and purpose forgotten.

The stout behemoth stood in flames, the fat of her very body burning like candle wax. She beat at herself, trampling madly but ineffectually before she fell and burned in silence. Like bacon forgotten in a pan it smelled and Furio could not help but gag at it.

The muscular monster proved most troublesome. She had seen her two companions go down but her face did not speak of demoralization at all. In fact, she looked as though she enjoyed the sudden challenge placed before her, and relished the opportunity to fight.

The first infantry man approaching her lost his life underfoot, his armour crumbling haplessly beneath the weight of her stomp. She kicked forward into the group of approaching men, scattering them on the ground. Then she laughed, loudly and terribly, and began trampling.

'How heavy is she?' Furio asked himself as one, two, three, four men perished beneath her feet. 'Fourteen, sixteen tons?'

A scale of enormous proportions would be necessary to determine that for certain. The first giantess the Horasian artillery had slain had been dragged off by two dozen oxen with heavy chains and hooks in her flesh, for studying. Shooting at a giantess from afar was one thing, this was something else entirely.

He reached for his shoulder, preparing the next Ignifaxius in his mind. Another spell of such proportions as had killed the fat one would drain his powers enough to render them luckless if they ran into Laura or Janna at too early a time.

The bowmen's arrows had hit but did not seem to trouble her. When the crossbows fired however, she staggered back in pain and confusion. It only lasted a moment and let a few brave swordsmen land barely effective blows to her calves and feet before her eyes narrowed on the crossbowmen.

Gritted teeth, eyes narrowed, she came stomping towards them and before Furio could act she was standing right over him.

“Master!” He heard Rondria scream ere she hugged his chest from behind.

It was too late, he thought, as he saw the giant foot come down upon him. It knocked him down and her with him, and squashed them both into the ground, helpless. He couldn't even scream as much as he had wanted to, the air driven from his lungs. To add to his terror, he did not die instantly as he had expected but lived beneath the otherworldly force meaning to crush the life from his body. The giantess noticed it too and began to roll both him and Rondria beneath her foot, twisting like a kitchen-wench intent on ending some rats beneath her sole.

But his body did not budge and neither did the acolyte's.

Armatrutz. Rondria had done it again.

Neighing with frustration, the monster of a woman stepped off them, deciding to kill some skirmishers instead. While Furio struggled to his feet, checking his aching body for injuries, the giantess cried out in pain once more, staggered and fell after something slammed into one of her eyes. Furio took Rondria by a hand and dragged her away lest the behemoth land on top of her. Three bow- and a crossbowman were not so lucky.

Sir Uriwin and the infantry climbed upon her chest a moment later, hacking, hacking and hacking as much as they could. In the end it looked as though the knight had the final best idea, driving his sword through her good eye into her brain, the other shredded by a quarrel.

“Raah!” He made as he drew his bloody sword from the carcass.

Six light foot, four skirmishers, three bowmen, a sapper and a crossbowman was the death toll of the encounter. They tried to save the people beneath the gigantic corpse but had no luck moving her. It was all too little too late, as were Rondria's frantic efforts to heal a dying, half-crushed man with Balsam Salabunde.

“Bloody good fight.” Sir Uriwin told Furio, wiping the blood off his blade. “You are an honest sorcerer, if such a thing exists. I thank you.”

'I am the only mage you ever knew you met, you ring-mail-wearing bafoon.'

Furio drafted the letter on the dead giantess' leg which served the purpose surprisingly well. Uriwin pretended to read it and scrawled his name and title in a clumsy hand that betrayed the fact that he barely ever wrote at all. Lastly, they heated sealing wax over the smouldering carcass of the fat monstrosity and he gave his seal to the parchment. Furio gave him their surplus horses as well, and Uriwin vowed that he would always have a place at the hearth of Engasal.

He couldn't wait to be on his way. On the path onwards, a scout told him a brief history of the place. Once a great castle with a flourishing little town along the Ingvar on the opposite side of the Engasal cliffs, it had lost it's importance at some point, dwindling down to a mere village. Unable to maintain so large a castle, the lord of Engasal housed a barely repaired ruin, though still good enough to fend off outlaws and the like. South of the cliffs and a tad to the west lay the old Nostrian castle of Drakenburg. A Nostro-Horasian garrison would be stationed there no doubt, but Furio decided to go on with the men remaining to him.

By nightfall, they ran into new trouble, though this time it was not like to kill anyone so violently. They found themselves at a crossroads.

One set of Laura's tracks came here from the north-west, went south, came back here and turned west suddenly. Two sets of Janna's tracks came from north west, but one led there as well. Another one led west, alongside Laura's just like the ones coming and going south. Furio chewed on his lip, thinking. Since he knew from where they had come here, they had to have gone west, he concluded. And that was not good at all.

Andergast was next to, but situated a little further north than Nostria. West of where Furio and his men were making camp now, lay Thorwal, for ever resentful of Horas and it's people. Uriwin's parchment would not do him any good there. For one, the Thorwalsh would not give any consideration to some Andergastian knight's parchment, and for two, except for their crude, simplistic runes that served more ornamental purpose than anything else, the Thorwalsh barbarians were notoriously illiterate.

The quartered deer was roasted and served up with a pinch of salt, pepper and bread. It tasted well enough, but failed to perform any miracles on lifting the men's spirit. They were awfully quiet after the encounter with the giantesses. Maybe they chalked up their comrades' deaths as a mistake of Furio's. A mutiny, here, would be the worst case scenario, worse then a dozen giants surprising them in the night.

“You did great work today, men!” He told them before everyone was to go to rest. “There will be an extra week's pay for all of you!”

If that worked remained to be seen. Now it was to regain some astral power before going turning to sleep himself. He led Rondria in meditation, sitting cross legged, eyes closed in front of her. When they were done, all men were sleeping, except for the nocturnal vigil, a young soldier of the light infantry.

“You too did great today.” He told her softly. “I would be dead, if not for you.”

“Yes, master, regarding that...” She hemmed and hawed. “I fear for...I wonder what...I mean...if you die, this mission is over. You are the only one who knows the spell that tamed the giantess Janna.”

“Yes and it has to remain so, lest we run risk of this power being abused. She could be made to do almost anything, if the deception was cunning enough. The implications are unfathomable.”

“But what will stand between her and Horas if you fall? What if they overcome their fear of our catapults?”

The question stung like a knife. He had chosen not to think about it before. The day had shown that he could die just as easily as anyone else, if he hadn't been saved. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to share the burden. The question of with whom to share it remained however.

“You mean I should share the secret with you?” He asked, looking deep into her eyes, trying to find out whether she knew about the significance of this.

“I..., uh, no!” She raised her hands in defence. “I am too young, not wise enough to cast such mighty a spell!”

“It is a most mundane spell, if truth be told.” He smiled at her. “And you are stronger than you think. You would be able to cast it.”

“Master, I...I only meant...you should write it down, if you can, to be given to the guild in case of...”

She seemed genuinely terrified all of a sudden and Furio was quite pleased with it.

“I do not know how far we can trust the guild in these matters.” He said darkly. “You are right. I should pass it on, so that, in case I die, Horas is saved. I will share it with you.”

She stammered, bubbling incoherently, grappling for excuses why she wasn't worthy. He took quill and parchment from his bag, scribbling in the twilight of the camp fire. She had saved his life and proven loyalty as well as modesty. If he was ever going to share the spell with anyone, it had to be her.

There were many tongues for spells, all old and mystical. Shamanistic spells, alike most spells of druidic origin, had no original writing to them and had to be transcribed into another language so that they could be banned on paper, a slow and tedious process. The string of spells Bannbaladin belonged to came from Yisidra, the ancient language of the elves, or so legend had it. If elves had ever been real, no one really knew, but the delicate, beautiful writing uncovered in the forests north of the Salamander Stones was the source of many a spell, brought to daylight by the unrelenting research of the grey guild.

He handed the parchment to her and she squinted at it, lips moving.

“You can read Yisidra, I take it?” He asked her.

The training in the magical tongues started early, or else it could never be mastered in time, so he fully expected her to. The writing was not difficult at all, a most mundane spell indeed.

“Could I just keep it and give it to...”

“No.” He said determinedly. “You have to memorize and destroy it.”

She looked at the parchment again, her confidence growing with every time she read.

“It does not seem difficult.” She allowed, biting her lip.

“It isn't.” He smiled. “Try it on the man holding guard.”

“Do you...I shouldn't.” She was almost giddy, Furio could tell.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the man, whispering the spell so softly that only she could hear it.

“How do I know if it worked?” She asked afterwards.

“Speak to him.” Furio said. “If he is friendly to you, you will be able to tell by asking a favour, something out of the ordinary.”

“You, soldier, come here.” She called in a hushed voice.

The man turned around from his place by the fire, his face lifting into a smile upon seeing her. Furio could already tell that it had worked, but he would let her make that discovery for herself. The soldier was one of the young ones, tall, well-built, comely of face, the kind of boy young girls looked after longingly in the street.

“Yes?” He asked, only eyes for her, when he had arrived before them.

“Mhh, turn a cartwheel.” She said flatly and Furio had to suppress a chuckle.

“Huh, right here? Why?” He asked, dumbfounded.

She would have to give him a reason to do it. He was friendly to her, but his mind was still active all on it's own.

“Bannbaladin is a spell of influence, not mind-control.” He lectured softly.

“I would like to see you make a cartwheel, with all that armour on.” Rondria altered her request. “I bet you can't.”

“Ha, sure I can. See.” He turned a wheel before them, the brigantine and plate rattling in the night.

Rondria seemed to fear that it had woken the sleeping men, but it hadn't. Then she looked at Furio, full of joy.

“Very good.” He nodded. “Very good indeed. Janna's resistance to magic is more than that of a common man, however. You must practise and master the spell, if you mean to cast it upon her.”

“Yes, master.” She nodded in return, handing the parchment back to him.

“Throw this into the fire.” Furio told the soldier after crumbling it in his hand.

“Wait.” Rondria called the young man, a hint of mischief on her face.

She had him bow down to her and whispered something into his ear.

'She is still young.' Furio thought, smiling to himself. 'The joys of live are not lost on her yet. Not like me.'

The soldier looked at her, wide eyed, then at Furio and back to her. She grinned and nodded at him, giving him the most beautiful, seductive smile her young face could offer. Furio felt a little envious if truth be told. She was smart though, he thought, maybe a pinch of her womanly charms would enhance the spells effect with men who lusted after her. No doubt it was some childish shenanigans she had in mind, some trick she meant to play upon him. Maybe that was what he needed, a young student to lift his spirits up, carry him out of this lethargy he had found himself in, like so many other mages.

The soldier came towards him, shaking, insecure. Furio let it happen. He felt in need of a laugh, even if the joke was on him.

The young man's hand moved past the crumbled parchment Furio still held up in offering. And then it pushed down upon his mouth. This was a tad too crude of a joke, he thought, when a jab of pain erupted from his guts. The soldier looked at him, scared, and when Furio gazed down, he saw his life's blood leak out of his belly past the steel dagger that had been shoved into him. He didn't understand.

Rondria stood next to him, a moment later, bronze sword in hand.

“No!” He tried to scream but his voice was muffled by the young soldiers gloved hand.

He lifted his fingers, trying to cast a spell, lighting the attackers in flames but the pain and cold steel in his guts rendered all efforts futile.

“Master Hypperio sends his regards.” The young acolyte smiled as she raised the shining blade above her head.

It felt as though his body was dipped into ice-water and at the same time as though he was making somersaults strangely close to the ground. Than she stood over him, huge, like a giantess, looking into his eyes, blindly wiping the blood of her blade on his body's robes, still sitting upright.

'I am beheaded.' He thought dully, looking up at her cold eyes for a last time.

And then he died.

-

Master Hypperio had been right. Furio Montane had a weakness for weaklings and a mistrust for the guild, as well as a dislike Hypperio in particular. She wrenched the crumbled parchment from his dead hands and took it, his body still stubbornly sitting upright somehow. She gave him a kick, toppling him, a fountain of blood squirting out from his neck where she had cut his head off.

'Furio the dead.' She thought with vicious joy.

“That was really bad, what we did.” The stupid young soldier said, staring incredulously at the dead mage. “We shouldn't have done that.”

“Shut up.” She told him. “Wake the others. We're breaking camp immediately. I am in charge now.”

“But, you're just an...”

“Now!” She screamed, no time to waste on foolish doubts.

The soldiers woke grumbling and complaining. Rondria bit her tongue. It was a critical moment in the plan that had unfolded so much earlier than anticipated. Who could have thought gaining Furio's trust would be so easy, or that he would be so careless with his life. She sheathed her blade and looked at the parchment in her hand. So much power bound into so few, simple words. Hypperio would be pleased. Very pleased. And it would be to Rondria's advantage.

“Woah, what happened?!” An older soldier exclaimed when he saw the beheaded corpse.

“This man was a traitor!” She addressed the men before her whilst they were still climbing to their feet. “You are under my command now, I have orders from the very top!”

“You killed him!” Someone stated the obvious. “If he was a traitor, why wasn't he put on trial for such?”

A small inconsistency that had to be explained away.

“I had to trick him in order to reveal his treachery. He confided in me a moment ago, and I acted right away. Leaving him alive would have been too dangerous!”

'There, that should do it.'

“This stinks!” A man with a light crossbow complained. “Show us your orders on paper!”

“I don't have them on paper.” Rondria admitted before she remembered that none of them was like to be able to read anyway.

She could've just shown them any parchment and it might have been enough. Hypperio had not prepared her for this sufficiently and it had all unfolded so quickly.

“You will have to take my word for it. Now follow me or get hanged as mutineers, the choice is yours.”

“We will make inquiry on this!” Someone threatened. “And if you don't speak the truth, it's you they'll hang!”

That was true, she noted with an ice-cold shower running down her spine. But then, Hypperio would hang too and that was not like to happen.

Or was it.

The more she thought about it, the less secure the whole scheme seemed. Her thoughts were racing. What if Hypperio would deny any involvement, press the formula from her and hang her for a murderer? He was willing to kill a mage of his own rank, why should he spare a simple acolyte, especially considering that she could cast the spell as well?

Her silence was betraying her, she felt it.

“Make inquiry.” She acted as best as she could. “You will find that all is in order.”

“We will see.” The stubborn man said with an icy glare.

'Why should Hypperio get the spoils and I get the noose though?' She thought. 'I can cast the spell as well, why not return a hero?'

For that, she needed to get rid of these men however. Under these circumstances, Thorwal seemed the appropriate place to go. When she found Janna or Laura all would be fine, or so she hoped. Her fingers closed around the magic potion she had kept hidden from Furio in a pocket of her robes. He had been able to do it, and now all hinged upon her being able to too.

“We are going on as planned. Pack your things and move. We're going west.”

“West, into Thorwal, with you, a possible traitor?” A man spat viciously.

“She's not a traitor, all she said is true!”

The spell was still working on the nocturnal vigil, or else he tried to save his skin in case someone discovered that it was his dagger sticking in the mage's belly. It did it's part in convincing the men however. But right as she considered that, Rondria noted the next fly in her ointment. When the spell wore off, and it would, then the young soldier might confide in his comrades about the things she had whispered in his ear to make him attack the higher ranking magicus. Maybe it had been a mistake to kill Furio this early. The opportunity had been perfect and the deed had been flawlessly carried out, but Rondria saw now that she had spent so much time thinking about how best to murder him, that she had forgotten to think about what to do afterwards.

Hypperio's orders were clear: “Get the formula, if you can, kill Furio, if you can, and return to me as soon as possible.”

He had stressed that getting the formula was the number one priority, for he did not trust Furio with being the only one wielding that much power. But kill the man? Sure, he was a little shaky in his loyalties and sceptical in nature but he had not seemed like he was going to turn Janna loose upon his own people for personal gain or anything like that. Hypperio had indicated very clearly that killing him was a huge bonus however. Did he want to be the only one wielding this power perhaps?

In any case, Rondria was not going to go back to him immediately as he had ordered. What to do about her accomplice in the meantime, she didn't know. She would have to trust in Phex's luck on this one.

Traversing the forest at night, with torches, proved absolutely fruitless. Within an hour, two horses broke leg and had to be put down. Luckily, they had spare horses of the men who had died fighting the giantesses. That oaf, Furio the Red, had almost gotten himself killed then and there and Rondria had already seen the entire mission fail before her eyes. Her skills had not left her, however. From the first day, she had always been an exceptional student. But the battle-mages of Bethana relied on fire spells for combat and those she failed miserably at. Her Fulminictus wasn't half-bad but that did not score her any points with her tutors.

They crossed a tributary stream of the Ingval, shallow enough to ride through. Then it was forest and hills all day long. The gargantuan footsteps were easy to follow, but here where the land got hillier, they had to make more detours. The horses had a hard enough time riding on plain ground with all the roots and undergrowth. Sometimes, a little hill had been completely trodden flat by one of the giantesses and their party was able to right straight through. Those times were most convenient.

The Nostrian scouts reported that Laura had run here while Janna's stride had been slower and less irregular. That meant they could not have gone together and since no tracks led back this way it could mean that they were not together right now. Rondria urged the men onwards. Before camping the night, they crossed another one of Ingval's tributaries, between the villages of Skellelen in the north, a half-day south of the foot of the Stoneoak Wall mountain range, and Kravlik in the south, sitting on the bank of the great river.

She sent a scout to either of these villages and they returned within two hours, reporting of what they had seen. Kravlik had been raided more than once but not completely abandoned. A handful of people, mostly fishermen, were still holding on with iron determination. Skellelen in the north had been turned upside down by giants, not Janna or Laura but the more common kind, and there was not a single soul left alive there.

Rondria wanted to move on, lest they'd have contact to giants once more but she knew the men would not comply. They were at the end of their strength after the fruitless forced march through the previous night. Rondria worried too much to sleep. She rolled back and forth, sweating and cold at the same time. Her hand had trembled ever so slightly when she killed Furio. It was the first time she ever killed a person but it did not haunt her as much as the priests had made her believe it would in their sermons.

After finding Janna, sitting happily on some poor family and their farmstead, everything went smooth as silk, however. She ate the horses and carried them all in her hands, her giant legs carrying them quickly across the land. Soon, the dreaded Andergastian woods were behind them, as was Nostria and they walked over fields worked by peasants bringing in the harvest.

They crossed through Albernia and Windhag into the heart of the Horasian empire. When Janna walked upon the imperial road, her feet crushed the cobblestones beneath her, damaging it severely and so Rondria convinced her to walk on the fields instead. Many a puny, little peasant vanished beneath the sole of her boots but that was preferable to destroying the infrastructure. Next to eating the land bare, Janna would also consume peasants with Rondria's permission, though each time it felt like she herself was being eaten. The memories of Janna's mouth were fresh and more haunting than any murder could ever be.

Before she knew it, they were standing in front of the of his royal magnificence's leisure palace north of Bethana. Janna walked straight through, or rather over, the splendidly maintained gardens and up to the rich, stuccoed palace. On a balcony, fashioned with beat gold, emperor Horatio III stepped out, gazing upon the commotion.

He knew she was coming of course. He was informed of all important matters constantly. He had donned a most splendid tunic, pure velvet embroidered in thread of gold, with a remarkable green cape around his shoulders. His black curls were oiled with finest of scents and everything about him radiated royal greatness.

From were she was, however, up on Janna's hand, he looked small on his gargantuan balcony, like just another common man. She knelt all the same.

“Your royal magnificence!” She called. “I am your humble servant Rondria Loraine of the Order of the White Pentagram! I bring before your royal gaze, Janna the giantess, humbly at your service!”

When Janna knelt, Rondria was still above the emperor, so large was she.

“We see!” His royal magnificence proclaimed. “We see the giantess is mercifully to you! We shall not be merciful, however! A giant being such as she is too large a danger and she has killed many of our subjects!”

That was true, but Rondria had not expected him to care. She attempted to speak but he silenced her with a raised hand. By now, all the court was in attendance, looking upon the spectacle.

“We shall have her killed in the morning!” Horatio III continued. “In the sight of gods and men! Make all the necessary preparations!”

'No!' Rondria felt panic well up in her chest.

He couldn't mean that. She looked up at Janna to see how she took the sentence. Not good, by the looks of her narrowed eyes and hardened face. When Rondria looked back to the emperor, she saw Janna's hand shoot up, balled to a fist, and a gasp erupted from the crowds.

With a single strike she had crushed emperor, balcony and part of the building to pulp and rubble. Then she put Rondria down onto another balcony, chasing off the noble men and ladies like pesky flies.

“This is your empress now.” She proclaimed as though she announced what was for supper. “Obey her, or get crushed.”

'No.' Rondria thought again. 'No, no, no, no, no. That's not what I wanted! Or do I want it? Is this even possible?'

Of course it was possible. With Janna by her side, everything was possible.

“Long live the empress, her royal magnificence Rondria the first!” A herald shouted and the masses echoed the cry.

“Rondria! Rondria!” They screamed.

'This is wrong.' She thought. 'If I was empress I should change my name. Horasianne perhaps, or even Horas?'

It was a tad too insolent still, she felt, to compare herself to the god-empress of old. But the crowd changed her name without her saying so.

“Acolyte! Acolyte!” They screamed now.

That was wrong entirely. She was the empress, not some stupid acolyte any more.

“Acolyte, acolyte!” Their voices melted into one, not cheering any more, but ruff, whispering and uncomfortably close.

She knew that voice. It was Furio's.

She awoke drenched in sweat, his face uncomfortably close to hers.

“Wake up. We're being attacked.”

She shot up, looking. The men were sleeping comfortably it seemed, except for one or two who turned nervously. Her face shot back towards his in horror. He was alive, his head snug upon his shoulders as it had used to be.

“Wh...what is attacking us, master?” She asked perplexed, more automatically than anything else, her heart racing.

“Witches.” He replied ominously, gazing into the dark surrounding them.

“I...I had the most queer of dreams.” She said, unable to make sense of it all.

“So had I.” He whispered back. “I took the potion from you.”

Her hand shot into her robes where she had hidden it and found it gone. Had they had the same dream? Had he dreamed that she killed him too? Did he know of her plot to steal the formula? She shuddered. Were Hypperio's orders even real, or had she dreamt them as well? Was this even happening or was she still dreaming?

“Trust not your senses.” Furio warned. “We need a circle of anti-magic. Can you help me with that?”

His eyes never met hers.

“It's too late. It's too late.” A queer voice whispered in her ear.

She shook it off like a spider crawling upon her body. She was confused.

“Master, I...how much...when...where...”

“Shhh!” He made, eyes narrowed.

The lips on this leather cap flapped as his head spun towards a noise only he could hear.

“Be gone, creatures of the night.” He growled, crouching down to draw a pentagram in the dirt with his finger.

He mumbled the formula, long and complicated, in the old tongue of Bospharan. She did not understand much other than it had to be a spell for banning influence. It did not seem successful however, as the noises of the forest grew so loud in her head that she could not hear anything else any more. Bugs and spiders crawled everywhere, the clicking of their limbs echoing on the trees. Leaves rustled like an army clad in plate marching silently.

She spied into the night, past the glow of the dying fire. The shadows shifted and moved like monsters but when she blinked they remained back where they had been to begin with. Tears crept into her eyes and made it hard to see. She blinked them away, trying to focus. When she could see again, Furio seemed a million miles away somehow.

“Be on your heels.” He warned, his breath frosting in the sudden cold.

The grass froze over within seconds and the fire died with a soft hiss. She looked down and saw that the hissing had been a snake at her feet, red of skin with white rings upon it. She screeched and stomped on it, only to find that it was but a broken branch.

Her scream had woken a few soldiers who got up, looking confused, holding their arms in tired grasps, but she could only make out their shadows in the starlight. One man started screaming incoherently and ran off into the darkness never to be seen again. Another stabbed the man next to him in the back with his sword, before letting himself onto his own blade. A crossbowman looked as though he had strings attached to his wrists and feet and danced slowly and grotesquely, eyes closed, as though he was being moved by a giant puppeteer.

When she checked above, she saw a giant, black eye gazing into her, but it was gone as soon as she blinked another time. Men were on the ground, crying for their mothers, cowering, others sucking on their thumbs like little babes.

Furio spoke the formula another time, but more loudly and the commotion stopped at once, only single whimpers of men remaining. Her head cleared a little and she reached for her staff on the ground next to her. She conjured a light on top of it, turning it into an un-burning, magical torch.

“We will need a little more light than that.” Furio said and took up his own staff before slamming it into the ground.

The light that flooded the camp was blinding at first and it shot deep into the forest around. It was so bright that Rondria could not see clearly even after blinking a few times.

“What do you want?!” Furio shouted.

“Want, want, want...” It echoed back in a most unnatural fashion.

“You!” It came back from four different female voices at once.

They seemed to be everywhere at once, far and near.

“Why do you want me?”

“Ha, what do witches want with a mage of the white guild?” A young voice giggled.

“Kill him!” The voice of an old hag replied. “It is past time your order paid it's due for Praios' inquisition!”

“We are not here for that! We come in peace! We did not wish to disturb you!” He tried to reason.

“That is true, sisters.” A softer voice agreed.

“Pah!” The old hag spat. “They're all the same, the lot of them, with their shaven hair and white robes! Kill him I say! Kill him and make it slow!”

Rondria saw a woman's head on a tree, far too far up to be standing on the ground. Then the rest of her followed, her hands and feet sticking to the wood as though she was some spider. Her limbs and head were twisted grotesquely, just like an insect's. She winked at Rondria and vanished further up between the leaves.

“Are you in league with the giants?” Furio asked, turning about, unsure in which direction to speak to.

“Which giants?” A vicious voice replied. “The ones you seek to ally with? The ones that consume people by the dozen and crush whole villages beneath their feet?”

“No!” Furio roared back. “The others. Tell me, are you Albino's creatures?”

They all replied at once in a fit of burning rage, each more angered by what he had said.

“Then we have common foes!” He concluded. “There is no need for you to attack us!”

“There is a debt to be paid, mage!” The vicious voice returned. “I cannot wait to rip you open and strangle you with your own guts!”

“Gods protect us!” A soldier prayed loudly, turning, turning and turning in bloody madness before he too ran blindly into the woods.

There was a screech, unnaturally loud and a cry that could only have come from him. A moment later he came flying from in between the trees, torn up, bloody, twisted and dead.

“Help us, m...milord mage!” Another man whimpered, cowering on the ground, war-hammer in hand.

“We killed three giantesses today!” Furio argued angrily. “What have you done in this war, other than prey on unsuspecting travellers?”

“Today?” The young voice giggled. “You do not know where you are, do you?”

He spun around looking. Rondria did too. It seemed the world changed before her eyes. It was still forest but slightly different. Different trees, less stoneoaks and more conifers than she remembered.

“You are west of the Roval, silly!” The voice laughed.

That would mean that they were further east by a day from the last thing Rondria had thought she had woken up, two days from where she believed she had killed Furio.

“Where are we!?” He shouted at a cowering, Nostrian scout.

“I...i...i...it is true, sire!” The man stammered incoherently. “Co...co...co, co, co, crossed it this evening a...at your orders!”

“This isn't possible!” Furio almost sank to the ground. “How long have you been in our heads?!”

“Long enough!” The old hag proclaimed. “Long enough to know what you know!”

“I told you, sisters, that he wouldn't remember much if we go about his poor mind like that.” The soft voice returned. “He's lucky to have returned to sanity at all.”

“If he hadn't we wouldn't need to kill him.” The vicious voice was grinning audibly.

“We are looking for Vengyr.” The old hag explained. “And thanks to you we know where to find him now.”

Rondria's mind raced to remember what she had learned about witches. It was common knowledge that they were vile creatures in league with demons and the nameless, servants of pestilence and insanity. But if that was so, why did they fight the giants? Why did they ally with the druids?

“Good question.” A voice from below commented.

She looked down but could only see a thick, disgusting spider crawling on the ground. She raised her foot to step on it, but hesitated, twisting away to give it another look.

“Thank you. That is very kind.” The spider said and crawled off.

Everything spun before Rondria's eyes.

“Then take this knowledge and leave us be!” Furio pleaded.

“Can I have a vote?” The soft voice said. “I am against killing them.”

“For it!” The vicious voice spat.

“For it!” The old hag agreed.

“I...” The young voice giggled amusedly. “I don't know. They are a funny bunch, but killing them might be fun too. I'll abstain.”

“In favour of killing them then!” The vicious voice triumphed. “About time!”

Rondria grasped the sleeves of Furio's robes. She did not want to die. She couldn't believe how helpless she felt. No wonder, the church of Praios wanted to root these evildoers out. She only wished that their magic had been better understood so that she could have been prepared better. She looked at the superior mage and found the same helplessness in his face.

Her panicked mind went into full rejection.

“Master, how is this possible?!” She asked furiously. “How is any of this possible?! How can they do this to us, make us see things and such?”

She had half expected the witches to mock her for it, but they had turned awfully quiet all of a sudden as had everything around them.

“Witches' magic is queer.” Furio mumbled, looking at the trees as though he expected something to jump out from there at any moment. “We must have consumed some potion or something, by mistake. It might have been the river water or...or that stag we thought we were so lucky to bag. Or else something crawled into our mouths while we were sleeping.”

He ground his teeth against each other.

“They hate us and I can't resent them for it. We have burned and killed them where we could. They must be frustrated too, for their mind-altering spells are wasted upon the giants. But if they think that they can kill us easily they have made their hunt without ziget. Remember what you know and try to keep a clear head. Stay close to the pentagram, the spell should keep us from going insane.”

Rondria wanted to believe that with all her heart. When she looked down at the pentagram painted in the dirt, she saw that the spider was trying to destroy it by digging holes through the lines. It felt almost too queer to believe, but she could swear that their eyes were meeting.

“Errr, oops.” The spider said and Rondria stomped it flat in an instant, twisting her foot.

She looked up to Furio: “Master, I am scared! I don't want to die!”

“Ha, I told you we might.” He smiled sourly. “Do you regret joining me on this mission now?”

She bit her teeth. What he said was true. She was foolish. She couldn't even tell any more whether it had been Hypperio that sent her or whether she had come on her own accord. She felt like she was losing her mind.

“Master...” She felt that this was important. “I do not know what is true any more.”

“Neither do I.” He grimaced. “Did you kill me?”

He wriggled his hands before his eyes.

“Seems not. But did you want to kill me?” He shrugged, half grinning. “That does not matter any more now, does it?”

It gave her a sense of courage back. If they died, at least he would have forgiven her. Or close enough. She couldn't tell, she was so confused. She had to focus, listen to her masters voice.

'Remember what you know.'

That was difficult. She had a strong sense that very little of what she had seen just now had actually been real. Animals couldn't talk, spiders least of all. She remembered the woman in the tree however. She could have been one of the witches.

Fulminictus was a combat spell not bound to any particular element. It had the ability to weaken and slow it's target, but barely to kill it, which was why mages saw only little use in it. Casting it upon an approaching foe could be useful if one was prepared to fight him with sword and staff afterwards. Else, the mage would simply be struck down by a slightly weaker, slower foe. Swords cut through robes like a hot knife through butter after all.

It had a variant however that sent forth a wave of excruciating pain, harder to cast and highly dependant on the skill of the magicus but it seemed as good a shot as any. She reached into the air before her, balled her fist, turned it on it's own and released the spell when she opened it again, towards the tree were she had seen her.

A scream echoed in the night, branches cracked and leaves rustled. With a thud, the witch landed on the ground, twisting in pain.

“Rahh!” Furio made, extending two fingers from his right hand, arm stretched towards her.

The lance of flame caught the witch in the chest and engulfed her within a heart beat. She jumped to her feet, burning, her limbs extending grotesquely, long sharp claws on her hands. She stormed towards them but fell, twisted up one last time, and died, screaming.

“Well done!” Furio commended her. “Watch out!”

“You will die for this!” The old hag screeched hysterically and a swarm of black things burst through the trees.

Rondria couldn't tell whether it had been ravens, bats or both before Furio had already crossed his arms above his head and cast a Fortifex in their path. With queer, pitiful sounds the flying animals smashed into it, falling to the ground, some dead, others fluttering limply.

It had been crows, she saw now, and from the murder of them emerged an old woman, clothed in black and grey rags, visibly injured and confused.

“You fucking pigs!” The young voice shouted, not so omnipresent any more, and remarkably less amused.

“Men, on your feet and fight!” Furio commanded.

'Yes, the men!' Rondria thought.

She spun around. The men were still as they had been. Cowering on the ground the lay, ducking their heads. This was far beyond them and they were in dire need of leadership. Upon their commander's call they rose to their feet however, clutching their arms with shaking hands, futilely raising their shield, if they had one, against the darkness. They had not even thought to load their crossbows.

Then, for a queer moment, they looked at each other as if seeing the men next to them for the first time. A few broke, screaming in terror while others went entirely mad, hacking at each other with anything they had while still others did not seem to understand what was happening at all.

'Madness.'

The light still radiated from Furio's staff, projecting contours of the spectacle upon the trees around, like shadow-theatre.

Rondria drew her sword and rushed forward to capture the old, injured hag, drawing her light body up on broken legs, pushing the point to her throat.

“Stand down or she dies!” She screamed. “Leave now and she lives! Your stupid vote is tied now anyway!”

“I change my vote!” The young witch spat from somewhere behind the men hacking each other to death. “You shall all die!”

Rondria saw her step into the light. She was small and slender, red of hair with a white strain falling into her beautiful face. Her eyes were filled with so much hatred that one could almost see her blood boil. Her arms extended, as did her legs and the nails on her fingers grew long and longer, into vicious claws, similar to the burning witch's. Rondria skewered the old hag's head on her sword without thinking.

The young witch-monster stepped forward and scratched at a man, slicing through shield, plate and gambeson as well as flesh and bone. He turned around and sank to the ground, ripped open, throat to groin, his face a grimace of pain. Clearly, no worldly armour would protect against this.

The witch looked at Rondria and smiled evilly, grinning with elongated teeth like a harpy.

And then she was gone, all at once, replaced by a huge brown something that blocked Rondria's vision of everything that way. It was accompanied by a crash and a crunch as trees and other things flattened beneath it.

For a queer moment she thought of a spell, but it didn't take long for the realization to happen. They had been out, looking for Janna, and now Janna had found them. Rondria knew these boots and all the horror they could bring. She had seen it with her own eyes.

“Rondra protect us.”

Another crash behind her told Rondria that they were now in between Janna's feet, no good place to be by any measure. They had not heard her approach or noticed the tremors in the ground. How could they have, she thought. They were fighting against four witches that had laid siege to their very minds. If she could have chosen anything to not be real of all this it would have been the giant girl standing above them. But she knew it wasn't so.

The men that had been fighting each other gazed upwards, dropped their weapons and ran into all directions. Gargantuan fingers appeared out of nowhere and picked two of them up. Transfixed, Rondria followed them up that impossibly huge figure to a face barely lit. It was enough to see her throw them into her maw and chew however. Rondria pondered if the men's armour would help them at all, but the answer was obvious.

She ran over to Furio who seemingly had not understood what was happening. He was still looking around for witches' attacks from in between the trees.

“Come!” She told him and yanked him along.

There was no time, Janna's fingers were already coming down again. Men screamed somewhere, and the behemoth grumbled angrily. Then she started flattening the forest. The men were running away and Janna could not see them from above in between the trees. So, she crushed that which blocked her vision, more and more with every step, with Rondria and Furio right inside. The young acolyte felt like a scurrying bug.

Janna crouched and searched with her fingers in between the trees she had smashed. Sometimes someone would scream and they'd hear her suck him up before crunching him between her teeth.

“The light!” She urged Furio. “Quench the light! We have to get away!”

The staff was still radiating brightness as if it tried to rival the sun.

“The spell!” Furio replied frantically. “I have to cast the spell!”

But then, the giant, man-eating menace had decided to reach for the strange, moving object that glowed so fiercely in the night. Rondria was caught with it and wrenched upwards towards that giant, terrible face.

Janna's eyes were blinded by the light. She was inspecting it but seemed unable to see and quickly showed more interest in stuffing her belly again. Furio was stuck in between her thumb and index finger, fighting for air to breathe. Rondria hung upside down by the back of her robes caught in Janna's grasp. Then they rushed down again, being held here and there amongst the flattened foliage.

Rondria understood. The giant girl was using them like a candle to look for soldiers to eat. Meanwhile Furio's movements slowed and his face began to purple. Janna was crushing the life out of him without even knowing. Rondria had to do something. This couldn't go on forever, or else her master would die.

“Janna!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, but the commotion of crashing wood, screaming men and horses drowned out her voice. Janna heard the horses though, bound beside the camp. The terrified creatures fought against their bridles to no avail. A sigh of relief from above and the giant fingers started plucking them up before chewing quickly. Janna was hungry, Rondria could tell.

Rondria pulled herself up by her robes and launched onto Janna's finger, trying to loosen her grip on Furio. All that earned her was Janna's other hand plucking her up and lifting her. With horror she saw that Janna's lips were parting to devour her. The giantess thought she was just another tiny, squirming morsel of food.

“No! No!” She screamed and begged as Janna lifted her higher and higher towards her wet and waiting mouth. “No, Janna, no! It's me! Don't eat me, you almost ate me before!”

It felt terribly queer to address such a huge monster by a name, especially one that sounded almost common. Something hideous and demonic would be more befitting, Gluttonath, devourer of men, or something of that nature.

“You know my name?”

The question sounded slightly perplexed and unsurprised at the same time which made for a weird combination. Surely, Janna would expect her name being known at some point, given her sheer size and overall terribleness. But then the huge eyes that studied her lit up with sudden recognition.

“You!” Janna gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Please, Janna, you are killing Furio!” Rondria begged.

“Furio? Where is he?” Janna clumsily shifted on her feet, moving her little magic candle to see if she had stepped on him by accident.

“Your other hand! The light! Your grip, it's too tight!” Rondria's voice grew hoarse from screaming.

She had about enough of all this terror and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep and sleep and sleep until all this madness of giants, witches and Janna was over.

“Oh!” Janna gasped again and lifted the light to her eyes.

“Furio!” She urged, but he didn't reply.

She shook him a few times: “Furio, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you! I saw the light in this forest and I was so hungry and...oh, I'm sorry I killed so many of your men again!”

Rondria saw the mage move in between the gigantic fingers and almost collapsed with relief. He was still gasping, unable to speak, but alive.

“It's alright!” She called. “I know you are hungry! Eat the horses, they're yours!”

For all she cared Janna could eat the soldiers too for all the good they had done them against the witches. Janna's belly was rumbling frighteningly. Rondria changed hands to the one Furio was in and the giant girl let them lay on her outstretched palm. Then she shovelled horses into her mouth with her other hand, chewing again.

“Master, we found her!” Rondria rushed to Furio's side.

He was on his back, weak and wheezing.

“Did you cast the spell?” He croaked, trying to lift his head.

She hadn't. She didn't even know if she would have been able to since it remained unclear whether or not Furio had told her the formula or not.

“No, master.”

“Then may the gods have mercy!” He coughed.

A trickled of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.

Rondria put her hand on his chest to cast Balsam Salabunde. It occurred to her that in her panic, she had not even tried to shield herself or do anything else whilst fleeing from Janna and trying to save Furio. She had to work on that, she knew. Earlier, in face of the witches, her wits had left her for a while as well. Being a weak little girl would not serve here if she meant to get out of this alive.

She didn't know whether or not his chest was actually hurt but he sighed upon her spell and seemed to come back to strength. He rose, with her helping hands, and turned to cast the spell but Rondria placed a soft hand upon his shoulder.

“Master Furio...” She began insecurely, speaking softly into his ear. “I do not think we need the spell any more. She was going to eat me, but didn't when she saw that I was with you. She even apologized to you.”

He returned her gaze, looking torn. Then he nodded.

“Bannbaladin cannot replace true friendship.” He said weakly. “If what you say is true, we have made a huge step towards our goal.”

'And it would have taken an awful lot longer without the witches.' But both of them left that part unsaid.

Rondria still felt like she had rather never met them at all. As the racing in her chest faded away she felt terribly sick and it was not long before she had to crawl to the edge of Janna's hand and wretch.

“Is he alright?” Janna asked in between horses, a mouth full of blood, pulped flesh and bones.

“Yes, I am! Thank you!” Furio called, raising a hand.

“And is she alright?” Janna continued after swallowing. “Sorry, little girl, now I almost ate you twice.”

Tears were blurring Rondria's vision. Her head was spinning again and she got up, feeling drunk.

“Yes, and I'm still fucking here!” She tumbled back to the ground, grinning and crying at the same time.

It was as though all the horror unloaded at once as her mind emerged from it's constantly panicked and confused state. Furio rushed to her side and closed her in his arms, trying to calm her. His embrace came most welcome and she cried herself out into his shoulder.

“Are you sure she's alright?” Janna asked worriedly and even lend a finger to stroke her back. “If you think of jumping off my hand I'd rather eat you instead. I'll make it quick for you.”

“I haven't eaten in more than a day.” She grumbled after a short pause, but Rondria was unsure if what supposed to be an apology.

She forgave her anyway. Janna was huge and could not know how terrible it was to watch her eat people. She calmed down a bit, and excused herself from Furio's embrace, wiping her eyes with a sleeve.

“I'm so lucky I found you.” Janna went on, chewing again. “I thought I was going to starve out here.”

“Did you find your friend?” Furio called up to her face.

“No.” Janna swallowed casually. “I was following her tracks before I ran into this fog. It bogged me down and I couldn't see a thing. When it wouldn't go away I tried to get out of it somehow, but it only cleared this evening. Then I took my...this...and went looking for food. Then I noticed your light.”

She tapped against the giant, metal thing on her head. It reminded Rondria of the optical devises fine-mechanics wore when they worked with flimsily small objects.

“Speaking of it, might I lend it for a moment? I'd like to look for running men. I can still eat the ones that ran, right?”

Rondria could only conclude that all the horses were eaten, but Janna was still hungry. It sent a shiver down her spine.

Furio's face turned into a grimace: “No, I need you to find and collect the survivors. They have served us well past anything I could ever expect of them.”

Janna frowned: “how about...half? You get one half, I eat the other one?”

“No, you can't just...”

“They are very few anyway.” Rondria fell in, keeping Furio from doing something stupid. “They'd never be enough to fill you. There are some provisions on the ground, I think, how about you eat those?”

Janna licked her lips: “I think I'll still eat the men.”

She lowered the hand they were on and used them as a light source without their consent. She had no luck where she had flattened and pushed over the trees and so she had to search in between the ones that were still standing. Rondria's eyes met Furio's and she believed to know what he thought. He was considering to cast the spell to save any man Janna would find.

“Come back here, tiny soldiers!” Janna called as if calling after a lost pet. “Your master wants you back, I wont eat you!”

'How cruel.' Rondria thought but it seemed Janna had shouted out her real intentions a little too loudly before and none of the men were dumb enough to return, if any of them were left alive.

Maybe they were out of earshot by know, it was impossible to tell. In any case, Janna quit her search for the remaining men quickly, stood up and started to trample the forest beneath her boots but that didn't turn up any more food than her earlier efforts. Frustrated, she called it off and sat down on the ground.

Furio asked to be set on the ground as well and Rondria wanted nothing more than a quick bite, a drink of wine and sleep. It took a while to orient in the now entirely squashed and flattened environment. It was easy to traverse however. Janna's weight had pressed everything so flat or into the ground that barely any climbing was needed to get around. Some torn off bridles on broken trees finally told her where the camp must have been. As it turned out, Janna was sitting directly on top of it with those huge butt cheeks of hers. Still, Rondria wanted to try.

“Janna, could you move?” She called up. “You are sitting on our food!”

The giant girl looked down at her but her face hardened.

“Try move me, short stuff.” She taunted viciously. “If I can't eat, neither can you.”

This was pure and simple malice. Janna was a sour giantess when she was hungry, it occurred to her. She looked over to Furio for assistance but he was busy looking for slain men in between the fallen trees, or else he was looking for the fourth witch that was yet unaccounted for.

“Janna please!” Rondria tried her luck again. “I lost my food when I was on your hand and it won't be easy to find sleep with an empty belly! You ate the horses, is that not enough?”

“Alright.” Janna agreed and lifted one butt cheek towards her. “Try your luck.”

A considerable dent was left in the ground, and some earth rained down as it became unstuck from the behemoth. She noticed the shape of some men that had been slain before. Then they had been squashed by Janna's boots and finally her buttocks. They looked as flat as paper and what part of them hadn't gotten crushed was buried in the ground. It was enough to stifle Rondria's appetite.

“Go on.” Janna urged her. “I'll give you exactly one minute before I sit back down. Let's see if you can make it.”

“No, I...I think I'll pass.” Rondria shook her head. “But you are sitting in...”

“Squished people?” Janna finished with a grin. “I'm sitting on squished people. So what, I don't care.”

Her butt wasn't coming down yet.

“You'll go beneath there and get Furio some food.” She commanded. “You'll do what I say. Remember, if you weren't a friend of his you'd be my snack, so thank him.”

This was a mean creature, Rondria realized. She had to tread carefully. The time to let down her guard had not come yet.

“I'm not hungry, Janna!” Furio waved off from where he stood. “Please do not torture the poor girl. She has been through a lot these past few days. We all have.”

“Urgh, go get your food.” Janna sighed annoyed and gave Rondria a sharp shove from behind.

She fell to the ground and landed on her hands and feet but before she could double back, Janna shoved her again. She rolled over head first, down the dent created by Janna's behind, over what had been a man in armour and onto another one. Disgusted, she scrambled off, crawling backwards in terror. When she looked up, she saw Janna's massive, round cheek looming above her. Now the giant girl needed only to sit down and Rondria would be done for, squashed as flat as a pancake.

Her first instinct was to get away, but that would antagonize the mean giant only further. So, she looked on the ground and found a bag. Her hands had to dig in the ground to free it. A heel of bread had been crushed but seemed still edible. An apple much less so. A skin of wine had burst beneath the weight and spilled it's content, useless. Some dried meat seemed still in order though, and that was enough, she hoped.

She was out in time to see Furio wanting to protest, which he let go upon seeing Rondria emerge. Out of breath, she raised the items she retrieved so that Janna could see them and the she-titan let herself her butt crash down again, burying everything once more. When she looked up she saw Janna lick her lips at her as though she was looking at a piece of food.

Rondria swallowed hard and made herself chew on the hard heel of bread whilst slowly edging away from Janna. She needed to be made thinking of something else.

“Janna, I need to quench this light!” Furio said then. “My staff's power is fading quickly!”

That it had been able to shine this bright for so long spoke volumes of the mage's ability, Rondria recognized full of admiration. Her own could only shine as bright as a chandelier and not for so long either. A mage's staff was made by himself, near indestructible, with a potion of his powers permanently bound into it. Then there were rituals that could be performed on it to make it do things. Shine light was one, calling it into one's hand was another. It could change size if taught so as well, and even hold spells to be released on demand, but those were things not easily accomplished.

During their training, the staff barely ever left their hands and so they learned to perform most tasks without losing it. Rondria's was still in her grasp, but her sword was missing. She would have to look for it in the morning, assuming they spent the night here. It seemed that way.

Furio lit a little fire and turned off the magical light at once. The sudden darkness was depressing and finally gave weight to the lateness of the hour. When she walked over, her master handed Rondria a skin of wine. Only he and the gods knew where he had found it, but she took it with utmost gratitude. Wine would help her sleep and it was not even a sour vintage.

“So, you are going to spend the night here?” Janna asked towards them.

Against the stars, only the outline of her gargantuan frame was visible.

“We all should spend the night here!” Furio called back. “The hour is late and our bones are tired as are yours I am sure!”

“I was going to look for more food.” Janna said, matter-of-factly. “I can take you along if you think it is too dangerous for you alone.”

'Gluttonath, devourer of men, more poor people for your ever-hungry gut.'

“But how would you find food?” Furio asked. “It as pitch dark and will be for some time longer! The middle of the night is barely passed!”

“I can see with my...this thing on my head.” Janna explained. “But, granted, I can't see very far with it, except if there's a fire or some other form of light.”

With a loud metal click, she pushed the thing onto her eyes and started gazing around.

“Can you see anything?” Furio asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

He clearly did not want her to eat any more people.

“No.” Janna shrugged. “But I can walk quite quickly. I'll find something if I try hard enough.”

She looked down at them and seemed to make a decision. Rondria knew at once that this ordeal was far from over. And sure enough, Janna's hand simply grabbed them a moment later, along with the bunch of ground they had been standing on. Before they could protest, the huge young woman walked a few paces, picked up the largest sack Rondria had ever seen and walked back the other way.

“I can carry you on my hand or in my pocket, your choice.” She offered through the darkness. “Ooh, do you know any villages around here?”

They did not. Of course they didn't. This was Thorwal and the Nostrian scouts who might have known were dead or fled. And even if they had known, Rondria doubted that Furio wanted to share that knowledge with the man-eating titaness.

“You can turn south-east, toward Nostria.” Furio offered. “If we are where I think we are, it should not be very far. But I still advice we spend the night here! You wouldn't even let us get our sleeping bags and equipment!”

“The Nostrians will give you knew stuff.” Janna washed the critique away. “If they don't, I'll have a bone to pick with them. Does that sound fair?”

“No, no it doesn't, Janna!” Furio complained. “I have personal items, unfinished letters and such like!”

“Well, sorry, I sat on it all. I bet it's all broken and useless. But I'll put you down so you can look for yourself. Maybe our paths will cross again, tiny friend.”

Janna started lowering them but Furio gave in eventually.

“No, no, it's not that important!” He waved his hands. “Just halt a moment and let me look at the stars so I can give you direction.”

The shaking of her walking stride had forced them both to onto their bums and Furio had to scramble to get back on his feet. He spied upwards into each direction, except were Janna's torso was blocking the sight.

“That way!” He finally pointed, and Janna followed his instructions.

She was able to go very fast indeed. Not even running, her marching stride rivalled that of the fasted racing horses.

“Were you going back to Nostria in the first place?” The terrifying girl inquired after a few minutes. “If not we can go toward your destination tomorrow, I can take you there. I have to get back here to find Laura anyway.”

“No we were...” Furio was weighing whether to tell her the truth or not. “We were looking for you. We were worried, Thorwal is a dangerous place to be.”

“Doesn't seem very dangerous.” Janna laughed. “The people here have neither catapults nor fireballs nor pike things, not like you guys. They're pretty helpless. That fog though, urgh, that had me worried. I hope Laura is okay. There's no sudden fogs that last for days in Nostria, are there?”

“No.” Furio concurred but seemed to brood over something.

“What is the matter, my lord?” Rondria inquired, leaning over to him, speaking silently.

“Our mission is to bring Janna to our side. It won't be possible if she constantly keeps worrying about her friend. And that she-titan Laura we have had no dealings with.”

“One of them is worse enough.” Rondria agreed.

She thought about it but found that she was utterly unprepared to deal with this at any measure. There was only one thing that sprang to mind.

“Bannbaladin?” She offered, trying to read his mind.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He concurred. “It's why I saved my powers for when we would truly need it. I do apologise, I should have intervened when she toyed with you...”

“It is alright, master.” She reassured him. “You have done well and she has done me no harm other than frighten me. I do fear for her character, however. She seems a true monster to me.”

“She was of more pleasant nature when her belly was full.” He whispered back, grimly. “How many horses did we have left?”

“I don't know, master.” She bowed her head. “Two dozen perhaps? I don't recall if we lost any on the way while the witches...if truth be told I do not even know how much time passed.”

“This was an experience I do not wish to make again. But she seems to have suffered too. I dare say fear of death used to be quite foreign to her up to a certain point. Two dozen horses ought to have filled her, by enlarge, only the gods know how long she has not eaten.”

“What are we doing if she starts eating people?” Rondria asked frightened.

He left that question unanswered. If Janna decided to eat Horasian soldiers, surely he would try to stop her with Bannbaladin and most likely he would try to save their Nostrian allies too. If they ran into an Andergastian or Thorwalsh village, however...

Morality commanded them to save anyone from Janna if they could. The mission, on the other hand, commanded they save their powers for the benefit of their own people.

“I can see a river to my left, I think.” Janna said suddenly.

“That must be the Roval.” Furio explained. “Follow it downstream to the Ingval which you cross and you have entered Nostria.”

“Ha, that's simple.” The huge girl grinned. “And in Nostria you mean to serve me more of your soldiers rations, or what?”

The question had a certain indication to it that was more than problematic. Furio seemed to chew on his answer for too long.

“Ha, don't worry, I won't harm your little friends.” Janna giggled before he could answer. “You know I liked your food last time. Maybe there are some prisoners you mean to hang? There is no harm in eating those, right? Last time, there wasn't.”

Getting hanged and getting eaten was hardly the same, but Furio seemed to grudgingly concur.

“We should run into a border post, somewhere along the border. Let me do the talking, I shall have them bring you all the food you can eat!”

“Could I have some more for my journey to look for Laura?” Janna asked next. “I fear there is not much left in her wake. Hey, and that way I do not need to eat any people, that's good, isn't it?”

Rondria had no doubt that Janna would still happily eat anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with her. She couldn't get beyond how huge she was either. Not even the boldest tales of old that spoke of ogres, mountain trolls and dragons ever mentioned something so huge.

“It shall be done.” Furio proclaimed in lack of anything else he could say. “It might take a while for the logistics though.”

That would buy them some time to figure out what to do next. High command could be notified and give new instructions. Maybe they would take over entirely, Rondria dared to hope. Of all things that could happen, that would be the best. She remembered her dream though, the one where Janna had crushed the emperor. That wouldn't happen though. In her dream, Janna had crossed the path into the Horasian heartlands within minutes, but in reality there were miles and miles and miles she needed to cross before getting there, enough time to assemble an army of wizards that could bewitch her every hour of the day, turning her into a friendly, thirteen times damned kitten.

But, as much as Rondria hated and feared the giantess carrying them, she had to admit that sitting on her hand was quite comfortable. Her skin wasn't exactly smooth, more like raw leather, but there was a certain deep warmth that radiated through it. It threatened to overtake her and let her doze of, while she was still wondering if it was wise to let that happen. They shook gently, like babes in a crib, even though Janna was performing a forced march through the night.

When she cowered against the slightly raised thumb she was covered from the wind and that was even more comfortable still.

Furio shook her out of nowhere and she realized that she must have dozed off after all. Her eyes were crusted with sleep and her body rebelled against the rude and early wakening. She had no idea how long she had slept either.

“We're there.” Her master announced with urgency in his voice.

She rubbed her eyes.

“This night isn't over yet, child.” He laughed with fatherly understanding.

She ground her teeth and told herself to be strong.

“It's on the wrong side of the river though, isn't it?” Janna asked with a foreboding hint of mischief in her voice.

“Let us get down and talk to them!” Furio told her. “We will see which side they're on!”

“And I'll be damned if I tell you that you can eat them.” Furio added so softly that only Rondria could hear.

“No, you said south of the river is Nostria.” Janna said, starting to walk again. “If it is north of the river it belongs to Thorwal, or Andergast.”

They had to be speaking about some form of settlement. Rondria lifted herself over Janna's thumb to see. There wasn't much but maybe two or three lights out in the distance.

“They might be our allies, still!” Furio argued. “Let me talk to them!”

Now Rondria could see the outline of the village against two rivers. The smaller one was the Roval, she figured, which joined into the larger Ingval here. The village was on the north bank of the Ingval, putting it into Thorwalsh territory indeed. Worse yet, it was on the west bank of the Roval too, severely limiting the directions in which people could flee should Janna choose to do anything unkind.

“Let me talk to them, or else you'll conjure up another fight! You don't want that, do you?!”

Rondria felt alarmed that he would go so far as to threaten her. But if all tethers broke, as a last resort, they still had Bannbaladin. His words seemed to move Janna, however.

“Fine.” She agreed, not without disappointment. “I'll follow soon after.”

And with that, she finally lowered them back to the ground. Furio made his staff shine again, though not nearly as brightly this time and Rondria did the same. They were out of the forest here, she saw, standing on meadows and the occasional field, most already harvested bare. The land seemed fruitful and there were beehives on the meadows as well.

“Quickly!” He urged her and they ran down a trodden path that led to the village.

More lights were lit as they could see. The villagers had heard something and awoke, maybe even sounded an alarm. They arrived a while after, out of breath, on the edge of the settlement. People stood in the light of a few torches, awaiting the arrival of the two glowing lights in the dark. What she could see of houses was a mixture of two styles of architecture, one she had seen in Nostria, half-timbered with roofs of straw, the other timber all, with crude kinds of ornamentations on the gables. She did not have to consult a professional to know that they were looking at a mixed village of Nostrian and Thorwlash culture here, but what counted was to which and whom the villagers would profess their allegiance.

Maybe this was a peaceful place, she thought, where Nostrians and Thorwalsh lived together in harmony. Even though Nostria was a Horasian protectorate, the Kingdom did not war on the neighbouring Jarldoms and neither did the Thorwlash raid the Nostrians as they loved to do for so many other peoples. All this had been part of the literature she had been required to read by Master Hypperio as a means of preparation before coming to Andergast. She had never expected it to be of any use.

“Who goes there?!” Someone hailed them before they could get too close. “What glows so strangely in the night?!”

It sounded remarkably Nostrian. The group was maybe two dozen strong over all. This was a tiny village with one dozen more houses than people standing before them. They were hard to make out in the dancing torchlight, but Rondria saw that they arms of some sort, axes, scythes and the like.

“Two who mean to warn you of danger!” Furio shouted back, halting.

“And what danger do you mean to warn us of, foreigner?!” The man at the village asked. “Or is it you who brings the danger?!”

“We are servants of the twelve true gods, there is no fear you need to have of us!” Furio replied. “But after us comes a menace, a hundred meters tall, meaning to end you all! So hear my words that we might save you! What is this place? To whom does this village owe allegiance?”

Rondria thought to have heard laughter from the village. Furio would have to make a convincing case quickly.

“Is it to do with the strange girl's voice we heard?” The man asked instead of answering.

“Aye, it is!” Furio took a worried look over his shoulder.

Janna was only to make out if one knew exactly where she stood. Rondria had a sense that all this courteous talking wasn't getting them anywhere. It took too long to arrive at the point.

“And who means to save us, then?” The voice continued without waiting. “Is it not a witcher who means to scare us into treating him with courtesies?! Is not you who conjured up the strange voice, hoping on the superstitions of peasant-folk, he?! We do not fear such!”

He had to be Nostrian, Rondria thought, the way he talked gave it away. Thorwalsh talked more directly, largely unobservant of any style or courtesies. He talked remarkably for a mere villager though too.

“The danger is real, you fool!” Furio shouted. “And you do best to guard your tongue! You have the honour of addressing the noble Furio Montane, magicus in service of the Order of the White Pentagram!”

He stepped forward, energetically, meaning to show these peasants who he was. Rondria followed.

“Apologies, my lord, we did not know...” The men bowed, all except for a few.

Blood and titles counted high amongst Nostrians. Those who didn't bow were Thorwlash and Rondria would not have needed to read any book to say so. The speaker was tall among the smaller, scrawny Nostrians, with straw blonde hair on his head. He might be a half-breed, she thought.

“To whom does this village owe allegiance?” Furio inquired briskly.

“Jarl Eric the Reaver.” The man said without raising his gaze. “He is being woken as we speak, he should be here at any moment, my lord. Welcome to Rovalmund.”

“Thorwal then.” Furio scratched his chin.

“Why do their sticks glow so?” Rondria heard someone whisper behind a hand. “Are they witchers?”

She grasped her staff a little tighter.

“They have the tongue of Horas on them.” A man stepped forward. “Our god Swafnir does not tolerate such here.”

He was old, long-haired and bearded filthily, over and over covered in tattoos. Apart from a crude, rusty axe in his hands and a thread necklace with fish teeth around his neck he was completely naked.

“Apologies, my lord.” The blonde man spoke. “This is Thorwalsh territory. We might be more Nostrians than Thorwalsh here, but we respect our hosts rules and laws. It might be prudent for you to leave.”

“You speak well.” Rondria remarked. “Are you high born?”

“I used to be a priest of Rondra.” The man replied, still not raising his head. “Then I took an arrow in the knee and lost my guts for fighting.”

“A servant of the twelve in the lands of the whale?” Furio gave him a measuring look. “It's a rough life you must be leading.”

“Did you know that the Thorwalsh used to believe that Swafnir was a half-god, son of Efferd and Rondra?” He finally lifted his head. “It was before their people and yours picked up arms against each other. Forgive me, my lord, I should not assume...It's only your accent is giving you away.”

“Humbug!” The old, naked man mumbled into his beard.

“I did not know that.” Furio confessed full of admiration. “However, it is important that you hear us out. There is a giantess out there and she may well eat all of you if she thinks you Thorwalsh.”

“We've heard reports of giants.” The former priest responded with a sudden hint of mistrust. “A few refugees came through here, on the river. They have not troubled us thus far.”

“Our giantess is different than the common ogres.” Furio explained. “Did any of the refugees speak tales of one hundred meter tall beasts?”

“Aye, they did.” The old, naked man growled. “And then we took their things and fed them to the fishes.”

“Shut up, priest.” A newcomer hissed at him, arriving from behind the small crowd.

He was stout, fat almost, clad in a leather tunic. He had a mighty, fiery red beard but no hair on the top of his sweating head. Instead, there was a an ornamented ring tattooed on it, almost like a crown.

“What is all this nonsense in the middle of the night? Who are you?”

His voice was deep and rough and with him were three sturdy, defensible lads that might have been his sons. They showed the beginnings of a similar beard in various stages and the hair on their heads was shaven stubbly in an effort to look like their father.

“They are Horasians who mean to warn of danger by a giantess out of village, my liege.” The Nostrian bowed his head submissively again.

“Eh?!” The Jarl gave Rondria and Furio an angry look. “Well, they are trespassing on Thorwal lands. My lands.”

“We ought to hang them for the crime of whaling, Jarl Eric!” The old Swafnir priest proclaimed.

The Jarl gave him an icy glare: “I told you to shut up, didn't I?! Why are they wearing filthy bead sheets and why are their sticks glowing so strange?”

“Witchcraft!” Some common Nostrian suggested.

“They are mages, my liege.” The tall blonde man explained. “I implore you to listen to their words. They speak of the huge beasts the men on the river mentioned. They say one of them is here.”

“Are they fleeing too? They look even poorer than the ones we threw into the river.” One of the Jarl's sons mentioned with a remarkably stupid expression on his face.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Jarl Eric growled.

Rondria was disgusted. Refugees fleeing from the Andergastian catastrophe had come through here and these people had nothing better to do than enrich themselves on the last of their belongings before murdering them. She looked at Furio but couldn't say if he shared her contempt. She had half a mind to turn heel and wish Janna a healthy appetite.

In her dream, she had let Janna eat and crush innocent people by the dozens, but that time she had not been herself, her mind poisoned by the witches' evil influence. Or had she been that way to begin with and only changed by her new master's grace? She couldn't tell. She was in need of a priest and a long session of prayer and self-reflection to heal the scars on her soul.

When Furio spoke, his enthusiasm for saving these people seemed dampened though.

“If you mean to live you must lie and say that this is a Nostrian village.” He said calmly. “You should also bring out any provisions you can spare to feed her. It will make it more believable.”

“Treason and free food.” The Jarl replied with a voice full of vitriol. “Well, if it's nothing more...”

“What good Jarl Eric means to say is that you ask much and your tale is hard to believe.” The submissive blonde Nostrian tried to negotiate.

What ever respect Rondria might have had for the man shrank in that instant.

“Where is that giantess you speak of? Why should she spare us if we say that we are Nostrian and how do you know what you say you know?”

'Why should we trust you.' That was the gist of it, but the questions did seem reasonable.

“She is out there.” Furio pointed blindly. “And she is coming here. We were travelling with her to Nostria to give her food and supplies. She is friendly to us and to our Nostrian allies.”

“Ah, ya.” The Jarl scoffed cynically, eyes squinting.

There was something about him that was measuring though, Rondria thought to see it, as if he did not entirely disbelieve the story.

“We did hear a girl's voice out there earlier, my liege.” The Nostrian advised him as well.

“Well, we shall see about that.” The Jarl seemed brooding and tense all of a sudden, a look that scared Rondria to the bone.

“Take them!” He barked and a moment later the villagers rushed forward to obey.

“No!” Rondria exclaimed and tried to hit the first man that came groping for her with her staff.

They were too many however and she couldn't do anything. The whole thing was over within heartbeats. Furio looked as though he had been fully expecting this.

“You are making a mistake, Jarl Eric!” He raised his voice. “The giantess will see this as an attack, a welcome reason to kill all of you!”

“Not so long as I keep her friends hostage.” The Jarl smiled. “And if she doesn't exist, ha, than it is into the river with you tomorrow. Let's see if your witchcraft helps you float, hehehe!”

“You thirteen times damned river pirate!” Rondria spat but only earned a painful slap to the face.

“She's a girl?!” One of the Jarl's stupid sons shouted aghast. “I thought she was a boy! She looks like she has no hair on her head!”

They pulled the lipped leather cap off her head and laughed at the sight of her shaven skull. Another Jarl-son came over and grabbed her mouth, squeezing it together.

“She doesn't look too bad, eh? What do you think?”

“It's unnatural for a girl to have such hair.” Someone complained somewhere.

“It doesn't matter, I'll just throw a blanket over her head!” The young man laughed and felt up her leg through the robes.

She wanted to kill him then, kill all of them, or at least get away. But she couldn't. Whilst they were holding her arms, she couldn't even cast a spell to defend herself. Pleadingly, she searched for her masters face in between the villagers. When she found him, he was mumbling softly into his beard.

“Unhand him!” The jarl yelled suddenly. “Unhand him, he is a friend of ours!”

The laughter and cruel merriment died down and all faces turned to him in perplexity.

“Get your bloody hands off him I said, and her as well!”

For a moment the hands loosened on Rondria and it was enough to wrench free. Then they came back in full force but she had anticipated it this time. Her arms crossed in front of her chest she concentrated on the Armatrutz with all her might.

“They bewitched the Jarl!” Someone screamed in terror.

The Jarl screamed as well now, having rushed forward to help Furio and being abducted by his own people. Rondria noticed the slight tremor in the ground and heard the deep, approaching thuds in the distance. Janna was coming.

“Kill them!” Someone screeched horribly and Rondria felt the cold blade of a knife being drawn across her throat.

She saw a rusty axe raise into the air above where Furio stood but it halted as a deep, thundering, yet awfully feminine voice washed over all of them like the first breeze before a sudden storm.

“Oh, I like the sight of this.”

-

Janna removed the night-vision goggles from her eyes. She knew she should be sleeping, but she did not feel tired at all. She had tried to sleep through the fog until she could sleep no more. Then, when it wouldn't go away, she walked. And walk and walk in the mist she did, sheer endlessly, growing hungrier all the time. There was no doubt in her mind that she had been going in circles.

The terrible fear that had gripped her heart had almost crushed her spirit and she found herself on the ground, weeping. It was terrible being blind, not knowing where to go or where one was going if going anywhere. That was past now, however. She had cried herself to sleep and awoken in the evening, finding that the fog had cleared.

Night-vision goggles on, she had been stalking the night in search for food when a most unnaturally bright light shun in the distance. For a brief moment she had believed that it was a spaceship like the one Valerie, Steve and Christina had been in. But what she found had been a group of people in some stage of combat. It was too confusing to recognize who was fighting whom, but she had not cared about that in any case. No matter whom they fought for, all little men tasted the same.

Not exactly the same of course, and these ones had been clad in lots of armour, but Janna had been too hungry to care about that either. And then Furio had been there. Furio and his little robed girl.

It must have been because she slept so much during the day, or because she was so happy to get out of the fog that Janna was so giddy, she thought. And giddy she was. She could have slept where Furio suggested. The horses had been enough to induce a feeling of saturation eventually even if they did not entirely fill her starving belly, but she wasn't tired. She wanted to kill people.

Perhaps to feel in control again or perhaps just because it was so much fun and she was bored. It didn't matter, but Furio, that little cunning sorcerer, had been hindering her all the way. She couldn't well make him too mad though. Friends among the tinies were easy to make, Janna needed only to threaten them with death and they'd be whatever she wanted them to, most of them anyways. But true friends, friends that didn't run away at the first chance they got, friends that shared the truth of their convictions honestly with her, that was a different matter.

And Furio had proven that he was resourceful enough to be worth being kept in good favours. He was the only connection Janna had to the mighty Horasians and their food supply. Plus, she couldn't be enemies with everybody.

While she waited for him and the tiny girl to check the village as they had asked, Janna had occupied herself with a meadery she had conveniently forgotten to mention. As her tiny friend had not seen it, she waited until they were well away and broken the roof off the thing. Situated outside the village, the comparatively large mansion housed seven people and several huge barrels of mead, all of which and whom were swimming in her belly now.

Mead was an acquired taste, but it had alcohol in it, which was good, even if it was barely enough to give Janna the slightest hint of a feeling.

Meanwhile, something must have gone terribly wrong at the village. When Janna had approached, she had not been able to see clearly because the light blurred the picture in the night-vision device so much. It seemed that the girl and the mage were being attacked though. That meant Janna could do what ever she wanted to these people, even though something told her that Furio would still disapprove. He couldn't be too cross with her for killing the ones that attacked him though, which would put this somewhere in a grey area and that was okay.

But the attack was over, it seemed, as soon as Janna announced her presence. They ran, the tiny things, scrambling over each other to get away. But where to go? The river on Janna's left was too wide to cross on foot and the other one was even wider. The larger one even made a turn here, placing the tiny village on a spit of land that only left one direction in which to flee which was closed off by her.

Furio and the Horasian girl were easy to make out from above because of their different clothing. They hugged each other, their glowing little toothpicks shining, not taking note of her. The rest of the people carried the torches with them, providing light where ever they went. Over all, the village was the size of a small suitcase, making it an incredibly easy target.

She snatched up a man at random and put him into her mouth. He turned out naked for some reason, but she didn't care why. Perhaps he had slept that way and just scrambled out of his bed, she reasoned, and swallowed him whole without a second thought. Crouching, her jeans rubbed tightly against her crotch which registered most welcomely when Janna was in the mood.

Sticking people up her pussy and masturbating with them would probably be a bit too rash in front of Furio, however. Sure, the way she acted now he must have thought of her as a monster, but there was still a difference between simple killing and eating and rubbing poor, helpless people on her crotch until orgasm. That was a bit sad, in fact. This place was just perfect to play with and not let anyone escape.

Maybe he wouldn't notice if she did it just a little.

She snatched up a bald-headed, sinewy youth and hid him in her hand. Then she pushed him against her jeans over her wet-swollen lips with her index finger, rubbing gently, his struggling body travelling up and down her crotch. A soft gasp escaped her lips as soon as she did it.

Beneath her, some villagers foolishly tried to hide in their houses while others made for the waterfront. Of course, a village so engulfed by water would have boats, Janna thought. But letting them get way she could not and would not allow.

With a click, the night-vision was on her head again and she leaned forward onto her knees which put the poor little guy she was abusing between her legs in dire peril. She had to push him a little harder now, for her jeans didn't squish against her so tightly any more. It was her pleasure against his life. An easy choice for her.

With her free hand she pushed the tiny rowing boats and rafts into the water and methodically snatched up and caught in her hand the people that were already manipulating on the vessels in order to get away. When the bank of the river was void of opportunities to escape, all five of them ended up in her mouth.

She started chewing them more cruelly than before. Normally, her tongue would deposit her victims on her molars which rhythmically chomped up and down, quickly pulping everything in between them. Now, she used her teeth to tear the men apart, introducing them to her grinders slowly, step by step. There was no need for her to do so. She just felt like doing it. Furio wouldn't approve if he had known but it was happening behind sealed lips.

Janna loved every moment of it. She knew it wasn't smart to waste the night-vision's precious batteries on this but decided to continue until Furio would try and stop her. The mage, the girl and someone else had seemingly moved out of the way, however, so not to be flattened beneath Janna by mistake. She would investigate the third person later, she decided, perhaps Furio had made a friend or something.

She discovered a teeny tiny person on her left, trying to steal itself past her knee. She snatched it up, a girl, upon further inspection, dropped the guy she had rubbed to death against her sex and made her take his place. Her breath was getting shallow quickly, the pleasurable pressure building up within her.

By now, all the torches were out. When running had turned out useless, the smart people had went into hiding. Others stumbled around in the darkness, almost utterly blind, completely at Janna's mercy. She snatched them up one by one and fed, sucking on people until they dissolved in her mouth. That had to be a painful death, she grinned to herself, but figured that being used as an over-the-pants sex toy was probably not much better.

It made her feel awesome and powerful. After all, she was doing all this to people, living, talking, breathing, feeling people, the girl on her crotch probably having parents, a history, friends, admirers, maybe even lovers. But no future, because it had happened so that Janna had decided to squeeze a little sexual pleasure out of her along with her life. That thought almost always crossed her mind when she fucked somebody, she noted. Laura probably thought the same thing. It was an essential part of the kick.

Back in Lauraville, Laura had an entire little harem of girls trained for pleasure. Janna couldn't wait to try them out when she got back. Make a scrawny little girl pleasure her once, pleasure her twice, as often as she wanted, and then bulldoze her tiny form anyway. She was close now, close to the edge and she had to control the sounds of lust oozing out of her mouth.

She had indulged in her fantasies for so long that she had almost forgotten about the real tiny little toys before her too. Now she remembered them, however, and made them rue it. She pushed herself back on her heels to better use the little girl between her legs. She couldn't even tell if she was still moving, for her own movements had quickened so much. Being rubbed on her pussy was survivable for tinies if they didn't suffocate, but through her jeans, the wear and tear was greater.

Janna smashed the roof off a house with her free hand and peered inside. It took a few seconds for dust settle enough to be able to see. Regrettably, the night-vision equipment did not work well with dust and fog at all but that was simply the nature of the technology.

She found four people, three females and a boy, cowering, shielding their eyes against the flying debris. Janna dropped her half-dead sex toy in their midst and let herself fall forward, straddling the house like a little pillow before grinding her crotch on it. The building was reduced to rubble within seconds and the people were crushed to death beyond a doubt, but through her jeans it did not have the effect Janna desired.

She had to think of something else.

She simply walked on her knees, sat down on the next, smaller house, flattening it under her butt along with anyone inside and turned her attention to a larger one, promising to hold more toys. She wasn't disappointed. Twelve people were in this one, perhaps a family, perhaps just there by happenstance, it did not matter. Women and girls in dresses, boys and men in pants, but some girls and women in pants too as was common in Thorwal as were men who wore nothing beneath their tunics making them look a tiny bit like skirts in turn.

Forgetting Furio and what he might say if he discovered this, Janna unbuttoned her jeans and fished them out, one by one, before depositing them in her panties beneath her sex that was as hot and wet and slimy as it was ever going to get. Her hand followed and rubbed them in, making them bathe in her juices. There was the pleasure that would bring her to climax. She carelessly smashed another house with her hand and tossed any surviving inhabitants into her mouth.

Then, she climbed to her feet and started murdering everyone still on the ground, trampling them in and around their homes, where ever they were. The very land gave in beneath Janna's feet, the earth soft and soaked so close to the water, turning into mud. The little pinpricks of light that were the two Horasians ran out of the carnage as quickly as their little feet could carry them, whilst Janna's hand rubbed herself harder and quicker and harder still, until the tiny village was smashed to a scree.

“Oh!”

When she came, a single sound came past her lips, unable to contain it. She didn't know what Furio would be able to deduce from that. He couldn't have seen much in the darkness and his ears would only have told him that she was crushing and eating people as he had already seen her do and forgiven her before. For now, Janna just breathed heavily in the afterglow of the awesome pleasure and craned her neck towards the stars.

Her hand was sticky and she rubbed it against her jeans to clean it. Some movement still happened in the moistness of her panties underneath her vagina, shooting pleasurable jolts up her spine. She felt amazing, a real life goddess that did with people as she pleased. She felt a little for her tiny friend though, having to deal with the megalomaniacal her, out on a murder spree.

'I'm so evil.' She grinned to herself, looking around, toying at the smashed rubble with her feet.

She was quite satisfied.

“It's all good now, Furio.” She said happily after walking over to him and the tiny girl. “I punished them for attacking you.”

'And boy was it fun.'

She couldn't grin too widely and not look entirely gruesome to him, but on the other hand, it was so dark that he couldn't possibly see her face. She crouched down towards them, her jeans crushing on her panties, pressing her tiny prisoners against her labia. She wondered if they even knew what was happening to them. The girls that had discovered themselves sexually and the more sexually mature males would for sure. It had to feel terribly demeaning.

“Not all of them!” Furio proclaimed and shoved forward the third person that was with them.

Janna removed the night-vision goggles so that she could see against the magic light of their little staffs. It was a man, bald and red-bearded, in relatively fine clothes, if Janna was any judge. The girl mage had an axe against his throat and he seemed to be weeping.

“Jarl Eric the Reaver!” Furio continued loudly, sounding most formal. “In the name of the holy church of Praios, the highest of the gods, I find you guilty of attacking and apprehending two members of the Order of the White Pentagram without due cause! Furthermore I find you guilty of attacking, ransacking and murdering innocent refugees that came by your village! Your crimes are past forgiveness and your punishment shall be to be crushed by this giantess until dead!”

“Janna!” He called up to her. “I trust I can count on you to carry out the sentence?!”

“Oh sure, if he's such an evil fucker I'll smush him gladly.” She laughed.

“Very well then!” He continued. “Rondria, step back from him!”

The tiny girl made sure to get away quickly. Janna had bullied her a little before, and she was probably still scared she might get squished or eaten eventually. Janna rose to her feet and looked at the kneeling man, his head bowed, shoulders heaving up and down. He had given up, was downtrodden even though she hadn't stepped on him yet but she changed that a moment later.

She moved the sole of her boot sideways a last time to make sure he wasn't bolting at the last moment, turned it back over and lowered it on top of him. She could feel a tiny squishing sensation as his body gave in to her weight but she still twisted her foot a few times for good measure. The mage and the girl called Rondria looked on in silence.

Afterwards, the tiny girl lend her light to let Janna admire her handy work, a splotch of ground meat, mingled with dirt. So, flattening this village had been okay after all, it seemed. She put her hand on the ground to allow the two tiny people to climb on. They had to help each other to make it, she recognized. They were exhausted.

“It was a bad idea to go into that village like that.” She opined freely. “I was right, they were Thorwlash, weren't they. And evil on top.”

“There were more Nostrians than Thorwlash in this village.” Furio called up. “But you are right. They have done hideous things.”

“What was it called, this place? Do you know?”

She crossed the river in one large step.

“Rovalmund.” He replied.

“Well, you can cross that off the map know. You can't mess with my friends and think I'll let you live afterwards. Where do I have to go from here?”

In her field of vision, everything neon green, a tiny white battery popped up, the low energy signal. She cursed in her mind.

“There were innocent people there too. People that did nothing wrong. And you killed them all indiscriminately.” His voice wasn't as scolding as she had expected it to be. “Go that way.”

He pointed but she didn't start walking. She'd have to rest for the night here if she meant to use the night-vision equipment again some time in the future. It was too precious for this.

“Well, they were...” Janna shrugged and grimaced. “...guilty by association, I guess? I must say, I don't really care. Look, I know you don't want me to kill people, none of you little guys do, with a few exceptions. I won't kill your people and that has to be enough.”

“I'd rather you kill the evil people.” Furio looked up to her.

“Well, it's hard to tell them apart from up here.” She laughed. “Besides, I think there are a lot less good people than you think. At least that's the experience I made.”

She didn't really want to have a discussion about killing. It could only end in an argument.

“We will sleep here.” She determined after taking a few steps away from the river where the ground was more solid and couldn't slide off.

“Think of it, Janna.” He urged her. “You could be a force for good in this world. Help everyone to a better future.”

Somewhere she had heard all this before. Maybe in her own mind. Tiny people twitched against her vagina in her underpants.

“Maybe some day.” She tried to call off the discussion and dropped her bag.

“No, today!” He went on, stubbornly. “You have so much potential and you waste it all because you are constantly looking for food? Let us provide food for you and point out the ones the world was better to be rid of!”

“I tell you what.” She said, sitting down, two unfortunate souls getting trapped beneath her lower labia.

She leaned forward to snuff out their lives.

“You give me enough food, I'll smash anyone you want. I don't care who.”

The two tiny Horasians hung on her lips and exchanged a glance that carried a lot of meaning.

“Good grief, Furio, you've turned me into a sell-sword.” She added as she recognized the food-for-work nature of this arrangement.

It would serve her well though, and Laura too. There would be people to squish, a new society to discover and food to eat en mass. Janna needed only to find her and convince her not to kill any Horasians. A few might get missing from time to time, but so what, she thought. They would only need to kill a few more enemies of the Horasians to make up for that.

“Not a sell-sword!” The tiny mage proclaimed. “But a paladin of light and virtue!”

She rolled her eyes and unrolled her sleeping back. Rondria and Furio she deposited on Laura's that had to be like a giant, heavenly pillow to them. She envied them a little as she pulled off her jeans. Her panties held her tiny prisoners where they were. It felt good to finally take the night-vision equipment off her head. The thing got heavy after a while and she had just about had it with seeing everything in neon green. The tiny magic lights went out, leaving everything in almost complete darkness. The sky was beautiful though, the stars clearly visible.

“Good night Furio. Good night, Rondria.” She said after crawling into her bag.

“Sleep well, may Boron watch over your dreams!” Furio called back.

The tiny girl remained quiet. The last time she had spoken to her had been when Janna had teased her, she recalled. Janna had been mean to her. Perhaps that was why she wasn't talking. She had kept Janna from killing Furio though. Perhaps Janna should be a little more friendly to her. Who knew, maybe the little girl would turn out an interesting character as well.

Before she could sleep, she wanted to get the dead people out of her panties. She fished around his her fingers until she found a person and manipulated it until she could tell whether it was alive or not. If it wasn't, Janna took it out and flicked it away into the night. If it was, she toyed with it's head until it's neck broke first.

Three of them had slipped down in between her butt cheeks when she laid down, a fourth one had ended up there earlier but gotten smothered to death in between her cheeks when Janna had sat. Another one was dead, but two were quite alive, resuming to kicking and fighting when her hand came for them.

Feeling evil, she got rid of the dead one and decided to pleasure herself with the last two. They were still slippery wet with vaginal excretions from the first use. Biting her lip, she pushed the feistier one against her sphincter and relaxed. She got it in, eventually, though it took some time. Then, she could feel the tiny person in her butt. If it was still alive tomorrow, Janna would search a way to ask it what it was like to be shoved up another person's ass.

The other person, a male by the feel of him, travelled back up across her lips were she coated him thickly in her natural lubricant before he was made to circle her clitoris. She came softly and silently after a while and pushed his head into the lower part of her vulva where most of the liquid accumulated. When he had drowned, she flicked him away as well and turned around to sleep.

-

“Master, you did it!” Rondira cheered in a hushed voice.

The girl's throat was hoarse as was his own. Had he 'done it' though, he wondered. Janna, who was still stirring in the largest sleeping bag Furio had ever seen, had agreed to the proposal before and that had not done him any good for she still wanted to look for her friend, Laura. He was exactly where he had been after feeding Janna at the tower under Cpatain Emilio's command.

No, that was not true, he thought. He did not need the spell now to be with her. Magical manipulation has been replaced by true friendship, it seemed. He did not quite know how he felt about that. Letting Janna kill the jarl was just. His entire village flattened, it would have been a grave injustice to let him be the only one to walk out of there alive. He still felt sad for not having been able to save the women and children at least. Like a mechanism, something had clicked in his mind at some point and he had thought of casting the spell much too late.

Rondria's words made sense though, when she had dragged him away from the village, trying to calm him. The children of evil men would grow up to become evil people and the women might have left the company of them too, had they chosen to. It didn't matter, they were all porridge now.

The surface they were on was queer to the touch, vast and puffy like a soft feather bed but on a completely gigantic scale. When they walked on it, it receded a little beneath them. This was what it had to feel like to walk on clouds, he reasoned.

They laid down, tired and exhausted, ready to sleep.

“Master.” Rondria began suddenly, sounding troubled.

On this journey there was so much to be troubled by that he wondered what she would say. It was the witches again, though.

“I still don't understand what happened.”

He had been pondering that himself for a great while.

“What did you see?” He asked her.

“I...” She bit her lip in shame. “I killed you.”

“Yes you did.” He smiled. “But I lived on. That's how I knew something was toying with our minds and I rose to fight it.”

“You did not live on for me.” She continued. “I assumed control of the men. First I wanted to go back to master Hypperio to give him the formula but then I thought that they might hang me, so I wanted to take your place, go to Thorwal and come back a heroine. We travelled an entire day during which I thought I beheaded you. Then I dreamed, I think, within the dream or what ever it was, that I found Janna and brought her to his royal highness, the emperor. And then you woke me.”

“You dreamed of greatness.” He smiled. “I dreamed I discovered the potion you had hidden from me and I took you to task about it. Clearly, it was meant to help me get Janna under my control. Then one thing led to another and I kissed you. You were so enraged that you stabbed me through the heart with your sword.”

He chuckled.

“I can only deduce that what ever the witches did played on our deepest fears and longings.”

“But when did it start?” She asked. “Did I mean to betray you from the start and was it Hypperio who inspired me to do it? I think I remember him instructing me to do so.”

He shrugged: “We shall get to the bottom of this. But fear not, child, I will say and do nothing that puts you in peril. I cannot say how far back the witches' magic might have altered things, make us misremember or recall things that never happened, but I think it quite possible. I think I began to uncover such a plot as you describe it back when you asked to join me on this voyage. But did this really happen that way? Who knows.”

“I remember that too, though.” She said meekly in the dark. “Master, you speak of fears and longings. Do you want me?”

Her voice was timid. What should he say?

'Yes, I want you, I want your beauty, your wit, your youth, your body, I want to kiss you and make love to you, have a child by you, teach at the university of Bethana and come home to see you cradling our babe.'

Such things were highly frowned upon in the white guild, however, especially between acolytes and their masters. Yes, some old teachers liked to take the beautiful, young acolytes under their wing and it was rumoured that their good grades had little to do with their actual accomplishments and it happened that a students grades fell horribly once it was decided by the council that they'd have to change masters. But Furio wished not to be part of that. And he wanted her though, every minute he was with her.

When he opened his mouth to say that this was highly inappropriate her lips were on his. All doubts washed away in that instant. Their tongues caressed each other while she was feeling him under his robes. Her soft, feminine touch on his hardened member nearly made him loose his seed much too early.

How was this possible, he thought, how could he have almost died so many times, lived through so much horror and still think of making love now. She withdrew and he feared that it was over already but she only slipped out of her clothes. The hair on her head had started to grow again, he saw, and her body was fine, pale and sleek. She guided her hand to her moist womanhood in between her thighs and showed him where to touch her.

“This is wrong, we shouldn't...” He protested as she pulled his robes over his head.

Then she straddled him and leaned forward into another kiss. Her hand found his cock and guided him inside her. He had dreamed of this. He had wanted this ever since she touched his cheek that day they had first met Janna. He had kept it hidden, even to himself. It was unfathomable to think of it and yet it was happening.

Her hips moved back and forth on him and they sighed and moaned together. The warmth of her felt so good that he would never have liked it to end. With her starting to gasp louder and louder on him, however, it wasn't long before he sprayed his seed into her.

She hugged him afterwards, for a long while, his cock still inside her. She fell asleep on his chest and he pulled her robe over both of them before finally closing his eyes.