“In the end, it always comes down to it.” Was a common saying in the brothel.

Rayadés had known the truth of it for long. Near all men craved the pleasure of flesh as did many women. She herself had always regarded it as work, first and foremost, though she could not deny that a charming man could give her real pleasure if he wanted to. If he wasn't able to, she faked it all the same, if that was what he wanted. All men liked to think of themselves as gods in that respect and it was her duty to make them believe that they had satisfied her, impressed her, yes, sheer overwhelmed her.

Rayadés was good at that, good enough to be able to tell that what she heard out in the harbour basin was real. She had to look what was happening. It took a while to figure it out. The women she knew for Arva and Bera Hjettisdottir, part of the closest thing the Thorwlash had to nobility, were pleasing the giant young woman underwater with what could only be their hands and mouths like little whores. There was no man present to witness the play though, at least no paying one.

Many other people were sneaking out of hiding to witness the spectacle. For all their looking down on Rayadés' profession, Arva and Bera performed well, she could see. It had a sense of sweet justice to see the two proud hetman's daughters have to perform such a, to them, degrading task. Oh, how much they had to hate it.

The conversation that followed was hard to understand. They understood the giantess' words well enough, but Arva's and Bera's words they could only hear glimpses of. It took so long, and the giantess seemed so peaceful during it, that by the end everyone trapped in the harbour came out to listen.

From what Rayadés had been able to gather, they had haggled out a queer sort of deal. When the two women came to shore on a boat that the giant girl had pushed towards them, people crowded around to hear their words. Rayadés did not want to go, instead she tried to get to the blocked gate of the harbour, trying to find if maybe there was a way through.

Someone pushed her though and two Thorwalsh dragged and shoved her along.

“She said there is no fleeing, whore.” They hissed and Rayadés had no choice but to follow.

Arva and Bera were being besieged with questions already.

“What does she want?”

“Will she spare us?”

“Where are the hetmen, what says the Ottaskin?”

Bera was standing on the bow in front of her sister over the crowd of people and spread her arms to bid them silence.

“We have been conquered!” She announced. “Our city has been conquered! The giantess agrees to not wipe us out if we do as she commands!”

“What does she want?” Someone asked and “How can we trust her?” another.

Arva spread her arms now and raised her voice in support for her sister: “She means to remain in this city as our conqueror for a while! We will start to clean up and rebuild now and do what ever she asks of us! No one will try to flee, or you will doom us all! Not all of us will survive this, but if there is to be a Thorwal tomorrow, you must do as we say!”

On the other end of the harbour in front of the canal, the giant girl was filling her mouth with water and spitting it out in a pointed jet, lazily observing their discussion. People had been devoured by that mouth, Rayadés was painfully aware.

“How can we trust this monster?!” An old, haggard man shouted.

“We're powerless to stop her!” A woman turned to shout at him. “Shut your mouth unless you have a better idea!”

“We need to clear the streets of the dead first, then gather food for everyone!” Bera announced. “We do not know how long she intends to stay, we need something to eat for ourselves in the meantime! There will be time for you to look for your loved ones, I promise, but that time is not now! Spread the word amongst each other and spread it to the ones you encounter in the streets! Perhaps they have seen whom you look for and they need to know of everything we have said!”

“We can't even get out the bloody harbour!” A voice rough as sand complained.

“Aye, we will see about that!” Arva reassured them. “I remind you again not to try to flee! If she finds out she will kill us, you heard her say so! Can I get an aye?!”

There was split second of absolute silence before the affirmation but that was enough to fill everyone's hearts with doubt.

“Listen!” Arva said before a pregnant pause. “These are dark times ahead of us, but we must fight through this and survive, for Thorwal's sake!”

“Also, try not to bog when she is close to us!” Bera added. “I know the fear is in your hearts, my sister and I feel the same, but the giantess could see it as a slight!”

That was much to ask, Rayadés thought, but maybe necessary if they meant to survive. They were all in this together now, like people on a boat caught in storm. Bera jumped off the ship and Arva followed. The feet of the strong, tall women left visible dents in the sand where they landed. A regular Thorwalsh was an impressive sight to other people, tall and broadly built, strong, muscled and hard, but they faded in comparison to the titanic girl that was sprawling leisurely in the harbour's waters, even though her features seemed softer and more feminine to theirs.

“On to the gate, we will dig our way out, this is our first task!” Bera commanded briskly.

“Oh, yeah? Who died and made you hetwoman?!”

The talker was another hetman's son, of another family. The whole concept of who belonged to which family could be confusing in Thorwal, because no one carried family names. Boys carried their fathers' names after their own with a '-son' behind it. Girls similarly carried their mothers' names with '-dottir' as a suffix, meaning daughter in the local dialect. 'Arva Hjettisdottir' by example meant 'Arva, daughter of Hjetti' but there was no telling which Hjetti was meant unless Hjetti's full name was mentioned. But that still didn't give any definitive indication as to their family as a whole.

Then there were titles gained from renown that were more or less unique like Hjalmar Boyfucker or Svenja Skullbreaker. Those were easy. But on the other hand, there were also the Someonesons, someone's sons, which was the common name given to foundlings. Boys of whom it was unclear who had fathered them carried their mother's names, but sometimes daughters carried their fathers names too, for whatever reason.

It was as stupid as it was confusing and a real hassle to foreigners who were looking for one particular person anywhere in Thorwal.

But the members of the three large families that made up the Ottaskin of hetmen were all notables, prominence, famous throughout the city and subject of most of the daily gossip. She knew this one as Thorgun Ragnoldson, a young and still markedly unspectacular boy of maybe sixteen. He did not belong to hetman Olaf's family, that much she knew as well, for all the chief hetman's sons were without after Thorsten Olafson had left for Andergast.

“Your family must do it's duty too, Ragnoldson.” Arva retorted him. “We, the consorts of the hetmen, should lead our people out of this storm by example. Now shut your mouth and follow!”

“My family didn't agree to this!” He protested arrogantly. “You have no power over me?! And the Ottaskin has not decided either!”

“The Ottaskin is a pile of rubble, I saw it with mine own eyes!” Someone tried to reason. “Our boats need captains now, boy!”

He referred to leadership rather than actual boats, Rayadés understood, because there were no boats left in sight except for the one that had carried the Hjettisdottirs to shore. Bera glared at the boy with dark, shimmering eyes. She was well renowned for her whale-rage, the quick temper the Thorwalsh were infamous for, all the way down to Al'Anfa. She was quick to anger and quick with her fists and strong.

“This is not the time for doubts and votes, but a time for action!” Arva concurred. “If you don't want to lead with us, then follow! But I know your father and uncles think that you have more in you than that!”

“But-” The boy opened his mouth in protest one too many a time.

Bera marched forward in a heartbeat and slammed her fist onto the boys nose which exploded in a splatter of blood. The satisfied look on her face as she struck him down was chilling to Rayadés' bones.

“Oh, and down he goes!” A massive voice cheered from the water.

They all spun in utter panic. The giant girl was almost atop them. Rayadés cowered on the ground, shaking, looking around unable to decide were to run and hide. Some people started running, forgetting everything the Hjettisdottirs had said.

“Don't flee, don't flee!” Arva called out, her voice scared and quivering.

“Do not run!” Bera roared, sounding like the storm itself.

That resonated with all of them, even Rayadés, and the people stopped in their tracks. Terribly slowly a hand stretched out over them and two fingers extended, gingerly moving towards Thorgun Ragnoldson before lifting him up by a leg. His clothes were wet for he had tried to flee through the harbour but lucky enough to be able to swim away from the giantess. A trickle of blood ran down from the ruin of his nose and pitched onto the ground, crimson red.

“Nice hit.” The giant girl commented and moved her hand to dangle the boy back and forth.

He was dead out cold. The silence was deafening and only Rayadés let out a scream when the boy was dropped to the ground from three meters high. He landed on his side with a crack, his arm sprawled beneath him, bent at an impossible angle. Next, the huge rock the giantess had used to fill herself in lack of a man her size came into view. She placed it's bottom square on top of the boy's body while he was still breathing. With more cracks and the terrible squelch of a young skull the rock's weight settled.

It had not moved down all the way though, and so the giantess gave it a push until some of Thorgun Ragnoldson came squirting out from underneath it, squashed to paste. Rayadés bent over sideways and wretched out what little food she had in her.

“Urgh, now that's disgusting.” The giantess said, amused yet still audibly appalled.

Rayadés was yanked up by the back of her hair clenched in a grip of iron fingers. She screeched in pain and tried to fight them but her small, soft hands were much too weak for Bera's.

“Do not anger her you worthless, weak, little, dirt-skinned, southern whore!” She growled into Rayadés ear.

She was tossed down towards the water, towards the giant monster that killed people. Her head was spinning, her heart racing so quickly that she was sure it would burst. The world turned before her eyes and she couldn't even see straight. What had she done to deserve this? She had never wanted to come here! She had never wanted to be freed! These Thorwalsh had taken everything from her and now they tossed her to the monster like a lamb to the lions.

“Don't say that.” The giantess scolding echoed in her head.

For a moment Rayadés thought that she could hear her thoughts but as it turned out, the giantess was not talking to her.

“She can't do anything about the colour of the skin she was born with. To think so is just stupid.”

“She's a whore!” Rayadés could hear Bera's proud voice talk down over her cowering body. “She was the slave of some fat captain before we freed her but instead of showing some gratitude, she lingers dirty in our city, whoring herself out to sailors and besmirching us with her presence! You can kill her now and do this us a great favour!”

She had spoken with vile, dripping hatred in her mouth but that was nothing against the thunderstorm that brewed in Rayadés' chest. By all rights she should keep her head down, sob and hope for a quick death by the giantess. But Rayadés couldn't bear dying without at least once finally telling these proud, self-righteous Thorwalsh what she thought about them. It burst out of her like magma from the mouths of the famous, cursed mountains of Charypkaloth and Umvuurbul.

“I never asked to be freed!” She turned and screamed so loudly that her voice was tearing. “I hate all of you you stinking, murdering whale-worshippers! My owner was good and loving man who gave me anything I could ask for and you murdered him and raped me like the animals you are and not even paid me! Your city is a pig barn, a disgrace to all mankind! I hope she kills all of you, everyone! I curse you, I curse you, I curse you, may your god be caught and roasted over a fire and be devoured by her like the stupid fish he is!”

Bera stood and stared at her aghast for a moment before blind rage filled her eyes.

'Yes!' Rayadés thought sweetly. 'Beat me to death with those huge fists of yours, see if that makes you less of an animal, you cunt! That way, the giantess won't get me!'

But a huge finger came out of nowhere and pushed the raging Thorwal-bitch away.

“Leave her to me.”

The voice crushed all hopes of death by Bera's hands at once. Rayadés cried bitterly and accepted her fate. She faced forward, hidden behind her hair and awaited anything the giant girl would do to her. She only hoped it wouldn't be too long.

Snot ran down from her nose and she watched it dangle in front of her face like a thread.

“Off with you.” The giantess commanded above and she could hear her lift out of the water and crawl over a storehouse in the way, toppling it noisily.

Then there were more noises, the people wandering off, more crashing and clattering. Rayadés didn't care. It wasn't long before the huge girl came back and slipped back into the water, creating waves that drenched Rayadés' skirt.

Yes, the waiting was uncomfortable but sometimes a whore had to wait before a customer was ready to consume what she had to offer. Huge fingers came from either side and crushed her torso in between them. Rayadés let herself be taken. She was lifted up, high over the water in front of that huge face where giant, curious eyes studied her. She hung limp in the giantess grasp, unmoving, like beneath a rough, drunk sailor who only meant spend his seed, quickly, before sleeping.

“You're all dirty.” The giant girl noted and she was lowered softly into the salty water and let go.

She never learned how to swim. Whores did not need to be able to, the bath tubs and pools in the brothel where they sometimes serviced their customers were all shallow enough to stand in. She had seen people swim, here in Thorwal, when they had their stupid contests of swimming and diving but she did not know how they did it. She paddled with her arms, her legs stiffening beneath her in panic.

Already, her air was running out. Of all the possible deaths, she had thought drowning to be the least likely. Gasping, she swallowed a mouthful of seawater and gagged and cringed at it before the giant hand came from below and lifted her out.

“Why didn't you tell me you can't swim?!”

The question didn't make any sense at all. Rayadés was on all fourths, coughing up seawater from her lungs. She felt so tiny and forlorn on the huge hand that she wondered why the giantess didn't do away with her and crush her puny little body to nothing in her grasp.

“You're shaking.”

The fingers pinched clumsily at her dress and she was yanked upwards before the hand she had been sitting on came and pulled at the other end. It ripped slowly, though the giantess could have ripped it to shreds as easily as ripping out Rayadés arms and legs, no doubt. When it tore apart entirely she plunged into the sea below, the northern water ice cold on her skin. But she was lifted out again a moment after.

If she giantess wanted her to be naked, than so be it, she thought dully in her head. It didn't matter. She was already dead inside, her last words spoken.

“You don't belong here.” The giantess noted with an icy sense of curiosity in her voice.

The sun never beat as hot here as it did in Al'Anfa but Rayadés could still feel it on her skin, warming her. If only she could feel the sun of home one more time, by that window beneath the silk canopy where she liked to gaze out into the world. If only she could listen once more to the exciting stories men told her after they had had her.

She could almost feel the hot, humid wind that blew so often when it came from inland over the jungles, palm-tree forests and plantations. No, she could definitely feel it and it even had that hint of sea-salt on it.

'Am I dead?' She thought for a queer moment and lifted her head.

This wasn't so bad. But no, she was still where she was, and it was the cruel, giant girl, blowing on her for some reason.

“Where are you from?” She asked, almost softly, even though her voice shook Rayadés to the core.

She looked up. Huge brown eyes looked down upon her, but there was more in them, flakes of gold, copper, emerald and tourmaline. The eyes of a monster, a demon, some terrible creature. The eyes of a goddess. The eyes of a giant girl.

“I know you speak the language, you angry little thing...”

She sounded soft and friendly but there was a hint of dangerous annoyance in her voice as well.

“Come on, don't ruin this now. You look a lot more like me than them, I want to know where you're from!”

That was true, but Rayadés noticed only now. Her own skin was still a bit darker than the giantess', but the giantess' was a large tone darker than the pale white, freckled Thorwalsh as well. Her hair was exactly the same colour of brown that many Al'Anfan women had, though a bit lighter than Rayadés'. How any of this could have meaning to her, Rayadés did not know, she couldn't possibly compare herself to people. She would have looked like a person upon further inspection, yes, if she hadn't been so mind-numbingly gigantic.

The sigh of now terribly real annoyance washed over Rayadés like another breeze of tropical wind.

“I don't like talking to myself. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I'll squeeze the answer out of you if you do not respond and it won't be nice, I promise.”

Rayadés' mind was incapable of understanding why the beast wasted so many senseless words instead of killing her already. This had to be a taunt of some sort she was too low born and too lacking in pride to understand. Was it bad that Rayadés didn't play along? Would her death be more or less painful if she did and did that even matter any more?

“The place, where you are from, it must be very warm there.” The giantess' eyes impaled her like daggers. “It is alright here, but I'd like to go some place warmer. Can you tell me where your people live?”

She said that like talking to a stupid child while sitting in the icy cold gulf of Prem. If she called these waters 'alright' she would be boiling in the Golden Bay, or perhaps she was just impervious to temperature like the whales the Thorwalsh worshipped, or else she was like a fish and not like a warm-blooded human being at all. No, she had to be warm-blooded though, fish were cold, they could not breathe so warmly, but than again, perhaps she was some sort of dragon like in the fables some sailors liked to tell.

“Here look.” The giantess stretched out her arm for Rayadés to see. “It's getting cold already.”

The bumps on her skin were goose-prickles, she noted, and the hairs on the giantess' arm were standing upright. There was another angry sigh when Rayadés still did not respond.

“I was going to be nice to you, little girl, but now I've had it.”

That was it. The taunting was over. Rayadés only hoped it would end quick. The giantess' eyes narrowed and the giant digits came for her. Instead of squashing her torso in between them they pinched her arm and yanked it aside, painfully.

'No.' Rayadés thought. She didn't want to get pulled apart like children did to mosquito eaters.

But the fingers pulled, while the hand she had been sitting on held her in place.

“Aaaaah!” She creamed and cried.

“Oh, now you talk.” The giantess' voice was vicious and cynical but she just kept pulling.

The feeling of her arm being ripped out of it's socket was the worst pain she ever felt, even worse than the Novadi had been when he was inside her, that day she lost her innocence. When she reached for it, she could feel hot blood gushing out of her, and torn, mangled flesh hanging loosely.

“Al'Anfa! Al'Anfa!” She managed in between screams. “I'm from Al'Anfa!”

She couldn't remember why she shouted that. Perhaps she wanted her soul to find it's way home.

“Too late.” The giantess said coldly and pinched her other arm.

When that was ripped out, there were no hands left to feel for the damage and her strength left her with her blood. The giantess smiled much like Bera had, before her lips parted and deposited Rayadés in her mouth.

Hot, humid darkness surrounded her, the giantess' saliva burning like salt were her arms had been. Then she was swallowed. Perhaps this was what an oyster felt like after Rayadés had slurped it out of it's shell, she thought queerly, or what a sewer rat felt like, sliding down a slimy, stinking tunnel beneath a civilized city with adequate canals. Thorwal didn't have any sewers. The barbarians inhabiting it would never be capable of rising above their own filth.

She plunged into a thick, stinking goo and started to sink in, terribly slowly. The air was so foul that she started to gag uncontrollably when taking a breath of it but she needed to breathe all the same and so she gagged and coughed and inhaled the foul stuff, her body cramping and twisting beneath her. It was too much to suffocate immediately and too little to survive for long, she knew.

Then, her skin started to burn all at once, like fire. It was terribly hot in here, but not as hot as there could have been actual flames. It was acid, her body being dissolved to become part of the goo she was swimming in that could only have been other people once. She wanted to scratch and claw off her skin but the giantess' had ripped out her arms.

Instead of a scream, a weak scratching sound emerged from her throat. With a huge shake and a grumble, all air was pushed out of the giant stomach she was in and she became entirely enveloped by acid and mush. Her eyes burned worse than everything else, but they were of no use to her anyway. The acid entered her mouth and then she burned on the inside until all feelings faded at once.

'Boron, take me into your arms.' She prayed in her mind.

Though Rahya and Phex ranked high among the gods served in the south, Al'Anfa and the other free cities were most well known for their Boron cults. Boron was the god of death, sleep and oblivion.

'How fitting.' She thought. 'I'll be digested and forgotten and sleep in death, forever.'

-

In the beginning, the one-god Los wandered through the eternum. When he met Sumu, the earth giantess that had come into being out of herself, he was so angered that he slew her. Finding himself alone once more, he regretted what he had done, and wept over her dying body. From a wound he had suffered in the fighting, twelve drops of blood leaked into the nether, the twelve gods most humans worshipped today.

Before she was dead, Sumu gave birth to Satuaria, who gave the gift of her magic to the witches. From Sumu's body the earth Dere was created and from the tears Los wept over her loss came the seas. Thus, Sumu was mother to all life and present in it's every form. The druids watched over her legacy, trying to keep the world in balance.

Stonetree learned all this from Bruin, the bearish man in company of his huge she-bear he had called Ursula. He had seen what Stonetree was and helped him off the crooked path he had been walking all his life. Bruin had said that Stonetree's existence must be some sort of sign, being giant and druid both. Stonetree had been working magic without even knowing it all his life. It was the reason why he was never seen, why he felt like the trees and plants whispered things to him. It was why he had been such a good and valuable scout to the evil that was Albino.

Albino had not seen him for what he was but given him a false purpose instead, one that had never quite fit right. Stonetree had always believed that it was important to stay with his own kind, but he felt like he truly knew what that meant only now.

Ursula put her head on his leg and he scratched her behind her ears. The she-bear was hurt and Bruin had taught Stonetree how to make a healing compress from wirselleaf and one-berry. Stonetree's own throat was hurting too, from the giantess' crushing grip. She had been huge for their kind and quick and might have killed Stonetree if Bruin and Ursula had not driven her off.

They were outside the village at the foot of the monstrous metal thing. Vengyr was inside, they knew that now. The trees had told them so. A witch had discovered the knowledge and shared it with a druid who shared it with them. But the giant iron thing was quenching all magical powers with it's unholy aura. The birds Bruin had sent to look for him forgot their purpose when they got too close and landed on the ground to peck for kernels or worms instead.

Bruin meant to climb up there. For that he would need Stonetree's help. The climb was a difficult one on that queer thing, and it remained unclear if even Stonetree could make it. They had to try though. They had ropes of sorts, long strings of climbing plants that had assembled to Bruin's request. They agreed to being used for this, even if it meant their undoing.

They would try soon, tonight, if everything went right. Vengyr was injured and his huge iron prison was scotching his abilities to regenerate. He would be fine if they got him away far enough, Bruin was certain. Else, they would hide him and care for him until he was back at full strength. They needed him, even though the giants' mischief was still contained. They grew restless though, without their leader. Not even the trees knew where Albino was, and that was most troubling. They had seen an old mage though, who had appeared somewhere near here out of nowhere and gone again. Stonetree had no idea what to make of that but he sensed something evil.

The humans in the village that was led by that fearsome giantess were worshipping the even larger giants, the ones whose heads seemed to scrape upon the bottom of the clouds. Sometimes Bruin or Ursula had to kill one of them, lest they be discovered. Not Stonetree though. So long as he was far enough from the unholy iron thing he could become one with the forest. He had watched the tiny creatures stalk right past him, never noticing.

He knew one that knew to dress as a plant and sit so motionless that he almost became one with the forest as well. He wasn't one with the others but no druid either. Stonetree had meant to show him to Bruin to make sure. Bruin had let Ursula make a meal of him, but she had only gotten the human's younger and clumsier friend. It was reasonable. They couldn't afford to be discovered and who knew what mischief the two were up to. He did not reveal where the old man was hiding now, however. He was not of sound mind and it seemed wrong to kill someone who loved life like he did.

The old human spent his days observing the village and passed his time talking to bees and butterflies, though they never understood what he said. Some villagers had gone and returned with goats and sheep. Their lives seemed more at ease since the titans had left. Who knew, perhaps that was the reason why they didn't run from this place. It was hard to tell.

But the time was right to rescue Vengyr. Of that much, Stonetree and Bruin were sure.