It was about an hour after sunset when the visitors came to the little village. Before they arrived, everyone had been going about their day as peaceful as could possibly be. Men who had worked outside in the fields, at the smiths, and around the house, now sat at their tables surrounded by their families. Women who had spent the day mending clothes, cleaning the rooms, and preparing the food, laid it down upon the table, grateful for the work that kept their thoughts occupied. For a time as the world grew dark a quiet tension seemed to ease its way out of the collective houses. In that time a man could sit down and find that he was truly wealthy in the blessings of the Stars’. Despite the disparity of their situation, they had what they needed to live through it. Stone walls that held back the wind, a hearth that staved off the cold, good food to put on the table, children to teach and protect, and a woman to hold your hand through every storm.

 

Tonight was not like ordinary nights. On an ordinary night the husband would come in, his brow sweating from the day's work, and begin to wash for supper, complaining about one more job he would have like to have finished but couldn’t. Secretly though, he would be grateful for the fatigue in his muscles, the feeling of hard work being done. The wife would respond with news of the day, whether it be domestic or gossip from the rest of the village. The children would be elsewhere, pretending not to be shirking in their chores. Once the food is prepared and the table is set, the family would unceremoniously begin their meal. Sometimes they would talk, other times they would just enjoy each other’s company in silence. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight the husband would have worked until he had run out of jobs to do, as would the wife and the children. When he came home there would be no gossip, there would be little talking in general. When the food had been prepared they would all gather around the table together. No one touch the food until they had all clasped hands and gave thanks to the Stars above for everything that they had. As they ate the father would ask if everyone had a good day, and they would reply that they had. He would tell his children of some project he had in mind for the house, and ask if they would enjoy assisting him, and they would tell him ‘yes’, and for a while everyone would feel happy, they would feel safe.

 

The tremors that followed shattered their illusion of safety as surely as the porcelain that fell from a shelf. As one the family would stand up from their table, step outside of their meager house, and huddle together just as every other family around them would do. Everyone remained close to their homes. No one dared stand out by remaining anywhere except to the side of the main road that ran straight through the center of the village. No one except two individuals, two victims of chance. The first was a young man of about twenty winters of age. Not particularly tall, but strong of build, and of character. He wore a newly tailored laced shirt, a new coat of red and black, new black trousers, and new boots. His hair was freshly cut and his beard shaved, making him look more handsome than he really was. Besides him stood a woman no more than ten years older than the young man. She wore an immaculate dress of green, trimmed with golden-yellow lace, a high neck, and an oval cut-out that revealed a modest amount of cleavage. It was a dress too fine, and revealing, for the simple country village, but all too appropriate for where she was going.

 

Both man and woman stood alone at the center of the village, the man’s hands clasped firmly behind his back, he stood tall against the oncoming tremors. The woman kept her hands folded in front of her, her eyes closed as she uttered a prayer to herself. For those few quiet moments between the tremors, quiet weeping could be heard from somewhere close by. By now, several dark shapes could be seen floating amongst the treetops. It wasn’t long before these shapes crystallized into the forms of three women, each dwarfing the trees around them in sheer height. The two women in the back were a guard of escort. They were both dressed head to toe for a battle that neither of them expected to fight tonight. Their breast plates sat polished over top white skirts. The sandals on their feet were laced all the way up to their calves. On their forearms were a set of vambraces. A long sword was buckled onto the belts at their waists, and both women wore a red cloak, pinned at their right shoulder, and draped over their left.

 

Despite the armour they wore, the only purpose of the guards were to add a touch of officiality to the ceremony, if it could be called one. Each of the visitors stood between 80 and 100ft tall. Any one of the women could stand to battle against the entire village and emerge victorious without the slightest effort. The emissary the guards were escorting stood between them. She wore a dress of blue and white, coupled with a travelling cloak of the same colors. In her hand was a staff, carve out of the whole trunk of a red-wood tree, signifying her authority and station. Her chestnut hair was held up above her head, excluding the curly bangs on either side of her face. The emissary took in the entirety of the diminutive village with an impassive face. She stepped forward, her sandals did nothing to quiet her footsteps, that echoed all along the main road.

 

“As agreed long ago, one-half year has passed.” her voice shook the very walls of the tiny wooden houses before her. “I have come from Thylara to collect the offering.”

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

Running through the forest at this time of night was nothing short of foolish. One was never sure of the predators that would be roaming after dark, scouring for a late meal. The young boy, however, would soon face a wolf or a bear, than one of the visitors. He ran to the only place he knew for sure was safe. The trek was long, and the path confusing, but he had travelled this way enough times to remember the twists and turns to take. Eventually he emerged from the thick woods into a small clearing. At the center of the open ground stood a lone house. It wasn’t very big, not compared to the houses of the village, but a sturdy piece of wood work. Two wooden poles stood erect and to the side, animal pelts hung from the line strung between them. Light could be faintly seen from the dark curtains in the windows. The boy quietly made his way  up to the doorstep of the hut and knocked as softly as possible. After an anxious few seconds, the door cracked open, a vertical slash of light broke into the darkness of the woods, and a suspicious eye looked outside.

 

“Tayell!” came a gruff voice. The door was opened halfway, revealing a tall, rough looking man. “What in embers are you doing here? You know what tonight is.”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Tayell sheepishly answered. “I couldn’t be there! I couldn’t watch- . . . . . . .”

 

The man in the doorway understood at once. Without hesitation he threw open his door and took the boy inside. The hut inside was as big as one would expect, which is to say it was quite small. The kitchen, the table, and the lounge all occupied the same, large room. The only other separate room in the house was the single bedroom in the back of the hut. The man sat his young guest down in the only lounging chair in the hut. He’d just put on some tea, and there was only enough water for a single cup. He poured it all into one for the boy.

 

And here I was thinking that I wouldn’t get drunk tonight, he thought as he opened for  himself a  bottle of strong whisky. He took the drinks over by the fireplace, gave the tea to Tayell, and sat down in a plain wooden chair.

 

“Are you ok?” he asked him.

 

Tayell sipped at his tea and gazed blankly into the fire. “He told me not to cry for him. I’m trying. For his sake I’m trying so hard but . . . .” His voice broke as he wiped at his eyes with a sleeve.

 

“It’s ok to cry Tayell,” he answered. “It means you love your brother. No one can say there’s anything wrong with that.”

 

Tayell nodded as he set the tea aside and began to weep. He wept for a few minutes as his host sat their in silence and sipped his whisky. When the boy had settled down a little, the man handed him the bottle of whisky. Tayell took it gingerly and swallowed a sip.

 

“Does it ever help, Gaelin?” he asked, handing the bottle back.

 

“It never helps,” Gaelin admitted as he took a bigger swig.

 

“Then why do you drink it?”

 

“Because I’m not a man you should ever strive to be like.” he replied solemnly.

 

Tayell was quiet for a few moments. Then he spoke, “They’ve been talking about you back at the village. Lyal’s been sayin’ that you should be the next offering. People agree.”

 

Gaelin snorted. “What do you think?”

 

“I won’t tell them where you live.” he said without hesitation. “Not after what you’ve done for me.”

 

He nodded. “Appreciate that.”

 

Tayell stopped talking as he drank more of his tea. “W-what will . . . . what will happen to him? Will they hurt him?”

 

He blew out a long breath. “I don’t know.”

 

Tayell accepted that answer, as it was the only one he had as well. “There’s a rumor that you killed one of them once. A Titan. All by yourself.”

 

Gaelin didn’t even smile at the remark. “You’ve seen a Titan, right?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Then how do you expect any lone man to kill one those?” he asked.

 

Tayell leaned back in the chair, looking deflated by the conclusion he’d drawn.

 

“I know that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, sorry. But do yourself a favor and let go of it.” Gaelin urged. “Forget all thoughts of blood and revenge. Focus your energy on healing your wounds. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself, and everyone around you.”

 

Tayell let his head fall as new tears began to flow forth. He sniffed. “You know, for a guy I’m not supposed to be like, you’re pretty wise.”

 

This time a smile did grace his lips, however small. “Only wise enough to know I’m not a good man.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” the boy challenged. Gaelin shrugged. They both sat like that for a little while longer, neither saying much of anything.

 

“It’s getting late,” Gaelin said at last. “You should be home. I’ll walk you there.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Tayell insisted. “I know my way back, even in the dark.”

 

“And if a wolf should also happen to know the way?” he asked.

 

 

Tayell sighed. Gaelin slipped on his coat, tucked a knife into his belt, and escorted the boy of only thirteen winters outside. He took them both through the woods until they had reached the very edge and could see the village. From their Tayell proceeded home, and Gaelin returned to his hut to finish off that bottle of whisky alone.

 

 

“Keep your shield up!” the woman bellowed.

 

Annallya bit down hard on a curse before it could escape her lips, it would not be proper for her to be heard spouting profanity, even if she was among soldiers. Rather, she focused on what her instructor had just commanded. She hated it though, the feeling of the shield on her arm. It ruined her sense of balance and made it almost impossible to grip the sword with both hands. That must be why they were designed to only be wielded with one hand. Even so, it felt natural to use both hands with the sword, so why not make it so?

 

Annallya shook such thoughts from her head as she stared blankly at her opponent, the two circling each other. With a snarl worthy of a human, she launched another series of attacks at the woman facing her. The first two overhand strikes were met by the opponent's shield, the third was completely deflected by her sword. With her front entirely exposed the soldier shot her elbow right at Annallya’s sternum, just below her windpipe. The blow forced her back a few steps, as she finally figured out that it would be a good idea to use her shield to protect herself from blows like that. Her opponent showed no emotion at her actions, be it disapproval or disdain. Not one to give in easily, Annallya charged her opponent again. In two moves she was disarmed of her blade. At that point she had no choice but to use her shield simply to keep from being impaled. A shrill whistle was sounded and the match ended.

 

Sweaty, tired, and utterly frustrated, Annallya recovered her sword while making it a point to not look directly at her instructor. That became difficult when her instructor marched directly towards her, a scowl plastered on her face.

 

“What have I continued to explain to you, these past months?” she demanded.

 

“To use my shield and sword equally and interchangeably.” Annallya answered, making an effort to keep her own temper in check.

 

“Yes!” her instructor answered. She was a commanding woman, with a presence that carried the authority of all of her years in the Thylaran military service. She stood slightly under average height for a Titan, but was far from a feeble specimen. Her arms were powerful from years spent in training with the sword. Her dirty blonde hair was kept in a neat ponytail, ideal for keeping it out of one’s face while in battle. Any recruit that chooses not to cut their hair short is required to wear it in a ponytail while training or before battle. Her skin was tan from many summers of marching under the sun. And as of now, she was not in a cheerful mood. Annallya wondered if there were ever times that she was.

 

“I have attempted to ingrain this into your head for months, and still you refute my teachings! And it has gotten you nowhere except dead in every sparring match you have ever fought.”

 

“I humbly apologize, Sergeant Heleanna.” At least, she tried to sound humble.

 

The Sergeant continued her tirade. “You attack predictably, with nothing but blind rage and force. You assume that if you are angry enough that you can break through your enemies like they were a pack of humans.”

 

She allowed the insults to wash over her without giving them much mind, her thoughts were elsewhere. Annallya knew that she was onto something. She’d heard that the Imperial Guard of the Queen carry swords that are held in both hands, and they were reputed to be the greatest swordswomen in all of Thylara. If she could only learn for herself, blood and tears but it was frustrating! And she had thought that training with the sword would help curb her temper.

 

“Annallya!” Sergeant Heleanna snapped!

 

At once she snapped into proper attention before her superior. “Yes Sergeant!”

 

Heleanna frowned pensively at her. “I know not what dreams of battle you carry in your head, but you best forget them. The battlefield is not a place of glory like in children’s stories where you may challenge an entire army by yourself and win. You are a soldier, not a warrior! Remember that!”

 

Annallya banged her fist against the shield on her left forearm in salute. “I shall remember!”

 

Sergeant Helenna gave her one last frustrated gaze before nodding in acceptance. “To the bath house with you. You are dismissed for the day.”

 

Annallya snapped one more salute and then proceeded on her way to the bath house, eager to be rid of the sweat and grime that coated her skin. Normally she never minded the dirt too much, if anything it made her feel as though she had accomplished something. Today, though, she wanted nothing more than to be home as quickly as possible. The training yard she had been sparring in was a large circular courtyard surrounded on all sides by pillars. The circular area itself was sunken a few feet into the ground with the bare earth and dust for a floor. A short set of steps brought her up from the training yard and onto level ground. Annallya headed to a closed stone building that was the bath house. Each bath was a large pool of water where dozens of women may bathe at the same time. The water was heated in furnaces in other rooms, and then pumped into the pools, where they would emerge from carved fountains. Upon entering the building, Annallya first had to pay to use the baths, for although they were public, that did not mean that they were free. She then continued onto the changing room where soldiers would strip of their armour, and leave them on special placeholders, along with weapons and other clothes. From there the baths were in the very next room. Setting foot into the baths was nothing short of euphoric. The feeling of the warm water soaking into your every muscle and cramp was a pleasure many looked forward to everyday, for Titans were not soft when it came to drilling soldiers.

 

Annallya stood leaning against the wall of the pool, her eyes closed as she focused on loosening her stiff muscles. She opened them when she heard a familiar voice making it’s way towards her.

 

“Another session lost to your temper?” a girl of equal age asked her.

 

Annallya, though too tired to scowl, tried her best anyway. “Do not test me today Thoren, not after the beating I took.”

 

Thoren Avarienya complimented Annallya unnaturally well in appearance and personality. She stood at the average height of a Titan, and was graced with a body to turn heads of all kinds. Her chestnut hair, normally kept in a long braid, practically glistened under the sun. Her face was uniquely beautiful, with full lips shaped almost like a heart, and a complexion like smooth chocolate. In contrast to this, Annallya was inches taller than her friend, a fact that had always made her feel awkward and gangly. Her breasts were nothing of great remark, while the rest of her just qualified as curvy. Auburn hair in place of the more common shades of color most Titans possessed. Thoren and Annallya had been inseparable since they were little girls, and despite years of Thoren telling Annallya that her face was equally pretty, Annallya never believed her.

 

“Heleanna cannot drill you like this forever,” Thoren offered her friend. “Try to understand it in a way such as this. All you need do is learn her methods of the sword temporarily, until you become an official soldier. Then you may return to pioneering your own methods of getting yourself slain on the battlefield.”

 

Annallya sighed. “And here I believed you were truly trying to comfort me.”

 

Thoren shrugged. “In a situation such as yours, that is the best comfort I can offer.”

 

“I still do not understand,” she complained. “I had assumed that learning to fight would improve on my temper. Rather it has the opposite effects.”

 

“Perhaps you must accept that you shall always be a woman of great anger and little reason.”

 

Annallya eyed her friend. “Then that is a woman you shall have to live with for the rest of your life.”

 

“Have you considered a pet?” Thoren suggested. “A little one to take care of would do wonders for your mood. My little Naela is the most precious creature! She even dances for me, quite beautifully too!”

 

“I already have a pet,” she said with a sigh. “He simply sits put in his cage and rarely stirs. I have heard that humans are unnaturally well versed in speech, but he remains mute. Barely eating, and only occasionally walking outside of his cage.”

 

“He is clearly frightened of you. Though that doesn’t surprise me. Your temper scares me as well.” Thoren replied. Annallya directed a deathly gaze at her friend, who returned it with one of innocence. “Have you considered, shrinking yourself down to his size? He may warm up to you once he has seen your beauty from a closer perspective.”

 

“Shrink down to his size!” she exclaimed aghast. “Suppose he attacks me? What then?”

 

Thoren waved a dismissive hand. “Oh please, you have nothing to worry about. They are very well trained before they are allowed to become pets. He is probably very docile, just afraid of his new, giant world.”

 

Annallya mulled over that thought for a moment. “Perhaps you are right. I had not considered that possibility.”

 

The smile Thoren wore was now one of satisfaction. “Of course I am right. I would not make for a very good Queen if I knew not of what I was speaking of.”

 

Another unusual aspect of their friendship was that Thoren was the daughter of Queen Phelonous. She and Annallya had met as children, as Annallya’s mother is an official advisor and personal friend to the Queen of Thylara. That friendship had persisted through till the girls had reached twenty four winters of age, the minimum age of recruitment. Thoren, although heir to the throne, was required, like all Titans, to serve a short term in the city’s military. Titan were by nature, a war like people. Conflicts among different cities were more than commonplace, they were consistent, albeit ever changing. Every Queen was required to have been a soldier for a minimum of three years. The two of them were still only in basic training, not yet soldiers but on their way.

 

Thoren and Annallya continued their conversation even after leaving the bathhouse, and returning home. Since her mother was an official advisor to the Queen, they took quarters in a guest house in the Queen’s palace. The palace rested on an outcrop accessible by a massive staircase. The stairs lead to a monumental building of brick and stone, longer than it was wide. The front side was surrounded on all sides by tall columns of white, and statues of fierce warriors looked down from above. Further along, the rectangular building spread out into other buildings of various heights, all connecting to form a single palace. Balconies stood out from some of the tallest areas of the palace, decorated with intricately carved railings. Women of all sorts were seen coming and going from the palace, some were couriers, others staff members, and others still were ordinary citizens in need of the Queen’s judgment. Every day they would come and go, watched at all times by a plethora of guards.

 

It was here that the sister-like friends parted ways, Thoren had other duties to attend to that were part of her training to become Queen. Annallya likewise had her own studies, for she was looked on as a potential successor to her own mother’s role as a royal advisor. She headed towards the guest house in the southern area of the palace. It spoke volumes of the size of the place to say that the guest house was it’s own building, while still connected to the rest of the palace, that was bigger than most homes throughout the city. A small courtyard was all that separated it from the rest of the buildings that made up the palace. The front door lead inside to a lounging room, where the family would receive guests. Annallya walked through the lounging room and up the stairs to where her own room was. It was a bedroom entirely too well furnished for the simple young woman. Everything inside was imported for the task of making whatever guest the Queen may have, feel comfortable. The bed was large enough for three people to comfortably share, despite having only a single occupant. Candle stands of metal, shaped into twisted designs, provided light during the evening, along with a chandelier. A brazier sat in the center of the room, giving heat on cold nights. Bookcases line the walls filled with both educational, and entertaining materials. Between two bookcases was a writing desk of well polished, red wood. Piled onto the desk were all of Annallya’s studies, something she did not want to look at at the moment.

 

Removing her sandals upon entering, Annallya padded over to a life sized mannequin, kept next to her closet. There, she removed her armour and placed it over top of the mannequin, and hung her sword and shield on the wall nearby. Then she decided to change into a fresh outfit for the rest of the day. A sleeveless white dress that only reached as far as her knees, leaving her legs and feet bare, with a deep red corset-like sash across her abdomen. The dress itself was trimmed with very little embroidery, as Annallya did not care for gaudy clothes.

 

Once she was dress, Annallya walked over towards a metal stand, taller than her and made of brass. A shining brass cage hung down from this stand, a cage that was home to Annallya’s pet human. The inside of the cage was furnished with miniature versions of Titan furniture, with a bed, a lounging chair, a stand of candles, matches to light them inside of a nightstand, and a rug in the center of the cage. Her human sat on the floor with his back against his bed. His red and black coat was open to reveal the white laced shirt underneath. Both were thoroughly ruffled from having been worn for days in a row. His black trousers and boots remained in relatively good condition. His hair had grown shaggy and his beard was unkempt. Even as Annallya removed the cage from the stand and set it down on her desk, he remained still. Not once moving, or even glancing at her. He’d always been like this, since the first day she’d received him as a gift weeks ago.

 

Annallya slowly undid the latch and opened up the cage door. “Wyell,” she called using the name she’d given him upon receiving him. “Wyell, please come out. You need your exercise.”

 

But Wyell remained where he sat, turning his head away from her. Annallya sighed, this was typical of him. This was the first human she’d ever had to herself, the first man she’d ever seen in her life, and all he did was nothing! She’d heard so many stories about men in the wild forests beyond Thylara, who would hunt and kill their own with their bare hands and uncontrollable rage. She’d expected him to be more wild, more exciting to watch. Frightening even, if something as small as her index finger could be considered frightening.

 

“Wyell please come out,” she called louder this time. He flinched, but did not stir. Annallya had to remember to keep a hold of her temper so as not to scare the tiny man. It was hard, owning a pet that did not want to talk or interact with you. He refused to even let her see his face most of the time! The pathetic little thing should be grateful. Without the Titans he would be roaming the woods right now, starving and waiting to be eaten alive by his own savage kind. The Catchers had found him, fragile and alone, had taken him in, washed him, gave him those nice clothes, and given him everything he would need to live like a civilized creature. And Annallya gave him love and care, something she knew he would never receive among his own kind. He should be dancing at her feet in gratitude, so why then was he like this?

 

Feeling too frustrated for words, Annallya closed the cage and left it on her desk. Then she picked up a broken broom handle that she kept under her bed, and tried once more to practice her sword play. The Titan sword were designed to be handled with only one hand, but there was no grace to it, it felt wrong to just swing it like a club. She’d been trying to figure out how to use both hands to wield her sword, but was making little progress finding a way that felt better. Annallya tried practicing this for a few minutes, going over every form and pose she'd been taught, before she sighed and looked back at the cage. Wyell lowered his head back down from having watched her. This made her feel strange, to know that she had been watched by a man as she performed a challenging task. It made her feel bold. Annallya opened the door again and set the cage down on the floor. Then, without any effort, she began to shrink.

 

Titans are unique in that they are the only creatures that can change their size from big to small, along with whatever they have on their possession. No one knows why they alone are born with this ability, and why it works on nothing but themselves. When they shrink, they can only become as small as they would be if they had been humans. Few Titans had tried to interact with humans while small and vulnerable, for even a human woman is stronger than a Titan while they are of the same size. But they were still animals who knew nothing of disciplined fighting and self defense. That fact comforted Annallya as she shrunk as small as she possibly could. A mere five feet and nine inches to a human. Wyell had not noticed, as he was refusing to face her again. So Annallya took a moment to admire the sight of her room from his size. It was truly wondrous, the world around her, but also frightening. She could understand now why he always seemed so afraid of her. Well, she would fix that, one way or another.

 

Very slowly, Annallya stepped into the cage, the brass floor felt cold under her bare feet. Wyell never moved from his seat on the floor. It was quite a rush, being so close to an animal such as him. She smoothed her skirt for a second, making sure she looked as gentle and unthreatening as possible.

 

“Wyell?” she spoke softly. “Wyell, will you face me please?”

 

This time Wyell did turn his head, just barely catching sight of her with his peripheral vision. Then his head violently turned back to catch a second glance. Upon seeing her at this scale Wyell sprang to his feet so suddenly that Annallya jumped back from him. Now it was a terrifying experience. Wyell was so much bigger than her while she was at this height, shoulders so wide and arms that could lift her easily. He stood facing her with his feet spread wide, almost resembling a fighter's stance, and his right hand reached down at his belt for something. When he realized that there was nothing at his belt to grab onto, Wyell looked distressed, then he calmed again. The man seemed to deflate as he dropped slowly to his knees in defeat. Annallya was stunned. For a moment as he stood against her, his legs spread, his balance even, and his hand at his belt, he looked . . . . well, he looked like a soldier. But that was ridiculous, there were no soldiers out in the wild. Only feral beasts. But he didn’t appear feral right now, he appeared tired and afraid. And something looked off about his features.

 

“Wyell?” she asked. “Are you well?”

 

Very, very slowly, Annallya stepped over to him. She got down on her knees and reached to touch him. He flinched, which caused her to reel back, but he was still again. She then forced her fears back down and reached out to him again. This time he didn’t move a muscle as she laid her hands upon his face. Her heartbeat quickened as it registered what it was that she was doing. She had just put hands on a man for the first time in her life! And it was fascinating, to say the least. The mane of hair on his face, around his mouth and cheeks, was so soft to the touch. The features of his face looked and felt strong now that she viewed them up close. And the rest of his hair, as shaggy and ungroomed as it was, somehow served to enhance his appearance. Very carefully, so as not to scare him again, Annallya lifted his head to face hers, and she gasped.

 

His right eye was an exotic shade of green, something unheard of among Titans. It looked like a shining emerald. His left eye, however, was black and swollen with bruises.

 

“Wyell!” she breathed. “What has happened to you? Who hurt you like this?”

 

Wyell opened his mouth and, stars above, it looked like he was about to speak. But then he grimaced and turned his head away. His hands reached up and gently grasped hers. Annallya’s heart sped up again, partly out of fear, and partly out of excitement of being touched by a man. His hands were rough and strong, but her handled her with such care as he removed her hands from his face, and walked away. Annallya was left kneeling in place, trying to comprehend all that had just happened in such a short amount of time. She had shrunken herself down to human size, walked into the cage of a wild animal, had laid hands upon his face, only to have him lay hands upon her in turn. Never once did he look like he had been about to hurt her, or even want to hurt her. He looked . . . . peaceful. Gentle.

 

She wanted to go back over to him, to try to talk with him again. To soothe his fears and treat the eye he’d somehow hurt, but she didn’t. Wyell was clearly more afraid of her than she was of him. He might react badly to such upfront treatment. So she rose gracefully and walk back to the door of the cage.

 

“Andrill,” came a deep voice from behind her.

 

Annallya spun in place, shock painting her face white. The human remained where he was, on his feet at the other end of the cage, facing the bars with his hands clasped behind his back.

 

“W-what did you say?” she asked nervously.

 

“Andrill,” he repeated softly. “My name is Andrill.”

 

His name? He had been given a name aready! Incredible! She’d never before known that humans received names in the wild. “Andrill.” she repeated slowly to herself, allowing her tongue to taste the new word.

 

From the other side of the cage, he nodded to himself. “Andrill. It was the name my mother gave me.”

 

“Your mother!” Annallya exclaimed. “You had a mother who named you? What was she like?”

 

This was the first time he’d ever spoken to her, and in those few sentences she’d learned more of humans than she’d ever been taught before. She tried to press him, to learn more of his kind.

 

But Andrill only sniffed and bowed his head. “Kind.”

 

And with that he spoke no more. Annallya was torn between wanting to know more, and not overwhelming the poor creature. The poor man. So she stepped out of the cage, grew to her normal height, and hung the cage back upon the bronze stand. She gave him one last pained look.

 

“If you ever wish to speak with me again,” she whispered. “I will listen to you . . . Andrill.”

 

 

Then she sat at her desk, and began her studies, trying hard to leave the poor man in peace.

 

“. . . Heh . . . Heh . . . Heh . . .” the Titan panted. “I am . . . so close . . . heh . . . heh . . .”

 

With little care she dropped the blade she’d been holding and reclined on her extravagant bed. Annallya had spent most of the entire morning in her room, reviewing every sword and combat form she’d been taught. Analyzing them and trying her best to adapt them into a style for comfortable for her to wield. To say that it was frustrating would be to say that water is slightly moist. It was enraging is what it was. The sword all Titan soldiers use, a short bladed gladius designed to be held in one hand, was made specifically to swing and chop. But the style was too rigid for her tastes, something important was missing from it. She just could not figure out what that might be, and she had been trying for hours since she’d woken up.

 

“It is typical of me,” she groaned aloud. “The only day in weeks where I have had no training or studying to fret over, and I still find a way to work myself to death.”

 

From where she lay on her bed, Annallya turned her head to the right to get a look at her writing desk. The brass cage where Andrill, for she insisted on calling him by his birth name, lived rested on it with the door open. Andrill himself had taken the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit and stroll across the expanse of her desk. She wasn’t worried about him running away, for the desk was too high with little to no features that would be useful for climbing down. It felt odd, at times, to think of how she kept this living, thinking creature locked up in a cage. Then again, she had to remember that, without her protection, Andrill would surely die trying to survive out in the city unprotected. It would be even worse if he somehow made it back to the forest. He said nothing in response to her outburst, as usual. Despite the short moment they had shared when she’d first shrunken down weeks ago, Andrill had only occasionally spoken to her, and for short intervals at a time. It was only natural, she supposed. True progress took time and patients, traits Annallya was running out of when it came to swordplay.

 

Against every instinct that berated her to remain on the bed, Annallya rose to her feet and picked her sword up once more. Shifting into her fighters stance, she squared off against an imaginary foe. At first she tried to go through her forms as she was always taught, with one hand wielding the sword, and an imaginary shield strapped to the other arm. One step at a time, she rehearsed what she’d always practiced: swing, chop, block, stab. As Annallya continued however, her shield hand would unconsciously grab the hilt of the sword, completely throwing off her sense of coordination. When she attempted another swing, the sword actually slid from her grasp and tumbled end over end, and topple a candle stand.

 

“To the flames with this!” she swore in a rage. “Everytime!”

 

It was unbearable to be so close to figuring something out, only for it to literally slip from your fingers. Annallya had been pouring everything into this in the hopes that it would relax her temper. Or at least tire her out enough that she couldn’t feel angry. As evidenced by her outburst, it was far from successful. Annallya had to spend a few seconds stifling her anger before going over and retrieving her weapon.

 

“This is fruitless.” she muttered to herself as she began picking up candles. “Fighting in this manner, fighting in general, makes no sense! If mother would only allow me to take up a craft or a trade, something time consuming and productive, perhaps then I may actually find a little peace. What in embers-”

 

“It’s never going to work.” Andrill softly interjected.

 

Annallya stiffened and slowly turned her gaze back to her desk. Andrill sat with his back against a book and a leg hanging off of the edge of the desk. It was the first time he’d spoken to her all day.

 

She put on a tired smile for the little human. “Clearly it is not. However I cannot fathom why.”

 

“Because you’re trying to blend together two different fighting styles that don’t easily compliment each other.” he answered.

 

Annallya’s eyes suddenly widened in shock. Not only was that the single longest sentence he had ever spoken, but it was uncommonly . . . insightful. For a human to have spoken like that was unheard of.

 

“E-excuse me?” she asked once she had gotten over her surprise. “What are you referring to?”

 

Andrill looked away with a grimace, as if he wished that he could take back what he had said. “Never mind it. I apologize for speaking out of turn mistress.”

 

“No no no no no, you did nothing wrong,” she quickly assured him. Annallya walked over towards the desk in quick, light steps. Kneeling down before the desk, she gently placed both of her hands on the smooth wooden surface, not too close to where Andrill sat. She continued in a soft voice. “Please, continue with what you were saying. And for the last time my name is Annallya, not mistress. You will address me as all of my friends do.”

 

Andrill gazed quizzically at the red-haired giantess, smiling next to him. He considered her for an anxious period of time, enough to make Annallya feel nervous being in front of him. Perhaps she’d scared him again into silence.

 

“I’ve seen the way you practice forms,” he said at last. “The way you Titans fight is based on strength and brutality. That’s why it only takes one hand to use your sword. But the way you’re trying to fight, with both hands, is completely different.”

 

Annallya almost held her breath as she listened intently to his words. The way he spoke was quite interesting. It was very . . . she did  not want to say uneducated, clearly he knew how to get his message across. Straightforward was a more fitting term. He wasted little time on proper sentence structure and spoke right to the point. He even found a way to combine specific words together to make his speech more efficient. Fascinating, these little people and their ways. Every day brought new truths to light. And his analysis of Titan fighting methods. How had he so quickly deduced them?

 

Andrill continued. “What you’re trying to do with your other hand is a different style of fighting altogether. More advanced if you ask me. Anyone can swing a sword in one hand and try and chop your head off. But with two hands you’re more controlled, more focused, and more dangerous.”

 

Annallya raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is that so? Then explain why I do not feel very focused or dangerous at the moment.”

 

Andrill paused. He didn’t exactly smile, as Annallya had hoped he would. She’d never seen him smile before. However, something in his face seemed to soften up by the tiniest of margins. “Because your sword isn’t designed for that kind of fighting. The blade’s short and the grip’s only made to fit in one hand. If you want to use your other hand then you need a longer sword and grip.”

 

Without much thought to the action, Annallya banged her fist against the table, no more than a few feet from her little pet. “As I suspected!” she exclaimed. “I knew that it must have something to do with the weapon, and not my skill with it!”

 

Despite the shock that came with her fist hitting the ground he sat on, Andrill remained where he was. Though Annallya saw the trepidus look he cast at her hand, and the way he tensely braced himself against the spine of the book. It was the look of a trapped animal that dared not make any sudden movement, for fear of being seen. Remorse flooded into her in an instant, coloring her pale face red. Idiot girl! she mentally screamed to herself. Finally, you are having a conversation with a man, and you go and frighten him half to death. And while he is assisting you with your training no less! Fool!

 

“I am truly sorry,” she meekly spoke. “I had not meant to intimidate you. Please, accept my humble apologies . . . as well as my debt for your help.”

 

Once more silence ruled over the room. It’s uncomfortable weight threatened to crush Annallya where she knelt. It was the weight of having done something wrong, having almost hurt someone. More than that, having almost killed someone. Annallya vividly recalled what it had been like to make herself small and stand before Andrill. Ordinarily, when a Titan makes herself small, there is no fear of what she is doing, for she can make herself big again at any moment. There is never a need to fear anyone while you are the size of a human for they cannot stop you from growing back. Inside of that cage, however, she’d made the silent promise to be small around a wild animal, and not grow again while inside of that cage. She had almost failed in that but her will held none the less. And it was almost too much, to stand there in the power of a human and not be sure if he wished harm upon you or not. That had only been for mere minutes. Andrill lived like that every day. Anything she did around him, no matter how gentle, would be looked upon with a measure of skepticism and caution, and she accepted that. To almost hurt him, however, was something she did not want to consider at all.

 

“You need a new sword,” he at last told her.

 

Annallya lifted her eyes from their cast down position, to stare at Andrill. As before he was still sitting with his back to the book. Despite the tremor he had just experienced, none of the shock he must have felt was visible on his face. He sat poised on the desk as if he were beneath a shady tree.

 

“Andrill I-” she began.

 

He interrupted again. “If you want to be able to fight with both hands, you’ll need a new sword. A different kind.”

 

Annallya nodded, not quite understanding why he chose to let what had just happen pass, but she was grateful for it. “Yes I agree with your assessment. However, I know not of where to find a weapon of such unique make. The smiths of Thylara are only versed in making swords the way that they always have.”

 

“Then find wood.” Andrill suggested.

 

“Wood?” she asked. “You would have me enter into battle with a sword of wood?”

 

“Wood to make a practice sword.” Andrill clarified. “Cut wood into lathes, strap them together, and wrap a little cloth around it. A practice sword, and you can make it any length.”

 

In an instant Annallya’s face lit up like a fireworks display. Why had an idea such as this not cross her mind before? It was so simple! “Andrill that is brilliant! I cannot thank you enou-” she paused for a moment. “Andrill . . . answer me true. How is it that you are so knowledgeable in this when your kind does not even know what a sword is?”

 

Andrill’s eyes bore directly into her own as he faced her with a smile devoid of any actual humor. “You really don’t know us, do you?”

 

With an almost lazy grace, the diminutive human stood to his feet and began to make his way across the landscape of the desk. “A man taught me,” he stated, never once looking at his giant companion, as he made his way towards his cage.

 

“A . . . a man?” Annallya asked in open skepticism.

 

“A good man.” he replied. Without another word to her, Andrill reclined on his miniature bed and closed his eyes to rest. Annallya took a moment to gaze curiously at her pet. Clearly he must be joking with her. Men did not understand swordplay, they didn’t even have the intelligence to create weapons. How then were they to understand the intricacies of sword fighting, and warfare? The idea was preposterous. And yet, Andrill had completely dumbfounded her in his knowledge of the art. He understood perfectly the problem facing her, and had developed a solution that had escaped Annallya’s own attention. The idea sounded impossible when played back in her head, but it had happened before her very eyes.

 

Annallya shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. If allowed to continue to follow such absurd notions, she would be kneeling there for days. So she rose quietly, tied on her sandals, slipped on her belt knife, and proceeded through and out of the palace. It was barely past midday and Thylara was at it’s busiest. Women and girls of all types swarmed in every directions like fish in a giant pond. Wood clopped against the stone streets as carts roamed about. The carts were hitched to great beasts called mammoths, the only animals known that were bigger than Titans in mass. The creatures themselves look like a cross between an ox and a lion. The body of the beast was unmistakably ox-like, and thick with muscle, along with the two great horns atop its head. However, unlike an ox, mammoths have pawed feet instead of hooves, and shaggier hair. While standing on all fours the mammoth came to chest level of the average Titan, and were much longer in body length. Despite their large and frightening appearance, mammoths were a languid and docile species, pulling carts and carrying passengers without much care or complaint. On both sides of the street were shops full of women selling their wares to passersby. Bakers, jewelers, sandal makers, florists, food vendors, tailors, potters, butchers and weavers of all types competing for the attention of the masses. Annallya knew many of them, it was normally her responsibility to shop for food, along with any other errands that her mother found no time for. Today, though, her mind was set on a path. Stopping by at a local tailor shop, Annallya was able to purchase both string and rope for herself. Unfortunately at the carpenters shop, the wooden lathes were too expensive for her to buy as well.

 

With her purse dangerously light, she was faced with no other option than to resort to her back up plan. Weaving through the thicket of customers as quickly and nimbly as she could, Annallya made her way to the gates of the city. Despite the feuds that spring up and die down within weeks, Titan cities receive regular travellers from neighboring or far off cities. As such the gates remain open throughout the day, only shutting at night. The gates themselves were mostly wood and stood over 20ft high in Titan scale. All along the perimeter of the city ran a wall 30ft in scale, made to protect its people from whatever rival city that decided to attack. Watchtowers were stationed periodically along the expanse of the stone wall. Guards in battle gear stood by and watched the trickle of guests enter into the city. Annallya gave them a nod and a smile as she walked outside of the city, but spoke not a word to anyone. They would call her mad had they known what she was about to do. The road from the gates ran off into the western horizon for as far as the eye could see. Hills were scattered about the landscape in odd and random intervals. There was not a tree in sight, there never were. The only trees that were Titan scale grew to the north of Thylara. Here at the southern gate of the city, the land was grassy and bare.

 

Annallya stepped from the wide dirt path that took on from Thylara to any of the other Titan cities, and onto the grassy plains of the landscape. Few ever wander such ways for everyone knows that there is nothing to be found in this direction. Nothing except the tiny woods that humans roamed about. Even then, those woods were vast, albeit tiny, and humans could only be found unfathomably deep within the veritable ocean of miniscule trees. Still, Annallya was reluctant, afraid even, to put herself so close to habitat that might bring her close to a wild and untamed human. The only reason she was even going to this forest for wood was because the great Titan groves to the north were more than half a day’s walk from the city. Whereas the walk to the human’s forest took her less than twenty minutes, plenty of time for Annallya to muster her courage when it finally came into sight. At full height Annallya stood 100ft tall compared to a human, a little taller than the average Titan even. The trees before her reached just below her waist. It was quite a different sight, however, when she shrunk herself down. From Annallya’s perspective, the trees themselves seemed to be growing above her, dominating and intimidating her just by being there. Every branch looked down on her from above. It made Annallya feel small in a way she had never before experienced.

 

Steadying her rising heartbeat, Annallya set to work picking out branches from the trees. She used the knife at her belt to cut down a particularly thick branch that had been hanging lower to the ground. After cleaning it of excess wood and twigs, she held it in her hands as she would a sword. The length was considerably longer compared to her Titan made gladius. She took a few practice swings, holding it in both hands as she had tried hundreds of times before. It felt . . . comfortable. Much better than the one handed gladius she’d always used. Unfortunately the weight was quite light, meaning she would need more branches. It wasn’t easy to find, for she had to look for the branches that were particularly straight. For almost an hour Annallya walked up and down the tree line, growing and shrinking to reach different branches. Never once did she set foot past the outermost trees at the very edge of the forest. One never knew what could be lurking within, even at the very edge of the woods. Finally, after much trial and error, Annallya came away with ten sturdy, straight branches. Perfect for the construction of a practice sword.

 

Annallya gathered her bundle of materials and turned to head back home, when an itch crept up her spine and stopped between her shoulder blades. She threw an uncertain glance behind over her shoulder at the trees. Nothing stirred, not a leaf on the breeze, and not a living creature to be seen. She knew what could be hiding in that mess of foliage and darkness, she knew that she should be growing to full height and running as far away as she could. And yet she could not block out the noise that was not there, the silent call of the forest. The allure of the dangerous and the unknown. It spoke to Annallya in a way that could not be described in a library’s worth of books. As slowly and cautiously as if she were being watched, Annallya layed her bundle of materials on the ground. Then, grasping her belt knife in a white knuckle grip, she took her first trepidous step into the forest of humans.

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

For the first time in what felt like days, the small party had come across a path in the woods. This would greatly ease their travelling, especially since they had no horses to spare for the journey. For almost a week they had been wandering these woods, their paths of choice chosen through guessing and faith, for their map had been lost to the river days ago. They would  probably have already reached their destination if they still had that map. Jull lifted a scuffed hand to his weathered face and peered at the sun, barely breaking through the treetops. Judging by the sun’s path, they must still be heading west, which was the direction they needed to be going in. But there was no way to tell how far off from their mark they really were. They could have passed within a mile of where they were headed and not have known. With a sigh of concern, he rubbed his hand through the sparse hair that remained on his head. It came back slick with sweat, they had been walking a long time. He wiped his hand on a shirt that had long since stopped being clean. His trousers were in no better condition, caked with dust and mud. None of that mattered, though. So long as his boots remained in good condition, he could still walk. His face was unwashed, his legs burned, his back ached, but burning embers he could still walk.

 

Looking back, Jull took note of the condition of his two travelling companions, they didn’t look any better than he. Tana, his only daughter, was caked in as much dirt as he was. A pity he idly thought, at sixteen winters of age, she was quite a beautiful girl. Not someone who should be forced to walk for days on end with dirt all over her face. Her green tunic-like top was worn from many nights of being slept in, and her pants were little better. She carried a bow in hand, with a quiver bristling with arrows at her hip. Jull had taught her how to use that bow himself. He didn’t carry one, trusting her younger eyes to use it better. He made due with the walking stick in his left hand. Trailing behind Tana was Jorna, a boy barely nine winters old. The boy wasn’t Jull’s, he was actually his brother’s son. Jull was tasked with looking after him as he travelled to lands safer from Titans. He was a good kid, and made good use of the sling in his hand for hunting rabbits and squirrel. Between him and Tana, the three had eaten well over the past couple of days. Right now Jorna was looking at him with those brown eyes that seemed to see more than most grown men.

 

“Uncle Jull?” he asked.

 

“What is it boy?” Jull grunted.

 

“We’re lost.” There was no hint of a question in that statement, only fact. “I know that you feel like you need to keep me happy by pretending we’re not, but I know we are. You can tell me, I can take it.”

 

Despite everything, Jull managed a genuine smile at the boys cleverness. He traded an amused look with Tana, who shrugged. He was too smart for his own good. “We’re not lost, Jorna. I know where we need to be going. I just haven’t found it yet.”

 

“What’s this village even called, da?” Tana asked.

 

“It’s not just a village, Tana, it’s a haven.” he declared for them both. “A village buried so deep in the woods, no Titan has ever found it before. The people live completely free from fear of those monsters taking them away.” Jull’s face took on a faraway look, as if he were seeing it in front of him now. “Sol-har. Where we’ll finally be safe.”

 

“If we ever find it,” Tana muttered scornfully.

 

“We will!” he insisted. “We wi-” Jull stopped short as he heard the sound of a leaves being disturbed on the forest floor, the sound of footsteps. He and Tana both turned towards the noise, Tana with an arrow notched in her bow.

 

“Wait,” he whispered. “That didn’t sound like an animal. Might be people.” He continued in a louder voice. “It’s alright, we ain’t gonna hurt you. Come on out.”

 

From behind a rather thick tree trunk stepped a tall, slender woman. The leaves rustled and crunched under her sandaled feet. She wore an immaculate sleeveless top of white that connected to a skirt that ended just past her knees. A red corset-like belt was at her waist that held a sheathed knife. What was even stranger than her clothes was the fact that not a spec of dirt marred them. Even stranger than that, however, was the gem on her forehead, dangling from a silver chain wrapped around her head. It was the purest little saphire Jull had ever seen. Bluer than any drop or water, and shaped just the same. Jull squinted at her in the light. Suddenly his face turned bone white, as he gripped harder on the walking stick in his hand.

 

“Sun and stars,” he breathed. “It can’t be. Not here.”

 

In his shock Jull took an involuntary step backwards, and was about to scream for Tana and Jorna to run, when he saw that the woman had mirrored his movement and stepped back. It was merely a tiny step, but Jull had seen it. He thought he imagined it, but then he took a second look at her. The woman, the Titan’s face, was etched in shock and . . . and what looked like fear. With the adrenaline of fear coursing through his system, Jull felt as though he had ages to study her face. Yes there was no mistaking it. This Titan, for he recognized the clothes she wore as Titan made, was frightened by them. He couldn’t fathom why, how could one contemplate something as monstrous as a Titan being afraid of anything. But when he took another step back, the Titan again mirrored his motion, backing another step away.

 

“Look at the ground,” he whispered to his daughter and nephew. His throat felt as dry as the dust on his face. “Keep backing up slowly. No sudden movements.”

 

“Uncle?” Jorna asked in a whisper. “What’s going on? Who is she?”

 

“Just do as I say,” he answered, taking another step back.

 

The family continued to back away as slowly as they could, no one dared even sneeze as they moved. Finally, when the woman was out of sight, and only when she was out of sight, did they all break into a run. They flew along the dirt path as fast as their feet could carry them, leaving Annallya standing there in utter shock, and a single word on the tip of her soft tongue.

 

“Sol-har.”

 

“Annallya? . . . . Annallya!”

 

Annallya’s head snapped up from the book she had had it buried in to see Thoren standing before her. The shorter, darker woman was standing with her hands planted firmly on her hips and a scowl etched across her lovely face. She was dressed in her armour, with her sword sheathed at her hip, and her shield on her back. Annallya blinked.

 

“Is it time already for battle practice?” She asked as she rose from her seat at the table. “I apologize Thoren, I seem to have lost track of the time.”

 

But Thoren only stood there and blinked at her. “Annallya . . . battle practice is over.”

 

Annallya stiffened. “What? Impossible!”

She cast a disparaging look at the nearest window. Sure enough the sun was well past it’s midday peak and on it’s way down. Had she really spent so much time reading? Mother would not be happy if she ever learned of this. Annallya had risen early in order to investigate the books of the palace library for information. Ever since her unexpected, and downright horrifying encounter with those humans in the woods, Annallya became determined to learn something she considered to be groundbreaking.

 

“What book has had your attention for so long, when you struggle so hard to complete your regular studies?” Thoren asked. She walked around the table and inspected the books Annallya had been reading for most of the day. “Maps? You were investigating maps? Is this a part of your advisor lessons?”

 

Annallya considered lying to Thoren for a second and letting her believe exactly that. However she felt as though she needed to confide in someone her potential discovery. Someone she trusted to be more open minded than the majority of Titans. Looking around cautiously for eavesdroppers, she pulled Thoren in closer to sit besides her at the table. In a hushed voice she unfolded before Thoren the events of the other day, starting from Andrill’s assistance in her training, all the way to her encounter in the woods with wild humans.

 

“Annallya! Has reason abandoned you entirely!” Thoren admonished her in a forceful whisper, that was barely a whisper. “What sense do you have that could have driven you to such dangerous impulses!”

 

“I could have grown myself back again at any moment Thoren, I was never helpless.” She retorted. “Do not address me as a wittless child playing with fire.”

 

“No! A wittless child playing with fire would not be in half as much danger as you were. We know so little of what else lurks in those woods.” Thoren explained through clenched teeth. “What if there had been venomous animals lying in wait of you? Or suppose there had been more humans preparing to ambush you while you were small?”

 

“Thoren! Can you not see the more significant picture here?” She insisted. “The human male claimed that there was a village of other little people hidden deep within the forest. A village of men and women, Thoren! Everything we have been taught of humans could potentially be wrong!”

 

“Do not use such ridiculous notions to distract me from the topic at hand.” Thoren said in an accusational tone of voice.

 

“They are not ridiculous Thoren.” Annallya intensely whispered. “How else can you explain Andrill’s unnatural insightfulness? Animals do not observe so well as he.”

 

“Who under Sun and Stars is Andrill?” Her friend asked.

 

“Andrill is the name of my human. It was given to him by his own mother out in the wild!” Annallya excitedly explained. “You see Thoren? We know so little of them, and have always assumed we have learned all there is.”

 

Thoren tensely closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths to reign in both her temper and her patience. Annallya wanted very much to believe that this was somehow an unlikely sign of progress, and not of another oncoming lecture.

 

At last Thoren opened her eyes, and gazed intensely at Annallya. “First and foremost,” she began. “Humans do not name one another in the wild. They can barely speak as it is, and must be taught and encouraged to expand what little vocabulary they have.”

 

“Andrill,” Annallya emphasized heavily on his name. “Speaks quite well. True he lacks proper grammar and sentence structure, but I would hardly call him uneducated. Who else could have taught him in the wild except for other humans?”

 

“The Seekers taught him.” Thoren shot back. “Once they find a wild human and bring him to Thylara, they are then trained for a short while. They have the capacity to learn language, but it is alien to their primitive minds, and so they must be taught before becoming pets.”

 

“Then how is it that Andrill knew so much of swordplay?” She asked. “He gave me information I myself was never taught. Where then did I learn these ideas from, if not from a human?”

 

“You practice in your room. Most likely he was spouting nonsense in an attempt to feign intelligence. It was pure luck that his words made sense. I doubt he understands very much what it was that he told you. Humans do not use tools or weapons. They hunt and kill with their hands.”

 

Annallya stubbornly folded her arms across her chest. “Explain then the weapons I saw the wild humans brandishing?”

 

Thoren shrugged. “Just sticks. It does not take great wisdom to figure out that a stick may be of use in hunting. Perhaps that is a measure of some intelligence we have over looked. But it is of little significance when compared to a sword and shield.”

 

“What of the bow the young girl was carrying?”

 

“Another stick.” She clarified. “Your mind was racing with terror in the face of bloodthirsty beasts, and in your haste you perceived something that was not. I would not be surprised if the clothes you saw were nothing more than leaves, plastered to their bodies from the mud.”

 

Annallya angrily blew through her nostrils at each rebuttal and dismissal of her experiences. She knew what she had saw in those woods was no mistake. There had been a family, a family of humans! Fending for themselves in the wild and caring for each other. They wore clothes on their backs and carried weapons in their hands. It shook the very foundation of her beliefs.

 

“Why will you not believe me? You are my oldest and dearest friend Thoren. Have we ever lied to one another? Have you no more trust in me?” She asked, almost pleadingly for Thoren to understand her point of view.

 

Thoren’s ebony face softened as she took in her childhood friend’s voice. “Annallya I love you as I would a sister, and I always have. However you have always had these preposterous notions in your head that go against our very way of life.”

 

“What notions have I had?” She demanded.

 

“Your idea of ending all conflicts with every Titan settlements forever.”

 

Annallya snorted. “Is it so bad that I wish for an end to these pointless conflicts?”

 

“If it were up to you Annallya, all of Thylara would become craftswomen.” Thoren asserted. “How then would we protect ourselves from other cities and other lands?”

 

Annallya merely shook her head sadly, as she stood up from the table. “I thought you would believe me. I thought you would understand.”

 

She walked out of the library, leaving her exasperated friend behind. The library had yielded no results, and her best friend believed her to be deranged. Yet there was still on place that she could go to that might have the answers she sought.

 

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Her mother kept an immaculate study. The room was half the size of Annallya’s bedroom, and decorated modestly but beautifully. The floor was of polished marble; and the walls painted like landscapes, with rolling green fields and a sky of blue. A desk and chair of intricately carved wood were placed against the wall closest to the doorway. The wall directly opposite of the desk was lined wall to wall with bookshelves. The wall opposite of the doorway was mostly covered by a single great map of all of the known Titan settlements and cities, along with every notable piece of geography in between. On the desk sat a few organized charts and papers. A single candle sat unlit in a stick on pure gold, carved and decorated with the likenesses of flowers. A gift from her friend Queen Phelonous herself, and not the only one. To Annallya’s right hung a gladius sword with an ivory handle, and a hilt decorated with rubies the size of her pinky nail. The sheath of the sword was of the finest leather, decorated with gold at both the head and tip, and painted with a swirling design in gold paint. It was once the sword Annallya’s mother had used during her service in the Thylaran military. On her fortieth birthday, Queen Phelonous had the sword reworked and decorated, as a gift to her childhood friend.

 

Currently, her mother was attending the Queen’s court, advising her on decisions regarding the cases of her citizens. All the same, she wanted to spend as little time in this room as she could. The last thing Annallya wanted to do was be caught looking through her mother’s private charts. With the utmost haste Annallya strode to the bookcases, searching for a book on maps that had not been in the library. A few she had found, but none were of the woods of the humans. That was always classified as unexplored territory, or of nothing but uninhabited wilderness. Turning from the bookcases, she went to the desk and began rifling through the charts. These were much the same as the ones in the books. Becoming slightly frantic, she opened the drawers of the desk, looking for anything of significance. Just as she was clawing her way through the widest drawer of the desk, Annallya felt the wood beneath her fingers shift. Curiously, she shifted it again with her fingertips, and found that it was a fake bottom, a piece of wood resting on top of the real bottom of the drawer. As cautiously as if it were a trap, Annallya lifted and removed the wood from the drawer. Beneath it, lay a small assortment of letters, and a single folded piece of paper. Upon unfolding the parcel, she saw that it was another map. This map focused primarily upon the city of Thylara, and the land surrounding it within a radius of a mile or two. What made this map different from any of the others was its greater emphasis on the woods outside the city, the same woods she had enter into the other day. And at the center of those woods, scratched across the page, was an X. The mark of a secret of great importance. So important, in fact, that only the Queen’s most trusted advisor was allowed possession of such knowledge, and kept it hidden in her most private of rooms. Annallya could not help the smile that broke out over her face.

 

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The very next day, as soon as the sun peaked out above the horizon, Annallya got dressed and set out. She left a note for her mother explaining that she was going out to run errands and practice her forms somewhere alone. That should be enough to excuse her for being gone the whole day if need be. She wore her usual outfit, a green sleeveless top trimmed with white, a leather belt in place of the red sash, and a green and white trimmed skirt. Attached to her belt was her knife, a pack containing some bread and cheese to eat as the day progressed, and the map she had taken from her mother’s study. With the palace only just starting to rise, and the streets empty, Annallya made her way outside of the city.

 

As before she strayed from the Titans path and continued on towards the very same place where she first encountered the human family. She stayed at her Titan height even after setting foot into the trees. This area of the woods was sparse, and so she could carefully watch her steps, without having to worry about being taken by surprise again. After a minute, however, the trees became more and more dense, until it felt as though she were trudging through a river. In order to find and approach the village it would seem she could not longer travel at her full height. Looking down at her sandaled feet she saw the thick forest of trees, barely reaching the height of her waist, and closed her eyes as she began to shrink. When Annallya opened her eyes again she was amazed at what she saw. Before her lay an entirely new world! Lush, green grass carpeted the ground as rocks, leaves, roots, and vines decorated the scene. The trees, that only moments before were level with her thighs, now soared above her head! A gentle breeze brushed through the forest, rustling the leaves and making the birds chirp as they flew from the branches. Birds! There were no birds back in Thylara! Looking at them now they seemed so small, even at human size, yet beautiful. This was nothing like the sparse trees she saw last time. This was deeper, thicker with life and so much more! She could have spent hours standing there, watching them move with such incredible grace, as she drank in the serenity of the forest. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford to waste such time. Travelling as a Titan may have turned a two day trip into one of only a few hours, but she still had a lot of walking to do now that she was smaller. Adjusting the handle of her knife one more time Annallya set off for the west.

 

The journey was slower than she was used to, but enjoyable. Getting to see the world hidden beneath the trees was an experience she would never likely forget. However Annallya had to move slowly as she had never walked along the forest terrain before. Her footing was constantly shifting up and down, and occasionally rocks would shift and move out from underneath of her. Never-the-less she continued walking, determined to see everything. At one point she even came upon a river, the first river she had ever seen. Back in Thylara, Titans drew all of their water through irrigation systems and wells from enormous lakes. But out here she could marvel at the shimmering water, watching it sparkle as the sun touched it’s flowing surface. The fish were another sight, jumping out of the water and splashing playfully at her. After stopping to rest for a minute, Annallya grew just big enough to step across the river, and then shrank back down to continue her trek.

 

Minutes slowly turned into hours and the hours wore on. By now the sun had already reached it’s peak and was beginning its timely descent back towards the ground. Annallya stopped for a moment to consult the map, using the sun to make sure she was still heading west. The village should not be more than another hour or two of walking. But when she looked at the map she saw a group of hills that represented where she should be now. Except that there were no hills where Annallya stood. She sighed. This meant that she would have to retrace her steps all the way back to the river. Tucking the map away, she started to get on her way when her stomach began to rumble. She remembered that she had eaten the last of her bread and cheese at that last stop for rest. Of course there must be food here in the forest, though. How else could so many animals thrive out here? All it took was a bit of scourging and she found a bush covered in pretty red berries. They appeared fat and plump, and filled with a wonderful jeuce. Annallya picked one and was about to eat it . . . . when something cold and sharp rested on her throat and stayed there.

 

“Make one wrong move Titan,” said a deep, male voice from behind. “And I’ll open your throat”

 

Annallya’s breath caught in her throat, but she somehow remained absolutely still. Glancing down with just her eyes she was able to see the arm of her assailant. She could feel his left arm pressed against the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a thick forearm, but there was no way to tell how much muscle there was due to the man’s coat sleeve. Not that it mattered much to her, there was no possible way that this human could match her Titan strength. But, so long as she was in this smaller state, Annallya was no stronger than a human female of her height. Which meant that she was in very real danger now. “Please, lay down your knife.” she requested, straining to keep her voice soft and steady. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

 

“And I don’t want to kill you.” her captor replied. “Now what’re you doing here? The last offering was given to your people over a month ago.”

 

“O-Offering? I know not of what you are talking about.” Which was not a lie, she really did not.

 

The knife pressed a little harder against her skin. Not yet cutting it but not feeling particularly comfortable either. The man’s voice did not rise in volume, yet it hardened like steel “Don’t play games with me Titan. Your people remind that village constantly of the price it has to pay to stay alive. So why’ve you come back!”

 

Annallya gasped. It was a serious effort not to cry out with that knife pressed against her throat. “Please! I truly do not know! I only wanted to meet a human in person!” she whispered frantically.

 

The man was silent for a few moments. Then the knife was removed from her neck and Annallya let out a breath of relief. She kept a hand at her throat while she tried to shake off what had almost happened. Reluctantly, she turned to face the man who had almost killed her. It was her first time seeing a wild man this close before, and it amazed her how different he appeared when compared to a Titan. He was fairly tall, taller than she was in her human form. Strange to think that she now had to look up at a human. His facial features were notable, though. They were hard as stone, and appeared just as strong and unmoving. His brown hair was somewhat long, but did not reach any farther than his neck. He had a full beard, and icy blues eyes that held an unusual gleam as he watched her. He wore a black coat left open to expose his white laced shirt underneath. Attached to the coat was a black hood that framed his face, and gave him a darker, more sinister appearance. Brown trousers were tucked into his calf high leather boots. His knife was sheathed but he still held a bow in his left hand, a quiver of arrows poked out from behind his back. Tied to his belt were the bodies of three small animals with ears too long for their tiny heads, all strung together on a piece of rope. No doubt he had been out hunting.

 

What was particularly interesting to notice was that he stood a little more than five steps away from her, and she had turned around almost as soon as he had let her go. This human, he was quick, and . . . and scary. The way he stood there, studying her with those cold, unforgiving eyes. It was completely terrifying to think that she had almost been killed by him. Titans believed themselves to be all but invincible, and for good reason. The only thing people actually believed could kill a Titan was another Titan. To think that a human, a creature that was so puny and insignificant compared to her, had almost slit her throat made Annallya shiver. Unconsciously, she clutched the hilt of her own knife as if it was all that kept him at bay.

 

“You wanted to meet a human?” he asked in that quiet baritone of a voice.

 

Annallya nodded, not trusting herself to speak

 

“Why?” his expression, his whole body actually, never changed a bit.

 

“I-I . . .” It was an effort for to regain her composure, knowing that his gaze still held her captive. “I have never before seen a human that was not yet . . . rescued.” It was becoming progressively easier to speak calmly. “None of the rescued humans speak unless told to, for they are afraid of us. I wished to see what you were like where you come from.” she swallowed. “You are . . . not what I had expected.”

 

His eyes narrowed at the word ‘rescued’, the rest of his face was unreadable. However, there was no mistaking the quiet anger buried underneath of that stone-like face. Annallya began eyeing the bow in his hand, as if she could sense his urge to use it against her. Mentally, she prepared herself to grow back to her normal size the instant his hand moved for an arrow. But he continued to stand there, and spoke.

 

“Those berries you almost ate are poisonous. If you only eat one, the chances are you’d feel sick all day. Eat a few more and you’re dead in hours. If it’s food you need then you can always find eatable fruit in most of the trees.”

 

She was unable to meet his gaze for longer than a few second, but she made sure never to look away from him entirely. Those berries she had almost eaten were poisonous? Did that mean he had just saved her life? Why save her life if only to threaten it, and then offer food? She truly did know nothing of humans and their ways. However, the more she did learn, the more she yearned to continue. Even his way of speaking, gruff and straight-forward, was uncommon to her, and hypnotic.

 

After checking the creatures on his belt, the man faced her. “Go back to where you came from, Titan. If you return, I won’t hesitate to kill you” Then he turned to leave.

 

“Wait!” Annallya called urgently, taking only a step forward. He stopped and cast her a look over his shoulder. “What is your name?”

 

The man hesitated, looking her over once more. Weighing her against his answer. “Gaelin. Gaelin Val’ Saida.” He plainly stated.

 

“I am Annallya Rhaolin,” she announced. “You mentioned earlier of a village. Is it close? You must take me there.” She did not make it sound a request. And why should she? Annallya was a Titan, used to making humans obey her orders. Perhaps it will work on this wild man.

 

But Gaelin only hardened his glare. “There are good people in that village. You’ll not go near them.” His was not a request either. Then he turned away and darted into the forest brush.

 

“Stop!” Annallya called out. She was not about to let him go so easily, not when he knew where this settlement was. So she pursued him into the trees. Finally, Annallya had the chance to see a real village and speak with humans in their own habitat. She was prepared to run him down and talk with him until he listened to reason. There was only one problem, though. This Gaelin, whoever he was, has clearly spent years in these woods. As soon as he disappeared through those bushes, Annallya never saw another sign of him. How could anyone disappear so easily in a place like this? The answer to that became apparent after Annallya realized she had lost her way again. Searching did no more good than to waste time. If she did return home soon, Mother would be furious at her long absence. For a brief moment she considered growing to full height, only to try and see where this village was, but dismissed it outright. It was unlikely that she would be able to find it among all of the thousands of trees. Worse, the humans would see her first and flee as far away as they could. So she set out, still at human size, for home but resolved to return another time. At the very least she had learned a few things this day. She’d travelled through a forest and spoken with a wild man, and he had left her with more than enough questions to answer. The foremost of those being: what was the ‘offering’?

 

It was near supper time when Annallya arrived back home. She hurried up the steps of the palace and strode past the guards without so much as a glance. Adrenaline was still hot in her system and her mind raced through the events of the day. She replayed every moment as if they were pages within a book, and she read through them over and over again. Her steps were quick and light, she felt as if her feet were barely touching the floor. That human, that man she made herself think, Gaelin, he had been something she would never have dreamed of in her life. Humans could only be separated into two categories, the rescued and the wild. The rescued humans were the only ones that Annallya had ever met throughout her life, and they were usually all the same. Small, quiet, and subdued. They never snapped at their owners, nor bite at a Titan who would hold them. They never roamed far from their owners and were obedient without question. Wild humans, though, were the furthest thing from tame. All her life she had been taught the lessons and heard the stories, just as all women had when they were girls. Humans, especially men, were mindless wild beasts. They think of nothing, care for nothing, save for the blood of their next kill. They roam the woods in light and shadow, scouring the land for the meat of another living creature, maybe even one of their own. They would pounce upon their prey and slaughter it with their bare hands and teeth. They felt nothing, not love, nor compassion, nor sadness, nor fear. Only hunger, and rage. Terrible, terrible rage.

 

But that man, that Gaelin, stood against every lesson she had ever been taught. His clothes, his weapons, his mannerisms, and his actions all spoke of a man worth more than the poultry words written in so many books about his kind. He stood with a knife against the throat of a Titan, perfectly capable of killing her on a whim. Yet, for some inconceivable reason, he chose to save her life from poison, and then allow her to walk free. It was almost unsettling, to have something that one has believed in her entire life, shattered before her like hot glass in a field of snow. Annallya had ventured into those woods with the hope of discovering answers to her questions. However, upon emerging from the ocean of trees, she was distraught to learn that she had only been handed a greater number of questions than before, and it ate at her. So engrossed was Annallya in her ponderings, that she failed to notice the woman in front of her before it was too late.

 

“Annallya!” Thoren exclaimed after the former had driven into her. “What under Sun and Stars are you about now?”

 

“Oh, Thoren?” Annallya said in a tone of both confusion and surprise. “My apologies for running into you.”

 

Thoren paused for a moment to closely observe her friend. “Where have you been Annallya?”

 

“Me? Uh . . . I have been locked within my room for much of the day.” she answered. “I have only just now had the chance to step outside for some air.”

 

“Annallya if you have gone off into those woods in search of more animals I swear-” Thoren began, only to be cut off by her friend.

 

“No no! I have been studying, I promise. As a matter of fact I must find my mother. I have to ask her what an Offering is. We shall speak again later Thoren, I apologize again for my haste.” Before Thoren could utter a word in reply Annallya had already strode the length of the hallway and turned left towards her house. Once inside she dashed up the stairs that led to her room. She wasted no time in removing her sandals this time, and only lit a minimal amount of candles.

 

“Andrill?” she called out as she continued lighting candles. “Andrill are you awake?”

 

From the cage that served as his home, she heard a small groan. “Yes mistress?”

 

Annallya gave an exasperated huff, and continued to light candles. “For the last time Andrill, stop addressing me as mistress.”

 

“I’m sorry mi-” he began but stopped himself. “I’m . . . sorry. What can I help you with?”

 

Annallya reached for the diminutive man, but stopped herself. “May I?” she asked, placing her hand at the door of the cage with her palm towards the ceiling. Andrill remained where he stood and considered her for a moment. Eventually, though, he stepped carefully onto her palm, which was large enough to comfortably hold a man as full grown as him. Very slowly Annallya carried the tiny man over to her bed, where she allowed him to step off. Once he had walked a good distance away, Annallya reclined on her bed, with her back resting against the pillows.

 

“My apologies,” she expressed with a sigh, as she began to remove her sandals this time. “Were I less tired from the day, I would gladly speak with you at my desk.”

 

“It’s alright. What did you want to talk about?”

 

Annallya bit her lip as she considered all of the questions now bubbling to the surface of her thoughts. There was so much she wanted to ask him. So many beliefs of hers that were now being challenged by the three inch man standing before her. But she had to be careful. If she was wrong about his people, then her ownership of Andrill would be nothing less than imprisonment, even though she thought of him as more of a friend than a pet.

 

“Andrill . . .” she began. “If- . . . if it is not too personal . . . would you tell me about your home. Your . . . former home.”

 

Andrill settled himself down on the landscape that was his owners bed. Though his clothes were wrinkled and worn from weeks of being continuously worn, with only minimal washings, he managed to find comfort, as he let out a long breath or relief. “You mean the woods?” he asked with a measure of contempt in his voice. “The forests where I would run and hunt like the animal I am?”

 

“No, what I mean is . . . Tell me about your home. Did you live in a house? Did you have a family? Others whom have loved you?” she asked, holding nothing back.

 

The man on her bed looked up sharply at the Titan reclining before him. It was her face that he searched. Searched for signs of trickery, mockery, anything that would tell him she was not being sincere. It had to be a trick of some kind. That is all that Titans lived for, after all. They desire nothing more than to bring people smaller than them into complete submission and despair. That was all that Annallya wanted. It had to be.

 

Over the past few weeks, however, he thought he had seen signs in his captor that told him otherwise. The way that she insisted being addressed by a name, rather than mistress. The way she never grabbed him in her fist like the others, and the way she apologized to him for acts she considered to be harmful or frightening. But the biggest surprise had been after the first week, when she had shrunken down and faced him in his own cage. She had literally put herself in the only vulnerable position a Titan could be found, human sized. At that size, Andrill could have overpowered her as easily as a human woman. He could have snapped her neck in one hand, and escaped, it would have been so easy. But he did not. Perhaps it was the shock of the moment that had halted his movements, or it could have been that he was moved by how hard she tried to reach out and make a connection to the little human. Annallya had to have known as well as he the kind of danger she had placed herself in, and yet she had still done it willingly. Andrill wanted to believe her, he wanted so bad to believe that she was a friend. If she was not, though, could he bear that kind of betrayal?

 

He looked the Titan in the eyes. “Why?” he asked. The conflict in his mind was heard clearly in his voice.

 

“Because I have ventured into the forest myself and I have seen . . .” she hesitated, not sure how to explain herself to him. “I only need to know if I was wrong about you. About every human.”

 

Andrill took a steady, deep breath. “What do you want to know?”

 

Annallya nodded, the hard part having been concluded. Now came the answers, something she had been craving for longer than she had initially realized. “Did you truly survive alone in the forest, or did you take refuge among other humans? In a . . . a village?”

 

“I lived with my family in a house we built ourselves when I was a boy, barely old enough to help.” he answered. The words had to be dragged from his lips, the memories were painful to recall. “That house became part of a village that we had stumbled upon.”

 

“Your family was travelling through the woods by themselves?” she asked. When he nodded she pressed on. “Why?”

 

“To find a safe place to live.” Andrill replied. “A community.”

 

“A . . . community?” Annallya pronounced the alien word slowly, tasting its unique flavor. “I am unfamiliar with this word. What is it?”

 

The tiny human raised an eyebrow at the big Titan. “A community is what happens when a large group of families come together and live in the same area. Each family lives in a separate house, but they all help and care for each other.”

 

“That sounds quite . . . civilized.” the Titan expressed with a gentle sigh. “It sounds peaceful. Is it so?”

 

“Very.” he agreed. “Humans naturally crave the safety and security that comes from other humans helping and protecting them. It helps bring us together. Isn’t it the same for Titans?”

 

Annallya tilted her head to the side. “What would give you such an idea?”

 

He shrugged. “Why else would you all build a city and live in it?”

 

The giantess sighed as she gazed off into the distance. “Unfortunately it is not as peaceful a life as your community sounds. We Titans are constantly beginning wars with neighboring cities.”

 

“You don’t get along with other Titan cities?” he asked.

 

She shrugged. “Perhaps. I myself personally believe it is because we are a naturally violent race of creatures. We create the conflict for ourselves, and then revel in it.”

 

Andrill was silent for a long moment. Annallya hardly noticed, as she continued to stare off into the distance. Her mind analyzing her entire race, unsure whether or not she was correct, all the while hoping that there truly was more to being a Titan than useless fighting. After a minute of heavy silence, Andrill found the courage to bring his own question to voice. “Do you enjoy fighting, like other Titans?”

 

Annallya snapped out of her contemplation with a shake of the head and a blink. The question had caught her off guard and opened her mind up to a whole new kind of analysis. Did she enjoy fighting the same as all of the others?

 

“I . . . do not know, Andrill. Truly. I have been told that I am unnaturally angry for a Titan. However I never believed that I was meant to be a soldier. I . . .” she shook her head, a little frustrated for not understanding it herself. “I simply do not know.”

 

Andrill rested his forearms on his knees and grunted. “I know what you mean. I used to have trouble with my temper too.”

 

“Used to? What aided you in combating it?” Annallya inquired.

 

“A man helped me. A friend really.” he clarified.

 

“A man?” Annallya exclaimed in disbelief. It was going to take some time for her to fully realize that humans were not the animals she had been lead to believe. “How did this man help you in taming your anger?”

 

For the first time since she had met him, Andrill looked up at Annallya with a small, but genuine grin on his face. “He taught me how to wield a sword.”

 

Annallya sat upright so swiftly, she shifted the covers beneath Andrill, who rolled backwards quite comically. “So it is true! Your kind does know swordplay! And to think, I had wondered how it was you were so knowledgeable in the craft. This is incredible.”

 

“I did make a good teacher,” he said. “Didn’t I?”

 

Now it was the Titan’s turn to grin. “You certainly did,” she said with a small chuckle. “Better by far than the instructors whom have taught me personally. Tell me, did this man teach you how to wield a blade with both hands?”

 

Andrill nodded.

 

“Is . . . is it possible that this man would be willing to teach me? How to properly wield a blade? How to reign in my temper?” she asked, her hope and excitement building with each question.

 

Andrill was taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Uh . . . Maybe.” he said. “I mean, you are a Titan. But he’s . . . a complicated man. Perhaps he would.”

 

That seemed more than enough reassurance for Annallya. “Complicated, you say? How so? What is this man’s name?”

 

“Gaelin Val’ Saida.” he stated simply.

 

Annallya froze where she sat. The memories of the events mere hours before came back all at once. The rush of fresh air on her skin, the cold of a knife at her neck, the fear and intrigue as she stood face to face with a wild man. Very slowly, and very very carefully, Annallya cupped her hands underneath of Andrill. The tiny human had grown accustomed to being picked up, whether he wished it or not, and did not even flinch when she brought her hands together underneath of him. As gently as if he were lifted on a cloud, Andrill was brought close to the Titan’s face.

 

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “But you are sure that his name is . . . Gaelin Val’ Saida?”

 

The little man nodded. “Have you heard the name before?” he asked.

 

Annallya’s lips trembled a bit as she continued to experience the knife that had been held to her throat. “I-I . . . I have met this man before.”

 

Andrill sat up right in her soft palm upon hearing this. “What! When?”

 

“Mere hours ago,” she explained to her little friend. Starting from the events that had taken place the previous week, when she encountered the family travelling through the woods, to her meeting of Gaelin. Andrill listened patiently as the Titan who held him unfolded her story.

 

“And you’re sure it was the same man I named?” he asked when she had finished.

 

“He threatened to kill me should I attempt to find him or the village again.” she answered.

 

Andrill barked out a laugh. “That’s Gaelin all right. Our village calls him ‘The One In Hiding’.”

 

Annallya cocked an eyebrow at the human laughing in the palm of her hand. “Yet you claim that this man can teach me to quell my anger?”

 

“Like I said, Gaelin’s a complicated man.” he replied with a shrug.

 

The red haired giantess sighed. “I am beginning to believe your whole kind can be described as complicated.”

 

“It’s really quite easy to understand us humans,” Andrill stated.

 

“Is that so?” she replied. “How then does one such as I accomplish such a feat?”

 

The mirth and laughter present in Andrill’s face a moment before slid right off. “Stop looking at us as animals.” he said in a very simple voice.

 

The tone of his voice, coupled with the set of his features made him appear older beyond his years. Sometimes, when she looked upon that face, which seemed to hold back much pain and unhappiness behind its mask, Annallya was surprised to recall that she was Andrill’s senior by four winters. At first her features softened, as sympathy crept across her face. With a small shake of her head, though, she quickly rid herself of such an expression, replacing it with set determination. “Under Sun and Stars I swear it” she declared, bringing her little human level with her eyes. “Never again.”

 

Andrill blew out a long breath. “Thank you mistre- . . . . thank you Annallya.” he amended.

 

“You are welcome,” she said in a warm voice.

 

“Gaelin might be a hard man to deal with, but somewhere deep underneath all of his . . .” he sighed. “Somewhere deep inside he’s a good man. I’m sure if you could reach that part of him, he’d teach you the sword.”

 

“If he is such a man as you have described, are you sure I am capable of such?” she asked.

 

But Andrill only shrugged. “I was able to do it once.”

 

Annallya gazed intently at the little man, nestled comfortably in her palm. The ideas racing through her mind were such that she had never considered possible before. To put so much faith in a human was madness. But Andrill had proven to her that humans were nothing like she had first thought possible. Now, she was sure more than ever of what she wanted to do.

 

“Perhaps,” she began. “It would be far easier for me to convince him if I were to take yo-”

 

Suddenly the doors of Annallya’s room were thrown open with violent force, and through them strode an imposing woman. She wore a dress of white and red with a red cloak over her shoulders, the hood drawn back. Her hair, which was a smooth shade of brown, was held up on her head by an ornate pin bejeweled with many precious stones, excluding the curly bangs framing her face. Her features were sharp and pretty, and the nails on her hands were manicured to perfection. Her eyes immediately locked onto the girl sitting on the bed, and the human held within her hand.

 

“Annallya!” she snapped like a whip. Her tone full of authority that demanded the utmost respect and obedience. “What under Sun and Stars are you doing with that!”

 

With speed that comes only from years of obedience, Annallya sprung to her feet, clutching Andrill protectively against her chest. “Mother!” she cried indignantly. “What are you doing here?”

 

Oragale Rhaolin, advisor to Queen Phelonous herself, stood just three inches shorter than her daughter. However, there was no mistaking the presence she commanded upon entering the room. All but the Queen herself deferred to the authority of Mistress Rhaolin. With dark eyes of steel focused primarily upon her daughter, and the human she held, Annallya’s mother strode to her.

 

“Thoren approached me mere moments ago, to confide in me some worries she has been having over your behavior,” she explained. “She claims that you have made mention of the Offering. Is this true?”

 

Annallya swallowed as she steeled herself before her own mother. “Y-yes I have.” Taking a breath, Annallya stood straighter, using her height to gain a little lost confidence. “And I would like to know what it is.”

 

“What it is is of no concern to you,” her mother spat. “She confessed to fears that you have been speaking too often with your pet. It is clear to me now that that is exactly what has been going on.”

 

“Andrill has never once mentioned any offering to me mother,” she protested. “I have discovered this myself.”

 

“Then we shall speak more of this later,” her mother stated. “That does not excuse the behavior of your pet.” She made sure to place specific emphasis on the word pet. “You will give him to me now, so that I may take him to the trainers. There he will be taught not to speak unless spoken to.”

 

But Annallya only held her human closer to her. “No mother.” she asserted.

 

There was no time to react, let alone avoid the blow, as the back of her mother’s hand struck Annallya soundly across the mouth. Much like all Titans, her mother had served her time in the military before becoming an advisor, so the strike was more powerful than the shorter woman looked capable of delivering. Annallya herself staggered one step to the side, though she never once let go of Andrill.

 

“Ungrateful girl.” her mother muttered in contempt. “Did I not gift that man to you? And yet you take such a tone with me? I have raised you to be more respectful than this.”

 

“I am sorry mother!” Annallya gasped. “But I beg of you, please do not take Andrill from me. He is a good pet. He will never speak out of turn to me again. I promise.”

 

But Mistress Rhaolin only held out her hand. “Relinquish him to me now.”

 

With tears streaming down from her eyes, and blood dripping from her split lip, Annallya held Andrill close to her trembling face. “I am sorry Andrill,” she whispered. “I cannot refuse her.”

 

She was not sure what she expected from the diminutive man. Fear perhaps? Anger or contempt for Annallya’s inability to stand up to her mother, certainly. But the man only set his face in grim determination, and nodded once to her.

 

“Find Gaelin,” he instructed. “Ask to be taught. And tell him ‘a bottle is a home for no man’.”

 

Annallya sniffed and nodded once. Then she held her hand out, and allowed her mother to snatch her friend from her hand.

 

“I shall return him to you when I am confident that he is docile once more.” she explain in a voice no softer than before. Without another word, the Titan mistress strode from the room, leaving a very lonely Annallya to cry for her friend’s fate.

 

It only took two hours this time for Annallya to find the spot where she had first encountered Gaelin. Then, just as she had been doing for the past week, she went off in a random direction, hoping to come across the man again. Or, better yet, come across the village he had claimed was somewhere near by. She had been doing this for more than a week, and was now beginning to feel as if she were learning how to ghost her way through the forest. It was fun, even, trying to mimic the animals and pretend like she was a predator searching for her prey. Unfortunately, this was getting her no closer to the village, at least not that she could see.

 

Annallya sighed. After so many days of wandering among the trees this was past frustrating, it was downright disappointing. No sign of a village, not a whisper from that man Gaelin, and not even a glimpse of another human. She was not yet prepared to give up, the problem was that she was running out of optimism. But with hours of daylight still ahead, there was nothing left to do but press on. After about another hour of stalking quietly through the brush and forest growth, Annallya caught sight of something she had not noticed before. A thin trail of smoke rising through the trees. Her breath caught, this could be the sign of human civilization she had been searching for. Wasting no time at all, Annallya took off in the direction of the smoke, trying to maintain a degree of stealth despite her quickened pace. After almost two minutes she emerged into a clearing.

 

The clearing was not very big, and most of it’s space was occupied by a hut. Annallya knew no other word to describe the structure. It was bigger than a simple hut, but far too small to be any sort of house. And its design was unlike any house she had ever seen before. In Thylara, most homes were rectangular and made entirely out of stone. This house, despite being rectangular in shape, was made of nothing but wood! Beams of solid wood had been carved and connected together to form the frame of the house, while the walls were nothing more than wooden planks nailed together. In fact, the only bit of stone on the house was a small imitation of a tower on the left side of the house. The windows were shielded by cut squares of glass, so that one could see through them while remaining protected from the elements. Ingenious! In Thylara, windows were left uncovered, save for the shutters built into the walls to serve a similar purpose. Outside of the house was a wooden rack that held a number of animal pelts. Each pelt had been cleaned out and was now drying off in the midday sun. Nearby, a number of clothes hung suspended on a line running between to poles, also left to dry. On the side of the clearing opposite of the pelts and clothes was a lit fire pit, giving off small trickles of white smoke. Suspended securely over the fire was a pot with some sort of broth stewing. That was what had given off the line of smoke. Still, it had lead Annallya to this place. Perhaps she will have the chance to speak with a human after all. There was nothing about this house to identify who it was that resided within, so Annallya crept nervously up to the door and knocked. There was no answer, not even a sound of response. After trying again, she leaned over to the nearest window and peered inside.

 

SMACK!

 

Annallya almost jumped out of her skin as the arrow embedded itself in a wooden beam a foot away from her. Turning around as quickly as she could, drawing her knife at the same time, she breathlessly watched as Gaelin lowered his bow. Just as before, he wore his black coat, with the hood drawn back this time, allowing a fuller view of his face. Without the shadows of the hood falling over his face, Gaelin looked a great deal less sinister and haunting than before. Those eyes of his, though, had not changed. They were still as cold and frightening as the first time they had met.

 

“How’d you find my home?” he asked in that deep, quiet voice.

 

“By accident,” Annallya breathed. She was still struggling to regain her composure after that shock. “I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude.”

 

The way the man stood unmoving before her, reminded Annallya of a true predator. He never raised the bow again, yet he never let go of the weapon. “I told you what I’d do if I saw you again. Why’d you come back?”

 

“I have likewise explained to you,” she replied, gathering her courage back up. “I wish to meet a human.”

 

“Well you found one. Now, what're you going to do?”

 

Annallya had to steel herself. Gaelin frightened her, that much was obvious. He had already demonstrated how easily he could have killed her. But, at the same time, he knew that she was a Titan and what it was she was capable of. It is very likely that he was as afraid of her as she was of him. All of the fear and confusion Annallya had just been feeling, leaked out of her as she exhaled. The Titan dropped slowly to one knee, unslung the parcel she had been carrying over one shoulder, and unwrapped it. With nothing but sheer force of will, Annallya forced herself to look Gaelin in the eye, as she presented the wooden practice sword she had made to him.

 

“I come before you, Gaelin Val’ Saida, humbled and in need of your guidance.” she declared. “I beseech you to teach me the ways of the sword, as you have done for others.”

 

Starting from when the Titan had genuflected on one knee, Gaelin’s eyes grew wider with every word. He gazed upon the bundle of wooden sticks in her hands as if they were snakes, ready to strike at his hands. When his eyes returned to Annallya, the entirety of his expression transformed. He looked upon the human sized Titan as if seeing a corpse come back to life. His face grew bone pale, and he mouthed words too quiet for Annallya to properly understand. Then, in an abrupt instant, his body sprang back into motion, striding with great haste for his hut.

 

“Take that blazing bundle of sticks and get off my land.” he swore while walking past her.

 

“Please Gaelin, you must listen to me. I am in great need of your help.” Annallya pleaded as she stood up.

 

“Leave.” he answered back, slamming the door of his hut. The door hit the frame with such force, it rebounded and slowly swung itself back open. Annallya took this as a poor excuse to stand in his now open doorway, and observe the home of a human. Considering how small the outside of the hut looked, Annallya should not have been surprised to find that the inside was just as humble, yet she was. Annallya was used to seeing rooms such as kitchens, dining rooms, and lounge rooms, but usually they were kept separate. In Gaelin’s house these rooms all occupied the same space. To her right was a shabby wooden table and a single chair, obviously for dining. Beyond that was a small living space, complete with a lounging chair, a simple rug, and a fireplace. Next to the fireplace was a doorway left open, allowing a glimpse at the bed inside. On the wall was a single shelf that held a small number of books. That shocked Annallya more than anything else. She had grown accustomed to being surrounded by books for the entirety of her life. The many large shelves in her room were packed with books of all types, purposed for educating her into becoming the future advisor of the next Queen. Finally, to her left was a small yet complete kitchen. Gaelin stood by one of the cabinets at his kitchen, swiftly taking sips from a bottle of a drink Annallya had never seen before. In Thylara, Titans only drank water. Whatever this concoction was, it had a golden hue to it, and smelt rather strong yet not unpleasant.

 

“I said leave,” he repeated to her.

 

“I only ask that you hear my request.” Annallya implored. “I do not come to you under any pretense or falsehood. I sincerely need your tutelage, Gaelin Val’ Saida.”

 

“Well I ain’t interested in helping a Titan out.” he answered back, taking another swig. “Now go.”

 

By now, the fear Annallya had begun to feel in his presence had evaporated, and was swiftly being replaced by frustration. Annallya crossed her arms over her breasts as she gazed at him, wondering if she had made a great mistake in assuming he was capable of teaching her.

 

“Forgive my words,” she began. “for I know very little of men. Are they as equally stubborn as you?”

 

“I pride myself on being more stubborn than most,” he retorted. By now Gaelin had taken the bottle and began to move about his little hut, setting down his quiver, unstringing his bow, and taking occasional sips from that strange liquid. “Let’s say for a minute that I believe you. Why come to me? Don’t you Titans have barbarians of your own that spend their whole lives fighting and killing?”

 

“A friend of yours instructed me to seek you out.” she answered with a small level of heat in her voice.

 

If Gaelin felt it, though, he let it slide right off of him with a grunt. “I don’t got any friends. Especially not Titan friends.”

 

Annallya stepped back as Gaelin exited the house to check back on the broth that was still simmering. Taking out a ladle, he tasted the broth, reached into a pouch at his belt for some herbs, tossed them into the pot, and stirred it around.

 

Annallya watched disbelieving as the man took another gulp from his bottle. “I have been told that a bottle is a home for no man.”

 

Upon hearing those words, Gaelin lowed the bottle from his lips, and he turned to stare suspiciously at the Titan before him. “What did you say?” he asked.

 

“I said that I have been told that a bottle is a home for no man.” she obligingly repeated.

 

“Who told you that?” Gaelin asked.

 

“A mutual friend of ours,” Annallya answered. “Named Andrill.”

 

This time the bottle slipped right through his fingers, as Gaelin stood frozen before her. Very slowly, he began to walk towards her, causing the fear to return as swiftly as it had left. “Andrill?” he whispered. “Andrill’s alive!”

 

Annallya swallowed hard, wondering if it was wise to mention a friend of his that may or may not have been taken from his home by mistake. Never-the-less, she had come this far, she was not about to back away in fear now. So she nodded at the taller man. “He is living in Thylara. He is being well taken care of.”

 

“You’re sure of this?” he asked rather intensely, barely managing to keep hold of his conflicting emotions.

 

“He is being well fed and cared for. This I have seen for myself.” she answered. Annallya had decided in that moment that it would be best to not tell Gaelin that she had been keeping Andrill as a pet in her room. Or that he was now no longer in her own care but her mother’s. There was too much that she could not properly explain, and Gaelin already had plenty of reason to distrust her. Perhaps with more time, he could come to understand the truth and not hate her. Until then, that was a secret best saved for the future. “We have spoken often with each other. He is kind to me, and I to him. Andrill was the one who bade me to seek you out for guidance. And it was him that requested I give you that message.”

 

Gaelin bowed his head. “That sounds like Andrill. Always willing to see the best in others. Even if they’re a-” He cast his eyes up as he realized that he had been about to say ‘even if they’re a Titan’. Instead he cast one last suspicious glance at the Titan in front of him. “What did he look like when you met him?”

 

Annallya nodded, as she had expected a question like that. “When I had shrunken down to human size he stood as tall as I am. Which was impressive as I am considerably tall for a Titan. Yet he was built much more powerfully than any Titan I had ever seen. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were thick. His hands, though, they were gentle.”

 

She looked away from Gaelin as she thought back to her first close encounter with Andrill. “When I placed hands upon him to better see his face, he handled my own with surprising care. His face was rugged, with a mane of hair around his mouth and cheeks. His hair was of a golden shade of brown. And his eyes were green. I had never seen green eyes before on anyone.”

 

When Annallya looked back up, she found Gaelin fixated upon her. He remained silent as he walked back into his house, emerging moments later with a small glass vial. The vial contained a seasoning of some kind, which he sprinkled sparingly into the cook pot. “Pull up a seat and we’ll talk.”

 

There was already one wooden stool by the fire, but she could not see another. Looking around, Annallya spotted a rock with a flat side to it. It was about as tall as her calves and just as wide. To a human, it would have taken two men, struggling, to lift it. Annallya, making sure that Gaelin wasn’t looking, grew to about 15 feet tall, picked the rock up as if it were an empty basket, and set it down opposite the stool. Gaelin for his part didn’t seem to notice this. He just went about, gathering bowls and spoons, and extinguishing the fire. Before long, the two of them were sitting opposite the other, enjoying the soup in relative peace.

 

“Is this truly where you live?” she asked.

 

Gaelin looked up from his meal at her. “It is.”

 

“Oh . . .” was all she said.

 

“Something wrong with it?” he asked.

 

Annallye shook her head. “No, no!” she said quickly. “Not at all. I just . . . it is just small.”

 

“How observant of you to notice.” he replied.

 

“Are . . . are all human dwellings this small?” she asked again. When Gaelin only nodded she tried to press on in an attempt to make some form of conversation with him. This was the first human she had met that would actually talk with her.“Do you prefer it this way? Living in small houses, I mean. Do you prefer it because you are so small?”

 

He spoke without looking up from his bowl. “We build the best homes we can with what we have. Our homes aren’t as grand as the palaces you have back in Thylara, but they’re enough to allow us to survive another night.” His voice dropped to a mutter that was still audible to Annallya. “Stars forbid any of you Titans would offer us shelter and safety, or at least leave us alone.”

 

“What are you talking about? We do offer you shelter and protection.” she protested, becoming a little defensive. “It is no fault of ours that your kind is too proud to accept our generous offer.”

 

This time Gaelin did look up, and there was an intensity to his eyes that betrayed the quiet of his voice. “What you offer is slavery and imprisonment. What’s worse is that you don’t even offer. We have no choice.”

 

“For the last time! I know not of what you are talking about!” she shouted back.

 

Gaelin’s eyes scanned right over her before looking back towards the ground. Annallya dropped her eyes too. What was she thinking! She had come here to speak to humans, befriend them if it were possible. Yet here she was screaming her head off like a spoiled little girl whose doll had been taken from her. Neither of them spoke for the longest time. She was beginning to fear that she had just ruined her chances of getting to know him.

 

“Why do you wish to meet a human?” he asked at last.

 

Annallya swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat as she considered her answer carefully. “Since I can remember, I was taught that humans, especially men, were savage animals. My mother told me that we leave them alone, for the most part. However, if a Titan wishes, she may rescue a human and raise it. Care for it by giving it food, a home, and love that it cannot receive in the wild.”

 

She paused for a minute to check his expression. Gaelin’s face betrayed nothing of his emotions. “You believe that?” he asked.

 

She nodded. “I had always believed this until recently. While I was walking outside of the city, I saw a . . . a family, I suppose they were, travelling together through the woods. They did not behave as the heartless animals I had believed they were. Quite the opposite in fact. What I saw betrayed everything I had ever been taught about humans. I did not think anyone would believe me if I spoke of what I saw. I decided that the best way of which to learn the truth would be to visit where humans come from, and see for myself.”

 

He nodded as if he accepted what she said for truth. “And what would you do with this information once you had it?”

 

This gave her pause. Annallya had not considered what she would do once she actually learned what humans were like. In fact, she had not even thought of doing anything with that kind of information. Then again, was it not her responsibility? If humans were different, more civilized, than she was taught to believe, would it not be right for her to make a difference? For years Titans have kept humans as pets only because they were taught it was right. But if it was a lie, would she do anything about it? Could she do anything about it? It would be just her speaking out against an entire city, an entire nation. And what if they turned out to be the savages she had always heard they were? Could she, in good conscience, leave them to kill and eat each other? What would she do? Gaelin needed an answer, though. Closing her eyes, she thought carefully, before deciding on what to say.

 

“I do not know what I could do to help anyone,” she said before looking him in the eye. “However, I swear I shall not betray you. Under sun and stars I swear.”

 

Gaelin was silent for a long time as he stared into the fire. Annallya took the time to finish her stew. It was surprisingly delicious for being something prepared in the woods rather than in a kitchen. She found herself wondering if he would object to her having another bowl.

 

“What you seek is foolish,” Gaelin abruptly said.

 

Annallya shrugged. “Perhaps it only seems foolish because neither human nor Titan have tried to speak with one another.”

 

Gaelin considered her words for a long time it seemed. “Did Andril make that practice sword for you?”

 

“He instructed me in how to make it. The actual crafting was done by my hand.” she told him, with the tiniest trace of pride. Annallya had always wanted to try her hand at a craft, and this was her first actual attempt. Gaelin walked over to where Annallya had propped the sword and inspected it.

 

“Why do you want to learn swordplay?” he asked.

 

“Because I cannot learn from the soldiers in Thylara.” she explained. “Their style is too rigid and cumbersome for my abilities, meager as they are. I find it unnatural to hold a sword in one hand, and a shield with the other. I find it much more comfortable to grip the hilt with both hands. No Titan in Thylara fights in such a way, yet Andrill has told me that you do.”

 

Gaelin gave a slight nod, and tossed the practice sword to her. Annallya rose and caught it neatly in her hand, only find that Gaelin was running at her with a single stick in hand. Caught off guard, Annallya barely got her practice sword up in time to intercept a strike at her head. But she was quickly forced back by a second strike to the body, which she also managed to block. A strike to the legs from Gaelin caused her to lose her balance, so she was unable to block the strike that hit her squarely across her left arm.

 

“Blazing embers!” she swore. “What has come over you!”

 

Gaelin gave no response. He only watched as she rubbed her sore arm, before he launched into another attack. This time Annallya attempted to meet him blade for blade. There was a sharp CRACK as her bundle of lathes struck against the unstrung bow Gaelin had used for a sword. His movements, though, were much slower than the soldiers she had sparred against. With her frustration rising as her arm continued to throb in pain, Annallya went on the offensive. Using both hands and the methods taught to her at the academy, she launched strike after strike at the wild man. Her attacks were quick, with as much strength behind each one as she could muster. Yet somehow, Gaelin seemed to turn each one aside without much difficulty. He did not meet her with raw strength as the instructors in Thylara would have. Rather he seemed to use only the barest amounts of strength to guide her strikes astray. Before Annallya could even comprehend how he had done it, Gaelin reversed their roles so that he was back on the offensive, while she struggled to hold back his onslaught. She received another welt on her shoulder and her thigh. This only fueled the fire in her belly. Annallay tried for one last overhand strike, and brought her sword down with all of her strength. Gaelin reacted as if a switch in his mind had been turned. His arms, which had before moved slow and easily, suddenly blurred with a speed Annallya had never seen before. He met her attack with an underhand, upwards strike that hit the handle of her sword just as it had begun to descend. The result was that Annallya’s practice sword flew from her hands and landed a few feet from her.

 

She looked in disbelief at the man who stood so calmly and relaxed, while she was breathing heavy and her arms hurt. Perhaps Andrill had been right about him. A wild animal had just outclassed her in single combat by sword, something she had been trained in for almost a year, using an unstrung bow.

 

Gaelin lowed the bow and nodded in satisfaction, more to himself than to her. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I’ll teach you.”

 

Annallya gasped in both exhaustion and surprise. “Do you mean that?”

 

He nodded. “Andrill saw something in you. I don’t know what, but I want to see it too. Be back here tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Before he fully realized what she was doing, Annallya had run over and seized Gaelin in an embrace of gratitude. “Thank you truly Gaelin Val’ Saida! I swear to you I shall be a good student to you.”

 

Gaelin, who had been caught completely off guard by the display of affection from a Titan, grunted and pried his arms free. “Just . . . call me Gaelin. It’ll be a whole lot shorter.”

 

Annallya, realizing what she had done in the spur of the moment, quickly backed away from her new teacher and bowed respectfully. “Very well then Gaelin.” she spoke in a more even tone. “I thank you for your offer of tutelage. I promise to obey your instructions to the best of my ability.”

 

He nodded at that. “Off with you then. I’ve things to do.”

 

Annallya bowed and thanked him once more. Then she headed home the way she had come, making sure to memorize the path so that she might find it again. Gaelin stood staring after her, wondering over what this would mean for the future. Him, teaching the art of swordplay to a Titan. An unusual and cruel form of irony the more he thought of it. Then again, perhaps this was the chance at redemption he had always prayed for. Only time would tell if the past could ever fully be forgiven and amended.

 

 

Being alone in total darkness is a strange sensation. When one thinks about being alone in a dark room, they will usually imagine being in their bedroom at night. However, that is not total darkness. Even in the dead of night, the stars watch down on the Earth below. The moon lights up the night sky, providing a beacon to all who are lost and lonely. But when those lights disappear, when clouds blanket the entire sky, and hold back all light, that is when despair sets in. As Andrill sat alone in utter darkness, unable to even see a hand in front of his face, he could feel despair set in. The room he sat in was completely devoid of any light. It was a small room, enclosed on all sides, with walls so close together he could take no more than two steps before he touched another wall. Yet the darkness that surrounded him transported him from a simple hole in the wall, to an infinite abyss. He had spent many hours simply looking ahead, trying to decide if he could actually see a wall in front of him, or endless nothing. At times it was hard to tell if he were awake or asleep, as he slipped seamlessly between the two states. How many days had he been here? One? A few? Weeks? It was hard to tell. Mistress Rhaolin came periodically to give him minimal food and water, but he couldn’t tell how often. She never spoke to him, and only ever gave him enough to keep him relatively healthy.

 

The sensation was tiny, barely noticeable in fact. But Andrill had spent enough time around Titans to notice the beginning of the tremors that herald their approach. It’s an almost imperceptible little jolt, that you can just feel if you have your hand to the ground. It was rather remarkable what one could pick up with his other senses once his sense of sight had been taken away. Very slowly, and steadily the steps grew closer. The vibrations ceased when he could feel them in his chest. The sound of rustling fabric could be heard, before the slab of wood that had served as the wall to his right slid away, giving way to a wave of searing light.

 

The next few moments were painful for Andrill, who’d spent a great deal of time submerged in empty night, that his eyes couldn’t handle the drastic change. So much so that he barely felt himself being seized by an enormous hand, easily as big as his body, and even more easily capable of crushing it to pulp. When his vision had at last been restored, Andrill was greeted by the beautiful face of Mistress Rhaolin. The smug grin she wore as she gazed down at the tiny man in her hand made his skin crawl.

 

“Today, I shall begin to teach you of your true place in this world.” she murmured.

 

*****************************************************************************************

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

By now the task had lost its rhythm as the ax struck the tree at irregular intervals. With heavy arms and a laborious chest, Annallya continued the swing at the tree with the ax that felt much heavier than when she had began. The tree she had been told to cut down was about two feet in diameter, and more than forty feet in height. It would have been pure child’s play to have snapped the trunk at her full Titan height, or even uproot it with her bare hands. However, Gaelin demanded that she remain at human size for all of his lessons. That had been reasonable for Annallya at the time, when she had agreed to his conditions. When she had originally sought Gaelin out for help, her mind was plagued by the thought of him seeing her as nothing but a monster, just as that family of travelers had almost a month ago. Looking back, she could still plainly see the terror etched on the faces of that kindly old man and the children with him. Facing her down, they all believed that they would have died in that moment, and it sickened her to contemplate.

 

Fortunately for Annallya, Gaelin kept her too busy for much thought. She had already been at this for some time, and had been doing other odd tasks earlier today. She had already hiked half a mile to the river for water three times, climbed numerous trees in search of specific fruit Gaelin referred to as peaches, and drilled in swordplay for hours. Her arms felt heavy, and her muscles were as raw as hot iron from a forge. Gaelin sat off to the side, washing the basket of peaches she had gathered, while he supervised her progress. His bow and quiver sat on the ground within easy reach, as he had been more than eager to demonstrate to her in the past his willingness to use arrows as motivation to not slack. They never grazed her, however they also seemed to always land far too close for comfort. As it was, Annallya continued hacking away at the tree in front of her. Pouring all of her weariness and frustration into her assault until there was no more left in her, and the tree finally fell with a thunderous crash. Now that the job had been finished, and she was allowed a moment of rest, Annallya could appreciate how truly tired she was. It had been like this for two weeks, an endless array of tasks that felt much more like chores than actual training. Running laps, hiking for water, gathering food, chopping firewood, digging pits, and all manner of heavy lifting. When she actually did practice swordplay, it was with a fireplace poker.

 

On her first day of official training, Gaelin had taken the practice sword Annallya had fashioned from tree branches, broken it in half, and threw them into his fireplace. He had then handed her the poker and demonstrated two different strikes to practice. Grip the handle in both hands, right hand above the left, and sweep downwards diagonally, and to the left. Then mirror the strike, but this time to the right. For the remainder of the day, Annallya had done nothing more than practice those same two strikes. All the while, she could barely contain her feelings of seeing her hard work and craftsmanship reduced to firewood. By the time the day had finished, the Titan had rehearsed those strikes at least 500 times. Her arms were more sore than any day in the Thylaran training ground, and yet Gaelin still had comments to make in regards to her foot placement and stance. It was all so aggravating, and the following two weeks were of much the same. Still, Annallya could not deny the strange sense of satisfaction that came with every completed task. This felt different from ordinary chores at home.

 

Annallya brushed the dust from her palms as she strode over to where Gaelin sat, munching on a peach. When she came within ten feet of him, he tossed her a plump one. Annallya took a moment to admire the exotic fruit. There were only a few fruits in the world that grew big enough for Titans to consider them berries. Anything smaller than that went by completely unnoticed by the full sized Titans. Annallya herself had no idea that there was fruit that grew this small. The outer texture felt much like velvet, and was colored in a way that reminded her of a sunset. At first, she wondered if this was even a fruit at all, but the smell of some sweet juice within, changed her mind. She bit into the strange fruit, and was greeted with a rush of flavor that helped to relieve her thirst. The taste was sweeter than anything she had ever eaten before in Thylara, though sugar is grown by Titans.

 

Gaelin casually tossed her a second peach, which she deftly caught. When Annallya looked at him quizzically, he answered “For the road.”

 

“Am I to take it that my chores are finished for the day?” she asked with a trace of half-hearted sarcasm. Rather than crack a smile, Gaelin took another bite of fruit and glanced at the freshly cut tree. Annallya was beginning to think these humans knew little of humor.

 

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you what you’ll be doing with that.” he answered.

 

“Will it have anything to do with swordplay? If all you are going to assign me is chores, then I cannot fathom what purpose I am serving here.” she said. “I could easily remain home and learn as much there.”

 

Rather than hurl a retort at her comments, Gaelin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s always an option. Of course you’ll die at your first battle.”

 

“You know this to be a fact?” Annallya prodded.

 

“I do.” was all he said. Annallya waited for him to explain himself, but he only continued to enjoy his snack.

 

“Very well,” she said at last. “Then how am I to believe that what I am doing here will make any difference?”

 

Gaelin stood up from his stool and grabbed a cloth to dry his hands. “Get some rest. Come tomorrow ready to get your hands dirty.” He took his basket of peaches and headed for his house. Annallya looked back, not sure of what to make of the remark.

 

“Does it still bother you?” she asked. “That I am a Titan? Do you still hate me for it?”

 

“If I hated you,” he called back without turning around. “I wouldn’t be wasting my time trying to keep you alive.”

 

“I see the way you look at me,” she explained. Gaelin stopped just before his door. He turned back to look at her and she continued. “You look at me as if you see something that you wish you did not. Like a rotting animal carcass on your lawn, you glance at me with a disgusted look in your eye. You hate that I am here. The only reason you tolerate my being here, is because I am the friend of your own friend. Am I not correct?”

 

Annallya expected him to deny her accusations for whatever reasons, or admit to them and finally banish her from his home. But Gaelin only shook his head with a sigh, and in that moment, he looked far older than he had a right to.

 

“Andrill,” he said. “Was a royal pain in my ass.”

 

He paused for a moment to set the basket of fruit down. With a watchful eye, Gaelin selected three distinct peaches, and wrapped them carefully in a cloth produced from the pocket of his black coat. “He was head-strong, foul-tempered, and more than willing to jump first and think last.” his tone of voice changed over from aggravated, to one of fond remembrance. “But he has a good heart, and a good judge of character. If there was something special in you, something good, he’d see it. So as his friend, I’m obliged to do what I can to keep you alive.”

 

He held out the small bundle of peaches, which Annallya took. He continued, “And also because I’d sleep better knowing he had a friend looking out for him in that Sun forsaken city of yours. Would you give these to him? Tell him I’ll have more jarred soon. They’ll last him longer then.”

 

Annallya looked up at the strange man and nodded, not sure of what to make of the display of affection. It was difficult at times to forget all that she had been taught of humans, and men in particular. In fact, Annallya suspected that they may share a great deal more in common with Titans than she would dare ask herself. Gaelin returned her nod, and then strode back into his house.

 

Annallya spared his front door one last gaze, before she let her weary legs take her home. She was becoming much more adept at navigating the forest around his home. The noise she made had not quieted by a hair, that was for sure, but she had ceased stumbling over hidden rocks and branches. Animals also appeared more frequently to her, whereas before they would skirt by unnoticed. The rustling of leaves on the ground gave way to a squirrel, pushing its small body to move faster than Annallya would have believed possible for a creature of its size. Birds were much easier to spot in the trees, especially the bright red cardinals. Gaelin had taught her a few names in the time they had spent in the woods. She had seen rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, and deer. Apparently there were also dangerous predators, called wolves, that only appear at night when the forest is most dangerous. It was all so incredible in her mind. To think that all of this time, there was an entire world of creatures she had never known about, scurrying around at her feet. In addition, she now knew at least a few different fruit that were edible, and quite sweet. All in all, Annallya felt that she was becoming fairly adept at navigating the woods, much like a human. Certainly much better than any Titan before her.

 

Each time she left Gaelin’s house, Annallya enjoyed taking a slightly different path, than before. It was an excuse to explore the unmapped lands that she had only ever glimpsed. It made her feel like the great Titan explorers who would walk through unknown lands and swim across oceans, and write stories of their travels. Her favorite by far had been Tiana Maelworn, or Tiana Farstrider as she had been called. Tiana travelled farther than any other Titan in her time, beginning from the Assuman sea, far east of Thylara, to the Mountains of Black Snow in the south, to the River of Stone in the great north. In her travels she wrote about many amazing sights, strange creatures, and even stranger people. It seemed childish, even to her, but Annallya loved the sensation of exploring lands yet unknown to her. Even here, among woods that have always been well within walking distance from her home, was a world of unknowns she delighted in discovering. The excitement only mounted when she pushed her way through a particularly thick wall of branches, and found herself in the center of a camp.

 

Six tents were haphazardly pitched in the small clearing that served as the camp. Five men were about, each carrying out a specific task. Their clothes were well worn, from having not been changed, and foul smelling. The men themselves were rather tall, rugged, and each carrying  weapon. Some of the men wore no sleeves, revealing solid muscle on their bare arms. All at once each man stopped what he was doing to stare at her. Annallya, having never seen this many men at once, was startled into paralysis for a few moments.

 

One of the men, a rather heavy set, balding fellow, eyed her with a smile devoid of a few teeth. “What do we ‘ave here lads?” he asked his companions. “A little company fer the night?”

 

“Look at ‘er clothes,” said another one with a nose that looked permanently broken, and dark skin. “Too nice to be a village girl. Might be one ‘o them Ladies I heard about. The ones with coin on ‘em.”

 

“A Lady, eh?” the bald one mused as he stood up from the pot he was stirring, and advanced towards her. “Oh you’ll do nicely.”

 

“Wait a minute there Gadall,” said a shorter, stockier man in the back between the tents. “Something ain’t right here. Those ain’t the clothes of a Lady. Look more like Titans clothes to me.”

 

The big man who had begun walking towards her stopped to roll his eyes. “Don’t be stupid Neils. Titans are supposed ta be big as mountains. Ain’t you ever seen one before?”

 

But Neils only shook his head. “I read that they change size, so they can be as small as us.”

 

“Oh give over Neils!” Gadall exclaimed. “You can’t read so stop lyin’ about it.”

 

“My mother taught me to read herself,” Neils protested.

 

Annallya was not sure of what was happening, but it was obvious that the big man, Gadall meant her harm in some way. Swallowing her fear, as she had when facing Gaelin, she met the eyes of the bandit. “I am afraid that there has been a misunderstanding. I am not who you think I am, and I did not mean to disturb you all.” she explained. “I will leave you to your business, and continue home.”

 

That only seemed to make Gadall smile wider. “Oooo an educated one.” he cooed. “Educated ones are always rich.”

 

“I’m tellin’ you Gadall, that’s Titan talk. We’re better off lettin’ ‘er leave.” Neils asserted.

 

Annallya looked at each of the men around her as she took a careful step back. Five in total, all were much stronger than her, and armed. Meanwhile, Annallya only had the knife at her belt, hardly a deterrent to five armed men. So she resisted the urge to grip her belt knife, and stood her ground.

 

“I know not of what you are talking about,” she tried to explain. “But it is not my wish that we come to conflict. I do not seek to hurt any of you.”

 

That brought forth a vicious round of laughter from the men watching her. Annallya drop her bundle of fruit in surprise when she felt a presence behind her, as well as a rough hand squeezing her shoulder. “How kind ‘o ya Ms.” said a deep, sinister voice behind her.

 

All at once the situation changed for Annallya, as she grasped what was happening. These men meant to take advantage of her, and she would have none of it. Her training as a soldier came to the front of her mind, and she rammed her elbow into the stomach of the man behind her. She only managed to knock some of the wind out of him, but that was only meant to give her a little space as she struck him in the jaw with her opposite elbow. That blow caused the sixth man to stagger back a bit. Annallya wasted no time in pressing her advantage. She gave a swift punch to his stomach to knock the wind fully out of him, then one to his throat. Then Annallya drew the sword from his belt before giving him a final kick backwards, and the man dropped like fallen fruit. She whirled instantly to face the other men, who’d watched with gaping mouths. All except for Gadall, who was smiling even wider, his own blade in his hand.

 

He chuckled, “Oh I like you. You go’ fire. You’ll need it later.”

 

Annallya narrowed her eyes. “You repulse me,” she spat.

 

“Aw, y’er gonna hurt my feelin’s.” he replied.

 

“This is my last warning. Stand down now or I shall crush you like the insect that you are.”

 

“Do as she says Gradall,” the shorter one urged. “Only Titans fight like that.”

 

“Shut it Neils,” he called back, then turned back to Annallya. “You’re tryin’ to convince me that you really are a Titan. Clever.” He lowered his sword and spread his arms. “Alrigh’ then, prove it.”

 

Annallya tossed aside both the sword, and her bundle of peaches, she did not want Andrill’s fruit to be crushed.

 

Annallya faced Gradall down, drawing herself up, and giving the air of a woman of nobility gazing down upon the lowly. Gradall gave a good sneer of amusement, which was quickly wiped away when Annallya started to grow. The slender woman looked down on the big man from a height of 20 feet and continued to rise. Her clothes and knife somehow grew with her, but none of the men gave it a thought as Annallya surpassed 50 feet in height.

 

“Burn it all Gradall! What did I tell you!” Neils swore in a panic, but he did not run. None of the men did, they were too petrified to move their legs.

 

By now Annallya had reached her full height of 100 feet, and stood head and shoulders above the tallest of trees. She looked down at the bandits, like a true queen staring down at insects in her court. Birds scattered from the trees her body crashed through, and the men below could only look upwards and gape. Now Annallya drew upon every memory of her mother and Queen Phelonous in her court. The way they would speak with absolute authority and command obedience She channelled that as she looked down upon the lowly bandits, and raised her foot. That sight, one that the bandits had heard described over ale and around campfires, the sight of a Titan about to crush you, jarred the men into motion. They scattered before her feet and attempted to run as far away as possible. But the giantess had anticipated this, and brought her foot down as quickly and with as much force as possible. She had not crushed anyone, nor had she intended to, but the sudden tremor caused by Annallya’s stomp knocked each man to the ground. Gradall was quick to recover, but not quick enough, and he soon found himself pinned beneath the sole of the Titan’s sandal. She kept her full weight off of him, but even the tiniest press of her foot forced the air from his lungs. Gradall had no hope of removing her foot from his body, and his legs were too tightly pinned for him to crawl away. All he could do was wait to die. The other men were beginning to pick themselves off the ground, Annallya quickly glanced around for one man in particular. She spotted Neils as he tried to scramble away on his hands and knees, and snatched him up. Unlike Andrill, who Annallya had always been gentle with when picking up and carrying, she held Neils in her closed fist. She slowly brought the miniscule man to eye level, and held him there so that fear would have ample time to set in. The other men tried to run again.

 

“Halt where you are!” the giantess commanded. She did not yell her remark, but her voice was so large now that each man could almost feel it in their chests. The bandits obeyed and stood in place, watching her in naked terror.

 

Strangely enough, Annallya felt something stir within her, something she had never felt before. A sense of strength, of power, that she had never experienced when playing with humans. Ever since she was a little girl, Titans always looked at humans as creatures beneath them. Pets, made to entertain little girls. That had all changed when she had taken the time to speak with Andrill. That was when she began to learn that humans were anything but savage animals. Her time spent with Gaelin introduced her to a new perspective, one that suggested that Titans have more in common with humans than they would dare admit. Both men had shown her that these people before her were, in some way, her equal. Only now, now that she held one in her fist and another beneath her foot, she felt so mighty, so much stronger than any of them. It caused her womanhood to itch and tingle in ways she had never felt. It was the kind of power one could grow drunk off of, a sensation she wanted to revel in, while she played with her new toys.

 

The sound of sniveling brought the rational part of Annallya’s brain out of her fantasies of power. Neils, to his credit, looked the Titan in the eye without so much as a flinch or a shudder. He was mouthing the words to a prayer, and for a moment Annallya thought she was the glint of a tear in his eye. The man who had told his friends from the beginning to leave her alone, thought he was going to die. This softened Annallya’s heart and reminded her of her original mission to meet humans, not slaughter them like a monster.

 

But the bandits did not know that.

 

Continuing in her guise of the monstrous Titan, she addressed the men at her feet. “Is this how you treat wandering travelers? Lone women who stumble upon you all, and attempt to leave in good faith? Is this the hospitality you show to your fellow men? What if a family of young boys and girls had come here instead?” she asked, remembering the family she had met in the woods, and how they had been just as afraid of her. “Would you have hurt them as well?”

 

The men on the ground did not answer her. They only continued to look up in fear. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Neils. The mask of resolve he wore to hide his fear gave way to an expression of guilt and shame. This confirmed her suspicions. Even if there really were men who lived like animals and treated others with violence, they could still feel in ways that no animal could. This time she spoke to Neils, and she made her voice considerably softer.

 

“You, however, spoke words of wisdom that the others did not heed. For that, you have my thanks, and I shall allow you to walk away unharmed. On the condition that you find a more beneficial career, rather than attacking and stealing from lone travelers in the woods.” she instructed.

 

Neils, so overcome with relief at hearing this, wept openly and kissed her thumb. “Under Sun and Stars above Ms, I swear it.” he vowed.

 

She favored him with a nod, and turned her cross gaze to the rest of the bandits. “The same goes for all of you.”. They were quick to agree.

 

“And now,” she declared. “For the bug beneath my foot. Let him be an example to you all.”

 

This next part was going to be tricky. Annallya had only seen this done once before, along time ago in Thylara. It had scared her back then, and she hoped it would do the same for the men. Very slowly, with the utmost control, she increased the pressure on Gadall’s legs, or where she guessed his legs to be. It was incredibly scary and nerve racking to be unable to feel what was happening under her sole. She could so easily kill him. A sudden POP followed by a scream, told her that she had done it right. The Titan removed her sandaled foot to reveal a pained, but very much alive Gradall. His left leg had been broken from the pressure, but not crushed entirely. The bandits all around him looked on in horror as they considered what might have happened if the giant woman had only put a little more pressure on him. One of the bigger men turned away to hurl.

 

“I suggest you begin limping now. Who knows how long it will take to find someone who can treat your leg.” she commanded. Annallya had not wanted to hurt him so badly, but an example had to have been made in front of the bandits. At least this way, the man did not have to die, and he will not soon forget this day. If there was anything she had learned in the Queen’s court, it is that sometimes one has to take extreme measures when keeping others in line for the greater good. She placed Neils gently on the ground among the other men. Then she calmly shrank back down to human height, and continued on her way without so much as a backwards glance at the camp of robbers. It took Annallya maybe a few moments to remember Andrill’s peaches and that she had left them behind. When she made her way back to the bandit’s camp, however, she noticed from the bushes that the men had all gathered around Gadall’s whimpering form. Neils was giving him sips from a waterskin, and muttering reassuring words to him, while two others were making a stretcher out of tarp and tent poles. Annallya looked on in quiet amazement. Even though the actions of that one had almost gotten all of them killed, or so they thought, they refused to leave him to fend for himself, and instead were helping to carry him to safety. Her suspicions had been right. Titans understanding of men was completely wrong.

 

 

“Do you intend to choke on them? Or is that how all men eat their meals in the wild?” Annallya asked with a chuckle. Andrill, who sat sheltered in the Titan’s palm, swallowed the peach he had been devouring and smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy a peach.” he told her.

Annallya returned the smile and watched her friend bite into his second peach. She was reclining in the chair by her desk, enjoying some friendly company while she recovered from her day of hard labor. It had been weeks since Andrill was taken by her mother for, what she referred to as ‘obedience training’. Andrill refused to speak of what that meant, or of what he had went through, but he still seemed to be in the same light hearted mood he had been in before being taken away.

“Gaelin told me that he would soon have more fruit jarred for you.” she said. “What does that mean? Jarred?”

“I don’t really know how it’s done, but I’ve seen Gaelin and other people do it before. They seal fruit in glass jars with some kind of juice inside. Keeps the fruit fresh for longer.” Andrill explained.

Annallya grunted. “Likely a task he will have me carry out in his place.”

“He’s been working you hard?”

“Excessively,” she answered. “I arrive to his home early, as he requires, complete every chore he assigns me, work tirelessly throughout the day, and then must race home before anyone becomes suspicious of my absence. I fall asleep every night feeling more tired than any military practice session, and yet I have not been taught one bit of swordplay”

By now her voice had reached near exasperation. “Andrill are you sure that this is the same man who taught you to wield a sword?”

Andrill only chuckled. “Yeah Gaelin’s methods are a bit . . . excessive. But he knows what he’s doing.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Annallya sighed, leaning her head against her fist as she leaned back further in the chair.

“Be patient with him, just like he is with you.” he replied.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” was all that the little man said, with a very knowing grin on his face. An answer that was not truly an answer. Annallya had already received enough of those from Gaelin and was beginning to grow weary of them. The titan was about to press Andrill for more information, but stopped as an idea came into her head. An idea that would yield a far more direct answer than she would have likely been given anyway.

“Perhaps,” she purred. “I merely require a demonstration of Gaelin’s ‘methods’.”

Andrill paused in mid bite to cast a cautious glance at the giantess above. The smile she wore must have been devious, as Annallya could have sworn she had heard him swallow a nervous mouthful of fruit. Before Andrill could utter a word, Annallya gently plucked him from her palm, and placed him softly on the wooden surface of her desk.

“What are doing?” he asked her. His voice held no traces of fear, though his body language was unconsciously protective.

Annallya ignored his question and walked over to the far wall on the other side of the room. There her training sword lay in its sheather, leaning against the cabinet that held her clothes, next to her shield. Annallya took the sheath, strapped it onto her belt, and slipped the shield onto her left arm. Then she took a metal poker, used to stir wood and coals in the brazier, and walked back over to her desk. Andrill had not moved from where she had placed him, and was looking up at her now with an unreadable expression. Annallya in turn gave him another mischievous grin, before stepping right onto her chair. The statuesque Titan raised a bare foot above his head for a moment, merely for theatricality, and placed her foot softly on the desk, directly in front of Andrill. Annallya then began to shrink herself down, stepping fully onto the desk with her other foot when she was just small enough to stand firmly on the grainy surface. She continued to shrink until she had reached her limit, the exact size Annallya would stand if she had been born a human. Andrill stood just ten feet from her, they were about the exact same height. He eyed the sword at her hip and the metal poker in her hand, realization dawning on him.

“So I’m to battle against the mighty Titan without even a real sword?” he asked.

Annallya smiled. “If Gaelin truly has trained you in the same manner he is training me, you should be quite comfortable with this.”

She lightly tossed the poker to Andrill, who caught it neatly by the wooden handle. He eyed the rod, not sure of what to make of it. Mere moments ago this thin reed of metal, which weighed no more than any other fireplace poker he had ever held, had been the size of a tree trunk to him. He spun the poker a few times to test its balance and found it to be satisfying in his grip.

“How do you Titans do it?” he marvelled aloud.

Annallya cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Change things.” he clarified. “Like how your clothes change when you become smaller. How do you do it?”

Annallya sighed with a smile and a shrug. “This is a question all Titans pose when we are but little girls. The truth of the matter is that we do not know how we do what it is that we do. Queen Phelonous once told me that she hopes that we shall one day understand.”

Andrill nodded. “What about this then?” he asked, raising the metal poker. “Can you make other things bigger and smaller?”

“We can take something that is big and make it small, like us.” she affirmed. “And we can take that same object and make it big again. However I cannot take something that was already small, and make it big. No Titan that we know of ever has.”

He nodded again, giving the poker a thoughtful look, before twirling it again. Annallya set her feet apart, in the stance she had been trained by the Titans, and slid her sword free with a quiet SHING sound. The practice sword, while still capable of impaling someone, had dull edges, making it ideal for harmless sparring. Andrill likewise set himself into a stance, one that appeared very strange to Annallya’s eyes. He stepped forward with his left leg, body facing sideways, and raised the handle of the poker slightly above his head, with the tip pointed towards his opponent. He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, a subtle tension seemed to ease out of his body. He nodded once to Annallya, and she in turn.

With a quick step Annallya struck, point forward, towards his exposed torso, a weak point in his defense. Andrill reacted by softly shifting his left leg back, and brought his sword down in a sweep. Metal clashed against metal and Annallya found her strike being turned aside by Andrill’s poker. With her sword being redirected to the right, Annallya followed up her attack by striking out at her opponent with the round shield on her left arm. Andrill’s weapon was just close enough, though, that he was able to intercept her shield arm with it. The Titan’s shield glanced against the metal poker, and Andrill spun his whole body to the right, pushing her body a few steps forward and past him. Annallya stopped after two surprised steps, and turned completely around to face the human who had just slipped past her. Andrill faced her in a new stance, with his left leg forward, both hands on the hilt, arms low, and his weapon pointed up.

Annallya brought her shield up to protect her left side again. This time she approached her opponent slowly and cautiously. Andrill remained still up until she was just ten feet away. With a quick step to close the distance, he swung his poker above his head in a circle and brought it down to clash against her shield. Annallya retaliated with a straight thrust towards his chest, a foolish move in sparring, as the tip of the sword was still capable of piercing flesh. Her worries were for not it seemed, as Andrill shifted his body to the left as he used his weapon to guide hers away from his torso. His counter strike was quick, an upwards slash from the left, which she barely blocked in time with her shield. Annallya tried to counter as fast as she could, but Andrill seemed to take his time reversing his attack into a block in the opposite direction. Her sword rebounded against his poker and Andrill followed up by spinning his improvised sword overhead in the opposite direction as before, sweeping it down towards her legs as he stepped forward. The Titan was forced to backpedal a few steps to avoid his attack and gain some breathing room. Andrill, however, would not allow her to escape so easily. He followed through with his sweep into another full body swing and stuck again at her right flank, higher this time. Annallya managed to block and strike back, but Andrill merely sidestepped her assault. He stuck again, this time clashing against her shield, only this time he stepped right passed her and, with a simple twist of the wrist, spun his poker completely over head and brought it down against her unguarded back.

The blow was not particularly forceful, but Annallya still staggered forward under the force of the metal poker striking her. She turned around to face him, expecting a smirk similar to one Thoren would wear any time she got the better of Annallya in a match. Andrill’s expression was surprisingly blank though. He stood facing her in another stance, face neutral, and eyes focused entirely upon her. The Titan had never seen another warrior fight as he had, with the exception of Gaelin the first time he had tested her abilities. Titans on the battlefield used sword and shield to engage an enemy head on. Both opponents face each other and never turn away until one has killed the other. Gaelin and Andrill, however, use only their sword.

No, she thought. It is much more than that.

They use their whole bodies. The way they bend, twist, step, and spin with their moves. It was unprecedented in her eyes, but also incredible. The way they put their whole bodies into every move, they almost appeared to be dancing with her. Not a single movement was wasted either, as they seamlessly flowed from one step of the dance into the other. Standing straight and lowering her shield to her side, Annallya raised her sword high in a salute to her opponent, communicating that the sparring match was finished. Andrill appeared surprised for a moment, before he mirrored her gesture and nodded.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very.” she confirmed while she sheathed her sword and dropped her shield to the ground.

Andrill placed the metal poker on the ground next to her shield and walked over to the edge of the desk, where he had placed his final peach on the ground. Annallya joined him and sat on the edge of the desk, letting her legs hang over the edge, her bare feet gently kicking. Andrill held his last peach up, savoring the sight of a fruit that he would not see again for quite some time. He glanced sideways at Annallya who seemed to be staring off into the distant expanse that was her room.

“May I borrow that?” he asked, pointing to the knife at her belt opposite her sword.

She handed him the blade without a curious glance, but did not raise a question. Andrill accepted the knife and proceeded to cut the peach in half. He returned to her the blade, along with half of the fruit. She gratefully accepted the gift with a thank you, and together the two of them gazed off into the distance together.

“Peaches were always my favorite fruit,” her companion said at last. “When I was a young I loved them so much that my mother planted a peach tree in our yard. That way I could one day have fresh peaches whenever I wanted. Or perhaps so that I could have a shady patch of grass to nap on when I didn’t feel like doing my chores.” he added with a chuckle.

Annallya hesitated. Andrill had never been too forthcoming about his home, or the village she had yet to see. Both Gaelin and he seemed very guarded when it came to this place, as if it were sacred to them. Perhaps it was, and if she pried too deep into the subject, Andrill might say no more on the subject. Curiosity got the better of her, though, for she found herself asking “What was your home like? Your village.”

Andrill pondered the question as he bit into his half of the peach. “It was home.” he shrugged. “It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was downright pitiful.”

“Pitiful?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” he said with a reminiscent smile. “Here in Thylara you have huge palaces of stone. Everything inside that I’ve seen looks like it was sculpted by real artists. It’s incredible.”

Andrill leaned back on his hands as he looked up at the ceiling. “You even live in a city. An honest to Stars city!” he exclaimed. “I’ve only ever read about cities in stories. A walled haven with more buildings and people than you can count. It’s unbelievable. But back home, the village where I grew up, it’s tiny compared to Thylara, and I don’t mean because we’re smaller than you Titans. The number of homes and buildings we have would barely make up a piece of your city. And forget about buildings of stone made by artists. Our homes are little better than that hut Gaelin built for himself. In fact, every home in the village had to be built by the family that lives in it.”

He looked out ahead again into the distance, as if he could see it all now. “Our roads are made of dirt, our houses are wood, our lives are little more than work and chores, every winter is a struggle for survival. It’s . . . . . home.”

The red haired Titan gazed at her human friend, words unable to escape her lips for a moment. Everything he had described did sound pitiful, dreadful even. A lifestyle that could hardly be described as living. But when spoken in such a way it, Andrill made it sound natural, as if living in such a way were a part of him, like being small. Annallya shuddered to consider living her whole life at the size she was now. Titans change their size at any time, certainly. Remaining this small, however, was not natural. Titans were immense, as the Stars had willed it from the first day of creation.

Then she thought back to that first day exploring the wonders of the forest, and glimpsing a world hidden to her simply because she had always refused to shrink down and look at it. All her life Annallya had believed that the Titan’s way of living was the only proper way to live. Spending your entire life in the wilderness, even if it was with others of your kind, was savage and cruel. Even after she had befriended Andrill, she had believed that she was doing him a kindness by keeping him with her. Now . . . .

“Andrill,” she whispered at last. “I . . . I can take you away from here. Merely ask it of me, and I can carry you away from Thylara forever. I can take you home.”

Andrill snapped out from his thoughts to look at Annallya, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He looked to be on the verge of saying something, when he hesitated. Before he could give his thoughts voice, the sound of marching feet interrupted their conversation. They both turned to see a dark haired, dark skin Titan enter the room. She wore a white blouse beneath a plated steel breastplate, a short white skirt that came just down to her knees, leather sandals, metal vambraces on each forearm, and a leather belt that held her short sword. In her right hand was the standard halberd all guards carried, and a red cape was draped over her left shoulder and pinned at the right with the palace guard insignia. The Titan scanned the room a few times, eyes eventually falling upon the two diminutive figures lounging on the desk.

“Ms Rhaolin!” she exclaimed. Annallya knew her, her name was Vastra. The woman had an insufferable attitude. “What under Sun and Stars are you doing? Step away from that animal before it attacks you.”

Annallya was about to object to her orders, when Andrill suddenly sprang to his feet. He held both hands in clear sight and stepped away from her in a brisk manner. The action appalled Annallya. Not by what he had done, but by the fact that the guard made her friend feel as if it were necessary for him to act like a surrendering criminal. Despite the weariness in her bones Annallya could feel her temper begin to rise. She lept down from the desk and was fully grown by the time her feet touched the ground.

“That animal is my friend Vastra,” she retorted with a small amount of heat. “I would ask that you remember that before addressing him as anything other than such.”

Vastra gave a suffering sigh. “Your mother spoke of your misguided delusions. Though she failed to properly explain how grand they were.”

“You have spoken with my mother? What has she said of me?” Annallya demanded.

“She informed me that you stole your pet from her room while he is still supposed to be under conditioning training.” the guard answered, which was true. Annallya had gone to her mother’s room to view her mother’s charts again. She had assumed that Andrill would be spending his time with the trainers after her mother had taken him away. Rather she found him in her room in a small cage on her desk. With her mother attending the Queen’s court at the moment, she could not pass up the opportunity to speak with her friend again.

“I merely wished to have a word with my friend,” Annallya answered. “If my mother is displeased with that, then I shall return him to her promptly.”

But Vastra shook her head and started for the desk. “Your mother bid me to fetch the creature  myself.”

Vastra reached the desk and was about to seize Andrill, who stood submissively in place, when her wrist was caught by another hand. Annallya twisted the surprised Titans arm behind her back before she had a moment to comprehend what was happening, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her head against the sturdy desk. Vastra rebounded from the force of the impact, only to be shoved away by Annallya into a guest chair by the brazier. The palace guard looked up in naked shock and fury at Annallya, who stood before her with Andrill cupped protectively in her hand, as if nothing had occurred.

“Then I shall inform my mother personally why you were unable to return my friend to her care. I am confident she will understand.” she stated matter-of-factly.

Without waiting for a reply from Vastra, Annallya strode from her room. As soon as she was well out of earshot from anyone who might be listening, the Titan lifted Andrill to her face. “I can still return you to the forest, leave you with Gaelin, and you can go home.” she whispered.

“And then they’ll come back for me,” he replied. “It’s better if I stay here for now.”

“How?”

“All I have to do is endure until they’re done conditioning me. Then I can leave without worrying about anyone looking for me.” Andrill said. “It’s the only way I walk out of here a free man.”

Annallya nodded reluctantly. “Very well my friend.”

“Would you promise me something Annallya?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said at once.

“Keep going to see Gaelin. The cold bastard could use some company.”

*****************************************************************************************

Mistress Rhaolin glared down her nose at the pitiful creature in her fist. The little man wisely kept his head bowed, not meeting her eyes. Her daughter had just left, having returned the pet to her possession without any sign of remorse for having disobeyed her.

“Tell me,” her voice shook like thunder to Andrill’s ears, even though she was speaking in a normal tone. “What have you told my daughter of our arrangement?”

“I have told her nothing Mistress.” he answered meekly. “Not even that you have kept me here the entire time. Under Sun and Stars I swear it.”

Very slowly, the giantess brought the tiny man to eye level. “Look me in the eye, and repeat what you have said.”

Andrill reluctantly forced himself to meet the gaze of his captor, and did as he was commanded. When he had repeated himself, Mistress Rhaolin grinned ever so slightly at him. It terrified him to the core.

“Perhaps,” she purred. “You are telling me the truth. You seem to have an honest face, I like that.”

Reaching down with her free hand, Mistress Rhaolin untied the straps of her sandals, and slipped them off. Then she placed Andrill on the floor right next to them. She sat high upon her desk chair as if it were a throne, and indeed she made it appear as one. On the floor not far from her sandals was a dish of water, and a tiny strip of cloth.

“Begin by washing the dirt from my feet, then my sandals. You may rest once you have completed both tasks to my satisfaction.”

*****************************************************************************************

The sun had not even reached the tree tops by the time Annallya arrived at Gaelin’s hut. She had woken up early this morning so that she might have plenty of time to rehearse what she would say to him. She had been rude to Gaelin the other day and had spoken out of turn. He was teaching her, a Titan, how to wield a blade, when he could have instead chosen to put an arrow in her for invading his home. In addition he was the only human, other than Andrill, who would speak openly to her. With the company of Titans growing more distasteful by the day, human companionship was a luxury she could ill afford to give up. So she approached his home with an apology in mind. She set foot in his clearing, and suddenly all words froze at her lips.

There Gaelin stood in the center of the clearing with a wooden practice sword in his hands. Only, this looked much different from the shoddy bundle of sticks Annallya had crafted in her room. This one was of much higher quality craftsmanship and made to resemble a real sword. But that was not what had given the red haired Titan pause. Gaelin’s laced shirt hung on a chair that had been moved away for more space. He stood in the open with his eyes closed and his chest bare. Annallya had never seen a man who was missing a single article of clothing. Every pet man she had seen in Thylara had been properly clothed, so this was a new experience for her. His back was surprisingly well muscled, and his arms were like cord. On his torso, aside from a little more muscle which she hardly took notice of, were a few scars. Scars that came from a blade. He had been in a few fights it had seemed. Gaelin stood motionless in a stance similar to one Andrill had stood in during their sparring match the other day, with his left foot forward, his arms held low, and his sword held up.

Then, very slowly, he stood up straight on his left leg, while his right leg lifted up so that his knee almost touched his chest, and his sword was raised over his head, tip pointed in front of him. From there he flowed to another stance, and another, and another. Each step was deliberate, every movement fluid like silk in the wind. Stepping back and viewing this style from afar, Annallya could see that she had been right in her assessment. He and Andrill did move as if they were dancing. His wrists would spin the sword this way and that way, overhand and underhand. His body would bend with every movement. It was incredible to behold.

“You’re here early.” he suddenly spoke.

Annallya visibly snapped her attention into focus, she had not realized that her mind had wondered. Gaelin stood facing her directly, his left hand leaning on the sword. He had made no move to put his shirt on, which only made it harder to focus. Purely because of the scars, of course.

“I uh . . . .” she managed. “W-what I mean to say is . . . .”

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow at her mannerisms. Annallya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering sensation in her stomach.

“I wish to apologise for my behavior yesterday, Gaelin.” she said. “It was u-”

“Ok,” he stated, before turning away and walking towards his hut.

But Annallya remained where she stood, her mind still a few steps behind what was happening. “Uh . . . ok?” she asked.

“Ok,” he repeated. “Apology accepted. Now if we could skip the flowery words, there’s a lot of work ahead of us both.”

Ever so slowly her brain began to catch up with his words. “U-us both?”

Despite the questions, Gaelin’s voice remained at ease and patient. “Yes. I’m going to help you through these next few tasks.”

Over by the side of his hut was a small box of assorted tools, and a large saw made for two people. Gaelin left the wooden sword by the tools and hefted the saw. He led her over to the tree Annallya had felled yesterday and stood on the side opposite of her.

“I already measured out how big the pieces will be. Just follow my lead and keep in rhythm. Hum a tune if it helps.” he instructed.

So it was that they worked throughout the whole day. First cutting the tree trunk into even segments about four feet each. Then one of these segments was chosen again and cut in half several times, until they were left with thin reeds of wood. Four of these pieces were selected by Gaelin and separated from the rest. Using a different tool to shave off excess wood, and sandpaper to smooth the edges, he shaped to wood more to his liking. These lengths were then touched up with a balmy substance that would adhere them together, and strapped tightly. Then more excess wood was removed from one end of the piece. This end was tightly wrapped in bandages which were sealed to the wood with more of that balm. Both ends of the piece were capped, and more straps added to the length of wood. After hours of hard work and careful crafting, Annallya held her own practice sword in her hands. Not just any wooden sword, though, one that she herself had made. Gaelin had instructed her in every step, and guided her hand through many of them, her hands had still crafted this wonder. It made the weapon appear all the more beautiful in her eyes.

“What do you think?” Gaelin asked?

“It is incredible,” she breathed. “I had not believed that I was capable of crafting anything such as this.”

He grunted. “Feels good, don’t it?”

She nodded.

“That’s cause making something like that’s difficult.” he explained offhandedly. “Anyone can swing a sword and destroy something. But creating something, that’s hard. It’s what makes it special.”

His observation hit Annallya in a personal area as she thought back on Titan’s and their history of war. Their endless, fruitless battles that bring about nothing but destruction, and very little gain. For what? To satisfy their insatiable need for conflict? The more she thought of it, the more it made her feel empty inside.

“Yes,” she half said to Gaelin, half said to herself. “We Titans seem to do little else but bring about destruction.”

Gaelin, who had finally put his shirt back on paused and turned sternly back towards her. “Now wait a minute, I never sai-”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice matching his in sternness. “You did not say that. I did.”

The sun had long since reached it’s peak in the sky, and was beginning it’s timely descent. Gaelin took note of this as he grabbed a bottle of some kind of drink from beside the tool box. “Probably not enough time to show you anything else now.” he mused while uncorking the bottle. “Best if you head home now.”

Annallya was about to agree, when she remembered what Andrill had said to her. Something about a cold bastard who needed some company. Looking at Gaelin as he was now, he did not seem as though he needed any companionship. In fact the man seemed to do fairly well alone in his hut. If anything it was Annallya who needed some company now. Her world was falling apart at the seams in light of all of these new discoveries. Titans, in all of their grandeur and might, did nothing more than war with each other and kill. Whereas humans, who barely scrape out a living among the trees and animals, spend their days completing work and creating wonders. On top of all of that she was convinced now that Titans kidnap humans from their families. Whether they do so intentionally, or under the belief that they are rescuing them from the wild she did not know. She intended to find out, but for now she wished to remain away from Titans for a little while longer.

“Actually I do not have to return to Thylara for a little while yet.” she explained. “Today is a free day for me, and they will not grow suspicious if I do not arrive home until dusk.”

Gaelin paused with the bottle midway to his lips. He lowered it without having taken a sip and considered her.

It took effort not to blush under his appraising gaze. Her mind racing, she tried to think of a reason to stay. “Would you please show me the dance you were performing earlier.” she blurted out. “I mean . . . not dance, bu-”

“Actually you’re not too far off.” Gaelin said. He put the bottle down on took up his own practice sword, then walked to the center of the clearing. “A fight with an opponent is no different than dancing with a partner. For every move you make, your enemy moves in response. Mastering the sword is merely learning the moves of the dance, and then learning to anticipate your opponent’s movements. And now that you’ve made your own practice sword, we can begin learning the moves of the sword.”

Together Gaelin and Annallya spent the rest of the day going over three of the many sword forms. Gaelin started first by teaching her the proper stances and positions for each form, and then how to flow from one form to the next. It was slow work, but they had time.

“Be sure of your footing when moving,” he instructed. “You should never put weight on a leg if you’re not sure of your foundation.”

Annallya nodded and went a little slower this time. She had discarded her sandals and now stood in her bare feet to better feel out the ground. Very carefully she shifted her weight to her left leg and raised her right knee to her chest. Her sword was held in her right hand, above her head and pointed forward, and her left arm was likewise held forward and pointing in the same direction. Then she slowly stepped forward onto her right foot, moving the sword in a counterclockwise direction towards her right, and finally bringing the sword down in front of her.

Gaelin nodded in satisfaction. “Now Wind Blows West,” he instructed.

Annallya kept her right foot planted as she pivoted ninety degrees to her left, her practice sword slashing through the air in front of her.

“Back to The Closed Gates,” he told her.

As slowly as she had performed the other two moves, Annallya stepped back so that her left foot was in front, her arms were low, and her sword was pointed up. It was the same guarding stance Andrill had used in their duel. Together those three stances were the only ones she had learned for the day. She looked over at her instructor, who gave her a slight nod of approval.

“You catch on fast,” Gaelin said.

Annallya nodded her thanks. “I find it easier to learn in this manner. I much prefer to move slowly and in a relaxed state, as opposed to the Thylaran military school. There we are forced to learn drills quickly, and under much duress.”

“I agree. That’s a terrible way to teach someone as stubborn as you.”

Annallya raised both eyebrows in surprise. “I beg your pardon? Stubborn?”

Gaelin nodded as he took a sip from his bottle. “Oh yeah. I recognize it in you, same as Andrill, same as me.”

Despite wanting to be offended at his accusations of stubbornness, hearing him readily call himself stubborn made her mouth twitch at the corner in what was almost a smile. “You believe that after spending a little time with me you can determine that I am as stubborn as you are?”

“Anyone who wasn’t as stubborn as me would have quit doing the work I assigned you weeks ago.” he explained. “But you were already determined to learn from me. So you stubbornly put up with every task I gave you.”

“Are you to tell me,” she said in a baffled voice. “That the only reason you set me to those tasks was to see if I were stubborn enough to complete them?”

Gaelin considered her words as he took another gulp. “Well, it was also kind of funny.”

“Blazing embers I cannot believe this!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Calm down Highness, I had real reasons for that.” he called out.

“Then please,” she retorted through clenched teeth. “Enlighten me.”

“Andrill mention that he had a temper when I first started teaching him?” he asked.

The Titan nodded.

“Well,” he continued. “I saw the same thing in you when you came to my house that first time.”

“As I recall you attacked me first with a bow, and struck me in the arm.” she replied. “Rather forcefully.”

“To demonstrate that I was better than you.” he explained. “But instead of being discouraged, or taking a minute to think things over, you just let the pain fuel your fire. Andrill was just like that.”

Gaelin’s voice become somewhat reminiscent. “I still remember him hammering away with a tree branch. Thinking he could beat his opponent into submission. That kind of fire is good when you’re in a fight, and know what you’re doing. But for learning, it’ll only get in your way.”

Annallya’s features softened a little as some of her anger began to ebb out. “I . . . see your point. However I fail to see how chores does anything to remedy my temper.”

Gaelin smirked a little. “I used to read stories of famous warriors and knights who would master disciplines taught to them by mages. They would allow them to keep their emotions under control even in the heart of battle.”

The Titan’s eyes lit up as she heard mention of legends of warriors and mages. She had never seen a real mage in person before. “What were these disciplines?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “No one alive would know, outside of a mage, assuming they’re not all dead too. What I do know is that exhaustion trumps anger. So the idea is to keep you working until you don’t have it in you to be angry.”

“Then it worked,” Annallya replied, traces of annoyance still lingered in her voice. “These past weeks I could think of little else save for my own bed.”

Gaelin by now had drained half of the bottle. “That’s how my father taught me.”

“What is that?” she asked.

Gaelin paused and considered his bottle for a second. “Not sure exactly. I picked it up from a peddler the other week. But it gets the job done.”

Annallya shook her head. “No not the drink. That word you said, father. What is that? Is it what you humans call teachers?”

The question set the man into a coughing fit while he was in mid sip. When Gaelin regained control of himself, he stared at Annallya in the most peculiar way. “You don’t . . . . I mean I always knew that er . . . . but then how . . . .”

“Yes?” the Titan chuckled. She did not know what had set him off so, but it was certainly amusing to see Gaelin flounder for words in such a way.

He was silent for a moment as he considered his next question. “How are Titans conceived?” he asked slowly.

Of all the questions Annallya had expected him to ask, that was not one of them. It was not a horrific or inappropriate question, but extremely random. As if they had just been having a conversation about trees and then he suddenly asked her what color the ceiling of her bedroom was. Even stranger though, was how serious he seemed to be about the question.

“You wish to know . . . how Titans are conceived?” she repeated.

He nodded, his face giving no sign that he was joking in the slightest.

“Well,” she began. “If a Titan wishes to bear a child, she must pray for the blessing of the Stars. If the Stars decide to answer her prayers then they create the soul of the future child. The soul is placed in a small stone, and given to a bird of pure spirit named Baslell. Baslell is tasked with delivering all Titan souls to their mothers. We of course do not see Baslell, for it is a spirit of the Stars, however the mother will find a stone on her pillow one night. The mother swallows the stone, where it incubates in her womb. When the baby is fully grown, the mother births it.”

Gaelin’s face remained as transfixed as stone while she told her tale. When at last Annallya had finished, not sure of what else to say, he spoke up again. “So that’s . . . that’s how it happens?”

“That is how it happens,” she repeated. “I have known about this since I was a little girl.”

“There’s no merging of . . . . err well . . .”

“Merging of what?” Annallya asked. Oddly enough Gaelin’s face began to grow red. Much like how Annallya’s face had felt when she saw him-.

She quickly squashed the image of Gaelin standing before her with torso and arms bared, before her own face began to match his. Somehow it did not seem descent to have glimpsed him in such a manner. In addition, the mere thought caused sensations in her stomach and . . . nether regions, that she was not at all accustomed to.

“Is that not how it is for humans?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “No for us it’s . . . quite different.”

He took a deep breath before he spoke again. The red hue of his face seemed to fade away as he did so. For a reason Annallya could not quite grasp, it had looked almost adorable on him. Perhaps because Gaelin had always come off as a stoic, sometimes intimidating presence in her eyes. It was amusing, almost cute, to see him in such a state. “Conceiving a child for humans requires both a man and a woman in unison. The child is conceived and incubates within the mother, like it is with you Titans. Once the child is birthed, the woman becomes the child’s mother, and the man becomes it’s father. They raise it together.”

Annallya’s eyes widened at this revelation. “Oh . . . Oh! Then it is as mammoths do, correct?”

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow. “Mammoths?”

“They are large animals we breed to pull carts and chariots for us,” she explained. “I have been told that that is how they are bred, male and female together. I had long since wondered if . . .”

She stopped before she could finish the sentence: I had long since wondered if that is how all animals breed. That form of thinking was how she thought before she had met Andrill and Gaelin. Back when she had believed humans were savage animals better left in cages. However they were not, they were like Titans, even if they bred a little differently.

Gaelin was looking at her though, expecting her to complete her thought. Rather than speak aloud that humans were like animals, she instead blurted out the first question that came to mind. “What was your father like?”

Instead of answering her, Gaelin only took another sip from his bottle. “Another time. It’s getting late, and you need to be getting back home.”

The Titan looked and sure enough saw the sun through the tree line almost touching the horizon. Free day or no free day, she had pushed the limits to how long she was capable of staying. “Of course, another time then.”

She gathered her new practice sword and, as an afterthought, turned back towards her teacher. “Thank you Gaelin. You have given me a gift I had always sought, but never believed I would ever receive.”

He grunted. “A decent sword?”

“A purpose that does not involve bloodshed,” she explained, indicating to the sword. “A chance to create.”

Gaelin paused as he considered that, then nodded to her. She nodded in return, and headed off back home.

*****************************************************************************************

It was a half hour later when Annallya found herself trudging up the great staircase of the Queen’s palace. By now dusk had fallen, and so the steps were almost completely devoid of any other Titans rushing to or fro. She gave a curt nod to the guards standing place. One of them returned it with a cheeky smile. Apparently word had spread of her dealings with Vastra. Lucky for Annallya that Vastra was not well liked among the guards. Her luck ran out, however, when she saw her mother standing off to the side of the palace front doors. Annallya froze where she was in shock more than fear. Her mother would only be here if she had been searching for her and could not find her. Not wanting to seem suspicious, Annallya immediately walked up to her, doing her best to appear unconcerned with everything, and therefore seem as normal as always.

“Good evening mother,” she addressed her. “Is everything well with you?”

“That depends child,” Mistress Rhaolin cast a scrutinous glare at her daughter. It made Annallya feel as if she were under interrogation in the palace dungeons rather than standing before her mother in their own home. “I am still very displeased you stole your pet from my chambers when he was supposed to be under conditioning. Had I finished explaining proper pet behavior to the little one, he might have been returned to you early, rather than handed back to the trainers.”

Annallya stood her ground, while at the same time doing her best to act non confrontational. The last thing she needed was to be reprimanded in front of the entire palace. “I will not apologize for desiring a conversation with my friend.”

“Yes,” her mother frowned. “As you so clearly demonstrated yesterday. What were the two of you conversing about?”

Annallya’s face shifted from adamant to curious. What possible interest could her mother have in the conversations of one whom she believed to be an unintelligent animal? Now it was her turn to become suspicious. “We spoke of the hassles of my day,” she cleverly lied. “I enjoy having someone, even a little someone, around to confide in my daily goings on and how they ware on me.”

“Hm, do you not have friends for occasions such as that?” Mistress Rhaolin asked with narrowed eyes.

“Yes and Andrill is one of them.” she calmly asserted.

Her mother remained silent for a short moment, then spoke again. “And has he said anything of his days these past weeks? Has he mentioned whether or not the trainers have been treating him well?”

That was definitively suspicious. Her mother wanted to know something, that much was obvious. Annallya was not sure of what, but ignorance seemed to be the best course of action for the moment. “He did not say a word of his time with the trainers. However he was in as good a mood as ever I remember, so I assumed that he was well off.”

Which was true, to an extent. Andrill had appeared to be in a cheerful mood, and said nothing of his time away these past weeks. She did not believe for a second, however, that he had not been purposefully avoiding the subject. The illusions of her home were beginning to fade before her eyes, and Annallya intended to discover for herself how her friend was really being treated.

“Good,” her mother said at last. “As . . . difficult as you have been these past weeks, I would still be remiss if my daughter’s  . . . friend were not returned to her in good condition.”

“Thank you mother,” she replied slowly.

Mistress Rhaolin merely nodded her acknowledgment before turning and striding away, leaving Annallya to wonder as to the true purpose of the conversation. Nevertheless she was quite tired from her training today, and wished nothing more than to return to her bed. Her mother had not walked in the direction of their apartment so it would seem she would have a peaceful rest of the night. As she was making her way towards their home, however, a voice called out.

“Is that the mighty giant Titan skulking through the halls? Protecting us all from our own guards?”

Annallya turned to see Thoren walking up to her, pristine and lovely as ever. “Mighty giant?” Annallya asked. “What are you- . . . . Oh, I understand. Has the whole city learned of my interactions with Vastra?”

“Of course not,” her friend replied lightly. “Only the whole palace.”

Annallya groaned. The last thing she needed right now was attention on her, for any reason at all.

“It is fortunate I happened upon you,” Thoren continued. “I require an escort to my bed chambers. I fear an attack from one of my servants”

Thoren continued walking and Annallya fell in beside her. “If Vastra did not desire a headache she should not have attempted to snatch my friend.”

“Yes I have also heard that. You have become quite protective of your little one. I had not expected you to take my advice so seriously.”

“You too?” Annallya groaned. “First my mother and her inquiries, now you.”

“If your mother is inquiring after you then it means she is concerned.” Thoren replied.

“Concerned over what?” she asked.

“You have been disappearing and returning without a word of where you go.” her friend explained.

Annallya cast a side glance at her friend. “Very well Thoren I confess. Every morning I go out into the forest, shrinking myself down in order to be as vulnerable as possible, where I receive training from a wise, rude, and surprisingly handsome man in how to battle wild humans and Titans alike.”

Thoren stopped walking for a moment and looked at her taller friend with a quirked eyebrow. Annallya merely gazed back impassively. “Honestly,” Thoren sighed. “If you insist on spinning fantastic tales, perhaps I should have you as my royal bard, rather than advisor. Your stories would be more famous than Tiana Farstrider herself.”

“You do me a great honor your Highness.” Annallya murmured with a bow.

“Really though Annallya, I am beginning to become concerned myself.” Thoren continued. “Where do you go?”

She shrugged in response as if it were of no concern at all. “I leave the city and I walk alone in the open fields.”

“You disappear to go for walks.” her friend said flatly.

“It clears my head, and helps me forget the trifles that pester me every day, whether it be training or my studies.” Annallya elaborated. For her lie to be convincing it had to sound like something she would do. It helped that Thoren, better than anyone, knew of the stresses that Annallya put up with every day, as she herself deals with them as well. “So for a little while I leave the city for the open air and the quiet. And for a time, it almost feels as if the world stops around me, so that I no longer have to worry of feel frustrated. It is my release.”

Thoren considered that as they walked together. “When you put it in such a way, I can understand then why you would want to disappear.”

Annallya breathed an internal sigh of relief as they neared Thoren’s bedroom. “I appreciate your concern for me, as a true sister would.”

Thoren paused for a moment outsider her door. “Come inside for a moment. There is something that I wish to show you.”

Annallya followed her inside. The layout of Thoren’s room was similar to Annallya’s, only with much more room. Her bed could comfortably fit three grown Titans, complete with a canopy and drapes for privacy. Her walls were decorated with elaborate tapestries, depicting great battles and Queens of the past. They were of her bloodline, always watching from their regal thrones. Their gaze had always made Annallya shiver inside. Other walls were decorated with swords, shields, and armor, more for display than to be used at any time. On her writing desk was a large cage, housing a tiny pet woman. The woman appeared to be older than the two of them by no more than a few winters of age. She had beautiful blonde hair cascading past her shoulders, that look well washed and groomed. Leave it to Thoren to take special care of her possessions. The tiny woman wore a modest dress of green, laced with golden-yellow lace, and a high neck. Thoren also liked to dress her pets up in immaculate outfits. The woman looked well off, she gave no signs of fear of trepidation at the sight of the two Titans, and even smiled at them as they approached her. Annallya had no doubt that Thoren took good care of her pet, and treated her warmly. It was a trait that Annallya used to admire in her friend. Now, however, seeing anyone caged as that woman was, even a comfortable cage, sickened her.

“This is my little Naela,” Thoren announced. “Naela, this is my grumpy step-sister, Annallya.”

Naela grabbed the skirt of her dress in both hands and gave a well practiced curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you mistress Annallya.”

Naela spoke very well, it seemed as though she had picked up the proper way Titans speak. Her accent, however, was very reminiscent of Andrill and Gaelin’s. Thoren reached over and opened the door to her cage. Naela took the cue and stepped out onto the desk.

“Show Annallya what you can do Naela. Perhaps it will help her forget her daily hassles.”

Naela curtsied again, before kicking off her slippers. “It would be my pleasure mistress.”

“Watch this,” Thoren told her, then she began to clap in a steady beat.

Naela started off tapping her foot to the beat as she gathered up her skirt. When her legs had the room they needed to move, she began stepping in time with the beat. It was dazzling to watch as she hopped from one foot to the other, lifting one leg in the air and kicking it about in different ways. Poised on the balls of her bare feet, Naela began to move up and down the desk. Annallya had never seen anyone dance so lightly, as if she were floating. It reminded her of how Gaelin and Andrill moved when they were fighting. All at once Naela stood on one leg and began to spin in a circle, allowing her skirt to drop from her hands as she spun. The skirt opened up in the air like a blooming flower bud in the spring. Annallya almost thought for a moment that she would leave the ground and spin into the air with the wind. She continued to dance like this until Thoren ceased clapping her hands, to which she came to a stop in a grand flourish of arms and skirt. Annallya applauded her performance, and Naela humbly curtsied again.

“That was incredible.” she breathed. “I have never seen such graceful dancing.”

“Annallya used to dance such as you,” Thoren told her. “When she was not stepping over everyone with her mammoth feet.”

Annallya glared at her friend since she decided it would be less than appropriate to punch her in front of the little woman.

“I am sure your dancing was beautiful mistress,” Naela panted.

Thoren frowned. “My dear you look tired. I shall fetch you some water.”

Thoren hastily ducked out of the room to find a servant to bring water for her pet. Annallya looked to make sure she was gone, then turned back to Naela. “That was truly beautiful. What is your name?”

Naela tilted her head. “Why it is Naela, Mistress Annallya.”

Annallya shook her head. “No, your real name. The name you were called before you were . . . taken.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, so much shock that her body actually trembled a little. “Jessiday Wedrin. Everyone I knew would call me Jess.” she whispered.

“That is a very pretty name.” Annallya said with a warm smile. “Did you have any family where you came from?”

“A mother and father, and a husband whom I-” she sniffed. “I miss every day.”

Annallya looked around, knowing Thoren could be back at any second. “Do not mention to Thoren that I have told you this Jess, but I promise you that you shall one day see them again. Soon, if it is within my ability. For now be of good cheer. There is not a Titan in Thylara who shall care for you better than Thoren.”

Jess’s entire body shook at hearing this, and she fell down at once to her knees, kissing Annallya’s fingers as she rested her hands on the table. “Stars above, bless you mistress! Bless you!”

Annallya, caught off guard, gently raised the tip of her finger so that Jess was looking up at her. “My name is Annallya, not mistress. You will address me as a friend.”

Sandeled footsteps announced Thoren’s return. Jess quickly stood up and managed to wipe the tears from her face before her mistress could notice. Fortunately Thoren mistook her heavy breathing for exhaustion.

“A servant should be back momentarily with some food and water for you Naela.” she explained.

“Thank you Mistress.” Jess breathed.

Annallya turned to her best friend. “As much as I would love to see more dancing Thoren, I must retire to bed. It has been a very long day.”

Thoren nodded. “Do not forget that there will be a war council held in a few days. As future Queen and advisor, we are to be present for it.”

“We shall go together then. Good night Thoren, good night Naela.”

Thoren and Jess said their good nights to her and Annallya strode from the room. In the spur of the moment, she had just promised a complete stranger her freedom, without any idea of how she was to give it to her. Annallya did know one thing, however. After hearing Andrill’s memories of his home, and seeing Jess break down into tears over the thought of her loved ones, she knew that she could no longer stand the thought of seeing these good people in cages. Somehow or other she was going to bring them home.

*****************************************************************************************

Mistress Rhaolin strode down the hall to her chambers, ignoring the servants that scurried by. Her conversation with her daughter had been enlightening, and set her mind at ease. Annallya had been telling the truth when she said that Andrill had not spoken of his time apart from her, that much she was certain of. It seems as though the little man had been properly cowed into obedience. Just as she had hoped he would be. Now, he was ready.

She entered her room and immediately set eyes upon her desk. Andrill lay peacefully in the bed he had been given by her, locked safely within his cage. The bed was made to his scale, but made purposefully large, so that it could comfortable hold three or four little humans. Assured that Andrill had not been taken again, Mistress Rhaolin turned and locked the door to her room. The sound caused Andrill to stir and rise from his bed.

“I trust you have slept well, little one.” she spoke.

“Yes Mistress.” was his reply. Very obedient, it made her smile. Sauntering over to him, she grabbed the cage in one hand and raised it up to eye level.

“I spoke to my daughter. It seems you have told the truth. She knows nothing of the time we have spent together, conditioning you.” she purred. “For that, I shall give you your reward for obeying me.”

Without explaining herself, Mistress Rhaolin set the cage on the ground and began to shrink. She stopped once she had reached her smallest height, the height she would have stood at as a human. Andrill stood wide eyed on the other side of the cage. He had only ever seen Annallya make herself small around a human, and he never would have believed Mistress Rhaolin to ever attempt the same thing. The Titan mistress lifted the door to his cage and stepped inside. Once inside, however, she began to grow again. The Titan grew until she was over seven feet tall, once again dwarfing her human guest. Seeing him in such a state, looking up at her stature, at her power, made her tingle inside. With a seductive grin, she took a step forward, and Andrill instinctively took a step back. She took another step forward, and he responded in kind. Even when his legs touched the bed, he tried to crawl over it it gain some distance. He stopped when a powerful hand gripped his ankle and pulled him back to the center of the bed. Before he could react, Mistress Rhaolin swung a leg over his body, trapping him between her thighs. She promptly sat down, pinning his body beneath her amazonian frame. She restrained his arms by pinning them to the bed. With her much larger size, she was far stronger than the young man at that moment. She held back his attempts to escape as if her were a babe. Andrill had felt fear before, but nothing like this. This was far beyond fear, it was terror. Terror, and emotions he could not quite understand in the moment, but would later feel shame for having whenever he would think back to this moment.

Mistress Rhaolin leaned in and embraced him in a powerful kiss, one that he could not fight against. When she pulled back, they were both breathing much quicker. Mistress Rhaolin, however, was not breathing from fear. “I sense that this is your first time.” she whispered. “You have nothing to be afraid of little one. I shall be gentle.”

Hours later Mistress Rhaolin gathered up her skirts and robes from the floor of the cage. Andrill lay huddled on the bed, having long since stopped shivering. It was adorable to behold. In addition, despite his youth and inexperience, he had been one of the most pleasurable ones she had had in quite some time. She reached a hand over and gently caressed his hair.

“You have been very good little pet. Worry not, you shall be treated much better now that you have pleased your mistress.” she murmured. “One day even, you shall learn to find pleasure in our time together as well. Just as all Titans do.”

 

 

Annallya did not sleep well that night. Since she had met and spoken with Jess, the little woman who was currently held as a pet to her oldest friend in the world, Annallya had been haunted by thoughts of human prisoners in Thylara. She imagined little humans being taken from their families and brought to this terrifyingly massive city. Forced to live in cages and provide entertainment to their captors. It racked her with guilt, especially since she had participated in this slavery willingly. Yet everything that she had been taught as a little girl collided with everything she had seen these past months. Were humans truly better off living in the forest like animals, rather than a modern city? Would she be doing them a service by helping them to return? Or would she be inadvertently hurting them by taking them away from the safest possible home they had ever had? There was so much uncertainty, so much doubt behind this. After an entire night of tossing and turning, Annallya realized that there was only one way to know for sure which action was the right thing to do.

Annallya was not expected to be at Gaelin’s house that day. She had explained to him before that her studies and training would require her full attention, especially given the war council coming up in a few days. However, as she progressed throughout the day, Annallya could not take her mind away from the turmoil raging inside of her. She wanted so badly to help these people, but she was not sure she had the strength or the will to do what needed to be done. She crashed through the brush that obscured his small house from passers by, her breath coming in ragged gulps from how hard she had ran. Gaelin had been sitting on a stool, carving away at a piece of wood with a knife. When he saw her arrive, he leapt to his feet at once, holding his knife as if he intended to fight with it.

“Blazing embers!” he swore. “What’s chasing you?”

“Nothing I-” she gasped. “I . . . . .”

Taking a minute to gather her breath, Annallya stood up tall and looked Gaelin directly in the eye. “Gaelin, do you trust me?”

Gaelin blinked as he sheathed his knife. “Why do you ask?”

“Please,” Annallya pressed. “I need you to answer me honestly. Do you trust me?”

Gaelin gazed intently at her for a moment before nodding his head. “Yeah, suppose I do.”

Annallya breathed a small sigh of relief as she heard that. “Gaelin you have helped me much these past weeks, in ways I am very grateful for. And in that time I have been compliant with your wishes and avoided asking you of a very sacred subject. But now I must ask you for one more favor, one more important than my learning of the sword. I need you to show me the village where Andrill came from.”

Gaelin crossed his arms as he considered her for a few moments. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I asked you to stay away from that village, and you’ve done that just fine. So why the sudden interest now? And why do you make it sound like it’s a life or death situation?”

“It might be.” Annallya admitted.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I . . .” she hesitated as the implications of what she was doing began to catch up with her. She could not very well just come out and tell Gaelin of an idea that she may not even go through with. Her decision all hinged on what she would see in that village. “I may be about to do something very foolish. But before I do, I need to see this village for myself.”

Gaelin’s eyes narrowed as he sensed exactly how urgent this was for her. “Annallya, what are you going to do?”

“I am sorry that I cannot explain, for I do not know myself.” she told him. “Under Sun and Stars I swear to you Gaelin, I still mean no harm to you or anyone. This . . . . this is just something that I have to observe for myself. Do you still trust me?”

Gaelin seemed to be in conflict with himself for a minute. At last her looked her unwaveringly in the eye. “Yes.” he sighed. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but I trust you well enough to believe you’ll not harm anyone.”

“You do?” she asked. Her breath had caught when he had answered yes to her request.

He nodded. “Last time a peddler came round he brought news from another settlement, somewhere far off. Apparently a couple of thieves in the woods encountered a young Titan who gave them a blazing scare, then let them go. I knew it had to be you, any other Titan would have killed them.”

“Oh, that.” Annallya muttered. The memory of her handling of the bandits was not a fond one. Mostly due to the fact that she had enjoyed her dominating role a little too much for comfort. Gaelin sensed her unease, although he did not know the true reason behind it.

“They were bandits,” he explained to her. “The one you almost stepped on would have robbed and raped you without a second thought. If there was ever a man to kill, he was it. But you didn’t, you chose to show him mercy. I’ve never heard of a Titan before showing that kind of compassion.”

“Then you will show me the village?” she asked, her excitement mounting.

Gaelin sighed as he walked back towards his house. “Sure, suppose you earned it. Besides, it’s not like you could cause these people any more harm than they’ve already been through.”

He disappeared inside leaving Annallya to follow in after him. “What are you referring to?”

From the doorway of the house Annallya could see into Gaelin’s bedroom. He grabbed a cloak from a hook and tossed it to her. “What is this for?”

“If you want to visit Sol-har then it’s under my terms.” he told her. “So rule number one: no one learns that you’re a Titan.”

“Very well,” she agreed.

“Rule number two: you don’t go anywhere without me,” he continued while rummaging through a trunk.

This time Annallya quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. Gaelin found what he had been looking for, a traveller’s bag. It look worn and well used. Without a word he began stuffing blankets into it until the bag looked full, then he tossed it to her.

“Rule number three: don’t speak to anyone unless you’re spoken to first. I’d prefer it if everyone else were convinced you’re some wayward traveller just looking to pass through.” he explained as he exited his house, tucking a flask in the pocket of his black leather coat. “You’ll need to remove that gem off your head. No one round here has jewelry like that.”

“This gem is a family treasure!” Annallya protested as she followed after him. “Given to me by my mother.”

“Then leave it here,” he answered without stopping to look back. “You’ll also have to keep that cloak as closed up as you can. Don’t want anyone taking too close a look at your clothes. But don’t act like you’re hiding something either.”

“Gaelin is this really all necessary?” she asked.

In the blink of an eye Gaelin spun around to face her, his face suddenly as unmoving as stone. “Yes” he muttered in a dark tone. “Now listen here. Every single person in that village has had at least one terrible experience with Titans. You want me to take you to see them? Fine. But you do everything that I tell you, and maybe we’ll make it through this alive.”

Annallya hesitated after seeing his reaction. She was not afraid of him, not anymore, but was now very wary of what had set him on edge. It had only now just occurred to Annallya that she may be walking into a very dangerous situation. “You truly think that they would harm us?”

“You? Not at all.” he assured her. “I’m a different story.”

“Do they despise you?”

“I’ll tell you some other time.” he said while taking a sip from his flask and walking away. “Now are you coming along or not?”

Shaking off the doubt, Annallya fastened the cloak over her shoulders and set off after him. They travelled together for a good while through an area of the forest Annallya had never explored before. Gaelin said nothing, and Annallya for once was appreciative of the silence. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of what could happen. A couple of times during their walk she actually considered abandoning this idea and running back home in fear and shame. Then she remembered Andrill’s love for his home, Jess’s love for her family, and the guilt Annallya would feel if she damned them both to a life away from that. So together, the two mismatched companions continued their trek, until eventually the trees broke before them, and they stood on an open field. Before them stretched rows and rows of houses, haphazardly placed within the confined area that served as the borders of Sol-har. Annallya was struck speechless at how different this place was to Thylara. Thylara was a massive city, whose borders were so expansive one could walk it’s streets for two days without seeing all there is to see. Their houses and buildings were all made of cut stone, and cobblestone roads that carried carts swiftly from one shop to the next. The palace itself, a gem upon the face of the earth, was a gigantic structure of precious marble. And walls, walls so tall they practically taunted any enemy who would dare try and invade, surrounded and protected the entire city.

But here?

Here the houses themselves were rectangular and made almost entirely of wood, with slanted roofs of thatch. Unlike Gaelin’s house, these buildings were all at least two stories high, and covered a larger area, but still small compared to a Titan’s house. The largest building in the village was only three stories. Had Annallya stood at her full Titan height, it would have almost reached her knees. There were no walls for protection, no cobblestone streets. A dirt road ran down the village center, leading to the three story building. Andrill had said Sol-har was pitiful, but she had not expected this.

“You could turn back now,” Gaelin quietly spoke from beside her.

She cast him a side glance and saw him gazing intently on the village. From their position they could both see people going about their business. He wore an expression Annallya could only describe as grim.

“This can only be as bad as facing down my mother.” she retorted. The remark actually brought a smile to the man’s face. They nodded to each other, and Annallya followed alongside her mentor towards Sol-har. She made sure to hold the cloak close to herself, as per instruction, almost as if it were armor. Eventually they crossed the invisible threshold of the village, and Annallya was allowed her first up close look at how humans lived. To her eyes it was incredible, simply observing so many human men and women in one area together, living in the wild yet behaving the same as Titans in a city.  At this point in the day the sun was almost about to set, and the sky was a mass of swirling pink and blue. Yet there was just enough daylight left that the people of Sol-har could continue to work. Men were everywhere doing all manner of work she had only ever seen women do. Some were out in the front yard of their own homes chopping wood, others making repairs of some kind on their own houses. A blacksmith and his apprentice stood by a forge, the ring of the hammer echoed rhythmically through the air from them. Some men drove carts, pulled by animals Annallya had never seen before. They were tall, powerful looking beasts, with skinny legs, large chests, long faces, and a mane of long thick hair.

“What manner of animal are they?” she whispered to Gaelin.

“Horses,” he muttered back. “We use them to pull carts or to ride on for travel.”

“Astonishing.” she replied, eyes wide.

All of the men she saw wore clothes of plain wool and boots, all of which were noticeably dusty from work. The women wore equally plain clothes, although theirs were radically different from those worn in Thylara. Their clothes covered almost their whole body. Their sleeves reach all the way down to their wrists, when not rolled up to their elbows as some women had them. They wore slippers, similar to the ones Jess had worn, but not as nice looking, and their skirts reached all the way down to their ankles. How could one be expected to fight while wearing something like that? Then again, no one seemed to be carrying any weapons, only tools. As Annallya continued to gaze around she noticed a few passing people would stop and look at her, which made her shiver inside.

“I think they suspect me,” she whispered sharply to her companion.

“They’re aware of you,” Gaelin corrected. “Travelers aren’t new in Sol-har, but they’re not exactly an everyday thing. Just keep acting like you’ve got nothing to hide.”

“While I continue to hide under this cloak?” she retorted.

Gaelin huffed out a breath in what was the barest form of a laugh. “I trusted you enough to bring you here. Trust is give and take.”

Realizing he had a point, Annallya nodded ever so slightly under her shallow hood. They continued to walk down the dirt path, giving her the opportunity to glimpse more of this haven and its people. She eventually spied the blacksmith’s forge and almost gasped aloud. Standing at the forge, a hammer in his gloved fist, was the single largest man Annallya had ever seen. The smiths in Thylara had always been powerful looking women, with well defined muscles, but this man easily dwarfed all of them. He looked to stand as tall as Gaelin, with arms thicker than Annallya’s legs. The hammer he held almost looked small in his hands, the man was a mammoth!

Suddenly Gaelin grunted and Annallya turned to look at him.

“Everyone seems to be heading somewhere. Wonder why?”

“Should we investigate?” she asked.

“Might as we- . . . oh.” he said flatly.

Annallya looked ahead of her to see a woman approaching them. She was dressed similar to the other village women, in a blue woolen shirt and skirt, with white sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was of an almond shade, which contrasted with her bright green eyes. Her face was pretty, with well defined cheek bones, yet the wrinkles at her eyes showed she was a woman of maturity. She had a basket of fruit which she held propped upon her shoulder, supported by her arm. Gaelin stopped, and she with him, and waited to see if it was truly them the woman was heading for. Sure enough, though, she stopped right in front of them. Gaelin removed his hood while the woman looked them both over, her face was a mask of neutrality.

“I see no furs on you today Gaelin. Have you finally decided to offer yourself up?” she asked with just the slightest trace of heat in her voice.

If Gaelin detected the heat, he did not allow it to touch him. “One day soon Idoata, you’ll all watch me dance to the Titans.”

Idoata sniffed. “If that’s true, then that day can’t come soon enough. Yesterday wouldn’t be soon enough.”

“I have work that needs to be finished.” he replied.

Idoata looked from him to Annallya. “I see,” she said flatly.

Annallya merely bowed her head to the woman, just as if she were addressing her mother. “My name is Annallya. This kind man was escorting me to your village.”

The woman gave her a small smile. “Heh, kind? You sure about that, girl?”

Annallya could not fathom where this contempt was coming from, and why Gaelin was allowing it without rebuttal. He merely stood there, his face impassive, his eyes calm.

“I was travelling alone,” she explained, turning back to Idoata. “When I encountered two bandits in the woods. Gaelin arrived and dispatched them before they could harm me, then offered to show me safely to this haven.”

At hearing that Idoata’s features softened a bit. She looked to Gaelin, who had been looking sideways at Annallya. That had not been part of the story they had made up for her to tell.

“Figures violence’d be the one thing you’re good for.” Despite her comment, the heat had left her voice. She looked back to Annallya. “Well I’m glad he was able to bring you here in one piece. Where are you from, dear?”

“Another settlement,” she told the woman. “Far off. I am a traveller now, looking to see a different world.”

Idoata nodded her head. “Well when you find a better one, let me know. I’ll pack up and move to it at once.” she muttered humorlessly.

“Idoata,” Gaelin interjected. “Where’s everyone going?”

Idoata looked behind her at the villagers migrating away from them, then turned back to Annallya. “You picked a good day to come by. We got a Whistler over at the Inn just the other day. Everyone’s going over to see him. You can get yourself something to eat, dear, you look famished.”

“That sounds lovely, Idoata. Thank you.” she replied.

Idoata nodded once to her. “If you need anything while you’re staying here, feel free to ask me.”’

Annallya nodded to her. Idoata gave Gaelin one last scrutinizing look, before walking off with her basket. Gaelin took out his flask and enjoyed a long sip, then continued walking in the direction of the other villagers. Annallya fell in beside him.

“Well this is a treat,” he told her. “You get to see a Whistler perform.”

“Pray tell what a Whistler is.” she said.

“A Whistler is an entertainer who travels from village to settlement. They do tricks, play music, sing songs, and tell stories.” he explained.

“Stories?” she asked. “What kind of stories?”

“Old stories,” Gaelin elaborated. “Stories about history, about adventures, and heroes.”

“Really!” she exclaimed. Stories of heroes and adventurers, such as the great Tiana Farstrider, had always been her favorite. “I wish very much to listen. Let us hurry.”

At once she began walking at a pace that was almost a jog. Gaelin cursed as he hurried to catch up to her. She continued until they had arrived at the Inn, which happened to be the tallest building in the village. A sign above the humble little Inn read The Black Stallion, with a painted picture of a black horse just beneath it. From the noises she could hear from the streets, it must have been packed inside.

“Remember my rules,” Gaelin whispered fiercely as he held open the door for her.

Once inside, Annallya was confronted by a cacophony of voices. The common room of the Inn was surprisingly similar to most Inn’s in Thylara, at least in layout. Over to the far wall opposite the entrance was a large stone fireplace that was left unlit, lounging chairs sat close by it. Chandeliers with many candles provided the room with considerable light, despite the setting sun. Tables were scattered throughout the room, with men and women alike seated and chattering away with one another. Not all of the tables were full, as only about half of the village was here so far, so they had no trouble claiming a table for themselves. The air was thick with smoke and everyone seemed to be enjoying glasses of a strange drink Annallya had never seen before. To the far right of the room was a refreshment bar, with a few large barrels behind it, tended by a young man. Next to the bar was a doorway, where Annallya could see at least two different women cooking, meaning it must have been a kitchen. To the far left was a space left cleared save for a single stool. Once they were seated, a dark skinned man came out of the kitchen and approached their table. He was a stout man as well, with a round belly hidden behind a stained apron, yet moderately tall. His salt and peppered hair was all still on his head, despite his age. His face, despite the clean shave, looked weathered. He smiled a small smile as he walked over to them.

“It’s good to see here Gaelin.” he expressed. His voice sounded as weathered as his face looked. “I wasn’t sure if word had reached you. We have a Whistler for the next week or so.”

“I was already here when I heard the news.” Gaelin explained, standing up to shake his hand. “Rhollan, this is Annallya. A traveller I met and escorted here. Annallya, Rhollan owns and runs the Inn.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Rhollan.” she said while standing up and giving a slight curtsy.

“Ah, an educated young woman.” he chuckled. “Don’t you bother yourself with all that, girl. We’re all simple country folk here.”

He extended his hand, and she took it in a firm grip and shook hands. “Will you be staying with us here?” he asked.

“I am only passing through, but I would love to stay and see the Whistler.” she explained.

“A blessing from the Star’s he’s been.” Rhollan told them as they all sat down. “It’s been years since we’ve had a Whistler here. It’s good to see life back in Sol-har. What can I get the two of you?”

“Have any of Joni’s beef stew back there?” Gaelin asked.

“You kidding?” Rhollan asked with a smile. “She has half the village women back there helping her. With the whole village looking to see him perform, they’ve been slaving away for hours.”

Now that Annallya looked, she saw the common room was really filling up. Luckily they had chosen a table with a good view of the cleared space. “Two bowls of stew for us.” Gaelin told him. “A mug of beer for myself, and some wine for Annallya.”

Annallya looked over at Gaelin questioningly. She had no idea what beef was, or wine for that matter. But she quickly gave Rhollan a smile and a nod. “That sounds lovely. Thank you Rhollan.”

Gaelin reached into a small purse at his belt and pulled out a handful of coins, which he passed over to Rhollan, who shook his head. “I told you Gaelin, you don’t need to-”

“Rhollan,” Gaelin interrupted, giving him a level stare. “I told you I pay.”

The man gave a sigh as he took the coins and left them for the bar. He came back a moment later with a mug, and a smaller cup filled with a sweet smelling red liquid. When he had left again Annallya looked uneasily at Gaelin, indicating to her cup.

“Gaelin, what is this?” she asked.

Gaelin raised an eyebrow. “You Titan’s don’t have wine in Thylara?” he asked in a low voice.

Annallya shook her head “I have never heard of it. Is . . . does it contain . . . .” she was not sure how to finish that sentence. Stories from her childhood about wild men drinking blood began to resurface in her mind.

“All it is is juice from a fruit,” he told her while sipping his beer. “A very small fruit. That’s probably why Titan’s never thought to make it before.”

“Oh,” was all she said as she gave it another look. It did smell sweet, unlike blood. Very carefully she gave a taste, and immediately felt both a sweet and bitter flavor wash over her tongue. At first she could not decide if she liked it or hated it. Once it was gone, however, the delicious after taste that lingered beckoned her to try some more, which she did.

“This is incredible,” she told him. “What kind of fruit is this made from?”

Gaelin only laughed, in response. Annallya sipped at her drink conservatively, the bitterness was somehow enticing her to try more.

“Gaelin!”

The two companions turned to look in the direction of the voice that had called out his name. From out of the crowd of villagers, appeared a young boy no more than twelve winters of age. He had sandy brown hair worn in a messy fashion. He was light of skin, and green of eyes which shown with the wistful light of youth. He was dressed in similarly plain clothes as the rest of the village. There was something very welcoming to him, almost familiar. It was the way that he smiled, she realized. The boy had a very warm smile about him. He stopped just in front of their table, visibly excited.

“Gaelin! You came to see the Whistler too?” he asked.

Gaelin sighed, yet his smiled never faltered. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I was strong armed into sticking around.”

“Really?” the boy laughed. “Who’s tough enough to force you into doing something?”

Rather than answer him, Gaelin simply nodded his head over towards Annallya. For the first time, the boy noticed that there was another presence at the table. His eyes quickly widened when they rested on Annallya. He took in her beautiful appearance and poised mannerisms, and awkwardly bowed his head to her. “B-begging your pardon ma’am. I didn’t see you there. Hello.”

Dispite herself, Annallya chuckled. This was her first time speaking with a human even younger than Andrill. She found him to be adorable, both in appearance, and in his awkward behavior. It was comforting to know that the awkwardness of youth was shared by both humans and Titans.

“It is alright, young man.” she gleefully assured him. “I know that you meant no offense. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Tayell, this is Annallya,” Gaelin explained. “A traveller I met in the woods and escorted here. Annallya, this is Tayell.”

Tayell continued to gaze at Annallya with those wondering green eyes. “Is . . . is she a . . . a Lady?”

Gaelin chuckled out loud, causing Annallya to quirk an eyebrow at his response. “With the mouth she has on her? She’s no Lady. Just a traveler.”

“Oh,” Tayell said. “Well it’s still good to meet you. You mind if I sit here? You guys got a good view for when the Whistler comes”

“Of course, Tayell.” she nodded. “Yours would be a great improvement over the questionable company I have been keeping lately.”

She cast a look towards Gaelin as she spoke. He seemed to be about to say something in response, but quieted along with the rest of the common room when a man walked up to the cleared area of the room. He was quite a strange looking man, compared to all other men Annallya had ever met. He was long limbed and lanky, much like her. He had wild, brown hair that looked to be beginning to recede a little, sticking out in every direction atop his head. He also had a beard extending quite a bit passed his chin, and looked equally wild, compared to Gaelin’s relatively neat beard. The man’s shirt was as green as summertime grass, with tan pants tucked into leather boots that reached up to his calves, and a leather vest with bells hung to strings at each breast. There was no doubt that this man was the Whistler. It was not just his outfit that gave him away, but the way he moved as well. He almost danced to the open area that served as his stage. In his hands were two cases. He set them down by the stool and removed a metal pipe with holes and caps from one. From the other he removed a wooden instrument with a round body, a long neck, and eight strings. Gaelin explained that they were musical instruments, one a flute, and the other a mandolin. The crowd cheered when he brought them both out. The Whistler took the mandolin and slung it over his shoulder, so that it rested level with his chest, and took up the flute. Slowly he began to tap his foot in a beat, clapping along as well. At his beckoning the crowd began to clap with him, Annallya clapped as well. When the whole room was clapping in a steady beat the Whistler put the flute to his lips and began to play. The music was unbelievable to Annallya’s ears. It was high in pitch, yet soft, and indescribably beautiful. The Whistler’s fingers flew across the instrument, and each note flowed together like drops of water within a river. It was like someone had given a voice to the wind!

The crowd continued to clap out a beat for the man, who danced a few steps across the open floor, before standing on one leg while continuing to play! Eventually the minstrel ceased playing the flute and, setting it aside, began to strum the mandolin. The Whistler peered out at the crowd, an eccentric look in his eye, a wide smile plastered on his face, and he began to sing.

Walking nigh ‘pon velvet green.

Beneath the star lit cozy sky.

My fair lover came to me in a dream.

Where we danced alone on mountain high.

 

Walking nigh ‘pon gravel path.

Travelled by those longing for the grave.

No possessions save a walking lath.

A hero’s story to the world I gave.

 

Annallya listened in rapture as the Whistler spun a tale, the like of which she had never heard before. It was a story about an old warrior, looking back on his life in curiosity. His lover had been taken from him and so, feeling empty inside, traveled the world, seeking his own death. Throughout his wanderings, the warrior became a hero to many helpless or meek people, fighting on their behalf or performing noble deeds. Now, at the twilight of his life, he found the death he had been seeking for years through bloodshed and combat. Only, death appeared to him as his lover, taking him in her arms, and carrying him to the Stars in peace. It almost made her weep to hear. Even Gaelin seemed taken by the emotion of the tale. When she glanced over at Tayell, he quickly turned his eyes from her, back to the Whistler. It was difficult to discern in the candlelight, but she could have sworn that she saw his checks turn a slight shade of red. When the Whistler concluded, he bowed his head to the roar of applause sent up by the common room. Waving a hand, he somehow brought the room to a sedated state, before he addressed the crowd.

“An old favorite of mine, I can’t resist starting with that one.” he chuckled. “You’ll find that, as I stay here a short while, I’m quite fond of tales of heroes.”

The Whistler returned the flute to its case, he would not be needing it for his next tale. He continued to speak to the room while he tuned the mandolin. “My most favorite tales in particular come from the legends of the Guardians.”

Mutterings began to rise from the crowded common room. By this time, a serving girl had brought two stemming bowls of food to Gaelin and Annallya. It was a stew of some kind, filled with vegetables, some of which Annallya recognized as smaller versions of vegetables Titans grew. It did contain a type of meat, beef Gaelin had called it, that was new to her. Upon tasting it, Annallya determined it to be delectable, and all but dived face first into her bowl, her appetite having made her almost forget her table manners. A young serving boy came by and refilled her cup for her while she and Gaelin ate. Annallya forced herself to eat slowly and in a dignified manner. Partly out of respect for the manners her mother had taught her, and partly so that she could continue to hear the Whistler.

“Yes the Guardians, I see you’re all well familiar with them.” he said with a good natured smile. “Known by many by their full name the ‘Guardians of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight’. I always liked that name, very flashy and dramatic. Though doesn’t quite roll of the tongue very well, more like spills out of your mouth. Kind of like what’ll be happening here tonight after your sixth or seventh drink.”

He paused to allow a laugh to roll through the crowd, before continuing. “Really they would have gotten their message across just fine if they had stuck with the Guardians. But of course, everyone has to feel important, and compensate for something.” he muttered that last part loud enough for the whole room to hear. Together they all joined the Whistler in a laugh.

“I see that you are all familiar with the name, but how many of you are truly aware of where their name came from?” The Whistler paused as a few hands rose among the room. “Not many I see. Well sit back and have a pint for me while I spin this one. I know I will.” He added, as he produced a large mug of beer from the stool behind him. Taking a sip as he sat down on the stool, the Whistler plucked at the strings of his mandolin while he spoke to the common room.

“Now, we can never entirely be sure of where we as men and women came from. All we know from the oldest words of wisdom uttered from a mage’s lips is that we have always been travelers. Traversing corners of this earth that have likely not been inhabited for centuries or millennia. Immense groups of people; men, women, and children enough to fill several cities. They had to travel in such numbers. It was, and still is, a hostile world for us to live in. Beasts we’ve long forgotten to time were commonplace, and feasted regularly on any lone man they came across. Not to mention the Titans that hounded them constantly.”

Now that got Annallya’s attention. They certainly had beliefs as to the origin of Titan’s, but they never went into much detail about Titan and human relations. Is it possible that what was going on now had been happening for centuries? She vaguely noticed Tayell looking at her again.

“Our ancestors needed a haven to protect them from their enemies and give them hope that they would survive. The Stars in their eternal mercy heard their plights. They lead our people to a fortress, carved from an entire mountain, by the hands of unknown beings that would have dwarfed a Titan in size. This fortress, one that was large enough to be its own nation, stood as unmoving against the tides of armies as would the very earth itself. Walls powerful enough to stop floods in their tracks sheltered them. They allowed our people to build homes, towns, and eventually a massive city to live in. A city that would make the Titans of today envious of their craftsmanship and splendor. And in the very center of this city, stood a large circle of twelve pillars, five gleamed as white is the purest of ivory, and five as pitch black as onyx. Made from a type of stone that has never before or since been seen in this world. The leaders of the city decreed this fortress was where we as a people became a nation, and this would be where we as a people would live until we had seen the end of our last day.”

Annallya had become so enthralled in the Whistler’s story, that she hardly took notice of the serving girl who had come to take their bowls away and refill her cup, or Tayell’s stares. Taking a sip, she continued to listen.

“Unfortunately, our ancestors troubles didn’t end once they were behind those walls. Not long after they had arrived than the Titans were upon them. The walls, as powerful as they would appear to any other army, would be little more than an inconvenience to a hoard of bloodthirsty Titans. Our ancestors knew this, and yet they chose to face down their lifelong enemies, rather than cower away beneath their beds, waiting for the roofs of their homes to be torn asunder. And so, gathering any and every weapon they had at their disposal, the people of the city they had dubbed Nephrotora, which means ‘That which stands’ in a forgotten language, resolved to defend their home till their dying breath.”

The plucking of the mandolin strings, combined with the hypnotic voice of the Whistler, had enthralled the entire room. While he spoke, every man and woman in the room could hear the marching of the armies. Annallya barely noticed that, at some point during the story, the Whistler had started stomping his foot.

“The Titans appeared at the break of dawn. Giant women who taunted the trees with their height, encroached upon the city of living stone. They bore no arms, for this was long before Titans had harnessed the power of metal crafting. Instead, they sought to beat the walls down with their bare hands and unequalled strength. The sound of their charge was that of a rolling thunderstorm, come down upon the inhabitants of this glistening haven. Only, when the savage Titans dared approach the walls themselves, the Pillars came a life with the light of the Sun and Stars themselves. Stone that was carved by no being ever witnessed by our people, shown like a beacon of hope to the defenders that had believed that they fought to die. The Titans pitted their might against the walls of Nephrotora, and found that they could not so much as scratch the stones.

“They beat at the defenses for hours, all the while our people hurled arrows and spears, hoping to hurt them in any way that they could. Their arms hit true, and Titans fell that day, slain by the hands of mortal men. The Titans fled, but not before shouting a promise to return, and destroy the whole city. Our people took their threat to heart, and resolved to be ready for their return. And so the smiths of Nephrotora, armed with the sacred ore of the mountain, and guided by the wisdom and power of mages, furnished arms and armour unlike any that has ever been crafted. Legend says that their armor couldn’t be pierced by anything, not even the swords each warrior carried at his hip. These swords, save for the armor of the knights, could cut through anything. Twelve of their greatest warriors were chosen to bear these armaments into battle. Masters of the blade, who had stood to battle against Titans before without any kind of protection, took a vow in that long forgotten language, to defend the hope of Nephrotora. They were the Guardians of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight.”

Not a single person in that room so much as drew breath. They were enamoured by the scene the Whistler painted before them. This became inexplicably important to Annallya. She needed to hear how this story ended.

“Only a few days later did the Titans return. This time, they had armed themselves with stones and tree trunks. They sought to beat hurl them over the walls and topple the Pillars themselves. Without their power, there would be nothing to stop the monsters from tearing down the walls and laying waste to every home in Nephrotora. Only, this time, rather than find a city of frightened prey cowering behind stone walls, they found an enemy set to oppose them. The Guardians of the Pillars road out from the protection of the walls to cast their defiance into the maws of the Titan invaders. Though the Titans tried to step on them, their steeds proved too swift for the giant barbarians to catch. Still they laughed at our attempts, believing us to be too weak to stand against them.”

While still strumming his mandolin and stomping his foot, the Whistler looked up at the crowd. The look in his eye was more than just wild, it was downright defiant, as if he too saw the battle raging before them. “But I tell you, we did far more than stand against them. We cut the beasts down to size!”

As if the dam had broken, the entire common room erupted into cheers. Husbands and wives clutched at each other, as if a real battle had been fought and they had just come out of it alive. Men pounded the table as they tilted back another mouthful of ale, toasting the heroes of legends. Annallya found herself surprisingly emotional over the fate of these brave men, a sentiment that would have seemed unfathomable to her mere months before. Casting a look over at Gaelin, she found his face as impassive as always. Perhaps it was just a trick of the candlelight, but she could have sworn she saw his eyes glimmer. The Whistler continued.

“The Guardians used their swords, weapons that no Titan has ever face before, and felled them at the ankle like wheat harvesters. They rode through the ranks of attackers, hacking left and right for all they were worth. For so long, the Titans had tormented their people, without any way for us to fight back against them. But now, we had the Pillars, and the Pillars had the Guardians. We hefted our fears, our anger, and our determination, and smoat our enemies a blow the likes of which has never before been dealt!”

More cheers erupted, and the Whistler allowed it to continue until everyone had quieted down on their own. Only afterwards, did he continue.

“The Titans fled in great numbers that day and did not return for a long time. Our people rejoiced for many days afterwards. For the first time in the history of our people, we could make a life for ourselves. Though the Titans, and a host of other enemies, returned over the decades to attack again, Nephrotora stood as a haven for all of mankind for over six hundred years. Until the day that it finally fell to its enemies after the betrayal of Garagorn the Deceiver cost the city one of its greatest kings.

“Do not mistake this for the end of the story, my friends!” the Whistler exclaimed, reaching the crescendo of his performance. “Nephrotora may have fallen, but the Guardians’ job has not finished. We carry on their legacy. Though we do not fight battles as they have, we are in a war all the same. And we win by living out our lives, which is no different than our earliest ancestors strove with all of their might to do! If we live just one more day on this earth, we will have won!”

With that, the Whistler stopped his playing, stood up, and bowed to the room. The crowd answered him with a roaring cheer that almost literally shook the walls of the inn. Without even realizing it, Annallya found her own voice among the shouts of celebration. She stood with the rest of the room, clapping her hands and stamping her feet, trying to make as much noise for the entertainer as possible. In all of her excited movement, the hood was shaken loose from her face, and fell to her shoulders. She was about to replace it, but realized that no one in the room had taken any notice.

No one, except Tayell.

The boy froze, his eyes transfixed upon her face, as he analyzed every detail. Very slowly, his mouth opened, and quivered. Before she could ask him if he was alright, Tayell attempted to stand up and step back all in the same motion. His haste caused him to trip over his own chair and fall backwards, bringing to him the attention of the front portion of the room. He scrambled backwards on his back, a look of abject horror on his face.

“You look like her!” he screamed, now drawing the rest of the room’s attention. “You look like the woman who comes every year! You’re a Titan!”

 

 

 

 

The common room remained in a shocked state of silence for a good moment. Nothing above the sounds of Tayell’s whimpering could be heard, as villagers all turned to glimpse at Annallya. The young Titan herself was so jarred by the boy’s sudden outburst and realization, that she failed to replace her hood back on her head. Not that it would do her any good, she soon grasped. With everyone’s attention on her now, covering her face with a hood would only confirm that she had something to hide. By now the crowd had begun to murmur amongst themselves. Close to Annallya’s left stood Gaelin, his face gave away nothing as he stared back towards the crowd. Off to her right sat the Whistler upon his stool. His eyes were now transfixed solely on her. The wild and eccentric look had vanished entirely from them. Now they were acutely studying her, though nothing on his face told her that he felt any fear at the mention of the word Titan.

 

Turning back to the crowd itself, Annallya noted a very significant change among the people. Realization had slowly dawned on all of them, as they recognized her unique features and dress. Very carefully, villagers began to back away from her until those furthest in the back touched up against the far wall. Their whispers came to her ears, sharp and frantic.

 

“She’s a Titan! I recognize those clothes!”

 

“I heard her speak! Only Titans talk like that!”

 

“Why has she come here! We’ve already given them their Offering! What more do they want?”

 

“Was she sent to spy on us?”

 

“She looks just like the one who comes to collect the Offering!”

 

They were all speaking so rapidly that she could not discern all of the remarks. It made her head reel just to try. The whispering quelled, however, when a lone man pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He was the single darkest man she had seen among the humans. He was almost as tall as Gaelin, with a similar plain white shirt, worn beneath a worn tan vest, pants, and boots. His hair was very short and neatly cut, and his beard only framed his mouth without traveling up his jawline as Gaelin’s does. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to the elbow, and his arms looked powerful from years of hard work. His eyes, much like Gaelin’s were dangerously dark. He carried no weapons on him, yet the way that his fingers flexed while at his sides, gave the impression that he wished that he had some form of armaments.

 

“Why have you come here Titan? We’ve already given you your Offering for this half of the year.” his hands clenched into fists, but he made no move other than that. His voice never rose in volume, but had a natural rawness to it that reminded her of the drill commanders of Thylara, who spend their whole lives screaming orders. It was a powerful voice nonetheless. “We’ve given you much. What more do you want from us?”

 

Annallya could vaguely sense the growing hostilities in the room. She needed to diffuse the situation before anyone resorted to violence. The last thing she wanted to do was bring any more harm to these people. So she raised her hands to her shoulders, palms out, in a pacifying gesture.

 

“Peace,” she told them, or tried to. It came out much more mumbled than she had intended. “I on- . . . only . . . I-”

 

She tried to take a step forward and found balance to be seriously compromised. Annallya leaned heavily on the table as the entire room began to sway before her eyes. The sight of the walls and people being tossed about as if on a ship hurt her eyes.

 

“What is happening?” she whispered.

 

She became vaguely aware of Gaelin’s presence beside her and his hand on her shoulder. “It’s the wine. You’ve had too much for your first time.”

 

The wine did this? How much did she drink? Recalling the number of times the serving girl had filled her cup was difficult. Her mind was lost in a fog, where thoughts slipped through her fingers before she could fully grasp them.

 

“Val’ Saida.” came Lyal’s even voice again.

 

Gaelin looked up to find the man’s glassy eyes focused on him.

 

“You brought her here, Val’ Saida?” he asked.

 

The people of the common room turned a plethora of gazes towards Gaelin. Some of them were fearful, others confused, and some were downright livid. Gaelin, to his credit, faced them all without so much as a twitch of hesitation.

 

“I escorted her here, yes.” he plainly stated.

 

“Did you know she was a Titan?” Lyal asked.

 

Gaelin nodded. “I did.”

 

Lyal’s fingers twitched, yet his voice remained eerily even and restrained. “Why?”

 

“She wanted to see people with her own eyes.” he answered. “She wanted to meet us. Maybe help us.”

 

“She’s a Titan.” was all that Lyal said.

 

Gaelin closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he seemed to stand up taller. His sheer willpower fought back against the turmoil of emotion that the rest of the common room was directing at him with their stares.

 

“This is Annallya Rhaolin,” he quietly declared to the common room. “And she’s my apprentice.”

 

Without another word, without so much as a breath of warning, Lyal sprinted across the room. In the blink of an eye he had grabbed Gaelin by the collar of his coat, and pushed him against the wall. Gaelin, caught off guard by the speed of Lyal’s assault, was unable to block the first punch the was directed at him, and endured a swift blow to the left cheek. As soon as another punch came his way, Gaelin managed to redirect it to the right of him, but Lyal countered by turning his punch into an elbow strike. Gaelin barely managed to get an arm up to protect his throat. Lyal followed up with a left haymaker, that connected with Gaelin’s head, despite his efforts to block. Lyal pressed on his advantage, launching quick uppercut punches at his stomach, before pushing him into a table. The momentum from the push allowed Gaelin to roll over the table top, putting at least one obstacle between him and his opponent. Lyal, however, was seething with rage, and not about to let his enemy escape so easily. Placing a booted foot on the edge of the table top, he gave a swift kick, sending the table sliding into Gaelin.

 

The table didn’t hurt him, but it did succeed in preventing the man from catching his breath. Lyal deftly vaulted over the table, swinging his legs towards Gaelin in a kick that landed right in the center of his chest. This time there was no table directly behind him and he was able to gain a little distance. Lyal was upon him in an instant, but Gaelin was able to duck beneath his next haymaker, then counter with a solid right to his stomach. The blow took a little air from Lyal, who pushed Gaelin passed him to give himself a moment of recovery now. A moment was all he needed, though, as Lyal turned back to face him and continue his assault once more. Gaelin, however, also only needed that quick moment to get his feet back under him. Lyal came at him again, throwing powerful and well practiced jabs. Gaelin was well experienced in hand to hand combat, but Lyal clearly had been in more fist fights throughout his life. Blade work was where all of Gaelin’s true talent lied, but he had no sword on him at the moment. So, thinking as quickly on his feet as he could, Gaelin stepped into the forms he had practiced every day of his life for as long as he could remember. The sword forms involved precise footwork, and wide sweeping motions that were meant to teach practitioners how to redirect a blade. Gaelin merely substituted his arms for a sword, using wide sweeps to push Lyals strikes in different directions, without having to match him muscle for muscle.

 

Although it was not a perfect technique, Gaelin succeeded in redirecting the majority of Lyal’s worst blows from himself, while allowing openings for counterstrikes. The two men now danced around the room, trading blows, blocks, and sweeps on a more or less even playing field.

 

“STOP! ENOUGH!” cried a loud voice.

 

Gaelin and Lyal saw, as well as felt, a massive and strong hand on each of their chests. With one powerful heave, the two men were literally thrown apart from each other. Lyal stumbled half way across the room, where he was caught by the crowd of onlookers, while Gaelin found support against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Looking up at who had separated them, he was struck speechless to see Annallya standing there at a height of almost nine feet tall. Though the young Titan still swayed a bit on her feet, her legs were spread wide, allowing her to maintain her balance. Her arms, far from feeble at her human height, had been powerful enough to force the two grown men apart as if they had been children. It was an impressive display of physical power, and it was not even at a tenth of the Titan’s full size.

 

The men and women in the common room didn’t dare make a move, though several quiet gasps could be heard among them. To their credit, they maintained their wits about them, not a one of them fainted or fled at the sight of the Titan’s casual display of strength. They had all seen Titans before at full size. They knew that nothing they did would save them, should she decide to turn on them next. Lyal, however, seemed to care little for her power. Or perhaps he cared little for self preservation, as he tried to leap across the room at Gaelin and finish what they had started. Four of the men around him quickly seized hold of him, before he could take more than a step.

 

“You lost your blazing mind, Lyal?”

 

“You can’t fight a Titan!”

 

“She’ll tear you in half with her bare hands!”

 

Lyal growled as he fought in vain against his fellow villagers. “You brought her here Val’ Saida! They’ve taken everything from us! EVERYTHING!”

 

The men holding him back started to drag their friend out of the building and to his home. His screams lingered after him. “TO THE FLAMES WITH YOU VAL’ SAIDA! I HOPE SHE DRAGS YOU BACK TO THEIR HOME WHERE THEY TORTURE YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS! JUST LIKE THEY DID TO EVERYONE WE’VE EVER LOVED!”

 

There was much anger in Lyal’s voice, but beneath all of it Annallya could hear true pain as well. As the last of his curses faded into the silence of the night, the young Titan looked around at those that remained. Not even five minutes ago these people had been laughing and cheering at the top of their lungs. Children had enjoyed real music that they likely have not heard in years. They had all been smiling, they had been happy. Now, all she could see were looks of tightly controlled horror. Little ones clung to their mothers skirts, or sought safety behind the bodies of their fathers. Husbands held the hands of their wives, as they looked on her the way one might look at a beast that was expected to devour them. She had not meant to take this night from them. Annallya sank to her knees before returning to her human size. Gaelin quietly approached her, offering her his hand which she accepted. He hauled Annallya to her feet, though her head remained downcast, causing Gaelin to drape the hood back over her face. The mentor gently laid an arm across his student’s shoulder, and lead her towards the door.

 

The crowd parted for the two of them without a word. No one wanted to be the one to prevent the Titan from leaving. Together they walked along in silence until they had traded in the village scenery for the trees beyond it. After several minutes of walking in silence, Gaelin finally spoke up.

 

“Well that went better than I thought it would. How are you feeling?”

 

“Sick to my stomach.” she spat.

 

He grunted. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you drink too much.”

 

“It is not the wine.” she retorted.

 

“Look, don’t take what Lyal said to heart.” he assured her. “He was drunk, and not in his right mind. Plus the man’s a temper on him like you wouldn’t believe. How he had the patience to be a craftsman I’ll never know.”

 

“That is not the point Gaelin!” she cried out, walking out of arm’s reach. “All of my life I have been raised believing that you all were monsters! That I was the virtuous one who rescued you, gave you homes, and cared for you. Now I find that it has all been the reverse. You are the innocents attempting to scrape out a life in peace, and I am the monster that mothers tell their children about to frighten them!”

 

“Annallya, that’s not true.” he protested.

 

The Titan turned to face him. “Oh really? Do my people not come to that village in the night and snatch away their loved ones?”

 

Gaelin froze as he realized that there was no possible way he could deny that. To Annallya, his silence was more than confirmation.

 

“As I suspected!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air while turning away from him. “All of these years I had believed that we were good people, doing good things for poor creatures!”

 

Suddenly her voice softened, as she began to break down. “I had believed that I was a good person.”

 

“You’re going to stand there and tell me that you’re not?” Gaelin challenged.

 

“What have I done for those people?” she responded, turning to face him. “I have taken away the only happy night that they have had in a long time, while their friends are being kept in the same palace that I live in!”

 

“I’ll tell you what you’ve done,” he asserted, striding up to her. “You gave Andrill a friend at a time when he needed one more than anything else. You cared enough about him to run off into the woods to find a flame kissed hermit who had already threatened to kill you once, on his instruction. You cared enough about people to let a group of robbers go after they tried to hurt you. And you were the first Titan I’ve ever heard of that wanted to learn about humans instead of kill them. If you ask me, you’ve shown more humanity than the majority of the people in that blazing common room.”

 

Annallya was silent for a moment as she allowed his words to fully process. Eventually she threw her arms around his body, holding him in both gratitude, and for comfort. Gaelin, for his part, hugged her back,

 

“Thank you.” she wept. “I wish very much to believe that, Gaelin.”

 

Gaelin pulled away just enough to allow the two of them to face each other. As softly as he could manage, he used his fingers to brush the loose locks of hair that had fallen around her face.

 

“I believe it Annallya,” he assured her. “You’ve shown a level of compassion that I’ve never believed a Titan capable of. Whatever horrible acts your people have committed in the past, you don’t have to bear the burden of guilt for it. Your people don’t define who you are.”

 

Annallya wanted to thank him for his kind words, but could not find her voice. Standing there in the woods, basked in the light of the full moon, she could only gaze at him. His eye, which had always seemed so dark and cold during the day, seemed to finally shine beneath the moonlight. Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows, or perhaps it was the wine, but Annallya felt as if she were seeing him for the first time all over again. Only, there was no fear or anger between them as when they had first met. There was only comfort, and bliss.

 

Gaelin, for his part, was memorizing every detail of her face. Under Sun and Stars, he had always thought that she was beautiful, ever since he had seen her stumbling through the forest by herself. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t force himself to see passed the fact that she was a Titan. Old, bitter feelings do not die easily. But now? None of it mattered. She was a good person. Of that he was certain.

 

Before either of them were fully conscious of the action, Gaelin leaned in towards her, and she stood up to meet him. Their lips locked and sealed the two in place and in time. How long they stood there like that, neither of them would ever remember. And if they had had their way, they would have stood there for the rest of their lives, locked in a perfect moment. When the two finally parted, they were both equally surprised at what they had done. Annallya felt her heart attempt to beat its way through her chest with how quickly it was racing. Never before had she received a kiss in such a way. When Titans kissed, it was always a light peck on the cheek, brought on by seeing a very close friend or relative. This had been something else entirely.

 

Turning away from Gaelin, Annallya proceeded to violently spew the contents of her stomach all over the grass coated ground.

 

Gaelin, taken aback by the sudden reaction, could only sigh. Yeah I guess I’m a little out of practice.

 

Annallya continued to wretch before looking back up at him. “Perhaps it . . . was the wine . . .”

 

Pulling out his flask, Gaelin proceeded to finish the last two sips remaining. “There’s a stream not too far from here with fresh water. Come on I’ll show you.”

 

But the Titan only shook her head as she gagged again. “I think I shall . . . wait here for you . . .”

 

Gaelin only nodded, and proceeded towards where he knew the small stream would be. Under normal circumstances he would be reluctant to leave anyone alone in the woods at night. A Titan, however, would literally have little to fear from the predators around here. Still, he didn’t want to keep her waiting for too long, and quickened his pace. He found the water he was looking for after only another minute. He took a minute to first wash out his flask, so as to rid it of any residue from his previous drink, before filling it up with water, and capping it. Before he could take a step to leave, however, he felt a distinct vibration through the soles of his boots. The vibration was followed by the sound of crashing and rustling, and it was heading in his direction. The seasoned woodsman knew all too well what this indicated. He tried bolting for cover, and succeeded in making it all of ten steps, before the figure of a Titan came into view through the dense wall of trees. Instantly he froze, trusting in the darkness of the night, as well as his black coat, to hide him from her sight. It was of no use though, as she had already seen him take his last step before stopping. The Titan glared down at the tiny man from her full height of 90ft, with all of the haughty air of power possessed by a resident of Thylara.

 

“You! Halt!” she demanded.

 

Without even waiting for an answer, the Titan reached a gigantic hand towards Gaelin. Years of training and instinct took over, as Gaelin lept into motion at the flick of a mental switch. He sprinted away from the Titan as fast as he could without sacrificing his footing on a hidden branch or stone. Running in the woods at night is all but impossible, given the uneven terrain. Gaelin, however, had no time for caution, he needed to time this perfectly. Once the shadow of her hand eclipsed his whole body, he dive rolled forward. His gamble worked as her fingers clutched empty air, where her prey had been a moment before. Coming up to his feet, Gaelin continued to hunt for shelter from his pursuer.

 

“Accursed insect.” the Titan swore. “Surrender yourself to me, or else.”

 

This time, the shadow that hovered above his body was just to the right of him. Trusting his movements to instinct, Gaelin jumped and used his right leg to push his body off of a tree trunk and to the left. The thunderous crash that came from behind told him that he had narrowly avoided being stepped on. It was all the motivation he needed to keep running. He needed to find shelter. He needed-

 

Suddenly the sight of a missle over head brought Gaelin to a halt. A boulder twice his size crashed not twenty feet in front of him. Had he not stopped, it would have killed him.

 

“Get back here!” she called again, stomping over to him with her arm stretched out, reaching for him. For the moment, though, luck seemed to be on his side. Off to his right, the land sloped downwards at a steep enough angle that he was able to slide down the grass and foliage, again narrowly escaping the giant woman’s clutches. When he had reached the bottom, Gaelin picked up running again, feeling better now that the path before him was flat and even. He sprinted for all he was worth, followed closely by the crashing of her footsteps.

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

Rhollan finished wiping off the last table of the night, before stepping back to admire the now empty common room. Despite the sweeping that needed to be done, among other things, the sigh he let out was one of contentment. As if materializing from thin air, a figure approached his side, wrapping weathered, but strong arms around him as she stood by his side. Rhollan reached a course hand up to stroke one of her hands, enjoying the sensation of feeling her soft skin against his, while she rested a weary head against his shoulder.

 

“We haven’t had a night like this in a long time.” she noted.

 

He nodded. “It was good to see life back in this place again. With Ol’ Klin gone, I’d all but given up hope on us ever hearing real music again.”

 

“He left you that fiddle of his for a reason.” she reminded him.

 

“Can’t touch the thing.” he replied with a grimace. “I ain’t got it in me.”

 

“I still can’t believe it.” the woman said, with noticeable heat in her voice. “I cannot believe what that man had the gaul to do.”

 

“Peace, Anda.” he sighed. “We don’t know why he did what he did. No harm came out of it.”

 

“No harm?” she questioned, the heat in her voice rising towards malice. “He knowingly brought a Titan in here, told no one, and ended up ruining the whole night for everyone! How can you defend that?”

 

“As I recall, that girl did nothing but speak respectfully to everyone around her, sit quietly by herself, and enjoy the music like the rest of us.” Rhollan reminded her. “Had that boy not noticed she was a Titan and make a scene about it, I doubt she wouldn’t have done anything the whole night.”

 

“Rhollan you saw what she did yourself.” Anda breathed. “She’s dangerous, just like the rest of them.”

 

Rhollan cast his eyes down towards the floor. “I saw what she did to protect him, yes.”

 

Anda’s features softened, as she walked back up to him. She gently placed her hand against his cheek, caressing it and providing all of the comfort she could. “You protect him too. That’s got to stop now, love.”

 

“He saved my life,” he said quietly. “Those men would have left me to die if he hadn’t come along.”

 

“And because of that I’ve forgiven him.” Anda explained. “I’ve forgiven the fact that he uses our village, trades with us, eats our food, and takes our drink. All the while he refuses to tell us where he lives, and doesn’t participate in the Offering. He wants to be apart of this community? Fine. He can live up stairs if he got nowhere else to go, and I’d cook for him every day myself. But in return, he has to include himself in the Offering. Otherwise, he should be banned from ever coming here and trading.”

 

“You do that,” came a voice from the bar. “And I’ll pack my things right now and be off to the next village I can find.”

 

Anda and her husband turned to see the Whistler stand up from the bar, the bells on his vest still jingling with every little movement. He strode up to them, the movement of his lanky limbs almost betrayed how much he had been drinking, if he didn’t walk like that all of the time.

 

“Master Tull,” she addressed him. “Forgive me, but I believe the affairs of our village are our business only.”

 

He cast a quizzical gaze over the Mistress of the Inn, as if he didn’t quite understand the words she had just spoke. The Whistler was without a doubt a man of many strange mannerisms. Rhollan supposed one couldn’t become as talented an entertainer as he, without some small manner of madness. Eventually he broke out into a small grin.

 

“I’ve never before heard of a man bringing a Titan with him to a common room in for a few glasses of wine.” he explained. “Tell me something about this man. Gaelin Val’ Saida was it?”

 

Rhollan shrugged. “He lives somewhere out in the woods. Only comes round here when he’s looking to trade or have a drink.”

 

The Whistler nodded. “And does he always come in such company?”

 

Anda sniffed. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me he keeps company with Titans. Believe me when I say, he’s not a man you want to associate yourself with.”

 

“Oh I don’t know about that.” The Whistler murmured with a knowing look in his eye. “If anything he’s exactly the kind of man this village needs. Or will need very soon.”

 

Rhollan frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“Nothing of any consequence at the moment.” The Whistler assured them, waving a dismissive hand. “I think I’ll be retiring to my room now. Pleasant night to the both of you.”

 

The two of them watched him stride up the stairs, not saying a word.

 

“You know I’m right, Rhollan.” she said at last. “The whole village resents that he uses us, but doesn’t offer himself up with us. It’s why Lyal reacted the way that he did.”

 

“Lyal hasn’t gotten over the last Offering.” Rhollan lamented. “He needs time. One more loss won’t do anyone any good. It won’t bring them back, Anda.”

 

“Maybe so, but it’ll certainly settle the score between us all.” she countered. “He’s always going on about how he pays for his own, whenever you offer him a free drink. We’ll I think it’s time he pay the price we’ve all had to bear.”

 

“He told me that he would once.” Rhollan said almost to himself. “He mentioned that he owed a debt to the village, and the Titans. Said he planned to pay it in full. Had something to do first, but he never told me what it was.”

 

Anda wanted to question Rhollan further, but the look in the man’s eye told him that he was far too lost in his thoughts. Deciding it best to leave her husband to his contemplation, Anda strode off into the kitchen to make sure that all of the dishes had been cleaned to her liking.

 

Whatever demons are chasing you, Gaelin, the In-keeper thought. I hope you can find a way to make peace with them, before it’s too late.

 

**********************************************************************************************

 

Gaelin tried to make peace with the Stars above, for it seemed as though he truly had nowhere else to go. He had been running along a fairly straight forward path in an open area of the forest. What appeared to be a blessing quickly turned out to be a trap in disguise. The Titan Catcher pursuing him had toppled over two large trees as if they had been twigs stuck in the soil. The two massive oak trunks had landed at the perfect angle to coral Gaelin into one spot, trapping him between their great mass, and the oncoming Titan. The huge monolith of a woman loomed menacingly closer to him, staggering in her scale. There was no longer anywhere for him to go, he had been caught. Knowing that her prey was well and truly within her grasp, the Titan encroached upon his position, reaching a gigantic hand to snatch at his body. Gaelin, for his part, prepare himself for the worst.

 

What neither of them had been prepared for, was the fist of another Titan crashing into the Catcher’s face. Annallya, now standing at her full height of 100ft tall, had shaken off the effects of the wine, and had thrown herself into the fray. The Catcher, so caught off guard by the assault from another Titan, was slow to respond to the powerful blow that had struck her cheek. She staggered beneath the impact of the punch, as was unable to defend herself when her hair was grabbed, and pulled directly into Annallya’s knee. The second strike sent her sprawling. Annallya pressed her advantage, attempting to leap onto her opponent. Unfortunately, the Catcher, through instinct alone, had anticipated this, and brought her feet up, to double heel kick at the midair Titan. Annallya was sent flying backwards a few feet, for her at least. To Gaelin, to appeared as if she had sailed a quarter of a mile through the open air. The terrain around him was torn to sunder by their mountainous strength. He should have been running for cover, but could not tear his eyes away from the battle that raged before him.

 

The Catcher ran towards Annallya who, at the last second, had rolled backwards, and come to her feet in a crouched position, right when the other Titan was right in front of her. Without a second of hesitation, she sprang from her crouched position, and locked arms with her shorter opponent. The two giantesses stood there, hands locked, in a battle of pure muscle. Muscle that could have literally moved some mountains. At the last instant, however, the Catcher, reversed her position, twisting her whole body 180 degrees, and throwing Annallya over her shoulder. Annallya landed on the ground with the crash of a tremendous impact, even for her. Gaelin was almost thrown from his feet from the resulting shockwave. The Catcher attempted to press her advantage, by pounding her opponent submissively into the ground. Annallya, however, anticipated this. From her back she managed to swing her legs up towards her head, and kick her opponent directly in the face with both feet. Cashing in on the momentum of her movement, Annallya continued rolling across her back until she was able to plant her hands on the ground, and push herself up into the air in a temporary handstand, only to land perfectly on her feet again. The movements had been so fluid and graceful for a figure that literally dwarfed the trees around her.

 

Annallya turned quickly, for her opponent was already back on her. She managed to intercept the next punch thrown, counter with two quick punches herself to the head, before finally grabbing the woman’s arm, and trapping it at a painful angle, forcing the other Titan to her knees.

 

“Shrink down!” Annallya’s voice thundered.

 

“Who . . . are you!” gasped the Titan Catcher.

 

“The woman who will snap every bone in your arm if you disobey what I instruct you to do!” she ordered. “Now! Shrink! Down!”

 

Annallya’s voice, normally so ordinary and pleasant to behold, echoed all around the little human. It came as a roll of thunder, that shook the very trees into submission to her demands. The other Titan, seeing as she had no choice, began to shrink down. Just before she had reached her smallest height, Annallya flicked her finger against the back of her head, just hard enough to deliver a smart blow to her most vulnerable area. The Catcher fell unconscious instantly, and now lay within Annallya’s grasp. The other Titan took a moment to ensure that her opponent had not been killed by her blow. When she had seen for herself that she was still breathing, Annallya exhaled in relief. She would quietly drop the Catcher off somewhere safe and unobserved within the city’s walls. Kneeling down, the Titan found Gaelin standing within the boundaries of the toppled trees, staring at her behind that stone mask of neutrality.

 

“Thank the Stars above I was not too late.” she breathed, reaching a hand towards him. “Are you hurt?”

 

Gaelin, without being entirely conscious of his actions, took two quick steps away from her hand, causing Annallya to freeze in horror. He was afraid of her. Just like the innocent little people at the common room. He was terrified that she, in all of her power and strength, would harm him. On some intellectual level, Annallya could understand this to be a perfectly reasonable reaction. She had just thrown an opponent twice the size of the trees around them, as if she had been a sparring dummy. On an emotional level, seeing her mentor fear her in such a way stung. It stung on a level that the young woman had never felt before. The fact that it was Gaelin, of all people, who now feared her, truly made her feel the monster of children's stories. By Sun and Stars but it hurt! When she spoke next, Annallya tried her best to make her voice sound as quiet and meek as possible.

 

“I am truly sorry. I had hoped that you would never have to see me in such a way an-” she grimaced. “I am sorry, Gaelin.”

 

With that, the living colossus stood up, and proceeded towards Thylara. Gaelin, for his part, stood in place and watched her stomp off into the distance. He had always known what she was. All the same, knowing something and witnessing it, are two vastly different situations. Turning back towards his hut, Gaelin headed home to crack open a bottle of something strong.

 

 

 

 

Desmensi strode purposefully through the halls of the Thylaran palace, as she had done so thousands of times before. All around her were guards, bustling about in all manner of directions. Groups of armored women hurried through the hallways with as much purpose as she. A very few of them spoke with each other over the matter. From what Desmensi could figure from the few pieces of conversation she could pick out, an important discovery was made early this very morning, and had been brought to the Queen’s attention. This greatly piqued Desmensi’s interest, though she fretted little over learning more. Whatever this matter was, if it was important enough to require the guards to be alerted, no doubt it would be discussed at length at the next war council tomorrow. A meeting she, as the Captain of the Third Division of the Thylaran military, would be attending.

For the moment, however, she had other responsibilities to tend to. With her masterfully tailored, and intricately detailed bronze and leather chest guard, vembrages, greaves, and sandals, she practically radiated importance. The scarlet cape at her back, pinned with gold at the left shoulder, completed the uniform nicely. The ornate uniform, ordinarily too gaudy and impractical for military duties, was all too perfect for her second job, and served as a statement of superiority to those she dealt with. Desmensi’s walk led her to a set of large wooden doors, devoid of any locks or guards. Placing a hand on either door, Desmensi braced herself and, with a violent shove, forced the heavy doors to part before her. The doors themselves protested as they scrapped noticeably against the stone floor. They were designed purposefully to so do, as the Titans could not afford even the tiniest of crevices in this room. With another awesome showing of her physical strength, Desmensi sealed the doors once again, and turned to face the occupants of the room. There were no windows in this room, leaving it dreadfully dark, despite the many candles and oil lamps used to bring light to the prison. There was no furniture on decorations within the room, save for a single table, large enough to seat eight Titans for dinner. This table, however, held no food on it’s grimey surface. Rather, it supported thirty metal cages, each of which housed a human.

Each occupant was unique, from men and women, to young and old, to light and dark skinned, in all manner of combination. Each prisoner was dressed in fine silken outfits, marking them as pets that had been collected exclusively from owners within the palace. Some stood on their feet, attempting to give off the impression that they still held some manner of strength within their frail little forms. Other sat on the floor, not even bothering to look up at her. These were the ones that had already been thoroughly broken in to their new lives. Desmensi padded over to the table, enjoying the sensation of looking down at the pathetic beings, that were so weak and powerless before her.

“Good morning, my little darlings.” she greeted the humans in a voice of delight. The little humans made no mistake, though. The delight in her voice did not at all mean warmth and friendship. “I am so happy to see familiar faces among my collection today.”

The giantess placed her palms against the table surface as her titanic body loomed over the prisoners like a living colossus. “Those of you who have been here already are familiar with how our time together shall proceed. For those of you who are here for the first time, my name is Mistress Desmensi, and I am the Mistress of Discipline at the palace.”

The Titan smiled coyly at her audience. “This means that I am in charge of training the lot of you in how to behave as the best possible pets you could be for your owners. For some of you, this is your first time receiving these lessons. For others, this will be a time for you to evaluate your performances thus far, and correct any . . . undesirable behaviors. We will be spending a few short days in each others company, where I will be patiently teaching you all proper etiquette. Should any of you choose to disobey me, there will be . . .” the smile turned into a grin infinitely more sinister. “Consequences. And trust that I am more than willing to distribute these consequences in a hands-on manner. Some owners may feel hesitant to ‘handle’ their pets in too intimate a sense.”

Mistress Desmensi lowered her head until her chin rested just above the tables surface, putting her eyes at level with the eyes of every human currently standing. Her wicked grin had yet to fade from her face.

“I do not hold such sentiments,” she murmured. “Do we understand each other.”

All eyes that had once looked defiantly upon her now dropped to the floor, as the hopelessness of their situation began to settle. Quiet sobbing could be heard from one of the cages. Mistress Desmensi immediately zeroed in on the specific cage. A lovely young woman knelt in her cage, weeping and muttering a prayer to the Stars above for rescue. The Titan cast her a look that might have been as close to sympathy as the giant woman was capable of showing.

“Aw, worry not little one.” she assured in a tone reminiscent of a mother comforting a crying child. In one powerful hand, Mistress Desmensi lifted the cube shaped cage up to her face, while standing at full height. “I promise you that it will be alright. All you must do is follow all of my instructions and we shall be as sisters to each other. Come now, let us get a closer look at you.”

The cage could only be opened by pressing two spring loaded latches on opposite sides of the cage, allowing the roof to be opened. The latches were too heavy for human arms to overpower, and were too far apart for one human to reach at the same time. Only by pressing them at the same time could the roof be lifted up, effectively meaning that the humans had no chance of escaping their cages. With the roof hanging open, Mistress Desmensi plucked the little woman from her confines. The woman, to her great credit, managed to remain relatively calm as she was lifted to the Titan’s face.

“Aw, you poor little thing.” she purred. “Fear not, I can be quite gentle when I desire to be.”

To emphasize her point, Mistress Desmensi slowly brought the young woman to her mouth.

“No!” the woman gasped. “Please! Please don’t eat me Mistress!”

The Titan never stopped, as the woman was brought to her puckering lips, where she proceeded to place a very soft kiss upon the top of her head. Returning the woman back to eye level, she eyed the pet over again.

“Mmmmm, you are quite beautiful, little one.” she remarked.

The small, blonde haired woman, who could scarcely believe that she had not been eaten, looked up at the Mistress of Discipline. Hope began to well up in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps this would not be the end of her, and the Titan truly did not mean them any harm so long as they behaved.

“Th-thank y-you, M-m-mistress Desmensi.” she stammered, attempting a curtsy, which was not at all easy while being held between the fingers of a Titan.

Mistress Desmensi nodded. “What is your name, little one?”

“P-paela, Mistress.” she answered.

“Yes you are indeed lovely.” the giantess murmured. “Exactly as I prefer them.”

The giantess continued to lower the toy sized figure. Paela finally began to breath in relief at having survived her first encounter with the Mistress of Discipline, until she noticed the giantess’s left hand take a hold of her own skirts. Desmensi lifted her skirt high enough to expose the silken undergarments she wore beneath. Though on the outside she remained as languid as ever, on the inside her heart began to quicken in pace. Paela was beginning to experience the same sensation, though for drastically different reasons.

“NO!” she wailed, thrashing about. “NO MISTRESS PLEASE! NO!”

A soft, horribly deep moan escaped the Titan’s throat. “You shall not be harmed, little one. But please, continue to flail about as hard as you can.” she purred. “It excites me.”

Desmensi’s left hand snaked passed her skirts, and held open the pearly white garments for her new toy. Before Paela could react, the fingers that held her aloft suddenly released. She fell a good twenty feet, only to land comfortably on the soft fabric of Desmensi’s underwear. Before her loomed the monolithic vagina, freshly shaved and already showing signs of moisture. Paela cast one last, hopeless look upwards, and was met with the sinister grin of her Mistress, gazing hungrily back down at her.

“Please me, little one.” she whispered.

The tiny human was helpless to stop the two fingers of Desmensi’s right hand from pushing her up against the soft lips, and into them. From then on, all Paela could feel were tight, constricting walls, slick with fluids that forced her to slide deeper into the darkness. The last thing the men and women on the table heard were her screams of mercy, before they were muffled out. The Mistress of Discipline gave one last moan, followed by a sigh, before lowering her skirt and turning her attention back to the caged pets on the table.

“If the rest of you have no questions for me, then we shall begin.”

*************************************************************************************

Annallya trudged through the forest brush, mulling over the tempest of thoughts in her head. This was not at all easy, as she had not entirely shaken off the pain of waking up. This morning, upon opening her eyes, Annallya had found herself being assaulted by bright lights and crashing noises. All the while, her head felt as if two, needle-like blades were pressing themselves into both sides of her brain. Fortunately her mother had excused her from training that day, believing her to be ill, which meant that she had no need for an excuse to disappear for the day. The bad news was that Annallya was not so sure if she was not indeed sick. In fact she distinctly recalled throwing up the previous night, just before Gaelin had kissed her.

Now that had been unexpected.

Not just the kiss itself but how it had made her feel. Titans do not kiss in such a way. A kiss between Titans is a simple peck on the cheek as greeting to a close friend or family member. What Gaelin had done with her was unheard of, at least to Annallya. Not to mention that it had been Gaelin who had done it. Gaelin, her gruff, stone faced mentor had, in a very intimate moment between them, given her a kiss that had nearly lifted her from her feet. Though the two of them were close in age, closer in fact than her and Andrill, it had always seemed as if a great many years separated them. Gaelin always appeared so much wiser and more experienced than her. If the scars on his body were of any indication, he had seen true combat, where his life had been on the line. Whenever he had given her a lesson, he spoke as if were carrying the knowledge of centuries on his shoulders. In comparison, Annallya still had a great deal to learn before she would graduate and join the ranks of the Thylaran military, and had seen no real combat, outside of those bandits and the Catcher from last night.

In that moment, however, the barrier between the two of them had melted. They were no longer a mentor and student, they were not even a man and a Titan. They had simply been people. Two horribly lonely people who needed the company of the other more than anything else. It was unlike anything Annallya had experienced with a human. After her battle with the Catcher, however, that had changed. He had seen her at her full height, and become afraid of her. The more she thought about it, the less Annallya could blame him. From what Gaelin had told her, everyone in Sol har had experienced terror at the hands of Titans. From the way they had reacted to her the previous night, Annallya believed it. Gaelin was probably no exception, especially considering how a Titan had been trying to capture him mere moments before hand. How else was he supposed to feel when coming face to face with another one, one ever taller than the Titan that had tried to catch him? It all made so much sense to her.

But that moment when he backed away from her in fear, the look on his face. It burned in her memory. It had remained with her in her dreams that night. It was the first thing she pictured in her mind upon waking up. Annallya needed to speak with him. She needed to know how he really saw her. Finally approaching the hut, the Titan was momentarily surprised to find the yard empty. Every time Annallya had come to Gaelin’s hut, he had always been outside, going about some kind of task. Even when he was out hunting, there were always signs that he had earlier been busy with some kind of chore. Today, however, there was no a trace that he had left the house this morning, or was even there at all. Given the time of day, he should have been busy with at least a half a dozen tasks by now. Perhaps he had anticipated her arrival, and this was his way of preventing some kind of confrontation, hoping that she would leave instead. He should have known her better than that. Feeling her usual stubbornness begin to replace her earlier feelings of trepidation, Annallya marched up to his front door, and proceeded to beat it like a drum.

“Gaelin!” she called. “Gaelin, come out here! We must speak!”

No sound came from the hut for a few breathless moments.

“Gaelin!” she yelled again, banging on the door. “Gaelin come out! You must hear what I have to say!”

Again not a sound came from inside the hut. Annallya tried to open the door, but found it to be latched shut. Unless he had purposefully locked himself out before going hunting, then he must still be inside. The Titan beat on the door a few more times before taking a step back and crossing her arms.

“Gaelin, you know very well that I could lift the roof from your home without any effort. Please come outside so that we may speak in a more civilized manner.”

From behind Annallya came a soft rustling. She sighed while turning around. “It is about ti-”

Her sentence was cut off at the sight of a sandy haired assailant charging towards her, brandishing a metal poker. The figure was too close for her to face squarely and so, acting on pure instinct, Annallya lept to the side, and rolled away to gain some distance. Coming up smoothly to her feet, Annallya drew the knife at her belt, and turned to face her attacker. The boy who had rushed her stood in place, anxiously attempting to keep his feet still, while he hid behind the metal poker, all the while acting as if were a shield that was keeping her at bay. Now that Annallya had a moment to glance a look at the would-be assassin, she released a pent up breath of relief.

“Tayall.” she sighed while sheathing her knife. “I apologize, however you should not have frightened me in such a way. I could have hurt you.”

The young boy, not even thirteen winters of age, remained where he stood. He made no move to lower the metal poker, facing Annallya down as if she were a wolf. At once, she understood what was happening. Slowly and deliberately, Annallya raised her hands up to shoulder height, palms facing out.

“Tayall, I need you to listen to me right now.” she said.

But the boy only took a quick step forward, swinging the poker in a wide arc, before stepping back. “Leave!”

“Please Tayall, listen. I am not here to hurt anyone.”

This time the boy actually charged her, the poker drawn back overhead in preparation for a big strike. Annallya remained standing in place as the armed youth ran towards her. Just before he brought the poker down, Annallya stepped to the side and pushed his body past hers. Tayall found himself striking only air and, thrown off balance by his attack meeting no resistance, he stumbled forward a few steps before falling. The Titan winced.

“I am sorry for that,” she told him. “Please stop this, Tayall, I am not here to fight anyone.”

Stifling a groan of pain, the sandy haired youth jumped back to his feet in a rather ungraceful manner. Turning to face her again, he brought the poker up again to guard himself.

“Get out of here!” he screamed. “I won’t let you take him!”

Tayall ran at her again, drawing the poker back to his side. He slowed down a bit as he came within striking distance, and swung wide with all of his might. Annallya may not have the combat experience of a full soldier of Thylara, but she had had quite a bit of experience training to become one. Tayall, on the other hand, had likely never held a weapon before. She leaned her upper body back just enough that his attack missed her completely, stepping backwards as well. The boy followed up with more wild swings, each of which were fluidly dodged by the Titan.

“I won’t let you take another one away from me!” he screamed as he continued to attack. “You’ve already taken enough of us! We don’t want to lose anymore friends! Leave us alo-!”

Before Tayall could fully comprehend what was happening, he was hoisted into the air by his shirt, the scenery spinning in his vision. When his sight finally corrected itself, Tayall realized he was being held in the air by a now 20 ft tall Annallya. Without giving the boy a second to react, the Titan plucked the metal poker from his grasp, the iron bar appearing as little more than a metal twig in her fist. She dropped it to the ground and looked back up at the boy she held up with one arm.

“Now, if you wish for me to return you to the ground, then you must promise to listen to what I have to say.” she explained. “Understand?”

But the little human barely heard a word she had said, let alone was capable of answering her. Once he saw a Titan grow bigger than any man or woman was meant to be, all reason had left him. Everything that was not fear, in fact, had left him. All he could do at that moment was whimper in the face of his greatest nightmare.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t take me away...”

Annallya tried her best to look as non threatening as possible. Not the easiest task when one is 20 ft tall and holding someone else in the air with one arm. “Tayall I have not come to take anyone anywhere.”

The boy sniffed as the tears continued to stream down his face. “You’re a Titan. You take people away, just like my brother. You took Andrill away from me . . . and I couldn’t stop it . . .”

“Andrill . . . ” she breathed. At once Annallya set Tayall down on the ground, shrinking back to her human height in the process. She knelt to one knee to be at a more even height with him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders for comfort. “Andrill is your brother?”

The boy wiped his face with his sleeve for a moment before speaking. “You . . . you knew him?” he asked with a sniff.

“I-” Annallya hesitated. “I know him. He is my friend, and he is still alive.”

At once Tayall’s head rocked back as if he had been struck in the face. The tears continued to flow, but the whimpering stopped at that moment. “H-he’s alive? Andrill’s alive!”

“Under Sun and Stars I swear your brother is alive,” she assured him warmly. “And . . . and he is coming home soon.”

Standing back up, Annallya marched over to the door of the hut and began banging on it again, this time as hard as she could. “Gaelin! Come out! I would speak with you NOW!”

She continued assaulting the door until the sound of a latch lifting could be heard from the other side. The door opened, revealing a disheveled looking Gaelin Val’ Saida. He was dressed in the same clothes he had worn the previous night, minus the coat, and the wrinkled state of them told how he had likely slept the night in them. His bloodshot eyes and tangled mess of hair told of how he had just woken up. However, it was the almost empty bottle in his hand that completed the story.

“What’re you doing here?” he gruffly asked.

Annallya paused for a second to take in his appearance. “We have much to speak about.”

“I’m still alive, thanks for checking up though. Come back after I feel like seeing people today.” He began to close the door.

The Titan immediately caught it, throwing her weight against it as well to fully stop it from closing on her. “You have lied to me.” she said through clenched teeth. She kept forgetting how strong humans were to her at this size. “You told me once before that it did not bother you that I was a Titan. That I was a good person.”

“Was that a lie?”

“Was it?” she insisted, giving one last shove against the door. Gaelin relented for a moment and allowed the door to be pushed open again.

“What do you want from me, woman?” he grunted.

The lanky Titan paused as she studied him further. “You appear as unhealthy as I felt this morning. But you did not have as much wine at the Inn as I had. You were in much better control over yourself that night.”

Gaelin grunted as he finished off the last of what was in the bottle he held. “I had some strong stuff tucked away for a rainy day here. Got the job done.”

Annallya glanced down at the bottle, her eyes widening. “Do you mean to tell me that every time I have seen you drinking from one of those bottles, that was what you were drinking?”

“No, not all the time.” he noted. “Sometimes it’s whiskey, other times it’s rum, or brandy. It depends on what I got lying around. But they all get the job done.”

“Gaelin,” she said slowly. “When I think back to what it was I had felt last night, and after only drinking a few glasses. And all of this time, you have been drinking entire bottles by yourself, and . . .”

“. . . You’re a drunk.” Tayall muttered.

Gaelin winced, causing Annallya to look back at the boy. “What is that?”

Tayall studied the ground intently, unable to bring himself to make eye contact with anyone. “My da told me that sometimes . . . sometimes people use drinking as a way to cope with their problems, or with pain. Eventually they become addicted to it, and they need to drink all the time . . .”

Rather than deny it, Gaelin only leaned heavily against the doorframe. “I told you once, I’m not the kind of man you should strive to be like. . .”

“A bottle is a home for no man,” she softly recited to Tayall.

The boy lifted his tear filled eyes to meet hers. “Andrill used to tell him that.”

“This is how you have been coping with my presence?” she asked, turning back to Gaelin. “I have brought so much pain on to you by being here, that you have been retreating to a bottle every day?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied with a pained smile. “I’ve been drinking long before you came into the picture. Probably long before you ever picked up a sword.”

“Why?” she whispered. “What pains you so much, Gaelin, that you feel the need to drown yourself? That you can barely stand to look at me now?”

“What,” he repeated in a very worn, very tired voice. “Do you want from me?”

“I want you to explain yourself,” she affirmed. “And I wish to hear the truth. All of it.”

“The truth!” he shouted. “The truth is I never lied! Andrill was always a great pain in the ass! And now so are you! Story explained!”

With that, Gaelin slammed the door shut in her face, replacing the latch back on as well as two other locks. Annallya stood there in silence, shaking her head in frustration at his stubbornness. Releasing a pent up breath, she turned her head back towards Tayall.

“Step back.”

From the other side Gaelin sagged against the door in weariness. He had expected some kind of confrontation to come of this, but not this soon. He wasn’t ready to face her now, or to dredge up the past. Pushing himself up off of the door, he began to walk over to his cupboard in search of another bottle. It was no easy task, given how much he had drank last night before finally blacking out. It was a miracle he had managed to wake up this early at all. The room hadn’t stopped shaking in his eyes.

It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his eyes that noticed the room shaking.

Beneath the soles of his boots Gaelin could feel distinct vibrations. Next came a great groaning sound from the ceiling above. He braced himself against the table as the entire roof of the hut was broken away from the rest of the structure. Thatched wood creaked and groaned in protest, as a gigantic hand lifted the roof as easily as one might lift the lid of a chest. What came next was a sight Gaelin had tried to avoid seeing in his dreams the previous night. Annallya, in all of her Titan power and might, gazed down at him from on high.

For Annallya this was a strange experience as well. In a house built entirely for his size, Gaelin appeared to her as a doll would, living in a very detailed dollhouse. Had she not been so emotionally conflicted at the moment, Annallya would have revelled in how adorable of a sight it was. Without ceremony, the Titan reached in with her other hand, being very careful not to damage anything else within the stone hut. Gaelin, to his credit, remained impressively calm as her immense fingers wrapped gently around his body, and hoisted him out of the house. Once he was cleared of the house, Annallya slowly set the roof back in place, and deposited him on the ground, next to Tayall, whose mouth was hanging open wide enough to catch birds.

Gaelin dropped ungracefully to the ground, somehow managing to stay on his feet despite the hangover, and glared up at her.

“I just rethatched the roof.” he growled.

That brought a smirk to the Titan’s face as she knelt in front of the two little humans, continuing to gaze down at them. “You may add it to my list of chores. I am sure that I shall get around to it eventually.”

“By flames you will.” he replied. “Alright, you’ve made your point. You want to talk, and you’re not taking no for an answer. Come down here and let’s get this over with.”

But the Titan only sat back on her heels and placed her hands on her hips. “Not until we understand each other. All three of us.”

The two of them stood in silence, waiting for her to continue. Annallya closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked back at them again.

“Titans are raised as little girls to believe that you humans are wild animals, living in the woods, hunting and killing each other savagely. I had grown up believing that all of you were tiny monsters.” she explained. “Everything I have ever done, all of the imprisonment I have tolerated, I did it because I had believed that it was right. That it was good. It was not until I had been given charge of taking care of Andrill that I was taught differently.”

“You, Gaelin, as well helped to show me that humans are no different than Titans, despite our differences in size. In fact,” she softly lamented. “I now thoroughly believe that you are superior to ourselves. . . Your compassion and empathy, surpass anything I have witnessed in Thylara. We strive to war with our neighbors, while your people are content to live peacefully with each other.”

She took another breath, and rearranged her thoughts. There was so much she wanted to say. “What I am trying to tell you both is that . . . I am a Titan. I understand Titans frighten you. They have taken away your loved ones, and have terrorized your village. They have hurt you deeply, in ways I may not fully understand. But I have only ever wanted to do good things for humans, and because of you all, I now know what good really is for you.”

Her hands, which rested on her lap, clenched into fists, as if to affirm her new beliefs. “I wish to help your people, and I shall, I promise. However, I need for you to accept the undeniable fact,and see me as I am. I am a Titan. I am what you have spent years hating, and being afraid of. I am Annallya Rhaolin, and I am a Titan.”

As gracefully as she could, Annallya placed her hand, palm up, in front of Gaelin. The man eyed it for a few breathless moments, before stepping fully onto the giantess’s palm. Very slowly, Annallya brought the little human up to her face.

“But I am also your friend, Gaelin Val’ Saida. Are . . . you mine as well?”

Gaelin shook his head with a sigh. “I’ve always dreamt of being held in the hand of a Titan. Honestly, I never imagined that walk away from the experience without being crushed or dropped.” He paused. “Though, considering it’s you who’s holding me, I suppose that’s even more likely to happen by accident alone.”

That brought a smile to the Titan’s face. Perhaps these little men did know something of humor. Gaelin smiled back up at her with another sigh.

“Flames burn me where I stand, but yes Annallya. I’m your friend. Heh.” he mused. “Friends with a Titan. Never thought I’d be saying that in my lifetime.”

“Oh Gaelin,” she breathed in relief. As gently as she could, Annallya pressed the tiny human to her chest, just above her heart, in a hug. “Thank you.”

She held him there for a few seconds, before depositing him back on the ground. That’s when she noticed Tayall looking sheepishly at her. When the Titan quirked an eyebrow, he cast his eyes down again and cleared his throat. “I’m uh . . . I’m sorry for getting you in trouble with everyone last night, Ms Annallya. I uh . . . Does that mean we can’t be friends too?”

In response to that Annallya scooped the boy up in her hands, and brought him up to her face as well. “Did you think that I had not noticed how hard you fought to protect Gaelin from the big, bad Titan? I would be honored to have such a hero as my friend.”

Rather than give him a hug, Annallya placed as gentle a kiss as she could manage on top of the boy’s head, before placing him down next to Gaelin. The swordsman chuckled quietly to himself for a second, noting how red Tayall’s entire face had turned.

“So is that all you had to talk to me about?” he asked.

“Well . . . no, not entirely. Though it was important.”

He nodded. “Well go on then.”

She nodded in return. “Do you remember that incredibly foolish task I had mentioned that I may be performing?”

“Don’t tell me, you decided to go through with whatever it is?” he asked.

Annallya grinned. “Not only am I going to go through with it, but you are going to help me.”

Gaelin took a minute to soak all of that in. “Come inside then, I’ll put the kettle on. Sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Annallya nodded. Within a few seconds she was standing before the two of them at her human height. “Lovely. And if by some miracle we make it through this alive, we will have time to talk about the . . . other thing that happened last night.”

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow as he held the door open for her. “Other thing? What-” He paused when he saw her reddening cheeks. “. . . Oh.”

 

 

 

Evening had falling over the city of Thylara, bathing the homes and towers with the soft, pink afterglow of the setting sun. While other Titans were busy preparing dinner for themselves, Annallya was at work preparing herself for a night of pure dread. Simply thinking about what would soon be taking place over the next few hours was enough to cause her stomach to sink within her. As such, she poured great effort into managing her appearance. This was to be her first war council, and it was imperative that she appear as regal as one would expect of a future advisor to the Queen. She had dressed in her usual white robe, with her red, sash-like belt at her waist, creating a skirt out of the bottom that stopped just short of her knees. Over top of this she wore her armor, which consisted of a breastplate of pure steel, vembrages, greaves, and pauldrons, all of a plain design. At her waist hung her sword, ready to be used to kill herself if one thing should go wrong this night. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Annallya briefly entertained the notion that she may be overthinking just a tad bit.

After spending a solid five minutes fussing over the proper style for her hair alone, she finally pulled herself away from the mirror. “How do I look?” she asked.

Gaelin looked up from the gigantic desk he was sitting on and eyed her up and down. “Like you’re going to wring someone’s neck, but be pretty while you do it.”

The giantess narrowed her eyes at him. “By flames but I should be wringing your neck for talking me into such a foolhardy plan.”

“As I recall, this was your plan.” he countered.

“My plan only involved having you around to keep watch over me while I did all of the work.” she reminded him. “Not galavant about the palace alone.”

Gaelin pondered that for a moment. “Huh, you know when you use the word galavant, it makes it sound all heroic. Fancy that.” he mused.

Annallya sighed. “I am serious Gaelin-”

“So am I,” he interrupted. The tone of his voice darkened to match his words. “I’ve looked at this from all angles and this is the only way we have a chance of succeeding. And I will put everything I have on the line to make sure that happens.”

The titan averted her eyes, looking downcast at the floor. “What if you are caught?” she quietly asked.

But the swordsman seemed unfazed by the question. “Then you march over to Rhollan and tell him that I paid my debt.”

For a moment neither of them spoke a word, until Annallya looked back up. “You truly think that I look pretty?”

Gaelin paused as he thought back to the off handed comment he had made earlier. “Huh, suppose I did say that. That’s unusual for me...”

“Yes it is,” she agreed with a smile. “But I could grow used to it.”

Perhaps Annallya had spent so much time fussing over her outfit so that it would distract her from her worrying. Or, she grudgingly admitted, she had wanted to look good in front of Gaelin. Earlier this morning, when Annallya had gone to his house to take him to the palace, Gaelin had emerged looking as she had never seen him before. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers, perhaps the cleanest pair she had ever seen him wear, tucked into a good pair of boots. Over top of the shirt was a black tunic, with his signature dark leather hooded coat draped over his shoulder. Even more unusual were the new items he carried with him. One of which was an item Annallya had never believed she would see him carry: a sword.

Hidden away in its sheath, she could see nothing of the blade, other than how the body of the sword must curve slightly. The handle was beautiful in it’s simplicity, padded in a cloth like material that was as blue as sapphires. The golden pommel split off into two hilt guards that extended diagonally upwards towards the blade. Looking at just the handle and pommel, the sword appeared brand new. The worn and scarred sheath, however, told a different story. In addition to the sword, Gaelin also wore a length of red rope wrapped around his left forearm, covering from his wrist to half the length of his forearm. Pinned to the rope was a golden, four-pointed star. When she had inquired after them, he had brushed the matter aside.

“They’re just some old relics.” he had said.

All in all, he had looked so . . . so dashing, especially once he had taken up his quiver and bow. When Annallya had looked at him, standing before her, tall, and bearing the resolve of a man ready to go about a difficult task, she could not help but be reminded of the heroes from the Whistler’s tales. Standing before him, dressed in her armor, ready to walk in the presence of generals and royalty, she wondered if he saw anything similar when he looked at her.

Annallya shook her head. This was no time to be clouding her mind with such ridiculous notions. She had a part to play in all of this. Looking out at the window, she could see the light outside grow dimmer. With a deep breath, the Titan steeled herself.

“It is time.” she told him.

Gaelin nodded. Annallya hesitantly approached the diminutive man and grasped him in one hand. With her other hand she lifted her skirt, exposing a thin strip of cloth, tied to the inside of her robes in a hammock-like fashion, just next to her left thigh. She brought Gaelin over to this makeshift seat, and allowed him the chance to secure himself. The swordsman settled into the hammock as if it were a saddle to ride on.

“All set,” he told her.

Annallya tried her best to give him a confident smile. “Simply keep your hands to yourself, and I shall try to walk smoothly.”

“I should have given you some wine to steady yourself, then.” he retorted.

“I thought the idea of this was for me to not make a scene this night.” she reminded him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked with a shrug.

Rather than answer that, Annallya allowed her skirt to fall over him, completely obstructing him from view. At her full height, Gaelin was small enough to fit right against her leg without it being noticable to anyone not looking for him. All she had to do was not act as if she were smuggling a tiny man beneath her skirt as she strolled about the palace. She sighed. Far too much of this plan was easier said than done. Without further delay, Annallya proceeded into the hallway. The majority of guards she would have normally seen along her way were noticeably absent this evening. This did little to reassure her, as she knew exactly where they would be. Rather than worry herself over what was already too late for her to change, the Titan kept walking until she had arrived at a door. She was about to knock, when the door opened before her suddenly enough to cause her to flinch. Fortunately Annallya managed to control herself in time so that her mother did not notice.

Oragale Rhaolin was dressed in the finest robes of an advisor this evening. A dress of both blue and white cascaded down the length of her body like a waterfall of silk. Draped over her shoulders was a blue silken shawl with the insignia of her station woven into the design. In her left hand she held a satchel containing an assortment of books, charts, and various documents. In her right hand she held her red wood staff, another signifier of her station as advisor to the Queen.

“Mother,” Annallya said in greeting, giving a respectful bow of the head.

“Annallya,” her mother warmly replied. Her mother had been in a noticeably improved mood these past few days. She took a minute to inspect her daughter from head to foot, appraising her appearance. “Perfectly presentable. I am happy to see that you are taking your responsibilities seriously.

Annallya smiled in return. “Thank you mother. I want very much to be taken seriously at my first council.”

“Phaw, worry little over such things for now.” her mother replied. “All of the officials and generals are aware that you and Thoren are yet young. Simply watch and listen carefully, and they will see that you have come to learn, and will take you to be maturing.”

“I shall,” she assured her, all the while trying to ignore the itching sensation travelling down her leg. Taking the satchel from her mother’s hand, she slung it over her shoulder, and gestured to the side. “After you, mother.”

With a nod of satisfaction, Mistress Rhaolin proceeded down the hall, with her daughter trailing just to the right and behind her, like a guard of honor. Very slowly, Annallya brushed her hand over her skirt, just by her thigh, and felt nothing. Gaelin was no longer there.

The plan had officially begun.

Do not die, you Sun forsaken idiot. She thought.

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin had done a bit of travelling in his earlier years. He had seen a few sights and experienced a few stories worthy to be told over a mug of ale. So to be carried in a cloth sling beneath the skirt of a Titan that he himself had mentored . . . that was a new one for him. Definitely not something he had expected to be doing when he had woken up.

It was an uncomfortably intimate experience at that. True Annallya and he were about the same age yet, because of his role as a mentor to her, he had always seen her as a student. Someone to keep at arm's length in any and all personal sense. So sitting by her side, literally right next to her undergarments, was a good mile past personal. A good mile past proper. If he managed to get out of this alive, no one in the village must ever hear of this part of the story. They disapproved of him enough back there. Blazing embers but he wished he had brought something to drink with him. Annallya had made him promise to go about this sober. He didn’t see much the point of that. The way her enormous leg brushed him back and forth as she walked was akin to drinking an entire bottle of rum, while on a ship. After a minute or so, she stopped walking, and Gaelin could hear the voice of an older woman: her mother. Gaelin had never before met, or even glimpsed at Annallya’s mother. However, if any of her off-handed remarks about the woman were anything to be trust, he had best keep it that way.

Now that they had begun talking, Gaelin took that as his que to begin. With all of the strength he could muster, he gripped the cloth of Annallya’s skirt, and began lifting himself from his saddled position. He had to work slowly, as he didn’t want to draw her mother’s attention to the rustling fabric. Once both of his legs were out, Gaelin hung forty feet in the air, supported by nothing but his own fingers and arms. Now for the hard part, climbing down. The work was slow, and required a hefty amount of upper body strength. Gaelin had been careful to make sure that his descent had placed him exactly at the back of Annallya’s thigh so that, by the time his body had begun to drop passed the hem of her skirt, her leg still hid him from Mistress Rhaolin’s sight. Steadying himself with a deep breath, Gaelin released his grip, and dropped towards the floor.

He was not a moment too soon in grabbing the leather straps of her sandals, which wound their way up the giantess’s calves. Because of their criss crossed pattern, Gaelin finally had a foothold to support himself on. The last bit of climbing was quick and easy. Just as he had reached her ankle, Annallya’s massive body turned to the side, allowing her mother to walk ahead of her. Gaelin dropped to the ground without so much as a sound, watching as the two colossal Titans walked away. He was now on his own. Alone in the halls, Gaelin took a minute to absorb the vastness of the scene around him. Here he was, surrounded on all sides by giganticness, a presence so immense that the mere thought of how big everything was in comparison to him was enough to almost crush him. And yet, it didn’t matter at all to him. He came here to do a job, to right a wrong. It didn’t matter how big the task before him loomed. It needed to be done.

With a steady breath, Gaelin Val’ Saida sprinted for the door of Mistress Rhaolin’s chambers, and slid right underneath the gap just above the floor. He was greeted by the sight of an immaculately furnished bedroom, housing a bed that could easily fit the entirety of Sol-har on its surface. Bookcases, tapestries, and ornate weapons decorated walls tall enough to have defended Nephrotora itself. Off to the far side of the room next to the bed, at a distance that must have been a quarter of a mile, was a night table. Gaelin reached into an inner pocket within his coat, and withdrew an simple spyglass. Sure enough, a cube shaped metal cage rested on the table. Tucking the spyglass back into his coat, Gaelin took off at a jog for the other side of the room. Despite all of the moving about, the foam at the bottom of his quiver kept his arrows in place. As he drew close to his destination, Gaelin removed the bow from his back and selected an arrow. Right when he was almost at the base of the forty foot tall night table, the swordsman stopped. In one fluid, practiced motion he notched the arrow and drew the bow back till his thumb was just touching the corner of his mouth. He aimed high, judging the distance on sight and adjusting the angle, and released. The arrow flew straight into the air at a sixty degree angle, climbing higher and higher until it had surpassed the edge of the table. With its momentum being lost to gravity, and the heavy tip weighing it down, the arrow plummeted back towards the earth, embedding itself deeply within the wood of the night table. This arrow had been specially crafted for a purpose such as this. Its tip was shaped like a four pronged claw, with each tip barbed so that it holds on tight to whatever it sticks into. The entire arrowhead is made to be especially heavy, requiring a powerful bow and extra calculation when aiming, so that when it lands, the head sinks deeply into a wooden surface. Tied to the metal head, the part of the arrow least likely to break, was seventy feet of light rope. Gaelin grinned as the length dangling just in front of him. It seems he had brought plenty. If the rest of the night went this smoothly, he just might make it out of this alive.

Slinging his bow back on his back, Gaelin climbed the rope, reaching the top in only a few short minutes. Just as he reached the summit of the night table, and hoisted himself up, Gaelin was found himself face to face with his first student. Andrill stood against the near wall of the cage, his hands holding the bars in a white knuckle grip. He was dressed in a good red coat that looked freshly washed, albeit slept in,a lace shirt, black trousers, and good boots. His hair had grown longer, but his beard looked freshly trimmed. His face was the hardest to look at. It looked more taut and hollow than Gaelin had remembered. His skin had grown pale as well, reflecting on the little time he had spent in direct sunlight. It was a sickly appearance, yet it was his eyes that were the worst. The look in his eye, the wide eyed disbelief of a man facing down a fate he had not dared consider, looked very much like a man gazing upon death itself. Andrill must be thinking that he was facing a phantom or delusion, rather than escape. It hurt to look at.

“A flock of vultures mentioned there was a corpse up here,” Gaelin said, breaking the silence. “They didn’t tell me they’d already been picking at it.”

The young man in the cage sucked in a breath. “Gaelin.” he whispered. “ . . . You’re- . . . you’re here . . .”

“Took a wrong turn looking for the bathroom.” he replied walking up to the cage. Reaching through the bars, Gaelin gripped his young friend’s shoulder, reassuring him that he was in fact real. Andrill reacted in kind, grasping onto his old mentor’s shoulder, arms shaking. “Blazing embers, what have they been feeding you? Birdseed and water?”

Despite his haggard appearance, Andrill managed a weak smile. “Certainly not peaches.”

Gaelin returned the smile in kind. “Good man. They never broke you.”

“We can debate that later.” he replied. “What are you doing here? Did they Offer you up?”

“I came to rescue you,” Gaelin answered. “It was Annallya’s idea. We’re getting you all out, tonight.”

Andrill’s eyes widened. “A-all?”

He nodded. “Everyone in the palace. They all go home with us, starting with you. Stand back.”

Andrill did as he was instructed, and watched in wide eyed amazement as Gaelin drew his sword. This was Andrill’s first time ever seeing him wield a real blade. The steel was beautifully wrought, and cleaned to perfection. Not a scratch marred its surface. It curved in the style of a saber, coming to a fine point. The swordsman steadied himself in a stance Andrill was all too familiar with. Poised on the balls of his feet, Gaelin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Before Andrill could even register that the man had moved, he attacked. The cages were designed to be opened in one of two ways. Spring loaded locks could open up the entire ceiling, allowing a full sized Titan to reach her hand inside, or tiny metal doors that could be locked with a key could allow a human sized Titan to enter the cage without any difficulty. In a blur of motion Gaelin drove the tip of his sword into the keyhole of the lock. There was a quick sound of snapping metal, and the door popped open. Andrill stood staring at the unlocked door, leading to a freedom he had long since given up hope of ever seeing. It was enough to bring a tear to his eye.

Not one to waste time, Gaelin quickly pushed past him, striding up to the human sized bed Andrill had just been sleeping on. He began removing sheets, arranging them on the bed in the shape of a human underneath the blanket. Once that was done, he ushered them both outside, and shut the door carefully, so that it wouldn’t swing back open.

“If the blessings of the Stars are with us, that’ll keep her fooled until morning.” he muttered. “If not, it’ll still buy us enough time to get out of here.”

“But won’t they just go back to the village and look for us?” Andrill protested.

Gaelin shook his head. “The great thing about this plan is that no one expects a Titan to be helping us get out. They’ll assume you all got out on your own, and’ll spend all of their time searching the palace, maybe even the city. That should buy us at least a day of time, maybe a few days or weeks.”

“What about after that?” he asked.

Gaelin paused, drawing in a deep breath. “I don’t know, but we can figure something out. All I know is, this needed to be done.”

Andrill nodded without hesitation.

“Take the rope and climb down.” Gaelin instructed. “Then I’ll remove it and use the bedsheets. We can’t leave behind any clue for them to follow. And by the Stars, that’s not going to be easy.”

Andrill looked longingly at the rope leading down to the floor. Freedom. His freedom. Just when he had believed that the Sun and Stars had abandoned him to his fate, they had brought him hope. Tears threatened to overwhelm him in the moment. Until a light slap across the face brought his mind back into focus.

“Hey!” Gaelin sharply muttered. “There’ll be time for that when we’ve lived through this. But right now there are at least a dozen other people we need to break out, and I can’t do it alone. I need a strong set of arms, and a stronger will. I need my friend. Can I count on that?”

Despite the pain of the past few months threatening to beat him down again, despite the sharp memories of Mistress Rhaolin’s punishments and even more terrible ‘rewards’, Andrill found strength returning to his limbs. For the first time in a long time, he wore a brave, genuine smile on his lips. Gaelin answered with a wolfish grin.

“Good man. Now let’s get to work.”

*************************************************************************************

Annallya entered the Queen’s reception room on the heels of her mother, looking as serious as a personal guard in her armor. The reception room was a mostly empty chamber, adorned with tapestries and paintings of all kinds. Stained glass windows allowed a modest amount of light to shine through,bringing to life the images of past Queens and battles painted on their polished surface. At the far wall sat the Queen’s throne, beautifully wrought from gold and precious stones. On this throne sat the Queen herself.

Queen Phelonous was a mirror image of her daughter. Dark skin the color of chocolate gave away very little sign of her actual age, making it difficult to tell how old she really was. Her glossy black hair fell to her shoulder, framing a beautiful, oval shaped face. Dark eyes gazed down a small nose at the two approaching women, while her delicate lips formed a line across her mouth. She wore purple and gold robes, signifying her as royalty, while the golden crown of Thylara, an intricately wrought ring, encircled her forehead. At her right hand stood Thoren, likewise dressed in purple robes, without any gold, marking her as princess, but not yet Queen. Like Annallya, since Thoren did not yet hold any official station of authority, she wore her armor overtop her robes. Her hair was held up by a silver pin adorned with rubies, making her look as mature and serious as Annallya hope that she herself looked. Five armed guards stood by on either side of the throne, impassive and ready to move at a moments notice.

The mother and daughter stopped before the throne and bowed. Mistress Rhaolin only gave a deep bow of the head, placing her hand over her heart. This was significant, as she was the only woman in Thylara who could give the Queen such a casual show of respect, denoting her as a second in authority. Annallya bowed in the manner her mother had taught her, bending almost ninety degrees at the waist, then straightening up and slamming her right fist against her left forearm, much after the military style of saluting. The Queen nodded to them and rose.

“I would be honored to have the wisdom of my most trusted advisor with me this evening.” she announced, her voice carrying with it the weight of years of authority. “We have much to discuss. Follow me.”

The Queen, while flanked by her guards, led the three other women to a door off to the side of the throne room. Following a short hallway, the group emerged within the small war chamber. There already assembled were generals and captains of the Thylaran military. Upon the group’s entrance, each one stood at attention and bowed formally to the Queen. All the while, the guards took up stations around the room.

“Respected generals and captains,” the Queen greeted. “I thank you for attending. Much is happening, and I seek your wisdom. Let us begin.”

The war chamber was a small room, reserved only for the most elite and highest ranking members of the Thylaran military. A large table took up much of the room. On it rested a scaled replica of the entire city of Thylara, as well as at least ten scaled miles of the surrounding land. The women within the room gathered around this table and began discussing reports. Annallya and Thoren stood side by side, away from the table so as not to disturb the conversation.

“You look very nice,” Thoren whispered.

“As do you, though I hope you also feel as nervous as I do.” Annallya replied. All the while, the two friends never diverted their eyes from the table.

“I feel as if humans were running amuck in my stomach.” Thoren agreed.

“I hope Naela is not one of them,” she told her. “I rather like her.”

“You are simply jealous because your pet does not dance.”

Annallya grinned mischievously. “Oh believe me, he dances.”

Thoren cast her a side glance but grinned. “Have you any idea what this meeting will be about? It sounds quite important.”

“From the snippets I have managed to pull from my mother, it sounds as if Thylara will be going to war again soon.”

Thoren sighed as quietly as possible. “Thank the Stars.” she murmured in a sarcastic voice. “It is becoming too quiet around here.”

*************************************************************************************

“I thought you said it would be quiet around here!” Andrill sharply whispered into his companion’s ear.

They had just barely managed to avoid a patrolling group of guards for the fifth time since they had set out. It had been almost an hour since Annallya had left Gaelin to attend the war council, a meeting which she had claimed could take as much as two hours time to complete. That left them at least another hour to navigate the palace, find their second destination, and then meet Annallya back in her room. At least, that’s what the plan is supposed to have been. Groups of two to five guards have been roaming the halls. They had managed to avoid being spotted so far by taking cover behind tapestries and beneath doors, remaining hidden underneath the door itself rather than cross fully over into the next room. Scattered throughout the halls as well were assortments of decorative pieces of art, such as ceramic bowls and glass ornaments, held on beautifully carved wooden stands. These stands as well made for good cover.

“She told me that there wouldn’t be many patrols in the halls.” he affirmed.

“So then what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I think something’s happening that she isn’t aware of.” Gaelin noted. “I get the feeling that they’re looking out for something.”

“Us?” Andrill asked.

Gaelin shook his head. “They’re not looking at the ground.”

“No but they could still easily spot us if we’re not careful.” he said.

“I know, we’ve got to do something about that.” Gaelin agreed. “We can’t travel in a group like this.”

“Any ideas?” Andrill asked.

“Only bad ones.” his friend replied.

“My favorite kind,” the younger man muttered.

“Follow me,” Gaelin instructed.

He led Andrill over to a particularly tall stand which held a stained glass vase, painted to look like a stunning landscape. The two men easily climbed the carved stand, finding plenty of hand and foot holds to make use of. Once they had reached the top, Gaelin took up his bow and notched that special arrow of his. Taking aim, he sent the arrow sailing across the hall towards a woven tapestry. The arrow pierced straight through the thick material at the top, penetrating just deep enough that the barbs caught.

“Will that be strong enough to hold us?” Andrill asked.

“Don’t know, but no choice either.” he simply stated.

With a nod, Andrill gripped the rope. The two men shared a deep breath of apprehension, before leaping from the giant stand. The worst part about the experience was not so much as the sensation of rapidly falling, but the fact that they could not afford to utter so much as a peep while they flew through the air. The world around them lurched forward at an incredible velocity. Had the tapestry not been made of such soft material they very well might have dropped to the floor on impact. As such, they hit the wall on the opposite side of the hallway with barely an audible THUMP. For a moment the two men hung still, clutching the rope for dear life.

“Please tell me we won’t ever have to do that again.” Andrill pleaded.

Gaelin only gave him a level stare. “If you’re going to be like this the whole time, you’re going back in that cage.”

He began climbing upwards as quickly as possible, with Andrill following close behind. Just before he reached the arrow, Gaelin drew his belt knife, and began to cut hand and foot holds in the tapestry. He collected his rope and arrow after Andrill had switched over to using the same foot holds, and together the two men made their way towards the very top. Once there, the immense wooden beams that ran all along the hallway ceilings, would be well within reach. Just before reaching them, however, Gaelin and Andrill froze. The steady rhythm of sandaled feet marching in unison began to echo from around a corner.

“Hurry!” Gaelin hissed.

The knife wielding swordsman cut into the thick cloth with unbridled vigor. He practically lept for the fringe of the tapestry as soon as it was within reach, Andrill was not far behind him. The sound of marching continued to increase, they were not completely out of sight yet. If they had gone for the wooden beams, they would have been seen trying to lift themselves up to them. With his instincts taking full control, Gaelin swung his entire body around, and behind the tapestry, hanging onto the top with his arms. Andrill mirrored his movements, just as it sounded as if the marching guards had turned a corner. Their arms still stuck out above the tapestry, but the fact that they were so small, and very high up, should prevent anyone who did not know where to look from spotting them. At least, that’s what Gaelin told himself. It seemed to take forever for the guards to make their way passed the tapestry where the little humans hung. When it finally sounded as if the last Titan had walked passed them, Gaelin hazarded a glance. Poking his head above the wall of cloth, he was surprised to see a formation of six guards marching down the hall away from them. With the danger passed, they finished their climb. After hoisting themselves up, the two men sat down for a moment, catching their breaths and admiring the palace.

“Six guards,” he recounted. “Six.”

“Something’s going on,” Andrill guessed. “Something important.”

“Yes, but we don’t have time to figure it out. We’ve got maybe an hour before she’s done.” he explained. “Come on. We can make up for lost time by not having to hide from anyone up here.”

Perched on the ceiling of a Titan palace, which rose to a staggering height of almost 300 ft, the two friends stood up and sprinted along the wooden beams as if death itself were at their heels, or rather underneath of their heels.

*************************************************************************************

There war council proceeded much as Annallya had expected it to. The generals around her spoke of recent activities of the city, as well as her ‘neighboring’ cities. Neighboring in Titan terms meant little more than sharing borders. Each city was hardly neighborly. They only took breaks from fighting, picking new fights when the memories of past conflicts began to grow dim. As such, each city had to keep special tabs on her neighbors. Annallya and Thoren spent the better part of an hour listening to estimates of military strength, soldier numbers, resources, and the like. All in all, it was dreadfully boring.

Which made it all the more strange when she considered how intent the Queen and her mother appeared. Annallya could not place her finger on it, it was little more than a nagging feeling, but something was off. Queen Phelonous and her mother looked upon the map as if it were on fire, and would trade an intense look with each other every now and then. Annallya glanced sideways at Thoren, and found her looking back. She had noticed as well.

The last general to speak had just finished giving a report about one of Thylara’s closer neighbors, the city Nashvani. When she had concluded, the Queen held up a hand, stalling all further reports. “Oragale, you approached me in confident earlier, telling me of concerns you have received from Nashvani. Would you like to share these with us?”

Oragale Rhaolin nodded to her friend. “Daughter, if you would please?”

Annallya stepped up next to her mother, holding out the satchel that she had been carrying for her this evening. Mistress Rhaolin reached inside and withdrew a small pack of folded envelopes, displaying them for the room as Annallya stepped back again.

“These reports have been sent to me from our newest spy within the city.” she explained for the assembly. “For those that are unaware, she only recently has gained a position as a scribe in their court, and so her information is limited and must be scrutinized thoroughly.”

She paused a moment to allow them to consider her next words more carefully. “However, given the reports we have all read as to Nashvani’s activities and latest imports received, I believe that her words may have great merit.”

“Are the Nashvans preparing to make war with us?” asked Falia, Second ranking High General of the Thylaran military.

“Not quite,” Mistress Rhaolin replied. “Judging from earlier reports of the movement of their troops and supplies, I believe that they plan to besiege the city of Soajen to the west. Were this true, then Nashvan would be seriously open to a counter attack.”

Looking up from the city model, which she had been glancing at through the entire meeting, she met the gaze of every military mind in the room. “Ladies, should we begin making preparations now, we may yet have the opportunity to extend our borders to another city.”

*************************************************************************************

“Of course this had to be the room we’re looking for.” Andrill cursed. “The one set of doors in the palace humans can’t break into.”

He and Gaelin looked down from the ceiling beams upon the doors of their destination. Behind them were the other palace ‘pets’, kept caged for their disciplinary training. Had Andrill not already been in the care of Mistress Rhaolin, he too would have been trapped there with them.

“You know this room?” Gaelin asked.

He nodded. “It’s the room where they bring all of the pets that live in the palace to discipline them.”

“Discipline?”

The younger man grimaced. “Teach them to be better pets.”

“Sun blinded witches.” Gaelin swore. “You’ve been in there?”

“When they first brought me here, I spent a week inside.” Andrill explained. “The door scrapes the ground, so we can’t crawl underneath. We’d need a month to cut through it.”

Gaelin nodded. “Yet I notice that they didn’t do anything about the top of the door.”

Andrill looked at him, then to the door. Sure enough there was a sizable gap between the wood of the door and the stone surrounding it. Sizable enough to even crawl through.

“Ok, but once we’re inside, how do we-”

Before he could even finish that sentence, Gaelin shot an arrow towards the top of the door, creating another rope bridge for them to cross, one that sloped downwards, stopping just above the doors gap.

“Let me worry about that,” he assured Andrill, handing the younger man his bow. Gaelin then removed his sheath, with the sword still inside, from his belt. Firmly planting another arrow into the wooden beams, he tied down the rope. “Whatever happens, we’ve got to get everyone out and up here. It’s the only way we’re going to make it back to Annallya’s room without being seen. Now do what I do and hold on for dear life.”

Without another word Gaelin took hold of his sheathed sword in one hand, the rope in the other hand, and dropped from the beam. Using his sheath as an improvised hook, he managed to turn the downwards sloping rope into a zip line, sliding gently all the way towards the gap in the doors. Just as he approached his destination, Gaelin swung his leg up and managed to catch the gap, allowing him to pull himself inside. Using the bow, Andrill imitated his mentor’s movements, replicating his actions as best he could. He was unsuccessful in catching his leg in the door, and required Gaelin’s help in climbing up. There was just enough room for them to lie on top of the door in relative comfort for a moment.

“Where under the stars did you learn to do that?” Andrill asked.

Gaelin smirked. “I’ve been climbing and swinging from trees since I could walk. How else do you think I keep myself occupied in the woods?”

“I always assumed you’d met a nice bear to keep your bed warm or something.” he replied.

The swordsman let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Bears aren’t really my type.”

“No. Instead you found yourself a Titan.” he guessed.

“I-” Gaelin looked sideways at Andrill. Realizing he could come up with no answer to that statement, he decided to push forward. They found to their delight that nails used in securing the metal frame to the outside of the doors punctured straight through the wood, leaving small rungs of metal to climb down from. The room was empty save for multiple hot oil lamps, most of which were lit, and three tables. Two smaller tables had been brought in to hold more lamps to allow proper light for the captives. On the third, larger table, sat thirty metal cages. The table was of a much more plain design than much of the other furniture they had encountered, yet there was still just enough of a craftsman’s design wrought into the wood to allow for some hand and foot holds. Within minutes the two men stood among the bewildered prisoners, now freed from their cages. Many of them wept openly at the freedom they had long forsaken. Gaelin and Andrill recognized many of their faces, others were travellers who had been captured near the city. Without a clear leader, Gaelin had to take charge of shepherding them off of the table. Although not all of the prisoners were young men and women, they were Sol-harans nonetheless. Used to rolling up their sleeves when work needed to be done.

Gaelin was standing at the top of the table, watching as Andrill helped the last captive climb down, when the door to the room began to open.

 

 

Annallya listened to her mother drone on in fascination. It had been over a hundred years since Thylara had lost land from another city, back during the Phelronic Wars. Since then, they had made no attempt to recapture any of their lost cities. To bear witness to a plan that may not only reclaim their lost lands, but add new ones never before possessed by their empire was breathtaking. It was like watching history unfold before her eyes. Her mother rattled on, sharing facts and figures that she had no doubt spent days memorizing for this very meeting. The assembled generals and captains listened on in hushed silence, eager to learn as much as they could. It was long since overdue for Thylara to show her neighboring enemies what it was she was capable of. The Queen more than anyone, paid special attention to what it was that her long time friend narrated. When Mistress Rhaolin had finished outlining her strategy, the Queen spoke up.

“You have thought over this quite thoroughly,” Queen Phelonous noted. “Yet this is the first I am hearing of this information. You came by it recently?”

“I did, your Majesty.” her mother affirmed. “My networks delivered this to me just last night. I had spent the morning considering how to approach such knowledge, as well as developing a working strategy.”

“In one morning.” the Queen repeated dryly. “I would tell you that I am impressed, if you had not spent most of your days as advisor making quick work of such information.”

Mistress Rhaolin gave her friend a knowing smile that came only from a deep rooted history shared by the two grown women. She accepted the compliment with a bow of her head. The Queen continued.

“However, I fear that this information may come too quickly on the heels of another matter of importance. One that you already know of and had best be shared with the rest of the room.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The Queen nodded, then gestured to a guard. “Send for the guest waiting in the throne room, and have her join us.”

The guard snapped a salute and went off to complete her errand. She returned a minute later in the company of a new individual. She stood at about 90 ft tall, and was dressed in an all too familiar uniform. Annallya’s stomach turned to water.

“You’re Majesty, and assembled members of this war council,” The Catcher addressed. The very same Catcher that Annallya had fought in the forest two nights ago. “Thylara has been infiltrated.”

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin had no time to stop and think, his body sprang into motion through sheer instinct of survival. The table he was on was the largest of the three, holding all thirty of the human cages on its surface. At each opposite end of the table was a separate, smaller table, which held several hot oil lamps, about half of which were currently lit. The tables were pushed together so that Gaelin was able to run straight across their surfaces. He ducked behind one of the unlit lamps on top of the table to his left, the same table he prayed all of his fellow humans were hiding under.

As soon as the door had begun to open, Andrill took immediate charge of the men and women around him. He silently ushered them beneath the same table that Gaelin had chosen to hide on, without actually knowing where his friend was. The room was not very small, with no windows, leaving it very dim, despite the few tiny flames that threw dancing shadows all over the walls. Together, all of the little humans threw themselves down to the floor, and hugged the wall in a desperate attempt to hide among the shadows on the ground. The scraping of the door against the ground echoed throughout the room as a Titan guard entered. She was a relatively shorter Titan than Andrill had seen. Possibly a tad shorter than Mistress Rhaolin, who was dwarfed by her own daughter. Her arms, however, showed off the slight definition of a woman who worked with sword and shield every day. Her hair was raven dark, complimenting the coppery tone of her skin. Her details were difficult to make out in the dimly lit room, not that anyone was very keen on memorizing them.

The guard strode briskly into the room. “Worry not, little pets.” she announced in an impatient tone. “I am merely here because all rooms must be searched for potential intruders. Simply-”

She stopped in mid sentence with a gasp. In two quick strides the guard crossed the room to the center table. Gaelin hazzard a tiny glimpse around the lamp he was hiding behind. The Titan was searching frantically over each of the cages, scanning them for any sign of a prisoner. It was a frightening sight, witnessing such an immense figure so close to him, and in such a distressed state. Lifting cages large enough to hold three full grown humans with one hand each. Gaelin had very little time to think of a plan. Everyone else was on the ground and had not yet been noticed by the giantess, that much he knew. He had no idea if they were at all well hidden, though. If she for a second tore her eyes from the table top, she might notice them on the ground, where there was nowhere for them to escape to. So he had to keep her attention on the tables.

Drawing a traditional arrow from his quiver, Gaelin set it to his bow, and took aim. He had to time this correctly with her shifting line of sight. Just as her head started to turn away from his position, he let fly his projectile. The arrow glided through the air, arching downwards slightly, and hit its mark  perfectly: the glass vial of oil in one of the hot oil lamps on the opposite table. There was a slight crash as a relatively small hole was punctured through the glass. The guard’s head swiveled in the direction of the sound of broken glass. As the oil gushed out of the glass vial, the light flickered until, without a source of fuel to keep it going, it was extinguished. The tiny archer wasted no time, a plan haphazardly forming in his mind as he let another arrow fly. Just as before, this one struck the oil vial of another lamp, eliminating one more light. Gaelin, however, did not stand still long enough to witness his handiwork. As soon as the arrow had left his bow, he took off in a crouched rush towards the middle table which held the cages. Sliding behind one of the cages furthest in the back, he laid down flat on his stomach, refusing to so much as twitch.

His instincts seemed to have saved him yet again, for as soon as the Titan guard saw the second lamp go out, she turned completely around, to inspect the table Gaelin had just been hiding on. Leaning in closer, she cast a scrutinizing gaze over every lamp there. His black leather coat against the dark wooden table, hidden behind several layers of metal bars, was enough to keep him camouflaged from the giantess. Only now he had lost his clear shot at the lamps on the farthest table. Left with little other choice, Gaelin slowly raised himself up to a crouch, and notched another arrow. He took aim, and sent another haft sailing at the lamp closest to the Titan. He hit his mark, not a terribly great feat considering how big of a target each glass vial was. The guard’s full attention fell upon the newly broken lamp, and Gaelin froze in place. Any movement he made while she was facing in his direction would surely give him away. He had to trust in his coat and the darkness of the room to keep him hidden. Suddenly the guard sprung for the lamp on the furthest side of the table, snatching it up. She dashed for the door as quickly as possible, and slammed it shut. With the lamp in hand, the Titan turned back towards the tables, walking slowly over to them.

“I know that you are still here little insects,” she called out to the room. “There is no where for you to hide, and I will find you. Should you reveal yourselves now, your punishment will be moderate. Otherwise . . .”

Rather than finish her sentence, the guard merely stomped her foot, allowing the sound to echo across the walls. The tiny humans cowering on the floor remained frozen in place. From where he crouched, Andrill could feel the body of the woman next to him tremble from the sound of the stomp. The woman, overcome by fear for her life, began to rise, meaning to give herself in. She was prevented when a strong hand clamped itself on her shoulder, and kept her from standing up. With her vision now adjusted to the dark, the woman was able to look into the determined eyes of Andrill.

“Trust in my friend. He’ll get us out of this.” he whispered. With a hesitant nod, the woman slowly sat back down. Andrill cast that same look over the rest of the group, challenging anyone else to stand up and give them away, before sitting back down himself. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he had heard glass shatter a few times, and knew that she was being distracted, so Gaelin must be up to something. Hopefully, something that wouldn’t get everyone killed.

Gaelin, for his part, had managed to break the vial of another lamp on the table closest to him, while the Titan had gone for the door. The table furthest away from him, to his right, still contained three burning lamps. When the guard had finished sealing the door, and began her speech, he used the noise to cover the sound of him ripping three strips of cloth from his shirt. With only seven arrows left in his quiver, Gaelin needed to make these next few shots count. Not at all an easy task, considering how much more difficult aiming became each time a lamp went out. Selecting four arrows from his quiver, he quickly tied each strip of cloth to an arrowhead, before holding them in the same hand that gripped his bow. The fourth arrow, he notched, and aimed. This would be a difficult shot to make, and he had a very small window. Standing up just behind the cage, Gaelin judged the distance between himself and his target at a glance, drew back his bow, and allowed his gut instincts to aim for him. As soon as the arrow left the bow, the swordsman knew exactly where it was going to hit.

So as quickly as possible, he drew another arrow and tried again.

Sure enough, the first arrow missed his target entirely, however it did manage to make a bit of noise as it landed. Once his second arrow hit it’s mark, the guard rushed over towards the source of the noise: the oil lamp on the table furthest away from where Gaelin stood. The second she made her move towards that lamp, Gaelin sprinted for the table closest to him. Taking the three arrows in his right as he ran across the table top, he dipped each head in the oil that had poured out from the broken lamps. He never stopped running until he had reach the last lamp that remained lit on his table. But the Titan, alerted by the sound of his boots hitting the wood, stood back up and swept her gaze across the entire room. She was a bit too late, however. Gaelin had already stuck the arrowheads in the burning flame of the final lamp. The oil soaked strips of cloth they were wrapped in ignited at once. Notching one, Gaelin sent a flaming shaft arching towards the table opposite of him. The Titan noticed the tiny flying arrow too late. Her night vision had been ruined from holding a lit lamp so close to her face, so that she could barely see the tiny ball of fire flying just beyond the scope of her vision in the dark. The arrow touched down in a pool of oil.

*************************************************************************************

“And she managed to overpower you?” the Queen asked.

The Titan Catcher bowed her head in confirmation, and shame. “She did, your Majesty. Although my opponent was a formidable warrior, I still submit myself for punishment for failing to stop her.”

Despite the gravity of the situation before her, Annallya could barely surpress a grin of satisfaction. Skilled at the blade she may not be, however, her training in unarmed combat and natural temper seemed to have given her an edge. The element of surprise probably contributed as well.

Or perhaps it was because Gaelin had been in danger.

“There will be no punishment.” the Queen declared. “If she did appear out of nowhere as you say, perhaps she approached you while small. What is important at the moment is knowing as much as we can of the situation. Please continue with your story Ferwa.”

The Catcher, Ferwa, bowed her head again and saluted. “I thank you, your Majesty. She forced me to shrink myself down, only to knock me out when I had become small enough.”

Mistress Rhaolin spoke up next. “At what point did you arrive at the conclusion that the village had been infiltrated.” Though she already knew the answer, the question was more for the benefit of everyone else in the room. This matter had already been brought to the Queen and her advisor’s attention yesterday in private.

“When I awoke the next day, I was inside the city.” she told them.

A blanket of silence fell over the gathering of military leaders and royalty. The implications of her answer were at once understood, and very troubling to say the least. Captain Desmensi spoke next.

“Your Majesty, have any of the guards at the gates been questioned over suspect individuals arriving at late hours that night?”

The Queen nodded. “According to the testimony of several guards, no one had entered or left the city at that time, other than Ferwa herself. This can only lead us to conclude that the infiltrator had slipped in while the guards were changing shifts. Or perhaps they know of a different method of entering the city. Either possibility leads us to conclude that the infiltrator has a competent knowledge of our city’s inner workings, and they can enter and leave at will.”

“They are also a skilled fighter.” Mistress Rhaolin pointed out. The compliments continued to give Annallya the most confusing sensation of pride, and abject horror.

“Taking this all into consideration,” her mother continued. “It is not unlikely that this individual could be a spy, sent by another kingdom to destabilize us as a power.”

By now Annallya was surprised that she was not breaking out into a cold sweat. The most powerful military leaders in the city, as well as the Queen, and her own mother all thought that she was an enemy spy! She had no idea whether she wanted to burst into fits of laughter or tears.

The Queen turned to her friend and advisor. “What measures do you think we should take concerning this possibility?”

Mistress Rhaolin remained silent for a few moments. Just as she appeared to be on the verge of speaking her mind, a loud banging came from the only door to the room. At once the guards leapt to attention, with the two closest to the door being the ones to open it. When the door opened, they were faced by a third guard, one who was visibly out of breath.

“Has something happened?” asked the second guard.

“There is a fire in the palace!” the out of breath guard announced to everyone in the room. “I know not the whole story. Only that this was no accident. Someone has started a fire.”

The Queen took charge immediately with all of the skill of a practiced leader. “Ladies, I am afraid that we must halt this meeting for another time. Everyone had best to return to their chambers under escort until an explanation can be found.”

With a salute, each general and Captain exited the chamber, with Annallya, Thoren, and their mothers being the last to leave.

“Do you believe that we are under attack?” Thoren whispered to her friend.

Under attack from an idiot, she thought before speaking. “I do not know. However, I dislike being sent to my room while the rest of the palace is on the prowl for a spy.”

“You will stay where you are told to stay, Annallya.” her mother ordered from behind her. “We have no way of knowing if this is some attack or assassination attempt. And I am not about to send you off to search the palace when an assassin could be about.”

“But mother-” she began.

“Enough.” her mother interrupted, silencing her. “You will be made aware of the situation when I see fit. For now, you and Thoren will be confined to your rooms, with at least two guards on standby outside of your doors.”

“I- . . . yes mother.” she begrudgingly conceded. Or at least, that is how she hoped that she sounded. After all, it would be quite out of character for her to willingly accept being sent to her room, while something interesting was taking place in the palace. The truth of the matter was, she needed to get to her room as soon as possible.

Gaelin you sun-forsaken fool! You had better know what you are doing!

*************************************************************************************

What Gaelin didn’t know at the time that he had shot the arrow, was exactly how big of a pool of oil he had created earlier. As soon as the tiny flame of the arrow landed on the oil soaked surface of the opposite table, it instantly transformed into a raging fire. One that dwarfed any forest fire he had before witnessed. Suddenly, the Titan’s attention was as far from him as could be. With another opportunity in front of him, Gaelin lit another arrow on fire, this time launching it at a different pool of oil on the same table. If the fire had looked big before from his perspective, it had now doubled in size, forcing the guard to back away from the intensity of the heat. The third and final arrow, he used on his own table, igniting both right before her eyes. With the flames billowing higher, the Titan panicked. She raced for the doors, practically tackling them open, before slamming them shut.

“Fetch water!” he managed to hear from outside of the doors. They didn’t have very long.

Slinging his bow back over his shoulder, Gaelin instead drew his sword, and made a mad dash for the corner of the table.

“Andrill!” he called out. “Head for the doors! We have minutes!”

Reaching the corner of the table, Gaelin slowed down enough to allow himself to gently step off of the edge. Turning towards the table, as he dropped, Gaelin stabbed his blade into the the wooden table leg. The blade sunk into the grainy wood as easily as if it were cloth. Much like cloth, the wood slowed his descent enough that, when he touched down a few seconds later, he was completely unfazed. The same could not be said of Andrill and the thirty other humans at the bottom of the table, gazing at him with mouths wide open. Andrill in particular looked heavily upon the sword as he drew it out of the wooden leg.

“What under the Sun and Stars is that?” he asked.

“Just a sword, Andrill.”

Andrill cast a skeptical look over it. “Swords don’t do that.”

“This one does.” was all Gaelin said as he sheathed it. “Now come on! To the door!”

At his urging, the crowd sprinted at once for the same door that the two men originally climbed down from. The nails sticking through from the otherside provided a perfect ladder for the little humans to use. They needed no coaxing, as one by one, everyone began to make their way up the improvised ladder rungs. At Gaelin’s orders, Andrill went first so as to lead everyone else across the rope ladder, while he himself remained on the ground until the last captive made it up. Once Gaelin was able to climb the ladder, he made it up just in time to witness the last few people crossing the rope bridge. When it came time for his turn Gaelin removed the arrow from the door, swung on the rope, and climbed his way up. Now that he had his grappling arrow and rope back, he took over leading their band of escapees through the palace halls, atop the wooden ceiling beams. Despite being out of sight, it was not at all an easy trip. All along the halls beneath them, Titan guards ran amok in all directions. None of the humans could afford to speak at all, lest they draw attention to themselves. In addition, Gaelin didn’t exactly have a map of the palace, only a general idea of where her room was.

After twenty minutes of wandering the halls, the group was beginning to believe that they had gotten well and truly lost. Until, after crossing another hallway, Gaelin heard the very familiar sound of babbling. At once he lead the group in that direction.

*************************************************************************************

With little else to occupy her time, Annallya paced back and forth around her room, talking to herself, as it was her only sense of company. She had managed to convince the guards that it would be best if they remained outside of the door to her house, as that would be the only point for an assailant to enter in. The guards had insisted on searching every room of the house first, including her bedroom. The good news was that Gaelin had not returned yet, so there was nothing for them to find. The bad news was that that meant he was still loose about the palace, doing the Stars know what. It only gave her more to worry over. As was typical of Annallya, she mediated her worrying by ranting.

“The man had the audacity to believe that he could go ranting and raving about a palace full of Titans. And he claims that my head is too full of tall tales of heroes and adventures? His head is bigger than any Titan I’ve ever met. And that is saying something considering how small he is.” she went off. “I swear, thank the Sun above that there are no male Titans in the world. Otherwise this entire continent would have sunken into the sea ages ago under the weight of their egos.”

“I’m happy to know my students all have such faith in me,” came an all too familiar voice.

Annallya snapped back into focus at once. “Gaelin!” she whispered. Scanning the room, the Titan could not make any sign of the little human, or anyone besides herself. “Where are you?”

“Dead and among the Stars now. Honestly, it’s not so bad up here.”

“W-what?” she asked. Looking up to where she thought she was hearing his voice from, Annallya’s eyes widened when they locked onto Gaelin, standing on one of the wooden beams of her ceiling, surrounded by about thirty other humans. Even from up there, Annallya could see the man grin.

“Plus I managed to die in company, so it could be worse. How’s your evening been?”

At first Annallya was not sure how to feel. After the near panic that came over her during the war council, in addition to the relief of not being caught, she was cycling through at least five different emotions at once. Eventually she placed a hand over her face, and rubbed at her eyes. “I feel as if I am not going to live down my remarks any time soon.”

“The night is young, princess, and we could all still die together.” he assured her. “Now if you wouldn’t mind grabbing a pillow so that we could all get down.”

With a sigh, followed by a chuckle, Annallya grabbed a pillow. In no time, thirty-two humans were all gathered on her desk, thanking the Titan profusely for her help in freeing them.

“Sun and Stars bless you Mistress,” Jess Wedrin sobbed. “You kept your promise. Thank you, thank you.”

Annallya smiled warmly down at the little men and women before her. “Please Jess, I have a name and it is not Mistress.”

Jess chuckled and curtsied. “Thank you Annallya.”

“Thank my friends, Gaelin and Andrill. They risked everything to save you all.”

To that the crowd agreed, going off on individual tangents over how they felt that Gaelin had tricked the Titan guard back in the disciplinary room. Each account made him sound far more heroic than he had any right to claim. While they embellished stories of both his bravery, and their own, Gaelin stood far off to the side, removed from everyone else, and observing the crowd from afar. With her bird’s eye view of the desk, Annallya took special note of this. It was typical of him, to remain as unnoticed as possible. For some reason of whatever, the man would fight to the death to avoid any kind of attention. She was on the verge of saying something, when Andrill approached him. The two men said nothing to each other, as one approached the other. The merely stood there, facing each other, as if a fight were about to break out at any second. Then, Gaelin extended his hand, and Andrill accepted it with a fierce grip. At once, the two friends embrace each other in a hug, that left Andrill on the verge of weeping. Annallya did not have to speak in order to understand what was happening between them, as well as the rest of the humans.

After many months, many years in some cases, of captivity, they were finally free.

 

 

 

Although the urge to celebrate was strong among the refugee humans, Annallya reminded them that they were still far from free at the moment. Thanks to Gaelin, the most difficult part of the plan was behind them, freeing the hostages from the cages without being caught. However, they still had a city to escape from, one that was on high alert now for potential intruders. Annallya debated keeping the humans in her room for a day or two, before returning them to Sol-har. Eventually she came to the conclusion that it would be best to return them as soon as possible, while the palace was searching for an imaginary spy, rather than a group of escaped human pets. If she waited any longer, the Queen would have time to implement new security systems that she would have to bypass as well. No, she decided, better tonight when none of the attention was on her, and the palace has had little time to react.

Informing the little ones of the rest of her and Gaelin’s plan, they all waited until nightfall, when the palace had grown as quiet as it ever would. In preparation for this, Annallya had purchased a small traveling bag, and filled it mostly with soft cloth and fabric. This would be the bag that she would carry the little humans in, and she wanted it to be as comfortable as possible for them. When she presented them with the bag, some looked upon it with uncertainty.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” asked one of the tiny men. An older looking one with more grey in his hair than black. “She’s a Titan after all.”

Gaelin, who had been off to the side talking with Andrill, looked over at him. Before he could say anything, a dark skinned young woman spoke first. “This Titan is the reason that we’re not in a cage right now. I think she’s earned some trust.”

“The reason we’re not all in cages right now are because of them.” the man retorted, pointing at Gaelin and Andrill, both of whom were looking cross. They looked to be on the verge of speaking up, when Annallya silenced them with a slight shake of her head. Choosing her words carefully, she addressed the man, as well as the rest of the crowd gathered on her desk.

“I cannot say that I blame your distrust of me,” she began. “Had I been held as a prisoner and a pet to a group of people for so long, I too would distrust all members of that group. You must understand, though, I have nothing to gain by helping you in anyway, and everything to lose should I be caught.”

The man crossed his arms, unconvinced. “You could have freed us just to capture us. Gain favor with the Queen.”

Gaelin took a step forward, only to stop when he saw Annallya smile. “I am practically sisters with her daughter. We have been as such since the day we were born. I also live in her palace, as my mother is her advisor, and oldest friend. I would say that I have enough favor with the Queen.”

Her smile slipped from her face, turning into a more somber expression. “I have also been to Sol-har and seen its people. I have walked amongst them. I have heard their laughter, and felt their pain. It haunts me at night. I wish no more nightmares, for myself or for your people. I wish only to help.”

The gathered crowd took a minute to process her words, including the skeptical man. At once, Jessiday Wedrin stepped in front of him, thrusting her chin up at him in defiance, silently asserting her refusal to be budged from her opinion. “I believe her, and I’d say she’s earned my trust. I’ll follow whatever order she gives, especially if it takes me back to my husband again.”

Surprised by the sudden show of strength from the normally subdued little woman, Annallya looked down upon her in amazement. “Thank you Jessiday.”

The diminutive woman looked up at the enormous Titan above them all and smiled. “I might have mentioned before sweetie, my friends call me Jess.”

It took a second for Annallya’s shocked expression to transform into one of genuine mirth. With a chuckle, she bowed her head to her new friend. “You honor me, Lady.”

Jess likewise chuckled and responded with one of her practiced curtsies. Looking out through her window, the Titan noted to late hour. “I believe that it is now late enough to make our voyage. If you all would kindly step into the bag, I will try to make this as smooth of a trip as I can manage.”

She held the bag up to the edge of the table, and watched as, one by one, each of the humans lept into it. Some were understandably hesitant, though even the gray haired man realized that he had no chance of escaping without her help. The blanket the she had stuffed in there ensured that each of them were well cushioned as they landed and remained inside. Andrill was the last one inside, and was about to be followed by Gaelin, when the giantess gently wrapped her fingers around his body, and lifted him into the air.

“Your task is not yet over, I am afraid. I will be needing a second pair of eyes to watch my back.” she told him, before slowly depositing the man on her shoulder. “Feel free to hold onto my hair as tightly as you require. Just do not attempt to pull it from my head.”

Gaelin took a minute to orient himself properly on the Titan’s shoulder, making sure that he had both secure footing, and a good grip on her fiery red hair.

“Huh, not a bad view from up here.” he remarked. Remembering his rope, Gaelin tied a short length of it around one of the leather straps of her armor, and then connected that to his belt. Now, should he fall, he would not plummet to his death.

When Annallya had been assured that he would not be going anywhere, she smiled down one last time at the humans in her bag. “Worry not, little ones. Soon you shall all be amongst your families.”

She closed the bag, leaving them in almost complete darkness, before extinguishing all lights in her room, allowing the encroaching night to consumer her bedroom entirely. From underneath of her desk Annallya drew her own coil of rope, this one was proportionately much longer than Gaelin’s, it had to be. She did not have a bow and special arrows capable of embedding themselves in wooden or stone surfaces. Rather, she had a different method in mind. The Titan threaded the rope around one of the legs of her bed, the heaviest piece of furniture in her room, then tossed both ends out of the window.

Slinging the bag of humans over her shoulder, she turned to Gaelin and whispered. “Hold fast, I shall try to go slowly.”

The red haired giantess sat utop her desk, then gently swung her legs around and out of the open window. With both ends of the rope clenched tightly in her fist, Annallya slid forward until her body had cleared both the desk and the windowsill, leaving her suspended by nothing but the rope and her own grip. Annallya grit her teeth. This had sounded so much easier when Gaelin and Andrill had described it while recounting their time navigating the palace halls. There was nothing for it now, however, other than to keep going. Using all of her considerable upper body strength, the Titan lowered herself down bit by bit, descending down two stories worth of distance. The moment her feet touched the ground was the moment that she released a breath she had not even noticed that she was holding.

“You ok?” Gaelin asked from her shoulder.

“Titans are not meant for such activities as climbing.” she concluded with labored breaths. “We are far too large. What need have we for such things?”

“Uh-huh, so how do you build houses higher than one floor?” he skeptically asked.

Annallya’s eyes narrowed as she glanced sideways at the little man on her shoulder. “Do not make me flick you off.”

She heard him chuckle softly. “Still, you’re taking a big risk. Wouldn’t it be easier to hide us and take us back in the morning?”

The Titan sighed. “I have training all day tomorrow, in addition to the fact that too many witnesses would see me and question where I am off to with a travel bag. Better this way, where I only have to sneak passed two guards at the most.”

“We could hide in your room for a few days.” he suggested.

Even though it was dark, Annallya turned to look at her friend, so small and close to her. She smiled, even though she was not sure if he could see in the dark yet. “I would worry for you every day that you were hidden and I was not around to protect you. Better for you if you are far from Thylara as quickly as possible.”

Gaelin was not entirely convinced, but he trusted her judgement, and conceded the argument with a gentle stroke of her neck. Oddly enough, Annallya found it comforting to have him with her like this. To have a tiny companion on her shoulder to speak with at any time gave her a new found sense of confidence that she could somehow bypass whatever obstacles came their way, only because she was not alone. She left the rope where it was, as she would need it to get back inside later. No patrols came close enough to the palace for anyone to notice it anyway, especially in the dark of night. With her little refugees at her back and her mentor by her side, Annallya slowly slid herself down the grassy incline which the palace rested upon, and headed down the nearest street. The dark made navigating Thylara somewhat troubling, but her knowledge of the city helped lead her in the direction of the gate she was looking for. The guards at each gate changed shifts at different intervals of time, so as to better confuse outside spies trying to gain entrance.

The fall of footsteps behind her brought her to a silent halt. Without any hesitation, Annallya slipped into the alleyway between two buildings and waited, not even daring to breath. From beyond the scope of her hiding spot, she could vaguely hear hushed voices.

“What are you complaining for Yuvora? It is not as though we have had much responsibility before this night.”

“I am aware of that,” another young Titan, Yuvora presumably, replied. “Which is precisely the reason why I volunteered for the night watch. We have little else to do but march through our designated route and not die of boredom. Now, I am to understand that we must actually watch out for an intruder in the city?”

The rest of their conversation was lost as the two Titans passed by the alley which cloaked Annallya in darkness, and continued on their way. It was a call far too close for comfort. The Titan waited through a full minute of breathless silence before emerging from the alley and resuming her mission.

“Are you ok?” Gaelin whispered.

“At the war council, the Catcher that I had saved you from told the assembled Generals that she believed there to be an intruder within the city.” she replied in as quiet of a tone. “Now, my mother, as well as the Queen herself, believe that I am some sort of highly trained and exceptionally dangerous spy. By tomorrow this entire city will be on the lookout for the intruder who is actually me.”

Gaelin was silent for a moment. “You put a whole city on high alert all by yourself. . . I’m proud of you.”

The red haired giantess could not help but beam a little as he reflected her own sentiments on the situation. “It appears I have had a competent teacher.”

He let out a quiet chuckle as the Titan carried them all onwards towards their destination. It took a few more minutes of running through streets and dodging patrols, for the gates to finally come into sight. When Annallya finally stopped, they were a block away straight ahead. The imposing wooden monoliths stood shut to the escaping party, an obstacle that would not be altogether difficult for the diminutive group. Upon her instruction, Gaelin untied himself from her shoulder so that she could place him on the cobblestone street. She quietly set the bag down beside him and opened it up, revealing the thirty little humans all huddled together atop the blanket that served as their massive cushion.

“I am going to turn the bag over now so that you can walk out.” she whispered. “We are not outside of the city, so please be as silent as possible.”

The humans did as they were told as Annallya slowly tilted the bag onto its side, allowing them to walk out without a word. Once the last tiny human had exited the bag, Annallya closed it, and joined them by shrinking down to their size. It was quite a breathtaking experience, to be so vulnerable and surrounded by so many people. Every one of them had good reason to hate Titans enough to attack her on sight. Yet they did not, and she doubted that Gaelin’s presence alone was what kept them at bay. This was nothing like her experience at the Black Stallion Inn, when the entire room had looked upon her with fear and anger. These humans looked to her for guidance, for leadership, the one task that she was least suited for. But none of that mattered right now. She had placed this responsibility on her shoulders the second that she had promised them their freedom. There was nothing left for it now but to hunker down and carry on with her task, as if it were one of Gaelin’s chores. That thought was enough to bring a small smile to her face and give her the confidence to keep going.

“Listen carefully to me,” she said, addressing the assembled crowd in a low voice. “We have but one obstacle before us. Make no mistake, though, for it is not an easy one.”

She pointed down the length of the expansive Titan street to the looming gate. “That is the gate that leads towards the forest where Sol-har lies. Given how small we are, if we keep to the shadows, there will be no way for the guards upon the walls or towers to spot us.”

She held up a warning finger for all to see before continuing. “The real danger lies behind those gates, with the women standing guard.”

Annallya could practically feel the weight of their stares on her as they began to comprehend their situation. Freedom lay close within their grasp. One tiny wrong move, however, would ruin all of that. “We have to be more careful now than we have ever been this night.” she urged. “What we shall do is crawl beneath the gates one at a time. We shall stay in the shadows and hug the walls as if we were one with them. If we can move slowly and quietly enough, the guard should not even glance down at us.”

“Begging your pardon Ms, but doesn’t this seem like too big of a risk?” asked a middle aged woman with complection similar to Thoren. “Isn’t there another way we could go?”

“Our only other avenue of travel is that way,” Annallya answered, pointing at the palace, which could still be seen looming in the vast distance. “Each gate we approach will be the exact same situation. All we can do is choose which gate we will exit from, and I promise you all that I shall be there with you through all of the danger.”

They were scared, and that was only to be expected from them. But not a single one of them could bare returning to their cages while their families continued to believe that they were dead. Especially not the humans who had been used by Titans for ‘pleasure’. With steely determination in their eyes, they trailed behind as she lead them down the street to the gate. From the humans perspective the gates here were no different than the doors that had kept them trapped in the palace’s disciplinary room. Despite being much bigger than those doors, they had one important difference, the relatively large gap between the bottom of the doors and the ground. To a Titan this gap was negligible, but to a human the gates themselves might as well have been open for all of the good they were going to do. The group of tiny men and women approached the gates, immediately hugging the wall. They all took a few moments to steady their breathing and prepare themselves for what came next. Without a word Gaelin uncoiled the massive length of rope he had brought with him, holding onto one end while Annallya held the other. They had discussed this part ahead of time.

Annallya took her end and surreptitiously began to inch her way towards the gate, slipping her body under the massive slab of wood, only to peak her head out of the other side. She was greeted by the dreadful sight of two Titan guards, sitting in enormous chairs at opposite ends of the gates, and gazing off into the distant wilderness. The job of a watchwoman as each gate was simple, keep an eye out for intruders, and do not fall asleep on the job. It was both an easy task, and a boring one. Above their heads and to the side of each of them was a burning torch, casting a bubble of light out against the oppressive darkness of the world. At the moment both women were engaged in a quiet conversation about their respective families. Annallya paid little heed to what was said, only that they continued talking as she crouched down and slowly stalked out from under the door. She immediately moved off to the right, her body never more than an inch or two away from the wall, and the two guards never once out of her peripheral sight. She had stressed to every single one of them how important it was that they move as slowly as possible while they were within the torchlight. Once the light began to fade and she was just on the border between the shadows and the fire’s dim glow, she halted and gave the rope three good tugs.

A breathless minute later, Jess appeared around the corner of the stone wall, crouching in much the manner Annallya had. The diminutive Titan noted that the skirt of her dress was noticeably shorter than before and unevenly cut at the edges. Gaelin’s doing then, as it made it easier for Jess to move while crouched. Gaelin volunteered to be the last man to leave so as to remind everyone how they must maneuver themselves around the Titan guards. Jess moved like a jungle cat observing prey with how carefully and slowly she stalked behind the the back of the sitting Titan. She made sure to pay equal attention to both the guards, as well as where she was placing her feet, fearful of even the slightest noise made by her steps. Once Jess had made it passed where Annallya was crouched, the Titan tugged three more times on the rope. Just as before, another human, this time a man, crawled out from beneath the gates and began his slow advance passed the guards. This process continued for a number of minutes, which quickly piled on with each human. By the time they had reached the sixteenth human, a pretty young woman, who was especially fearful around the statuest guards, an hour had passed. Once each human made it passed Annallya, they continued walking in silence, cloaked by the darkness of the late hour, until they were well out of earshot of the Titan guards, but never any further than that. At this point they were far too afraid to continue without their Titan protector.

But Annallya stayed by her post, as more little people made their perilous trek beneath the noses of the vigilant Titans. The twenty second person to take their turn, the older woman with the dark complexion, spent too much time looking up at the conversing guards, as she made her way passed them. She found her foot slipping into a small dip in the ground, just small enough to cause her to trip and fall to the ground with a soft THUD, expelling the air from her lungs. Annallya’s heart jumped into overdrive as she was two seconds away from leaping to the woman’s defense. However, the guard’s voices, even at the lower tone they were conversing in, proved more than sufficient for masking the woman’s noise, so that it never reached their ears. Picking herself up, the woman continued her trek, reaching Annallya without another incident. After another twenty minutes, Andrill was slipping passed Annallya, leaving Gaelin as the only one left.

The swordsman appeared from beneath the gate a bare moment later. Annallya began gathering in the rope, as he would hardly need it, and moved deeper into the shadows. She hardly needed to wait for the man, for she had seen his capabilities first hand. The man had practically grown up skulking through the forest. His footsteps were careful and slow, making the absolute minimal noise as was possible for a human to get away with. With his black leather coat on, he would practically melt into the shadows once he was passed the boundaries of the torch light. They had made it. Against all odds, the misfit Titan and her drunken human mentor had outwitted an entire kingdom and gotten away with all of their captives. What was important for them to remember, however, was the external forces playing a role in these events. Forces of chaos and chance, that govern the everyday happenings of normal life, are at work even and especially in big events such as this. Things happen that are out of human, or Titan control, and no amount of planning can counter this undeniable fact of reality. Sometimes things just happen, and there is no rhyme or reason behind any of it.

In this case, the Titan guard just happened to stretch her back, and turned around in her seat just in time to see Gaelin heading for the shadows beyond the light.

She stood to her feet at once, and Gaelin froze in place.

“What is it?” her companion asked.

“It is a man.” she answered.

Annallya’s heart leapt into her throat upon hearing those words spoken. She had begun moving away, assuming Gaelin was in the clear. Turning back, she found both guards looking down upon her mentor, who was completely exposed in the torchlight. Just as she was about to sprint towards him, preparing to grow herself as well, she stopped. Gaelin, despite not moving from his spot, had paused with his hand out facing her, indicating her to stay where she was. He either had a plan, or was about to do something incredibly foolhardy. Either way, Annallya owed it to him to trust him more. She did not, however, take another step in the opposite direction. Should whatever he had in mind not go his way, she was prepared to fight both guards with her bare hands if that is what it took to keep them away from her friend.

“Is he a wild one?” asked the second guard, a lanky woman with slanted eyes and hair as pitch black as the night atmosphere.

“He wears clothes,” noted the other one, a blonde haired woman with a soft voice. “Clearly an escaped pet.”

The looming Titan began to lean in towards the ankle tall man, her hand reaching out to grasp him. “A noble effort little creature, but you cannot escape from us.” she warned him with a smirk on her face. “Stay still and we shall be gentle with you.”

Gaelin turned his body, so that he faced the two gargantuan women with the left side of his body turned away from them, but made no more move than that. Annallya had broken out in a cold sweat by now. Why was he making no move to escape?

The guard grinned when she saw that he was not planning to run from her, her encroaching fingers reaching out to grasp his pathetic form. Just as she was a hair's breadth from touching him, Gaelin’s entire body blurred in one single motion that barely registered to Annallya’s panicked eyes. One second he was facing two forlorn Titan guards, ready to make him their plaything as well as prisoner. The very next second he stood in the standard guarding position he had taught her, with his right leg forward, hilt held low, and blade pointed up. Annallya was not sure if it was an effect of the torchlight on the blade, but his sword appeared to have erupted into flames.

No, she realized, taking a quick second look, his blade was stained scarlett with . . . blood.

“AAAHHHH!” the blonde Titan roared, clutching her right hand with her left. Shocked by the pain that now pulsated from her fingertip, she took an involuntary step backwards, knocking her partner back a few steps. Gaelin spared a second to swing his sword once, clearing the blood from his blade in one swipe, before sheathing. From there he wasted not a moment more, turning towards Annallya and sprinting for all he was worth. Before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along after him, Annallya had just time to spot the tip of the injured Titan’s finger.

It was lying severed in the cool evening grass.

*************************************************************************************

It was about an hour to midnight when the visitor came to the little village. Rhollan was just standing amidst his common room, listening to another rapturous tale spun by the Whistler, when he felt the tremors approach. The villagers themselves, most of whom had planned on leaving just after this last story, noticed not long afterwards. A thread of panic began to weave its way through the heart of every man and woman in the room, tightly controlled as it was. They had all experienced this sensation enough times to retain adequate control over themselves. As the Whistler paused his story, the men and women of the common room stood to their feet, and began to file out of the building. They herded themselves through the streets towards the forefront of the village. Along the way they were joined by other villagers who had retired early to their homes, until not a man, woman, or child remained sheltered in doors. Rhollan followed at the head of the crowd, his ever faithful Anda by his side. Perhaps it was because of his advancing age, or the fact that he owned the biggest building in the village, but the residents of Sol-har seemed to defer to him as the unofficial ‘head’ of the village. As such, it was expected of him to greet whatever Titan emissaries sent their way. It was a heavy burden that he would have gladly passed on to younger shoulder, yet so long as Anda stayed by his side, he found that he could muster the strength to face a Titan again each time.

What was particularly odd about this instance, he noted as the tremors grew closer, was the timing for it all. Their next Offering wasn’t due for a few more months. What could the Titans want with them this night? Things became no more clearer when the villagers reached the outskirts of Sol-har, only to see who it was that had come to meet them.

“It’s her!” Anda whispered in his ear. “It’s that girl that came here.”

“Yes, I recognize her.” he confirmed.

“And look who she carried here with her.” she muttered in a tone darker than all the night.

Rhollan looked up with squinted eyes at a sight he had never before heard of in the wildest of stories. Perched atop the shoulder of the Titan was Gaelin ‘Val Saida. The Titan, Annallya he recalled her name being, spoke not a word as she cast her gaze over the assembled crowd of frightened villagers. Oddly enough, she looked a bit frightened herself, as if she were the one who was afraid of facing them. Nothing about this made any sense to Rhollan who stepped forward to greet her, drawing strength from the presence of his wife at his side.

“Annallya Rhaolin,” he addressed her loud enough for both the crowd and the Titan to hear him. “I welcome you to Sol-har. Why have you come here this evening?”

Annallya looked over at the man standing on her shoulder, before giving a slight nod. Very slowly, she lowered herself down, until she was kneeling on the grass, her body resting on her heels, and her hands laid peacefully on her lap. It was the strangest sight any of the villagers had ever seen: a full grown Titan sitting peacefully before them, with a man on her shoulder.

“Hello Rhollan,” she replied in a surprisingly soft voice. “It is good to see you again. I had not the chance to thank you for your gracious hospitality to me two nights ago, as well as apologize for the scene that my presence had caused. It was not my intention to ruin everyone’s night.”

The weathered old man blinked, he had not expected this. True, when he had met her that night, the young woman had behaved with more respect and courtesy than any senile old man like himself was due. All the same, this was not the typical haughty superior attitude displayed by all other Titans he had met before her.

“It was not your fault Lady Rhaolin, but your apology is graciously accepted.” he slowly replied, his uncertainty shifting towards curiosity. He watched as the Titan took a deep breath, her mouth forming into a sad smile.

“I am certainly no Lady. A Lady would know what to say in a moment like this,” she said with a small chuckle. The villagers remained silent as they waited for her to continue.

“When Titans are little girls, we are taught of our unique ability to change our size, though we understand almost nothing about it. Despite our gift, we rarely use it, preferring to remain at our natural height. As such, when little girls are told of people living in the wilderness who are always tiny, we believe that they are the most different kind of creatures from us in every way.” she explained. “We grow up hearing stories of your people, living in the forest, stories that paint you all as wild animals, roaming about and hunting each other. When you are brought to Thylara, we are made to believe that we are doing a good thing, teaching you to be civilized.”

She took another deep breath before continuing. “All my life I had believed this lie to be true. It was not until I had met two men that this illusion was shattered before my eyes, and I learned the dark truth.”

The smile slipped from her face, as her eyes became heavy with knowledge, and all of the pain the follows in its footsteps. “I know that my people come to your village and take your loved ones from you. I know that they force you into this . . . this Offering. I know that you hate us for it, and I cannot blame you for your anger.”

“I cannot erase the pain that has been wrought.” she continued. “I cannot change was has already happen. All that I can do, is change what happens from now on, and show you that I am not the same as my people.”

Annallya stood up to her full, daunting height, and declared for all of Sol-har to hear. “This is my Offering to you.”

She stepped off to the side, making a slight effort to keep her footsteps soft. From the woods that had previously been obscured by her giant form, came the rustling of many leaves. Figures suddenly began to materialize themselves from the darkness. Tiny, human figures. Thirty in total. As they came closer their features were easier to distinguish.

Rhollan gasped. “It can’t be.”

All at once, Idoata Halloway broke off from the crowd, running forward with her skirts held tight in her hands. One of the figures noticed her, and sprinted forward to meet her, a young man with a red coat and a lions mane of golden hair ran forth to meet her. Andrill wrapped his arms around his mother, and together the two of them wept in the open night. Many of the other figures, men and women who were thought long dead, ran towards the crowd in search of their loved ones. Rhollan and Anda watched as grown men and women broke down into sobs upon being united with each other. Husbands with their wives, parents with their children, and lifelong friends.

“Rhollan! Anda!” called a voice from the crowd.

The couple turned about to see a fair skinned man and woman of about the same age as them approach. The man was lanky, with a spars amount of hair decorating a round head, and an impressive beak of a nose. He was dressed in fine silks that contrasted sharply against the simple cotton cloth of his wife, a warm kindly woman who’s blonde hair was beginning to fade with age. Though it was obvious that the two had just been crying, they wore the broad smiles as they walked over to their old friends.

“Klin!” Rhollan breathed. “Klin! By the Sun and Stars!”

The hawk nose man embraced his two friends for the first time in nearly four years.

“How?” Anda asked in disbelief. “What happened?”

Klin pulled away to indicate towards the Titan standing off in the distance. “It was those two. Gaelin, the mad fox, appeared out of nowhere and freed us all. Took us to that young woman over there, and she snuck us all out the city.

Rhollan couldn’t believe his ears. Gaelin? Waltzing into a Titan city and freeing captives? It sounded like a Whistlers tale. “How about that?” he murmured.

“Well come to the Inn,” Anda insisted. “You’ve got to tell us everything that happened.”

But Ol’ Klin turned back to the couple with an eager grin. “Oh there’ll be time enough for that. First tell me, have you still got my fiddle?”

*************************************************************************************

From her vantage point above the trees, Annallya had the perfect view of the humans as they reunited with their loved ones and friends. Living in a war hungry city, Annallya had seen soldiers return home to their families many of times. The sight before her was very reminiscent of that. She could practically hear Tayall’s voice cry out as he tackled his older brother in a violently emotional hug, their mother Idoata standing beside them embraced her two sons. Following on the heels of Tayall came an older man who bore a striking resemblance to the two boys. He stood there processing the weight of the sight before him, his family reunited. With strong arms outstretched, he embraced his wife and sons.

So, Annallya thought. That is what a father is.

Gaelin remained a constant presence on her shoulder, basking in the emotions emanating from the villagers, as hope and happiness was returned to Sol-har for the first time in a long time. A few captives from the city had not originally been members of the city, instead having been kidnapped while travelling through the woods. Though they had no one to weep over them, they were swallowed by the ecstatic villagers all the same, welcomed as a part of their community all the same. The swordsman allowed himself to lean against the lock of hair that he had grabbed onto.

“Still believe you carry the weight of your people’s sins on you?” he asked.

She smirked. “Do you?”

“I stopped believing that when you showed mercy to evil men.” he answered. “Today, though, you really amazed me. You made all of this happen.”

“As did you,” Annallya reminded him. “Running about a Titan palace all by yourself and setting fire to it, all to free your people?”. She paused to look over the crowd again, to feel their happiness wash over her. “We have done a truly good thing today.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Suppose we did.”

“Annallya!” came a familier voice.

The Titan looked down to see Jess running towards them. She smiled as she gently lowered herself on one knee.

“Annallya!” she cheerily called again, stopping just in front of her knee. “We’re going to be celebrating at the Inn!”

The red haired giantess smiled down at her new friend. “That is wonderful Jess. You all deserve a celebration.”

But the tiny blonde haired girl only laughed. “So then come down here. You too Gaelin. You’re not scurrying away from this one.”

Annallya cast Gaelin a perplexed look, who replied with a shrug of his shoulders. She gently grasped him and placed him next to Jess, only soon join them at her human size. Jess wasted no time, grabbing the taller woman by the arm and hurrying her over to the assembled crowd, with Gaelin trailing at their backs. Voices became hushed as the group approached, with some of the villagers parting the way, allowing them to stand at the center. The contentment Annallya had been feeling was now being replaced with uncertainty. She had hoped to slip away and let the people enjoy their night of celebration without the presence of a Titan among them. Jess, however, paid it no mind.

“This is my friend Annallya,” she proclaimed to the village. “Who kept her promise to carry us from Thylara. She will be my guest of honor at tonight’s celebration.”

Though the diminutive woman said it with a smile on her face, there was an underlying tone to her voice that communicated how this was not up for debate. Jess Wedrin who, even at human size only came up to Annallya’s chin, subtly dared the entire village to object to her statement. Her challenge was answered by a hearty laugh from the crowd.

“Why of course!” Ol’ Klin exclaimed. “Why I reckon you’ve never heard fiddle music before! You’ll have to let me play for you. It’s the least I can do to thank you.”

Other refugees among the people began to voice their agreement, taking the Titan by surprise. “I- . . . uh . . .” she looked back at Gaelin who smiled.

“Go on,” he murmured. “Enjoy your party. You’ve earned it.”

From the crowd stepped Andrill, who clamped a calloused hand on the shoulder of the taller man. “And this,” he announced. “Is my teacher Gaelin ‘Val Saida, who freed us from our cages, and fought guards so that we could escape. He’ll be my guest of honor tonight.”

He leaned in closer so that only Gaelin and Annallya could hear him now. “Or did you think I was going to let you get away with saving us and not be thanked?”

“I definitely should have left you on that night table.” he muttered in return, causing the younger man to roar in laughter. But Gaelin looked off to the side and saw his family. Tayall looked at him in open pride, the tear streaks still fresh on his face. Next to him was his mother Idoata, who wore the first ever smile Gaelin had ever seen on her when she looked at him. Clutching onto them was Andrill’s father, a butcher named Norid, who gave the swordsman a solitary nod of respect and gratitude. Turning back, Gaelin saw Rhollan make his way to the front of the crowd, a merry smile plastered on his face, as he gave a small bow to the group.

“I’d be honored if you’d join us in my Inn for the celebration.”

From there the dam broke and the crowd ran through the streets, dispersing in all directions. Those that had been gone were eager to shed their Titan made clothes and return to the comfortable cotton made outfits of their former life. Helpers ran to the Inn, preparing the common room to receive the largest crowd it had ever seen. Women ran to the kitchen to prepare food while the men began rolling more casks of wine and beer from the basement. Tables were pushed off to the side so that the entire center of the room was open. The Whistler himself vowed that he would have the entire room dancing to his tunes. He stood off to the side, tuning his instruments along side Klin, discussing what songs they knew how to play between them. The entire village seemed afire with new life, and Annallya stood in the center of it, taking it all in.

This. This is what a community was. She had seen them all mourn together. Now, she watched as they celebrated together. The happiness shared by every man and woman permeated the air, and it felt warm to her. It was breathtaking.

(Author's note: I recommend reading the rest while listening to the song Acres Wild by Jethro Tull)

In under an hour the entire village occupied the the Inn. A massive gathering of people formed a circle around the center of the room, where couples and individuals danced to the music of Klin and the Whistler, a jaunty tune that compelled the feet to move and hands to clap. Those that could find no room on the ground looked down from the railings of the second floor, talking, drinking, and laughing. Annallya hypnotically watched Jess spin and leap about, her feet becoming a blur as she kicked them to and fro. The quick paced music only seemed to push her to go faster. All of a sudden Jess appeared in front of her, pulling her into the dance floor.

“Come on!” she insisted.

“Jess I know not your dances!” she protested.

But her friend only laughed. “I’ll teach you! Come on!”

She was surprisingly strong for a smaller woman, and Annallya found herself a part of a line of men and women holding hands and dancing about, kicking their feet around. In Thylara, the dances are more delicate and gentle in their movements. They could be performed alone or with a partner. But they could have the effect of lulling some to sleep with their slowness. These dances were fast and energetic and . . . and fun.

The mandolin and fiddle music, combined with the beat of clapping, made Annallya want to kick her legs as well. Before she knew it she was laughing along with everyone as they spun about in a big circle. The crowd cheered them on, sharing in their mirth. Though Annallya did not know the exact steps, she imitated Jess well enough to keep pace with her movements, and together the two women danced as partners. In the middle of it all Jess embraced Annallya in a hug, tears of happiness falling on her shoulder.

“I never thought I’d dance among my friends again!” she told her. “Thank you Annallya!”

Annallya hugged her back, and together the two jumped back into the fray of music and motion. Annallya found herself spinning about, until she landed in familiar arms. Gaelin, who had caught her, was looking down at her in open wonder. He had never before heard of a Titan dance, nor had he seen a woman in general move as she had. It was mystifying. Before he could utter a word, Annallya pulled his face in and kissed him. Amidst the jubilee not many took notice, and that suited her just fine. In that moment there was only the two of them, surrounded by pure happiness. When they pulled away, her eyes were practically shining.

“You are an unbelievable woman.” he told her.

She put a hand to his face, feeling the contract of his skin and beard, and was about to reply, when something interrupted her. A tremor.

A second, more forceful tremor brought the music to a crashing halt, as everyone froze in place. Shadows were cast about as the chandeliers were shaken, giving the room a dark cast. A few voices in the crowd timidly whispered “No no no.” in naked horror.

Annallya ran to the window and gasped at the sight before her. Standing at the forefront of Sol-har were five Titan figures. Four of which were guards taken straight from the Queen’s palace. At their center was a commanding woman, in a blue dress and shawl, sporting a massive staff of red wood.

“Daughter!” Mistress Rhaolin shouted. “I know that you are here! I would speak with you of your treachery!”

 

 

The residents of the isolated village were just about to settle down for the night when the attackers came upon them. There was barely enough warning before they had arrived, they must have tread softly. Tremors were felt when they were less than a mile from the fringe of the little community. Fathers had just time to hurry their families into the cellars of their homes before they emerged from the forest brush. Five gargantuan figures standing taller than the trees at full height leapt onto the open field that surrounded the village. They were clothed in the robes and armor of soldiers, bearing sheathed swords and shields, though they would hardly need them. Likewise the greeves, vembrages, chest guard, and helmets that obscured their features would not be necessary this night. Humans stood at ankle level at best with these monsters. Many a men, women, and children were not yet home when the attack had begun and ran about in all directions, searching for either shelter or escape.

The foremost Titan lifted a sandaled foot and brought it down on the first man she saw before her. The weight of her body, backed by the power of muscles strong enough to snap oak trees, overpowered every cell that protested against it. His body almost liquified upon impact, turning the once glass maker of the village into a pool of his own blood and little else. Her ally to the left of her rushed in and scooped up another man in her hand as easily as if he were a tiny mouse. The young woman chuckled merrily as she slowly increased the pressure of her grip, turning the man’s cries of panic into screams of torture. She continued to grip harder and harder as, one by one, bones snapped with accompanying POPs. She continued this until his cries stopped, all of the life having been squeezed from his body. Rather than simply drop the body, the Titan tossed it further into the village, where residents screamed upon seeing his distorted corpse.

Another Titan stepped up and crushed the first wooden block of a house that she saw, the structure was little bigger than her foot, and only as tall as her shins. Screams heard only in nightmares erupted from the pitiful home, and were quickly silenced by her grinding sandal. Her friend to her right reached down to the next house and, grasping it with both hands, tore the building from its foundation. What lay in its place was a family, huddled together in naked terror at the behemoth looming above them. For whatever it was worth, their torture was short lived, as she promptly stepped on all of them at once. Forgetting them immediately, the Titan took the house she still held in her hands and hurled it through the night. When it made impact with another house, both structures burst into wooden shards, destroying each other instantly, while the shrapnel from the crash damaged several other homes. The destruction that lay at the feet of these invaders was breathtaking to behold.

From the furthest end of the village, a young man barely seventeen winters of age, huddled just beneath the window of his home. Behind him his mother uttered a prayer to the Stars while she lead her smallest child, a daughter of only nine winters, towards the back door.

“Hurry up and get away from there!” she urged to him.

“I should be out there. I should be fighting them.” he muttered. “It’s what I trained for. In case this happened.”

“And now you have to remember that training!” came a deep baritone of a voice from another room.

The young man turned from the hellish sight at the window to behold a hero straight from a Whistler’s tale enter the room. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with strong, angular features that went completely unobscured by his short, chestnut hair. His blues eyes were alight with cold fire this night, though his face only looked weary. Nevertheless he was donned in the armor of a warrior, with greeves strapped to his boots, vembrages on his forearms, steel pads on his shoulder, and a simple steel chest guard, devoid of any ornate decorations. His body, his armaments, spoke of a man ready to stand tall and face his foe. His face and his eyes, however, spoke of a tired man who had fought before and did not want what was about to come, but would take the burden upon himself all the same. For if not him, then who?

The sword at his hip felt heavy, as if the weight of every battle it had ever fought in were locked within its sheath. Erlon, a simple carpenter from a quiet little village placed a strong hand on his only son’s shoulder.

“I wish I had had more time, but I’ve taught you all that I can.” he assured him. “Now you need to take all of that knowledge and use it to keep them safe.”

The young man vaily fought back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He faced his father evenly. “I should be out there. Guarding your back. Fighting by your side!” he insisted, gripping the older man’s shoulder with his left hand.

Erlon reached his hand up and touched his son’s wrist, feeling the cord he had tied around his forearm. “What father wouldn’t be honored to have his son fight by his side?” he asked with a smile. Then his grip firmed. “But your place is with your mother and sister. You’re to keep them safe in my sted. That is your mission. They are your Pillars. And what is our creed?”

The son wiped the tears from his face, and stood before his father like a man. “So long as there is life, the light of the Pillars shines.”

The father nodded once before embracing his son. “I’m proud of you.” he whispered.

This time the young man did not try to hold back the silent tears that fell from him. They pulled away after a second, and Erlon knelt before his daughter. “I know you’re scared Ellisa, but your big brother is going to keep you safe. But you need to be strong for him and your mother. Can you do that?”

The little girl sniffed as she nodded, before throwing her arms around her father’s neck. Erlon chuckled softly. “Of course you can. You’re your mother and I’s daughter. Strong as they come.”

When she pulled away, still weeping, Erlon stood to his feet and looked his wife, Para, in the eyes. The radiant beauty he fell in love with ages ago, whose raven dark hair was only just beginning to show the faintest traces of gray, cupped his face in her hand, which then became engulfed by his own. Not a word was shared between the two of them. When the screams rose higher from the village, Erlon pulled away and hurried to the door. He paused just on the husk of opening it, to look back at his family once more.

“My body, my blood, my blade.” he spoke to them. “I am yours.”

With that, he opened the door, and ran head first into the destruction. His family wasted no more time on tears, flying out the back door with all the speed they could muster. Not one of them dared to look back upon their village, their home. They knew on some level that, if they did, they would never tear their eyes away. They ran, they ran as far as they could. The family had long passed the boundaries of the village and had just reached the treeline up hill, when the first loud shriek pierced the air. They turned around to behold the battle.

One of the Titans fell, blood gushing from a wound on her calf. They couldn’t see what was happening from so far away. One moment she was on the ground, thrashing wildly, and the next, she was still. Her companions gathered around her, looking about frantically, while two of them tried to salvage her life. The two Titans that were searching the ground spotted their target, and began stomping about, trying to crush it underfoot. One leapt away, her foot appearing injured after a failed attempt. The other reached over and hefted an entire house, before throwing it to the ground with the full strength of her upper body. The force was so great, the building practically disintegrated on impact.

“Father!” the young man cried. Without any conscious thought his feet began carrying him back towards the village at full sprint.

“Gaelin!” his mother called. “Gaelin come back!”

*************************************************************************************

“Gaelin,” whispered a voice, snapping the man back to the present. He was standing in the Black Stallion Inn, looking out upon a familiar scene. Before him stretched the village of Sol-har, in the midst of it’s happiest night in ages. At the fringes of the quiet haven stood five powerful women, whose unthinkable height put the Inn, the largest building in the village, at level with their knees. All except for one of them were dressed in armor and bore weapons. The fifth woman was a stunning sight to behold with reddish brown hair held back by a silver chain and jewel encircling her forehead, allowing to curly bangs to frame her lovely features. The blue and white dress she wore was immaculate, and only completed by the blue shawl on her shoulders. The staff she gripped in her hand was the entire trunk of a redwood tree, and demonstrated her rank to others. Her name was Oragale Rhaolin, and the village was well acquainted with her.

“What do we do?” came the hushed voice again. Gaelin turned to see Andrill standing besides him, looking paler than a man three days dead. “How could they have found us so soon?”

“I- . . .” he hesitated as he looked around at the crowded room. Although most had rushed to the windows to observe the Titans come to the village, those that had recently been rescued retreated as far away as possible. Husbands clutched at their wives for comfort, while men and women alike began to sob at the thought of returning to their cages. Before Gaelin could say anything, a shifting of the crowd caught his eye. With little regard for who he pushed passed, he forced his way to the door before Annallya could step outside.

“What the blazing embers are you doing?” he demanded.

The shrunken Titan only looked up at him in steely resolve. “This was my plan, Gaelin, and it failed. I brought more hardships and troubles on these people yet again. If anyone is to face the consequences, it will be me.”

“I can’t let you just go out there and submit yourself to their judgment.” he countered. “At least not alone.”

“This is my fight, not yours.” she affirmed.

“The flames it isn’t!” he snarled. “I’ve been in this fight far longer than you!”

“Stand aside, Gaelin.” Annallya warned.

“How about I step outside,” he replied, turning towards the door. Before he took more than one step, however, he was suddenly thrown from his feet by a strong set of hands, knocking him into a group of men to his left, who barely managed to catch him. The swordsman looked up in dazed surprise to see an eight foot tall Annallya gaze down at him in sorrow.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. Then she turned to the rest of the Inn and raised her voice. “I am sorry that I have brought this upon you all.”

Without another word, she ducked through the doorway, and walked down the street to face her mother. Gaelin scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible and stood in the open doorway. As the Titan boldly marched down the dirt path to face the repercussions of her actions, she grew literally taller with every step. Until she walked through the miniature village at her full height of 100 ft tall.

“Pain in the ass woman,” he swore, his mind thinking furiously. Turning back to the room, he looked about the crowd.

“Rhollan!” he called. At once the portly Innkeeper stepped out into a clear area of the room. “I need papers and writing charcoal now!”

Without so much as a word of question the man ran upstairs to his room. His wife remained behind, scowling suspiciously at the swordsman.

“What’s this about, Gaelin?” she asked. “What are you doing.”

But the man ignored the edge to her tone, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tonight, Anda, I pay that debt of mine, and I pay it in full.”

The Innkeeper was not sure how to respond to that. She took in his serious tone, backed by the iron like resolve behind his eyes. She could only nod to him, somehow conveying the smallest form of an apology for her challenge to his intentions, before walking back over to the windows. The rest of the common room returned to watching the approaching altercation between Titans. All except for one man, who quietly strolled up to Gaelin. The Whistler put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.

“Whatever you’ve got in mind,” he muttered. “Try not to die. I need to hear your story first.”

He indicated to the sword at Gaelin’s hip with a knowing grin. “I’m sure that blade’s seen many battles over its long life. Some of them I probably know. But I’d very much like to hear about the battle fought at the Titan palace. I’m sure I could compose a suitable ballad for it.”

Gaelin cast a suspicious glare at the long limbed, wild haired man. “Who are you?”

The Whistler retained his grin and nodded his head. “Tull Val’ Anders. Now tell me, Sun or Star?”

*************************************************************************************

The trepidation in the pit of her stomach threatened to turn Annallya’s legs to jelly as she walked out the Inn door. All her life her mother has been an incredibly imposing figure, looming above her head, quashing any attempt to defy her will for her daughter. Standing against her now, in Annallya’s mind, was barely a step beneath standing against an army. The palace guards might as well have not been there.

But she had seen the faces of the humans of Sol-har before she left. The emotions they felt in the moment were etched loudly on their faces. In this moment they felt great fear, some for themselves, but many for their loved ones. Terror shone plainly on those that had only just been rescued, they had not been granted even one night of freedom. But above all of that, she saw love among those people. Love for the ones they had just been given back, love for the ones that knew they would have to part with again. Love from those that were not sure what was to transpire next, and so intended to spend every last second with those around them. Love for their home, love for their family, love for their friends, and love for life. The fact that it was her own people, her own mother, that was causing them such anguish made her blood boil. Annallya drew strength from this anger, allowing it to stiffen her spine. She grew to her full height as she marched down the dirt path, everything around her diminishing except her rage. She stopped just beyond the reach of her mother’s staff, still within the village, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Good evening mother,” she greeted her in an obviously displeased tone. “Out for an evening walk I see?”

Her mother ignored the remark and pointed her staff at her. “Your room was discovered empty with a rope leading out of the window. When it was learned the a guard had attempted to cover up the embarrassment of having her finger cut off by a human, we knew it must have been you. You have much to answer for.”

“Truly?” she asked. “I believe that my actions are a sufficient answer for any questions you may have.”

“I would know why you stole the property of the entire palace and released them.” Mistress Rhaolin demanded, her patience wearing thin.

But Annallya merely shrugged. “I was unaware that people could be deemed our property simply because they are smaller than us. As for why I did it…” she began with a grin. “It was my Offering to them.”

From where she stood, Annallya could see her mother’s grip tighten on her staff in frustration. The sight brought her a certain amount of satisfaction.

“Ignorant child.” her mother spat. “You believe you know everything, yet you are laughably blind to the truth.”

“It would be laughable, were it not so sad that you,” Annallya countered, pointing an accusing finger at her mother. “Believe that innocent, kind, and intelligent beings are to be treated as wild animals and kept as slaves!”

“I know more than you think, mother.” she continued. “I have seen the charts in your room. You knew of this place, because you are the one who comes here. You take these people away from their loved ones, and convert them into slaves! And yet you think that my actions are reprehensible? As far as I can see, I have done the only righteous act Thylara has ever seen.”

Mistress Rhaolin narrowed her eyes. “I am weary of this and can see that we will get nowhere with you this night. You are coming back with me.”

Annallya stubbornly placed her hands on her hips. “Very well, however I refuse to return as your daughter. You will have to take me back as a prisoner, if you must.”

But her mother only smiled mirthlessly. “Child, did you assume otherwise?”

Mistress Rhaolin tossed a small object into the air, which Annallya deftly caught. It was a ring of iron, thick in its volume, and too small for even her little finger. From beneath her scarlett cloak, one of the guards produced a human cage. Annallya knew what this meant, she had seen it before. Without so much as a glance at her own mother, she shrunk down to her human size and fitted the metal band around her neck. It sealed itself with an ominous SNAP, and the Titan was instantly a prisoner. Her mother, cage in hand, walked over and gently grasped her daughter, lifting her to eye level.

“I . . . I did not want this.” she said in a low, regretful tone. “But you have brought this upon yourself. There will be consequences for this.”

Annallya met her now gigantic mother’s gaze unwaveringly. “There will be consequences for our entire people for what we have done. I am only the first to feel them.”

With a grimace, Mistress Rhaolin lowered her daughter into the cage and closed the lid. Passing the cage back to the guard, she was prepared to walk away, when she noticed the crowd of humans that had spilled forth from the Inn, and now stood gathered in the street outside it.

“Tomorrow we shall return,” she addressed the people. “Those that have been taken will return to us, and the Offering will continue as usual. Should any try to escape, this entire village will be executed beneath the feet of our soldiers.”

“NOT ANYMORE!” boomed a voice from the crowd.

The Titan Mistress raised an imperial brow as a lone man stepped out from the crowd, walking towards the colossal woman with the determination that only a stubborn man can muster. What stood him apart from the other villagers, aside from his mannerisms, was the sword he carried on his hip. Humans did not carry such weapons outside of bedtime stories mothers tell to their daughters. The bearded human lifted his head up towards them as he drew closer.

“You’re Annallya’s mother right?” he gruffly asked. “You’re the Queen’s advisor, which means you’re also a negotiator.”

He stopped just a few Titan steps away from her, with his feet planted as if he intended to move mountains. “So let’s negotiate.”

But the Titan only glared at him from on high. “We do not negotiate with insects. We crush them.”

She slammed the tip of her staff into the ground for emphasis. But the man never flinched, he never in fact broke eye contact with her.

“Oh? How about enemy soldiers?” he asked. “You negotiate with them all the time, don’t you?”

The Titan mistress smirked, becoming amused. This one was rather attractive. He would make an entertaining toy for herself. “To qualify as an enemy, you would have to pose a threat to me.”

“Exactly, now here are my terms.” the impetuous man continued, placing his hands on his belt, noticeably close to his sword. “You stay away from Sol-har, and end the Offering for this village. The people who were freed stay free. No Titan from your city ever bothers them again. Got it?”

Mistress Rhaolin twitched in what was the smallest form of a chuckle, but retained her regal albeit smug demeanor. “Surely you jest.”

“Not at all.” the man replied, perfectly at ease with the giants standing before him.

“And what, out of curiosity, would the price be of such terms?” she ventured.

“Not only will I not kill you,” he answered. “But I’ll surrender to you willingly.”

Upon hearing this, Annallya could take no more. Throwing herself against the bars of her cage, she reached out a hand towards Gaelin.

“Stop! Please!” she implored him. “Walk away now!”

Mistress Rhaolin brought the cage that held her daughter up to eye level. “Tell me, Annallya, who is this man?”

“She doesn’t know.” Gaelin answered before the captive Titan could answer. “Not entirely. Try asking me, I’ll tell you.”

The Titan ambassador shifted her gaze back to the tiny figure who faced her without fear. There was something about this man, something off putting. He faced five Titans by himself and showed not the slightest bit of dread or nervousness, and it was not mere bravado or a facade. No, though he stood alone, he remained still as if an army were at his back. Either this man was mad beyond reason, or he was something much, much worse. She needed to know.

“Who are you?” she asked.

In answer, Gaelin pushed up the sleeve of his coat, revealing the red rope he had wrapped around his forearm, pinned with a golden star. Then, with a small flourish, he drew his sword and held it at his side in his right hand, his left arm held across his chest in order to better show the rope and pin.  Mistress Rhaolin’s eyes widened. She recognized the design of that sword, from books written by women long dead.

“I am Gaelin Val’ Saida!” he roared for human and Titan alike to hear. “Son of Erlon Val’ Saida! Bearer of the Night Star, wielder of the unbreakable blade, sworn Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight!”

He lifted his blade up to point it directly at the Titan. “And I’ve killed your kind before.”

The silence that followed was jarring next to the thunderous voice of the swordsman. Every villager that had poured out of the Inn stood with mouths agape. Each one of them was all too familiar with the legends of the Guardians, stories that have been spread by Whistlers for generations. To hear the claim made that a living Guardian had been among them for years went far beyond unbelievable. As well have told them that a Titan had been living in their village as well. As for the Titans, not a one of them moved. Mistress Rhaolin could only stare at the warrior. His pin, his sword, it was just as she had read about. But the Guardians were dead, all of them. They had to be. The thought of mere humans with the ability to kill Titans running around in this day and age was too horrible to contemplate. The sound of metal scraping against metal brought her attention back to the present. She held her hand up, and the soldiers behind her that had drawn their weapons stepped back. The Titan cast a solemn look down upon the alleged Titan killer.

“I know not where you attained such trinkets, but they are obviously fake.” she stated. “The Guardians are long dead, and they have taken their weapons and armaments with them.”

The Titan advisor raised her staff. “Flee, insect. Or remain and join the ranks of the real Guardians.”

With that, Mistress Rhaolin stabbed the end of her staff towards Gaelin. The swordsman did not so much as flinch until the very last instant. Only, rather than flinch, his whole form blurred. He spun just out of the way of the staff and, using the momentum of his movement, followed through with a single, smooth, slash. Though the staff was made from the trunk of a massive tree, it had been whittled down to a much smaller, and more suitable diameter for the Titan advisor. As such, Gaelin’s blade passed through the entire width of the staff, slicing through the dense wood with the ease of a Titan sized cleaver. Mistress Rhaolin recoiled from the man as if he were a venomous serpent, coiled and ready to strike. She held up the end of her staff to inspect it. A section of the staff as long as her thumb had been sliced clean of, leaving a very smooth, slanted tip to her staff. Annallya could only slump against the bars of her cage, feeling as if she had been boxed soundly upside the head. Not only two days ago she had first learned what the Guardians were, and now she had been told that the very man who had been training her was a Guardian. She had been shown it, and . . .

. . . And he had killed Titans?

Her mother only looked back at Gaelin, as he sheathed his sword, while she kept her face as reserved as possible. From his vantage, however, Gaelin could see the fear underlying her mask of neutrality.

“Proof enough for you? Or should I come a little closer and demonstrate?” he asked. Though he had obviously shaken them to the core, the man wore no smile of satisfaction on his face. In fact he looked . . . grim. What was going through his mind, the Titan wondered.

“What are your demands?” she asked.

“Leave this village, the escaped prisoners, and everyone else alone.” he reiterated. “Never return here again, and no one from Thylara ever bothers them. In return, I surrender to you without a fight.”

She grimaced. “And if I were to refuse?”

Gaelin shrugged, not the slightest bit of emotion showing through on his face. “I’ve already infiltrated your palace once today and set it on fire. After I kill you, it wouldn’t be much harder for me to get in again and find your Queen.”

Mistress Rhaolin narrowed her eyes. So he was the one behind the arsen at the palace, obviously with the assistance of her daughter. However, she was with her the entire time at the war council, which meant that he truly did set fire to the palace by himself. If he were responsible for such a feat, then assassinating the Queen would be well within his capabilities. His price was high, but could he really be trusted to keep it? Would he truly surrender without attempting to take the life of the woman who collects the Offering twice a year? Glancing down at the cage in her hand, she noticed her daughter gazing anxiously at the little human on the ground. She seemed to be somewhat acquainted with him, something she would have to have words with her about later. For now, she lifted the cage up to eye level.

“Is he good to his word?” she asked.

Annallya looked torn between how to answer such a question. If she said yes, he would surely be taken away. If she said no, however, what would happen then? Nothing good, it stood to reason. All the same, it was with much reluctance that she opened her mouth.

“Yes,” she admitted, looking downcast. “He is.”

Her mother nodded, she could tell that she was telling the truth. “Very well, Gaelin Val’ Saida. On behalf of the city of Thylara, and her Queen, I accept your surrender.”

“No…” her daughter whispered in defeat.

 

 

 

From her helpless vantage point, Annallya could only watch as her mentor unbuckled the only weapon protecting him from the wrath of her mother. Were he to relinquish that sword to her, there was nothing to stop her mother from crushing him out of existence. Granted, she was an honor bound woman, and would never pass up the opportunity to bring in such a dangerous criminal. Did he know that though?

It seemed to matter not, for Gaelin turned around, and tossed his sword towards the crowd. It was caught in the tender hands of Rhollan, who gaped openly at the weapon, as if he were holding a live serpent. He looked back up at Gaelin, who only answered him with a nod. Rhollan took the belt and, with slight difficulty due to the girth of his stomach, buckled it around his waist. In stature, the man looked to be the least intimidating warrior ever, though his weathered face gave him the appearance of a man who had seen much in his life. Perhaps that was why he had chosen Rhollan to wear it. Her mother watched the scene unfold, trying hard to hide the worry on her face, Annallya could tell. All the while, Gaelin had also shed his quiver of arrows, dropping them to the ground, along with his bow.

“It is customary,” she began. “When surrendering, that the surrendering enemy relinquish his weapon to the opposing leader.”

Gaelin turned back to face the mature Titan, raising a questioning eyebrow, as if she were a distraction from a more important matter. “You think I’d trust you to leave this village alone in my absence?”

He smirked. “I may be leaving with you, but my sword stays, waiting for any Titan who tries to return. Along with my allied Guardians who’ll be keeping an eye on this place while I’m gone.”

“What?” she asked. “There are more of your kind?”

Gaelin nodded. “They live scattered all over, and some of them occasionally come to the village to visit. Should any of them learn of you breaking your agreement, and harassing Sol-har again, they’ll come for your Queen.”

Annallya’s mother was silent for a noticeable minute, before nodding. “Under Sun and Stars I swear that the covenant shall be honored.”

Gaelin nodded to her in response. “Alright, let’s go.”

With a breath that was so slight, it was only noticed by Annallya, Mistress Rhaolin bent down. Though he was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, the Titan was wary of grasping the little human, imagining that he would sting her at the first sign of carelessness. She opened the lid of the cage, and sealed him inside alongside her own daughter.

“Are you alright?” he whispered to Annallya as soon as he was inside.

“I- . . .” she hesitated in answering. “Physically I am . . .”

He seemed to accept that answer, and its unspoken implication. Meanwhile, the Titan advisor turned her attention back to the ever present crowd of villagers. Clearing her throat, she addressed them again.

“As was agreed this day, you shall not be harassed by Thylara or her people again.”

Not entirely sure how to continue, especially given how relieved she was that no more Titan blood was to be spilled this night, Mistress Rhaolin elected to simply turn away from them, and lead her escourt back to the city. The second that her attention was no longer on the cage, Gaelin reached into his coat and withdrew several pieces of paper, writing carcol, and a small plank of wood. Placing the papers over top of the wooden surface, he began writing with the fury of a man recording his final thoughts before his demise. Annallya could only stare at him in wonderment.

Who was this man? What did she truly know of him?

He had had a father, and a mother. A family. He was a skilled swordsman, and a seasoned warrior. He lived by himself, cooked his own food, tended to his own chores, and remained in solitude. For all of his faults and drinking habits, he was a remarkable teacher, and a dependable friend. Beyond that, however, he was a mystery. Even now, after having just revealed what could be his biggest secret to everyone, he was more concerned with writing down his will and testament, than speaking to her. The charcoal raised a chorus of scratches as he dragged it across each page with ever increasing urgency.

“So . . .” she began after more than five minutes of uncomfortable silence. “You are a Guardian, such as the ones from the Whistler’s story?”

“Yes,” was all he said, not once looking up from his writing. Another minute of oppressive quiet fell over the cage.

“Those scars, you received them in battle?” she asked.

“Yes,” came his answer again, the scratching of the paper never ceasing. At last she became too frustrated at having learned so much, and yet so little.

“Blazing embers Gaelin! Have you nothing to say to me now?” she exclaimed.

“There’s not enough time!” he snapped back, forcing her to involuntarily reel back slightly. His features softened when he saw this, and his next words were spoken in a much wearier tone. “I have to keep my promise, and there’s only so much time. Never enough.”

He went back to writing. Looking at his now tired, almost pained expression, Annallya found her own face softening. “What promise must you keep now, when you may potentially be on the verge of execution?”

Looking down at the sight of a forest bathed in moonlight, Annallya realized that she herself may be facing a very severe punishment. Gaelin’s fate, however, was practically assured. “Gaelin, you have killed Titans.”

There was a long pause in the cage, neither of the occupants looked at the other.

“Yes,” came a very quiet, very worn, and unutterably lonely voice. “I have.”

Through the pitch black forest, and the streets of Thylara, the little Titan and human road on in silence, save for the noise of Gaelin’s writing. It was not until the Titans carrying them were ascending the steps of the Thylaran palace that the silence was finally broken.

“I assume that collar prevents you from getting any bigger.” he remarked.

Annallya roused herself from her thoughts, resisting the urge to touch the metal band around her neck. “Were I to grow slowly, I would suffocate myself. Quickly would mean decapitation. These do not break easily.”

“Are you afraid?” Gaelin asked in a hushed tone.

She looked over and give him a weak smile. “I will not be harmed, this much I know. It will only be slightly more severe than when Mother would sentence me to my room for the night as punishment.” She paused. “Are you afraid?”

Gaelin merely puffed out a breath. “No, I feel like I’ve had this coming for a long time, and I’ve put it off long enough. Honestly, I’m more afraid for the village.”

“You should be more worried for yourself. You left them a means to defend themselves after all.” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he agreed with just the slightest trace of sarcasm. “One sword that not a one of them knows how to use.”

She frowned at hearing that, but then remembered her first trip to Sol-har, and how none of them had carried any weapons. They were not warriors. The only battle they fought was to scrape by for another day amidst the dirt.

“What of your allies?” she asked. “The ones you had mentioned? Surely they could defend the village.”

Gaelin looked up at his student, a sad smile on his face. “It was a bluff, Annallya.” he whispered. “There’s no one else around capable of fighting a Titan.”

“What!” she exclaimed as quietly as possible, so that neither her mother nor the guards could overhear.

He nodded.

“Gaelin,” she whispered. “You should not have given yourself over in such a manner! The entire village is now left completely unprotected! Should my mother decide to challenge your bluff, the consequences would be dire for them!”

“Worry less about them and more about yourself.” he instructed her. “After this is all over, you get to move on with your life. Live in the palace, become a soldier, an advisor, and be second next to the future Queen. You get to have your old life back, and it’s still ahead of you. Focus on that.”

“I . . .” Annallya froze. It was entirely possible, likely even, that what he said was true. After she serves her punishment, perhaps her old life would still be waiting for her. Everything would go back to the way it was before she met Andrill and Gaelin. Thoren, as Queen, would even sweep the knowledge of her actions under the rug for her. It would be the sort of thing a friend like her would do. She could be who she was again. . .

Would she even want that?

“No,” she bitterly spat. “Knowing what I know now, having seen all of those good, people face such terror. . . I cannot forget that.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” he told her. “I couldn’t. Not that I was ever anything other than a drunk.”

“I do not know what you are,” she admitted. Though she did not notice, her words made the swordsman grimace, ever so slightly. “All that I know is that those people need a protector.”

“You would take that upon yourself?” he asked.

“I would.”

“It’s not your fight.” he reminded her. “They’re not your people.”

“It matters not.” she insisted. “They carry something within them. Something . . . something I have never before seen. A capacity for . . . for love, that is beyond what most Titans show for each other. It . . .”

She smiled. “It is beautiful, and it must be preserved at all costs. As a Titan, it is the only cause I have ever seen that is worth going to war over.”

By now the Titans had navigated the hallways of the palace, and were descending the staircase leading to the dungeon. One of the guards had to strike a torch to life, before their party could continue into the abyss of shadow that was the Thylaran dungeon. The staircase ended in front of a thick wooden door, which one of the guards unlocked, before continuing on. The light of the torch beat back against darkness that was so thick, it seemed content to swallow the flame whole. Before the small party stretched a single hallway, lined on each side with cells built for to the scale of a Titan. Some of those cells were occupied by prisoners, who glared at the flood of light that had roused them from slumber. Only those that had committed relatively minor or moderate crimes were allowed the luxury of remaining at their full size. Mistress Rhaolin lead the group on passed the Titan cells, until they had come to a wall at the end of the hallway. Carved within this wall were dozens of cells, each design to house Titans that were forced to remain in a shrunken state, as punishment for more severe crimes. Only a small handful of these cells were occupied by a shrunken Titan. They looked up from their bunks at the baleful light being thrown in their eyes, with distorted expressions of pain and rage. Annallya did not envy them, for she was about to become them.

“This will be where I am kept.” she muttered to her companion, turning away from the sight before her. “Gaelin I-”

Just as she turned completely around to face him, the Guardian engulfed her smaller form in a hug, one that completely took her by surprise. It brought her mind back to that day, months ago, when he had first agreed to train her.

“Do what you have to,” he whispered in her ear. There was a note of agony in his voice that compelled her to hang on to every word. “But please . . . please don’t hate me.”

Her eyes widened as he pulled away. She was on the verge of speaking, when the immense hand of her mother reached inside and grasped her. Annallya was lifted from her confinement without a word, and placed into one of the human sized cells. The door locked itself upon being shut, and she was now a prisoner of her own people. Her mother, despite her iron like resolve and strict disposition, appeared hurt by the sight of her own daughter behind bars, like an animal.

“You are to speak of this to no one.” she commanded to the escorting guards. “No one, save for you women, and those I deem it necessary are to ever learn of what has transpired. Should I discover the slightest rumor floating about the palace of my daughter’s imprisonment, I will see to it that you occupy the cells next to hers. Is that understood?”

As one the guards snapped a well disciplined military salute, and nod of confirmation. Then Mistress Rhaolin reluctantly faced her daughter.

“I . . . will attempt to visit when my duties permit me the time.” she told her. “I wish this were different. Had you listened to me . . .” She looked away. “I am sorry, daughter.”

With that, her mother turned and strode from the dungeons, carrying Annallya’s friend to his death, along with her. As soon as the light faded from her view, the other prisoners returned to their sleep, leaving the Titan alone in the dark. Reaching into the folds of her shirt, just between the outside of the fabric and the inside of her armor, she drew out the objects that Gaelin had slipped inside when he had hugged her. In one hand she held a small bundle of papers, the ones he had been writing on. In the other hand, a small, cold, and sharp piece of metal: an arrow head. Likely pulled from one of the arrows from his quiver. It felt solid and strong. With a tool like this, it might be possible for her to pick the lock of the collar, maybe even the lock to the door of her cell.

But then what of the papers? It took a few minutes for Annallya’s vision to adjust to the dark well enough for her to make out the words written.

Step forward with your left leg, then right, sweeping . . . she read to herself.

Realization dawned on her, she recognized exactly what these were. But why give these items to her? What was the purpose? If Gaelin had demonstrated anything to her in the short period of time that she had known him, it was that he never did anything without reason. Every task and chore he made her perform had a purpose. What was it that he had in mind for her? Unless . . . her mind raced with possibilities, finally putting two and two together.

Emotions were flooding through Annallya’s in waves. Was this what he had meant for her? Did he truly make such a sacrifice all for her sake? Would a cold blooded killer do such a thing? Or was she only now beginning to realize that there was much more to Gaelin Val’ Saida than she had imagined? There was little time to ponder such thoughts, however. It was late, and she was very exhausted from the day’s excursions. Annallya laid down on the straw stuffed cot in her cell. When the morning sun bathed the dungeon in light, Annallya began to read.

And then she began to train.

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin had assumed that he would be taken to the dungeons with Annallya, at least for a little while. Instead, Mistress Rhaolin carried his cage up to what he could only assume was the highest room in the Thylaran palace. They climbed staircase after staircase, up and up, until at last the staircase they were on reached a dead end. Before them was only a wall of stone. Without warning, the cage was opened, and Gaelin was ensnared by Mistress Rhaolin’s hand, helpless as a baby mouse in her grip. She brought him to her face, where the rage within her eyes was on full display for the Guardian.

“You,” she spat. “You and your kind have corrupted my beloved daughter. Everything that has and will happen to her can be laid at your feet alone.”

Gaelin took in her unbridled fury, her malice, and her hate, and he faced it down with the resolve of a man with nothing to lose. A man who already knew that he was to die. He did not so much as flinch when he gazed back and her and said “I know.”

Mistress Rhaolin tightened her grip, flooding his body with pain, almost to the point where he could feel his bones about to give way before her might. It was barely a fraction of her true strength, and yet it was enough to force the air from his lungs, and prevent any more breath from being drawn. Nevertheless, he refused to give her the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. So he bit down on his tongue, to prevent so much as a sound from escaping. After a mere few seconds, she relented, and he could breath again.

“You will die for what you have done to her.” she promised. “That will be assured, however many warriors it takes. Until that happens, however, you will serve us Titans.”

A small smile crept its way onto her face, enhancing her air of menace. “But not as the pets you have freed have served us. No, there was reward in their work, pleasure even. Your death will not be as such. You will serve us in entertainment. We will sit and watch the blood be drawn from you, bit by bit, day by day. We will watch the sweat coat your body, as the strength leaves your back, prostrating you to the ground in pain. Every night, you will wake up, thinking only of the next woman coming to claim you. Until the day comes when you are finally brought to your knees before the Queen and myself, and the order is given for your life to be claimed by a mere criminal. Not even an honorable death will be afforded for you.”

Mistress Rhaolin deposited Gaelin on the ground, where he noticed for the first time, a door. A human sized door. Large for its scale, but still definitely proportioned for humans

The Titans before him dwindled in size, until they had all reached their human heights. Despite the hopelessness of his situation, Gaelin could not help but find it amusing to see his captors stand smaller than himself. He could tell that the guards were not at all comfortable with it, a few even reached for their swords, but stopped at a reprimanding look from Mistress Rhaolin. They took control of themselves again, though it was obvious that they wished that they could at least grow until they were taller than him. Too late, however, as that would only give away how much they feared him. For the first time since coming to Thylara, Gaelin wanted to laugh.

Mistress Rhaolin approached the door and slammed the metal knocker against its surface as audiably as she could. A small slit was opened up, allowing a woman on the other side to observe who had arrived. She closed it after only a second, recognizing at once the advisor to the Queen, and the sound of many locks being moved could be heard. The door was opened by another guard, who immediately zeroed in on Gaelin. She saluted Mistress Rhaolin, who led them passed the guard, who never once took her eyes off of the man. They continued through two more check points, each of which were heavily guarded, until the hallway they had walked down ended in a giant cavern like room, circular in design, with levels and levels of cells extending upwards. Stairs on both sides of the room allowed access to the upper levels, with guards stationed at different intervals. Despite the late hour, some prisoners could be seen stirring or pacing in their cells.

“What kind of prisoners do you keep here?” Gaelin quietly asked.

“Enemy soldiers, war criminals, spies, traitors.” Mistress Rhaolin shrugged. “The ones who are useful in providing entertainment to us.”

Some of the prisoners who had been stirring approached the bars of their cell, hearing that a new inmate had been brought in. All eyes turned wide when they laid gaze on the tall human man standing at the bottom of the prison yard. Muttered speech could at once be heard emanating from the various levels. Loud clanging rose above the noise as a few prisoners began banging against their cell doors.

One of them cried out. “HUMAN!”

Suddenly other prisoners, having been roused from sleep, approached their doors, clearing their eyes. When they too saw Gaelin, they had to clear their eyes again, to make sure that they had seen correctly. It did not take long for every prisoner to rush to their doors and begin ranting and raving at the newest inmate. Every one of them was a woman, and every woman wore the same collar around her neck. Beyond that, every one of them had a wild look in her eye, akin to a starving wolf staring at a slab of meat. They were excited at his arrival, they knew something was going to happen. Something that he did not.

Mistress Rhaolin took in the scene with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Enjoy your new home, Gaelin Val’ Saida. These will be your executioners. I will see you tomorrow.”

The Titan Mistress left the room, leaving Gaelin to be escorted to his cell near the top by one of the remaining guards. He passed by numerous cells of women trying desperately to reach out and grab him. Each one had a jeer they hurled at him.

“At last the crown decides to throw us peasants a play thing!”

“I stake first claim on him!”

“I have not had such  a handsome pet since I was but a girl!”

“It is almost a shame that we must ruin such a handsome face! I would like it to remain unscarred!”

“Do you suppose this one is a fighter?”

“He is a human! None of the pitiful creatures are!”

“At least he can provide us with a warm bed before he dies!”

Gaelin walked passed all of the clawing hands and taunts without so much as a glance at any of them. He had long since resigned himself to his fate. The guard lead him to an empty cell, opening the door for him and locking it behind him. The jeers continued as the rest of the guards attempted to silence their howls. Gaelin paid them no mind. He had already accomplished all that he needed done in his life. He could only pray to the stars above that his last act would succeed, and that Annallya would be well off. With that though comforting him, Gaelin laid down on his straw stuffed cot, and proceeded to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

Gaelin awoke early next morning in the most unfamiliar situation he had found himself in for quite some time: not hungover.

So why then was there such a persisting rattling noise echoing through his head? It wasn’t until his eye opened and fully focused that he was able to take note of his surroundings, and recall what had transpired the previous night. It all came back to him at once in quick flashes. The raid, escaping, the party, Annallya surrendering, giving himself up as well, being imprisoned. That was where he was, imprisoned in Thylara. Sitting up in his new bed, which wasn’t that bad compared to his own, he noticed the guard banging the butt of her spear against the bars of his cell.

“Val’ Saida, make yourself presentable.” she commanded. “You have visitors.”

Huh, wonder who would be visiting me, he thought.

Despite his curiosity, Gaelin took his time washing up in the water bucket they gave him. When he had finished, the guard turned to check on him and, finding him as presentable as he was ever likely to be, proceeded to unlock the cell.

“Do with him as you will, you have ten minutes.” she instructed.

The guard opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the opening of his cell to be filled by three new figures, all of which were Titans. The one to his right was a pretty young woman with copper toned skin, dark eyes, and lucious flowing black hair, perfectly framing her angled face. She was tall, with a figure that was less voluptuous and more athletic, and appeared to be no more than thirty winters in age. The one in the middle was of a much darker complexion, and stood just a bit shorter. Her hair was arranged in individual dreadlocks, a style that Gaelin had only encountered in far off settlements. Though she shared her friend’s athletic physique, she was additionally endowed with an impressively curvaceous figure, that she made sure to show off in her stance. She also seemed to be a bit younger than her friend, perhaps a winter or two younger than Gaelin was. The third young woman had pale skin, and blonde hair to match. Her eyes were icy blue, and piercing. That was what drew his attention to each of them. Their eyes. They appeared to be . . . starving.

Each dressed in the typical Titan attire, a single white robe with a corset type belt that formed a skirt out of the lower half, and sandals. Gaelin stood before them, dressed as no man they had ever seen before. Their hungry eyes took him all in, measuring him up as a true predator would, before they took their first steps forward. The Guardian resolved not to move as they advanced on him. He had already accepted his fate upon surrendering to the Titans, rather than continue to hide away in his prison of a hut. Whatever happened to him, he chose it.

The Titans on his right and left advanced on him first, encircling him, placing a gentle hand against his body every so often. Feeling him, gripping him, testing him. All the while, they purred softly to themselves in anticipation.

“Oh I like this one,” the copper skinned moaned in a throaty, yet velvet voice. “He appears strong. I believe that he shall hold up rather nicely.”

“Against the three of us?” the pale, shorter one scoffed in a low tone. “That I would enjoy seeing.”

“He does not tremble,” the first one noted with a smile. “Do you suppose that he craves this?”

Her friend chuckled. “There is but one way to find out, and we only have ten minutes for the deed.”

With a Titan stopping on each side of him respectively, they each placed a slender hand on his shoulders and, with a grunt of effort, shoved Gaelin backwards, until he was sitting atop his bed, with his shoulder blades pinned against the wall. His back hit the wall rather violently, as the two Titans were strong, seasoned soldiers, and he didn’t attempt to resist their actions. The two Titans each held onto his arms, keeping him from rising, and allowing their bodies to be drawn tighter against his. Gaelin could practically feel their breath quicken with how close they were. The third Titan, the dark skinned one, had been watching the entire scene unfold, licking her lips in excitement. She swung her right leg up, and planted her sandaled foot directly on his chest, keeping him from rising with her own weight and leverage. Leaning in towards Gaelin, she addressed him directly.

“It has been a long time since any of us have had a man to ourselves to play with,” she whispered to him. “Scream or do not. It matters not to me. So long as I am given my pleasure.”

Their intentions were abundantly clear to Gaelin, who wanted none of it. Torture, he had expected. This, however, was something else. This was feeding him, his very being, to animals. He had seen this look before, though in men. To see it here, among Titans, was surprising. Apparently Annallya’s understanding of Titan reproduction was a tad ignorant. Everything was suddenly thrown into a new light in Gaelin’s mind, as he began to understand why exactly Titan’s covet human men so highly, and it made his blood begin to boil.

“Remove your clothes.” commanded the Titan that stood with one foot on his chest.

Rather than respond, Gaelin merely gazed up at her, and said nothing. The simple action of looking back at her, stripped the Titan of her hungry grin, replacing it with a frown and a slight recoil of the head. The man said nothing, nor did he allow any expression to show themselves among his features. No, what had elicited such a reaction from her was all in his eyes. There was something there within them, an invisible storm, a silent rage, boiling beneath the mask of calm he wore. He practically radiated fury, and the fact that it was so controlled was all the more unsettling to these women, who had believed him to be little more than a cowed pet.

“Do as you are commanded, toy.” said the taller Titan to his right.

Gaelin felt, more than saw, her arm curl backwards. With reflexes born from years of training and experience, Gaelin’s arm snapped up and caught the Titan by the wrist, before her hand could make contact with the side of his head. The woman flinched at the power behind his grip, hissing in pain. This was the first time that a human had ever hurt her in anyway. To be caused pain from something that was usually barely bigger than her finger was unsettling to say the least. With a quick twist of her arm, he forced her entire body to contract in agony, attempting in vain to stave off the discomfort of having her shoulder on the verge of being dislocated. Her friend to the left of Gaelin reacted instantly, attempting to climb to her feet, and rain blows down upon his head. This time his other arm shot forward, aiming for her neck. His fingers wrapped around the collar she wore, constricting her throat, and limiting her air intake. Suddenly panicked over her inability to breath properly, the smaller Titan changed tactics to clawing at his hand, trying to pry his fingers from the collar. Both Titan’s found the Guardian’s grip to be as solid as iron. At their full heights, Titans are unmatched in sheer physical power, and they are very well aware of that. Brought down to human size, though, their power was severely limited. Even their soldier conditioning was inadequate before the centuries old teachings of the Guardians, taught to Gaelin from a very young age.

The entire time, he had never ceased looking at the third Titan standing over him. Only now, she had seen him stop both of her friends with one arm each. The rage behind his eyes suddenly took on new meaning. Taken aback, the Titan removed her foot from his chest, and backed away a few steps. With a sharp shove, Gaelin pushed away the two women who had attempted to hold him down, and rose to his feet. The dark skinned Titan backed away a few more steps under his piercing glare, allowing him the room necessary to turn towards the open door, and exit the cell. The two guards that had been standing watch outside both jumped upon seeing him walk out alone, especially in such an untouched condition. Gaelin continued on passed them, forcing the guards to trail after him, giving the appearance of an honor guard, rather than a prisoner escort. His cell was on one of the higher levels, leading out to a stone walkway which ran the circumference of the massive circular chamber. The floor of the chamber was teeming with prisoners, speaking and interacting with one another. There must have been well over one hundred Titan prisoners. Even the walkway he now traveled down held a few individual Titans, each one of which gave him the same hungry look the other three had directed at him. Gaelin walked passed all of them without so much as a passing glance, the anger in his eyes had not entirely abated.

“Where are you off to, Val’ Saida?” one of the guards called after him.

“To wherever you get food around here.” he answered without slowing down for her. Brushing passed a Titan that had stepped forward to gain his attention.

“Prisoners earn their daily meals.” she told him, finally giving in and jogging ahead to catch up with him.

“Then tell me where I go to earn it, I’m starving.” he said.

Gaelin already had an idea of where they would take him, and so continued down the stairs to the chamber floor with the guards still at his back. As he began to descend, prisoners on the floor took notice of his presence. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps, all talking had ceased, as all eyes were turned upon him. The weight of their staring was pushed back only by the intensity behind his own eyes.

“You’re in my way.” he said in a low tone.

Not one of the Titans moved from their spot, each looking at him as a new play thing they had been given. The only thing they were waiting for was to see which woman would step up first to make claims to his hide. The two guards that had been behind Gaelin the entire time, stepped forward. With hands on their swords, they grew to a height of about fifteen feet tall, and began marching forward, forcing the other prisoners to back away, clearing a path for Gaelin to continue. They lead him to the opposite end of the chamber, where a large set of doors, much like the doors to the entrance of the prison, opened before them. The guards returned to their smaller height before they continued to lead Gaelin through the doors, and down a long hallway. The hallway lead to an extensive staircase, which lead to another hallway, and finally ended at another set of doors that, when opened, revealed a considerably smaller room. This room was entirely empty, save for a third set of doors, and several racks of weapons. The guards didn’t follow Gaelin into this room, but rather closed the doors behind them, and locked them. Taking a look around and seeing that there was nothing else in the room, the swordsman approached the weapons wrack, which held on it every conceivable instrument of violence and killing he had ever heard about. Of the numerous swords, there was one with a handle long enough to require both hands to weild. Picking up the sword, he tested the balance, trying out a few forms. It was not as perfectly balanced as the sword he had always carried, but it did not take more than a few swings for him to become accustomed to the blade. The doors before him opened, revealing another hallway, filled with the subtle hum of distant noise.

Gaelin traveled down this path, the noise growing louder before him, until a light ahead told him of an exit. The Guardian emerged from the hallway into an expansive arena, surrounded on all sides by rows and rows of benches, upon which sat a number of citizens of Thylara, shrunken down to human size to better view the action. Many of them were members of the Thylaran military, others were of the nobility class of the city, while the rest had paid an entrance fee for the spectacle. Two prominent seats were kept separate from the rest of the benches, and under heavy guard. Upon one of them sat Mistress Rhaolin, gazing down at him with a haughty smile on her lips. Besides her was a beautiful, dark skinned woman of about the same age, whom Gaelin could only assume was the Queen herself.

The colosseum had no roof, but was instead opened to the morning sun. Gaelin had to assume that this arena was directly on the roof of the Thylaran palace. He could see rolling clouds above him, almost taunting him with their freedom of travel. At ground level, all along the border of the walls were barred windows, from which a large number of fellow prisoners watched, each one eager to see the first ever fight between a man and a Titan.

The Guardian strode out towards the center of the arena, longsword in hand, to the uproar of the crowd. Never before had a human been selected to fight in the arena, especially not a man. Seeing one step into the battle arena was a spectacle never before witnessed in Thylara. Opposite to the entrance Gaelin had come from was another set of doors, from which appeared a young Titan warrior, wielding a longsword of her own. She was not an overly remarkable woman, coming to about chin level with Gaelin, with a head of chestnut hair tied in a braid, and delicate features. The armaments she wore were of the typical of all Titan soldiers, save for the lack of a shield. The both of them continued advancing until they had approached two lines painted on the dirt floor of the arena, ten feet apart from each other, at which they stopped. She looked him up and down, open disbelief painted on her face.

“You are to be my opponent?” she asked. “They have decided to send a child’s pet to fight me?”

Gaelin said nothing in response, as he scanned her up and down. He noticed that her collar, as much alike as it was to the other prisoners, appeared a little looser than the others. Was that by design?

“Have they instructed you in the least on how to use that?” she continued. Her voice was not so much scornful as it was disbelieving. “Although I will not argue with an easily won meal, I dislike killing anyone that cannot defend themselves.”

Gaelin remained silent as thoughts and memories long buried resurfaced in his mind. Memories of blood and fire. Of pain, and deep regret. The Titan didn’t know what to make of him.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she demanded.

“How old are you?” the man asked. She looked very young, for a prisoner of war. Did Titan’s recruit teenagers? Perhaps during desperate times. The girl was perplexed by his question, but before she could reply, the Queen stood to her feet, holding her arms in the air.

“Beloved citizens of Thylara!” she proclaimed to the crowd. “This morning we have been blessed with a truly unique spectacle. Before us stands Nefferel Tansole, a common foot soldier from the city of Oalam. A skilled warrior in her own right, you have seen her feed the blood of two opponents to the battle ground before.”

A cheer went up from the crowd in confirmation of two good matches that had brought ample entertainment to the battle hungry people. Holding her hands up again, Queen Phelonous sedated their cries so that her voice could be heard once more.

“She shall be more than adequate for verifying the identity of the opponent standing against her. As you all have seen, we have with us the first ever man to set foot in our colosseum. If his words are anything to be believed, however, he is no ordinary man, and certainly no pet. This man is named Gaelin Val’ Saida, Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight.”

Though that remark did not stop the crowd from cheering, it did silence quite a few of them. The legends of the Guardians were not sought after by many Titans who were not scholars. Though it was not forbidden from telling their stories, it was not the kind of thing that Titans relished speaking of. Perhaps because, in some far corner of their mind, they recognized the legends as more fact than fantasy, and were terrified of acknowledging that men with the power to strike down Titans existed. A good portion of the prisoners watching even ceased their jeers, switching instead to mutters shared between each other. Nefferel looked from the Queen back to Gaelin.

“Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight? I have never heard of such a thing. What is that?”

In response, Gaelin simply rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing the red cord coiled around his forearm, pinned with a golden star. He held it up for her to see, and said nothing more. The cheers of the crowd only increased again. Though many of them may not know what exactly a Guardian was, they could only assume that it would mean a good spectacle for them to witness.

“It cannot be a warrior.” she explained aloud. “Humans are not warriors, especially men. Now, what is it?”

Gaelin answered her with more silence, lowering his arm and slowly shifting into his standard guard position. The Titan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise for a second, before she changed to a battle stance of her own.

“Very well then. If you insist on going along with this farce, then I shall at least treat you as a warrior, and grant you as quick a death as I can.”

With that, the Titan slowly grew. The collar she wore was looser than the others, and it gave her enough room to grow until she was just a bit above eye level with her opponent. This encouraged the crowd to continue jeering.

“Toy with him, Nefferel!”

“Make him bleed for us!”

“Do not die quickly human! We wish for a good show!”

A nod from the Queen was all it took for the match to begin. Nefferel raised her sword, and dashed straight for her target, wanting to end the match swiftly. Just as she was in striking distance, the Titan gave a warrior’s cry as she brought her sword down on her opponent.

CLANG!

The very next sound to echo throughout the arena was the sound of a sword dropping against the ground. All eyes turned to stare at the lone weapon, then at its wielder. Nefferel gaped openly at her empty hands, that had once held the weapon that was now lying in the dirt, twenty feet to her right. Gaelin stood still for a second, locked in place with his own sword pointed directly at her throat. In one move that was hardly registered by both the crowd, and Nefferel, he had struck the weapon from her hands, and stopped just short of a killing stroke. The crowd had gone silent at the flip of a switch. No one dared breath too loudly as they processed what had just happened. A trained soldier, and proven warrior of the arena, had just been defeated in one move by a wild animal, a common house pet. They waited with baited breath for him to finish his opponent.

“Your grip was wrong.” he told her.

Nefferel, to her credit, swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, but made no other move. She steadied herself as she prepared for her death, and nodded to the man in front of her. Gaelin only looked back at her with impassive eyes, before he stepped back and lowered his sword.

“Your footwork leaves a lot to be desired as well. Pick up your sword.” he instructed.

The Titan’s mouth fell open, caught completely off guard by his comment. To say nothing of the fact that he had just allowed her to walk away from what was an assured victory. If Nefferel was surprised, the crowd certainly had no idea what he was doing at all. Their mutterings suddenly rose in volume, providing ample background music for their match. The only ones silent at the moment were the other prisoners watching.

“You have won the match.” the young woman croaked, finally finding her voice. “Do not draw this out any long than it need be.”

“Pick up your sword.” Gaelin repeated.

Never once taking her eyes from the man, Nefferel stepped cautiously towards her fallen weapon, reclaiming it, and stepping back into her fighting stance. Gaelin nodded.

“Never charge straight at an opponent if you aren’t familiar with proper footwork or have a strong base.” he explained. “Approach me slowly, and with better form than that.”

Not a one present could believe what the man was saying. Was he truly giving his opponent tutelage during a fight to the death? Nefferel herself was so caught off guard by his behavior, she actually found herself unconsciously following his instructions. She stepped over to her opponent, her legs spread in a much better stance, her weapon held in a guard position, almost the same as his own. Just as before, when she had closed the gap between the two of them, the Titan lashed out again, this time in a much more calculating manner, aiming for his neck. Gaelin battered the strike aside, as well as a follow up attack coming quickly from a new direction. The third strike he merely backstepped, looking as if he had all the time in the world to avoid her attacks.

“You don’t seem to be as used to this weapon as the shorter swords you Titans normally use.” Gaelin noted. “You can’t just swing it around like some club, hoping to lop off one of my limbs in one stroke. You’ll never touch me in the first place.”

“Be quiet!” she exclaimed. “We are fighting to the death you fool! Do you not comprehend this?”

“I understand exactly what’s going on.” he replied as he deftly repelled another two attacks. “And if I’m going to die, I at least want to have a good fight before I go out.”

At the drop of a pin, Gaelin suddenly switched onto the offensive. He stepped forward with his right leg, sending a sweeping slash at her right flank. Nefferel barely managed to get her sword up to block the attack, and was just as surprised by how quickly he flowed into a new attack, this time at her left. She was a hair’s breadth away from not intercepting it, and was not at all prepared for the upwards slash suddenly coming in from her right again. This time Nefferel was unable to get her sword in the way fast enough, and felt the steel of his blade pass straight through the cloth of her skirt, and graze her armored chest. The swordsman had not seemed to be moving with any particularly great speed, yet the way he flowed so seamlessly from one move into the next made it impossible for her to keep up with him.

Gaelin took a step back, allowing her a minute to catch her breath. “You’re so used to hacking away at your opponents on the battlefield with a lighter sword, you think you can do the same here with these weapons. But this is different. Every attack has to be controlled, so that you can react in time for when your opponent makes their next move.”

The swordsman launched an overhead strike at the younger woman, who managed to successfully block it, only to be taken by surprised by how quickly he switched over to an upwards underhanded sweep. On instinct alone, Nefferel skipped backwards, avoiding bisection by a tiny margin. The crowd, as well as the prisoners, continued to throw jeers at her. They almost refused to believe that a wild man was capable of such skill. She needed to stop playing around and finish him, or she would have no honor left as a warrior or a Titan! Nefferel barely heard them. She was only now beginning to realize that Gaelin’s first strike may not have been pure luck. She could not beat this man.

“It’s pretty easy to summon up power when you wield a sword with two hands.” he told her, slowly stepping into striking distance. “You shouldn’t have to try so hard, that’s not what your other arm is for. It’s for control. Control and time your attacks, and you can take advantage of your opponent’s openings.”

Nefferel was almost surprised to find herself nodding in response. Not only were his instructions insightful and practical, there was something about him. Some air that bespoke of experience, in addition to the demonstrations of his skill. The young Titan looked him over once more, noting how he stood, how he gripped the sword, and how he swung it. Doing her best to imitate his movements, Nefferel stepped closer to him, finally launching another attack. This time, her movements were much more conservative and controlled. When Gaelin intercepted her strikes, she was noticeably quicker in recovering and counter attacking. The Guardian allowed her to attack, giving her the opportunity to become accustomed to her evolving style of combat. Gradually, however, he began sending counter strokes her way, prodding her to practice deflecting as well. The two opponents sparred now, or rather, that is how it appeared to the untrained eye. The Titans were many things, but at their core they were warriors. They knew on sight who truly controlled the match. Nefferel was a lone soldier battering against a defense as impenetrable as any fortress.

In one quick burst, Gaelin sent five almost simultaneous attacks towards her, first from the left. The exact moment she blocked the strike, his whole body turned, striking in the same manner for her opposite side, forcing her to step away from the attack she could not entirely deflect in time. Gaelin used the momentum from his spin to continue swinging his sword in the same direction, arching it in a full circle above his head, to attack her right flank again. This time the Titan did manage to block the attack, only for Gaelin to instantly spin his whole body again in the opposite direction, this time sweeping his sword upwards, knocking her blade up into the air. Nefferel managed to maintain her grip on her weapon, and was prepared to launch a counter strike, only to freeze as Gaelin used his fifth move to bring his sword back down to rest against her exposed neck. The two combatants held their stance, the Titan with her sword still raised in the air, and the Guardian with his blade at her throat. The crowd held their collective tongues.

“Twice now you have bested me.” she begrudgingly admitted. “Please end it now.”

Gaelin took a deep breath. “How old are you?”

She hesitated. “Sixteen winters of age.”

“They draft Titans that young?” he asked.

“When our homeland calls upon us to defend it, yes.” she proudly responded.

Her opponent nodded at that, before he lowered his sword, once again surprising her.

“Th-this is a battle to the death.” she protested. “And you are the winner. Please, do not leave me to my shame of defeat.”

But Gaelin ignored her. “You fought well for someone so young. Keep practicing, and try to stay alive. I’d like to fight you again.”

With that, Gaelin turned around and headed back for the doors he came from, to the vengeful jeers of the crowd. Before he could travel more than five steps the crowd grew silent, causing him to pause. The Queen had stood from her seat again, and was gazing directly down upon him.

“Gaelin Val’ Saida,” she announced for all to hear. “You are the victor, and I commend you for your performance. Your match, however, is not completed until your opponent has been slain.”

The crowd started up again.

“Kill her!”

“She is no true Titan warrior!”

“Her display was pitiful, and should be answered with death!”

Mere minutes ago they had been cheering their fellow Titan. Now, they wanted her dead? Because she lost to him? Gaelin’s knuckles popped from clenching his fist too hard.

“IF ANYONE HERE HAS A PROBLEM WITH HOW SHE FOUGHT, EITHER PICK UP A SWORD, OR PICK UP AND LEAVE!” he yelled to the crowd, casting a look at as many of them as were in his sight. Then he settled his gaze solely on the Queen. “And as for you. If you wanted me dead, send an executioner. But don’t think for a second you can turn me into one.”

Dropping his sword onto the ground, Gaelin strode from the arena, through the doors, and down the various hallways and staircases. He took his time strolling through each stop, so that by the time he emerged back into the prison chamber, the Titan spectators were all present as well. Their talking ceased when he opened the doors and beheld the new crowd before him. They all looked intently at him, just as before. Only this time, something was different, something had left them. They were much less excited upon seeing him and more cautious. Gaelin met their stares with his own, scanning over the lot of them.

“You’re in my way.” he said.

This time, as he strode forward, the crowd hesitantly parted. Gaelin ignored them from then on, until he was back in his cell, waiting for his food to be brought to him.

 

 

 

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Annallya’s days were spent in restless study. Gaelin had been very extensive in much of his writing, and she devoted her time to memorizing each word. Other pages seemed incomplete, so she was forced to fill in the gaps with intuitive guesses derived from her knowledge of the previous pages. Every night before she laid down to rest, she would commit a portion of information to memory. Every morning upon waking up, she would reread exactly what she had spent the night learning. The time spent between that was spent in work. Tireless work, for she had limited time. Never work too quickly, but never let a minute go to waste. Rest when necessary, then return to work. As the days passed by, Annallya wondered fondly if this was at all like the routines of the villagers. The other prisoners certainly thought her mad, as they had no understanding at all of her activities. Even those that had glimpsed her before, could make out nothing of her actions. She paid them no mind. All that mattered was her work.

Gaelin had said that he had a promise that he had needed to keep. Annallya had made one to him as well, and she would see it kept.

 

 

 

 

The three weapons clashed again at the same, the opening he was looking for. Using the strength of his upper body, Gaelin pushed the brown haired opponent’s sword into her blonde haired partner’s cudgel, deflecting them both at once. He picked the right moment as well, for the first Titan was slightly off balance, causing her to fully trip onto her friend, knocking them both down. Stepping quickly, he backpedaled away from the two young women, allowing himself the first opportunity to breath openly since the fight had begun. He had not long to himself, before the third opponent vaulted over her fallen companions, her spear pointed down. She was far better than the other two.

Gaelin sidestepped her assault, leaving her to land on the empty patch of dirt had had stood moments before. She was quick to the recovery, however, spinning her spear like a quarterstaff. Gaelin had his hands full deflecting attacks that came quickly from opposite directions. It was not entirely unlike his own style of combat, making this a very interesting match for him. After a sufficient number of easily won matches, it had become apparent to the Queen that Gaelin’s end would not be met any time soon in the arena. So fights were made more interesting by pitting him against more than one opponent of varying skill. Sometimes the opponents all fought against each other. In this instance, they were united against him. By now, every prisoner knew of Gaelin’s skill with the blade. Wanting the opportunity to make a name for themselves as the warrior who had slaid a Guardian, some leapt at the chance to fight him in the arena. Others were far more hesitant.

This woman was determined.

Adopting a two handed grip closer to the center of the staff, the warrior rained blows against his wall of steel from all angles. Unfortunately, Gaelin’s form allowed for no gaps in his defense, though she was successfully pushing him backwards. The crowd was on edge, as the man continued to give ground to his opponent. She spun her spear this way and that way, attempting to lead his line of sight away from her sneak attack. At last it came, a thrusting jab aimed straight for his stomach. The exact move he had been waiting for.

Spinning his entire body, Gaelin deftly evaded the point of the spear by the barest of margins, allowing the woman to step passed his entire body. Completing the spin, Gaelin left a gash across her right shoulder with his blade. The swordsman had yet to take a life throughout his many matches. His opponents, however, did not share whatever sentiments possessed by him, and were all too willing to attack him with the intent to kill. Wounding the Titans, then, became a necessary step to surviving his matches. Some he let off easy, with nothing more than some patched up cuts. Those that he held in open contempt for their disregard of human life, did not leave with anything less serious than a gaping flesh wound. Two particular Titans, who thought that it would be a good idea to distract him with taunts of how maliciously they had killed humans in the past, had each lost an arm.

Though he managed to clear some space between him and the spear wielder, the Titan with the cudgel was soon upon him, swinging away with reckless abandonment. He managed to turn her attacks aside, but finding a non-lethal opening was difficult. That was the problem with these matches against multiple opponents. You couldn’t simply hold one at blade point without the other two attacking. Improvising, Gaelin brought his knee up to his chest and launched a powerful kick, catching her on the chest guard, and knocking her backwards.

The Titan with the sword came for him next, joined by her spear wielding companion. He had a much more difficult time countering both blade, and spear head. Gaelin received a cut on both his cheek, and leg. Only in Whistlers stories does one man fight multiple opponents and remain untouched. Seeing an opening, Gaelin knocked aside the swordwoman’s blade into her opponent’s spear, before dealing her a painful gash on her thigh, followed by a swift shove into her friend. For once, with no opponents on him, Gaelin jogged backwards, until he had put a good bit of distance between himself and the three warriors. Everyone wounded, they each took their time picking themselves up, planning their next moves carefully in their heads. Gaelin, for his part, took stock of his own injuries. The cut on his leg hurt like hell, but didn’t impair his movements too badly.

Removing his leather coat, Gaelin cut the left sleeve of his shirt off, using it as a makeshift bandage, tied tightly around the wound. It was all the time he had, for his opponents appeared ready for the final round. Standing to his feet, Gaelin hefted his sword again, and walked towards them. Once they had begun walking to him, he picked up the pace, until all four of them broke out into a full sprint.

They clashed again.

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It has been more than a month since Annallya was first locked in her miniature cell. She could only tell this by the tally she had been keeping, scratching marks into the wooden beam broken off from her bed frame. This beam also served to keep her occupied through all of those long hours. Tireless study and training each day allowed her to endure imprisonment without succumbing to hopelessness brought about by the insanity of confinement. Thoren had visited her a few times throughout those days. As expected, she had not reacted well to learning what it was that her friend had done. Stealing her own pet no doubt stung her in a very personal manner. Annallya had done her best to help her understand humans as she had come to understand them. However, she did not believe that she was making much progress with her near sister. Some things cannot simply be understood through descriptions. Annallya had to meet humans in their own lands, and be humbled by them, to truly appreciate what kind of a people they were. Nevertheless, it was a blessing to be able to speak with her best friend on occasion.

Needless to say, this next visit came to her more as a curse.

Annallya stood erect, her emotions on full guard, as she faced her gigantic mother through the bars of her cell. Though the Titan was reduced to human size because of the collar she wore, she intended to face her mother’s gaze unwaveringly, as a sort of testament to her strength and willingness to defy her. For the longest time neither woman spoke. At last, her mother let slip a small smile.

“You appear as proud as any general.” she noted. “Were you to show such attitude at a war council, the others might even follow you into battle.”

“I assumed that my presence was not missed at the last council.” her daughter guessed.

“It was missed by Thoren, as well as Phelonous. She was heartbroken when she learned that it was you who had sprung the pets from the palace.”

Annallya grunted. “So long as the lot of you have your war to occupy yourselves, I doubt anyone will care for long. Have you attacked anyone yet?”

Mistress Rhaolin shook her head. “No. We continue to build up supplies as we track the movements of Nashvani. They have sent a large body of troops to move close to the borders of Soajen, while remaining out of sight. They have been moving slow so as to avoid detection. Their siege equipment must be far behind, for it has not been reported present with them.” She sighed. “I know not why I am telling you all of this, seeing as how you do not care.”

“No.” she flatley replied. “I do not.”

Mistress Rhaolin took a moment to look over her daughter. This was the first time she had had the chance to visit her since her imprisonment. Had the prison life truly hardened her in such a short amount of time? Or perhaps these were her true feelings, unrestrained and on full display for her mother to view. Oragale had always held Annallya’s behavior on a tight leash. Perhaps now she no longer cared to act as her mother wanted. For some inexplicable reason, it brought the smile back to her face.

“You are stubborn, and now openly defiant. I see why you had chosen him to be your teacher.”

Annallya narrowed her eyes, and her voice took on a venomous edge. “You have no right to speak of him as if you knew him. I only hope that he spat in your face before you executed him.”

“Be at ease daughter,” her mother replied, ignoring the heat in her voice. “Your human yet lives.”

Mistress Rhaolin explained in detail the nature of Gaelin’s punishment, telling her for the first time of the existence of the arena battles the palace held for entertainment. Young women were only deemed old enough to view these battles once they had become full fledged soldiers. It was both entertainment for them, as well as a lesson as to what real battle looks like. Annallya listened in detail as her mother painted a picture of captured soldiers and hardened criminals fighting to the death for their food, all while an audience cheered them on. And Gaelin had been placed in the middle of it. The dread that crept up her spine at the thought of her friend all alone among such women, with each one looking to claim a piece of his hide, left her knees feeling weak. At the same time, though, she could not help but feel pride at hearing how he was holding his own against Titan soldiers.

“He refuses to kill him, for some unfathomable reason.” her mother said in conclusion. “He openly defied Phelonous herself when she ordered him to finish his first match.”

Annallya smirked as she leaned against the bars of her cell. “Yes, I have come to learn that stubbornness is a trait shared among most men, if not all of them.”

Oddly enough, Mistress Rhaolin shared her smirk. “My daughter, you have no idea. Perhaps that is where you inherited your own stubbornness from.”

“Perhaps.” she offhandedly agreed. That is, until her mother’s exact words registered in her head, and she looked back at her. “Wait. What do you mean by that?”

But her mother droned on. “Honestly I had believed that your first pet, the younger one, would have been a good match for you. Especially for your first time.”

“Mother . . .”

“Though I approve of this new man.” she grinned. “He has a certain ruggedly handsome appeal to him. Very athletic. Perhaps experienced, which only adds to the pleasure when-”

“Mother!” Annallya shouted. “What under Sun and Stars are you talking about?”

Her mother tilted her head. “Child, have you ever wondered why there are no Titan men?”

Annallya hesitated. “I have . . . occasionally thought on it. Why?”

She shrugged. “We cannot produce any. For reasons that are mysteries to us, we cannot bear any men.”

“Well . . . why is that of any significance?” she asked.

“Because without men, we cannot bear any children at all.” Mistress Rhaolin concluded.

The single statement alone was both so jarring and so perplexing, Annallya was at a loss for even an appropriate reaction. Her face shifted through several different expressions, all the while searching for a response. In the end, she could only chuckle half heartedly.

“Then . . . then how do you explain the existence of our race?” she asked. “Do our people not come from the Stars themselves?”

“You are referring to the story of Baslell?” her mother guessed, shaking her head. “A fanciful story we tell all little girls, because they are not yet ready for the truth.”

Annallya swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. She wanted very much to not hear more. At the same time, however, she needed to know what her mother was talking about. “What truth?”

Her mother spread her hands. “Titans mate, child, just as mammoths and all other animals do. However, we have no men to mate with, and are incapable of producing our own. So we must . . . borrow men for such purposes.”

The bottom fell out of Annallya’s stomach as her mother’s words sunk in. She grabbed the bars in a white knuckle grip to steady herself, not trusting in the strength of her own legs to support her. This was . . . this was a revelation. An enormous revelation. Her entire worldview had been struck to the core with this. Everything that Titans, her people, were suddenly changed before her eyes.

Her mother appeared concerned. “Are you ill, dear?”

Annallya looked up at her, at her sincere and worried expression, and wanted very much to believe that she was lying.

“You . . . kidnap humans . . . to mate with them?”

Mistress Rhaolin quirked an eyebrow. “As far as the men go, yes. The women we enjoy as pets. Though there are those among us who find them more pleasurable than the men.” she shrugged. “To each woman her own, I suppose.”

She closed her eyes, falling back on the child-like instinct of believing that not seeing a thing made it no longer real. “And this is how all Titans are . . . conceived?”

Her mother nodded. “It is.”

“And this is . . . pleasurable to you!” she breathed.

“Very much so,” Mistress Rhaolin replied with a smirk.

Annallya took a deep breath, thinking back to her encounter with the bandits in the forest. Gaelin had used a word for such actions. A word he had described to her in detail. What was it?

“You kidnap humans and . . . rape them?” she asked very slowly.

Her mother tilted her head. “Rape? I do not know this word.”

“Gaelin explained it to me, not long ago. It means to force someone to . . . to mate with you.” she expressed with noticeable disgust. “It is looked upon as one of the most hideous crimes in human culture! Comparable to murder or torture!”

Mistress Rhaolin blinked, appearing to be seriously considering her words. “Is it? Baffling creatures, and their backwards ways.”

“Does this mean nothing to you?” Annallya shouted.

“They have their ways daughter.” her mother countered. “This is our way.”

“Why?” she spat. “Why have I never been told this before?”

“Because it can seem a tad . . . overwhelming to have to explain to a child that we mate with pets.” Oragale explained in a patient tone. “We choose to wait until a woman has become a soldier, and is preparing to leave on her first campaign. By then her mind is much more appreciative of the unique attractive qualities of men. Thoren, even, does not yet know of this.”

Her mother paused. “In addition, a night of pleasure with a man is found to be sufficient . . . motivation for a young woman to fight hard and return alive.”

This was too much for the young Titan to bear. She had long since believed that the kidnapping and enslavement of humans was as horrible as it got. Now she learns from her own mother, her own mother, that Titans force humans to mate with them, all because they cannot produce children without them! She thought back to when she had seen Andril reuniting with his family. She remembered the loving man that had embraced him on his return, Andril’s own father. This meant that Annallya had had a father! A father that she would never know. He must have been sold to someone, either in the city, or far away, if he were not dead already. Would he even care that he had a daughter? He would probably be disgusted that he had helped to create another Titan for the world.

Her own people, people that she had always looked upon with pride and love, were true monsters.

She turned away from the bars, not wanting her mother to see her cry. “Get away from me.” she whispered. “I wish to hear no more of this.”

Her mother reached a hand out towards the tiny cell. “Daughter I-”

“LEAVE! NOW!” she wailed.

Her mother, despite wanting to talk further, could see how distressed her daughter was in this moment. Though she did not entirely understand why, she knew that further conversation would be pointless until she had calmed down. So, without a word, she departed. It was not until after she left that Annallya threw herself down onto her cot, and wept. She wept for the horrors committed by her people, for the knowledge that she had a father that would never be known to her, that her mentor was currently suffering at the hands of her own people, and that the friends she had made among the humans had likely suffered similar tortures. She wept for more than an hour.

At last, when her tears had run dry, she found the void left by her depression being filled, with unholy rage. There was one good thing that had come from her mother’s visit. She knew that her friend was still alive, and was still fighting. Reaching under her bed, Annallya drew out the broken length of wood from her mattress frame, and got back to work.

You had best keep fighting, Gaelin, she thought. For I have yet to start.

*************************************************************************************

As instructed, Fighlyn waited until well after dark to deliver her message. The moon and stars were out in full view, meaning that the camp was to be sedated for the night. Those that broke curfew, were required to have very important reasons, lest they be met with harsh punishment. Fighlyn had such reasons, and the sealed orders to prove it, should she need to. The patrols were aware of this, and so let her go about her business unmolested. The camp was well organized, arranged in the same manner that it always was. This was a Titan tactic of war, so that, should an enemy force come upon them in the night, no one is left confused as to where they need go, or what they need do. This made things especially easy on Fighlyn, who knew the layout of the camp by heart, since the tents had been specially dyed pitch black. The general wanted no one to see their camp in the night by accident, so she ordered tents made that would practically disappear once all lights in the camp had been put out. The soldiers knew that stealth and secrecy were of the highest importance in their mission, and complied.

Dark tents made navigation tedious to say the least, though eventually Fighlyn reached her destination. Quietly drawing her knife, she tapped the hilt against the wooden post, just outside the tent door.

“Come in,” came a hushed voice.

Fighlyn strode in, empty hands first, to show that she was not bearing weapons with the intent to attack, followed by the rest of her. Had anyone knocked and then entered without showing their hands first, they would have been swiftly cut down. Once inside, an oil lantern with a red glass covering was lit. The red light was dim enough to not be seen outside of the tent, and did not ruin their night adjusted eyes. Fighlyn snapped off a salute to the woman sitting on the cot, who guestured for her to take a seat on a chair. General Sylpa was a coppery skinned woman of medium height, intelligent eyes, and muscular limbs. Though her black, curly hair was laced with grey, it only served to emphasize her experience without detracting from her famed beauty.

“What have you to report?” she whispered.

Fighlyn drew a rolled sheet of paper from her belt. “Our siege engines are on their way, and should reach the alloted destination in a week.”

General Sylpa took the scroll and read through it, nodding. “Very well. Tomorrow we shall begin our trek south. Have you figured out who in the camp is the spy?”

The Titan produced a folded piece of paper from her belt. “The culprit is one of these three suspects. Of this I am sure.”

The General took it, without opening it up. “I will meet with each of them myself. They will not hide from me for long.”

Fighlyn nodded. “And what then, if I may ask?”

“Then, we continue with the plan, though we can finally explain to the rest of the camp what our true mission is.” Sylpa answered. “I have no doubt that it will spur the women on, knowing what our true prize is. They will fight all the harder for it.”

“This is a very bold plan.” the younger Titan noted. “Should they have already learned of it, we will be marching onto their own territory, perhaps into a trap.”

“We have done all that we can to lock the information down so that none, save those I trust with my life, know our true machinations.” she replied. “We are both fortunate, Fighlyn, that you are one of those. Without you, I could not be sure that there even was a spy among us. You have done good work.”

Fighlyn bowed her head. “I am honored to serve the Crown, and my beloved city.”

General Sylpa nodded. “Return to your tent and get some sleep. We still have much work ahead of us, before we can hoist our banner high over their walls.”

 

 

 

Gaelin swore to himself for perhaps the fiftieth time as he sat alone in his cell, thread and needle held between bloodied fingers. The fight against the three amazons did not end without him receiving one more gash on his left arm. After managing to outfight all of the other three, asked the nearest guard where the infirmary was. He wasn’t surprised at all to learn that there was no infirmary. Rather, they handed him a small kit and told him to head back to his cell to tend to himself. The kit contained a needle, thread, scissors, a vial of liquid they claimed was effective at cleaning cuts, and a balm to help keep the wounds sealed. Fortunately this wasn’t Gaelin’s first time patching up wounds with thread and needle, and so he got to work on himself. All the same, it was not an enjoyable time, and the cleansing fluid burned something fierce. Still, he reminded himself that he should be grateful that he walked away with so little to show for it. His opponents had been dealt much worse before they yielded to him. He hoped that they were alright.

Finishing the stitching on his arm, Gaelin cut the thread, then washed the blood from his fingers before applying some of the balm on the wound. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure standing in the doorway of his opened cell.

“If you’re here looking for pleasure, I’m a little tired at the moment.” he told them without looking up. “You’ll have to find someone else to throw you out of their cell.”

A throat cleared. “I um . . . thought that you would want to eat after such an arduous battle.”

The voice was young, and very familiar. Looking up from his arm, Gaelin saw the face of the sixteen winters old Titan that he had faced on his first fight. She looked much the same as she had when he had fought her, unsurprising since it had been little more than a month ago. Though she wore a collar much more fitting this time, forcing her to remain at her human height, which would have put her eyes at level with Gaelin’s chin. When they had fought, she had worn a collar that allowed her to stand inches taller than him. Her smaller form only seemed to emphasize just how young she was. She held a ceramic bowl in her hands, no doubt willed with mashed oats and barley, a fitting prison breakfast.

He grunted. “Nefferel, was it?”

She nodded. “I see that you remember me.”

“I see you’re still alive.” he replied. “I’m glad. You showed promise.”

Turning back to his arm, he began applying more balm. “You can leave the bowl next to me, and I’ll get to it when I’m done.”

Walking into his cell, she placed the bowl on the bed next to him, and then stepped back.

“Thanks,” he said, not looking up. As he continued to dress his wound, he noticed that she had made no move to leave. After a minute, he looked back at her, to find her watching him intently. She looked away almost immediately.

“I watched your fight.” she began. “I have never before seen one warrior fight three of such skill and emerge victorious. It was very well done.”

“Thank you,” he replied slowly.

“However I . . .” she hesitated.

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Searching for the right way to give words to her thoughts, Nefferel changed her approach. “Your style is very strange to me. I have never seen one fight as you do. Yet it is effective, and you are clearly a master of it.”

“Uh . . . thanks, I guess.” he said.

“However, I have observed in some of your fights that you have had the opportunity to kill your opponents, and yet you did not.” she explained.

“I told you, we had a good fight. I was hoping we’d have another chance so I could see if you’d improved.” Gaelin told her, wiping the balm from his fingers. He washed his hands, and then turned his attention to the cut on his leg, untying the shirt sleeve that had held it closed during the fight.

“What of the others? The ones who greatly angered you?” Nefferel asked. “The ones who spoke of torturing your own kind?”

“You’ll notice I didn’t exactly let them off with a slap on the wrist,” he countered.

“But you did not slay them.” she pressed. “Were I faced with an opponent who bragged of killing a citizen of my home, I would have gladly fed their blood to the battlegrounds.”

“Fascinating.” Gaelin groaned through clenched teeth as he washed the cut with that burning fluid.

The room fell silent for a minute, save for the sound of Gaelin’s handiwork on his injury. At last, Nefferel spoke up again.

“I was very grateful that you chose to spare my life. Since that time, I have practiced what you had taught me, and it has carried me through fights that I would not have otherwise have survived.”

“You’re welcome.” he answered, paying more attention to his sewing. “I’ll send you the bill later.”

“I have also asked many of the other prisoners what a Guardian is.” the young Titan continued. “They had many stories to share with me. Some seemed very far fetched. Others . . . others I had hoped were far fetched.”

He grunted. “And your point?”

Nefferel folded her arms as she pondered the man in front of her. “Is it not your sworn duty to kill Titans?”

Gaelin let slip a small chuckle. “Is that what you think the Guardians are for?”

“That is what I have been told.” she replied.

“That’s how I’d expect your kind to see it” he said ruefully. “Always searching out a fight instead of enjoying the happiness of peace.” He shook his head. “The Pillars of Morning and Twilight were there to protect our people from attacks. The Guardians were formed to protect the Pillars. My job is to be a protector.”

She tilted her head. “And so this means that you cannot kill?”

“If I’m protecting someone, then it’s looked on as a Guardian’s duty to kill in defense of the innocent and the defenseless.” he explained. “Out in that arena, there’s no one for me to protect. So there’s no reason for anyone to die.”

“Are you not allowed to protect yourself?” she asked.

Gaelin sighed. “I’m not here to protect myself from anything. I’m here to wait until someone kills me.”

Nefferel looked upon the bloodied man, understanding dawning on her. “You wish to die . . .”

“Don’t have much desire to keep living.” he agreed. “Suppose that’s more or less the same thing.”

“Why?”

He snorted. “I’m not that old, but I’ve traveled a bit. Seen a lot. Too much, actually. Done a bit.”

“Why?” she asked again. “What have you seen or done that haunts you so?”

“Why do you even care?” he asked in return.

She blushed, though Gaelin was too preoccupied with his cut to notice. “You are not like the humans I have seen back home at Oalam. You are different. I wish to know why. Also, your teaching has kept me alive. I feel indebted to you, in a way . . .”

The swordsman paused what he was doing to look up, and chuckle to himself. Nefferel quirked an eyebrow.

“Have I said something amusing?”

“No, no.” he assured her. “You just remind me of someone.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Gaelin was silent for a long moment as he gazed down at the floor. The far off look in his eyes bespoke of all of the years he was looking back through in his mind. A different place, a different time. Yet in his mind, the sights, sounds, and smells were burned permanently into his memory, such that he could will himself back to this place on a whim.

“My village was attacked by Titans, almost ten years ago.” he said at last.

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin ran head first through the crowd of fleeing refugees, bolting straight for the village, which was now in the midst of burning to the ground. In the distance up ahead, one could glimpse the moving shapes of the giant women, treading through the village without a care in the world. Two figures, dwarfing the miniscule homes, lay splayed on the ground, motionless. Two Titans laid dead, slain by the hand of a mortal man. The remaining three, however, still walked about at full size, searching the wreckage for the man who had felled their comrades. They crashed about, kicking over piles of rubble, leaving no stone unturned. All the while, the fire continued to engulf the remaining buildings.

Gaelin dove straight through the rising black smoke, ignoring the sharp increase in heat all around him. He ran through the streets he had committed into his memory, the streets of his home, trying desperately to reach the area where he had seen the Titan drop that house.

“Father!” he screamed, not caring if the Titans heard him or not. “Father!”

He traversed every avenue, vaulting over rubble, and ducking for cover whenever a Titan stepped too close. The smoke was thickening far above his head, obstructing the Titan’s overhead view of the landscape. It was now considerably more difficult to find their target, as well as the voice that had begun calling out from nowhere. The young man ran on, sweat pouring into his eyes, a small relief to sooth the burn from the smoke in the air. He continued to cry out, hoping his father would appear before him, unarmed, sword in hand. Together, they would drive these Sun-forsaken monsters from their land. Then the village would rebuild itself, and they could continue to live in peace as they had before. Under the protection of, not one, but two Guardians.

“Father!” Gaelin yelled again.

The young man turned a corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. Before him, halfway down the street, lay the shattered remains of a common house. Lying in the grass in front of it, his father’s sword.

“NO!”

Sprinting over to the pile of wood and mortar, he began shifting through boards and stones, trying desperately to clear away the carnage, to locate his father’s body. He could still be alive! He had to be! The village needed their protector!

And Gaelin needed his father.

He dug through the wreckage, ignoring the smoke and flames that had already begun eating away at the massive pile of kindling. Just a little more . . .

“The shouts came from somewhere over here.” came a woman’s voice

“If not for this accursed smoke, we would have had a much easier time finding the creature at our full size.” answered another. “I do not want to risk the chance that my new pet my yet allude my grasp while I am at this height. Or attack me.”

Gaelin’s head jerked around at the approaching voices.

“These are humans we are speaking of,” scoffed the first woman. “Do you believe that we face the threat of warriors? They know nothing of combat. I would wager on your ability to take him barehanded if he were to attack.”

The smoke had grown thicker still, making it difficult to discern what was more than thirty feet in front of him. But there was no mistaking what he had heard. Those were not the voices of fleeing and panicked villagers. They were the voices of the Titans that, only moments before, had been laughing over the desolation of his home. His people!

And now they had come to claim him as their slave.

Taking up his father’s sword, Gaelin charged forward into the curtain of billowing smoke, following the beacon of their conversation. Their voices grew louder, and he could vaguely make out the shapes of two figures, standing at human height. So they thought that they could take him barehanded, could they?

Once he judged the distance to be close enough, Gaelin stepped into Whirlpool in the Pond. He spun his back foot, the left one, to the right, the rest of his body following it’s rotation, as he swung his sword once. The Titans, their appearance obscured by the smog, were unaware that an attacker was upon them, until it was too late. Gaelin completed his spin, swinging his sword about once in follow through. The Titan on the right had almost no time to react as the blade passed cleanly through her bone and flesh, finding no resistance as it separated her head from her neck. The body fell forward, allowing the Titan on the left to turn and completely see the figure before her, who had just sent her friend to the void of death. He was on her in an instant, and only her trained instincts allowed her the ability to draw her sword in time to save herself. Metal clashed against metal, as Gaelin instantly stepped into the next form. He wasted no time in pressing his attack. Any second of hesitation would only give her the time to grow to her full size. He had to keep her too busy to focus on changing. This was no problem for him, as his rage fueled every muscle in his body to fight on without pause. Strike after strike rained down on the diminutive Titan. Though the Titan forged steel was clearly inferior to the mage-wrought metal of the legendary blade, it held up well enough to hold together. The same could not be said of the Titan’s defensive form. Unprepared for a sword fight with a human, and taken back by his incredible skill, the warrior found herself retreating step by step from her vengeful opponent.

At last, he saw his opening. Throwing his blade against her own in a head on clash, Gaelin pushed down on hers. Using momentum and strength, the young swordsman arched both weapons in a circle, repeating the loop once, twice, then three times. On the fourth pass, Gaelin stepping inside his opponent’s guard, and plunged his blade forward through her chest, piercing what he hoped to be her heart. The Titan froze in place, a look of utter disbelief appeared among her features, before deathly convulsions twisted the expression into one of deep horror at what awaited her now. The body dropped to the ground, and moved no more.

Gaelin stood there bathed in blood and ash, inhaling the tainted air as the effort of fighting had claimed him of energy. He had mere moments to recover, as a gigantic foot descended from above, aiming towards the spot where he stood. Reacting on pure instinct, Gaelin dive rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the oncoming attack from the final Titan, the one who remained at her full height.

“Pathetic insect.” rumbled the voice from above. “Remain where I can see you.”

Though the nearby fires illuminated the scenery on the ground, the smoke and ash continued to hinder her sight. Leaving Gaelin as a blurred image, running about the hazy village at her feet. She lifted the other foot, and tried again, aiming for the obscured outline of the little human. Gaelin dive rolled again, coming up on his feet, not far from where her foot had landed. His father had told him about fighting Titans at full size, describing his own past battles with lone warriors or catchers. Gaelin himself had never before faced a full sized Titan, or any Titan before this night. But that did not stop him from realizing what it was that he needed to do.

He needed to cut her down to size, and move.

So, when the Titan brought her right foot down again to crush him, Gaelin ran for her left one. Approaching trunk like leg, he continued sprinting, gaining as much momentum as he could. When he reached her ankle, a second later, he took two bounding steps up her leg, using the winding straps of her sandals as foot holds, until he had reached as high as her calf muscle. Using the strength of his legs, developed from years of running and climbing in the forest, he pushed off from her leg, narrowly avoiding her brushing hand, and sent himself sailing back towards her right leg. With sword held high, he brought it down in a tremendous slash, letting loose a roar of defiance, cutting neatly through the thick skin and muscle of her right calf.

The unbreakable metal sliced through her without once stopping or becoming stuck, and Gaelin continued to fall through the air, until he landed roughly on the ground, his body tumbling and rolling away from her. The cry of pain and surprise that rose from the ash coated village could be heard for a mile around by all of the fleeing humans. The Titan dropped to one knee as her tendons and muscles within her lower leg had been severed. Her pain switched over quickly to anger, as she turned around and spotted the prostrate form of Gaelin, lying not far from her. Reaching out with her hand, she attempted to swat him into a pulp. The young warrior, still lying on the ground, rolled his body away with speed born of adrenalin. He rolled until he felt the impact of her hand against the ground where he had formerly been lying. Rolling up to his feet, Gaelin stood in a low crouching stance, sword held out in his right arm, his left hand placed on the ground to steady him.

With the Titan much lower to the ground now, the smoke had begun to truly enter her eyes, all but blinding her to what was right in front of her. Seeing his opportunity, Gaelin charged straight at the wounded monster. Stepping once more into Whirlpool in the Pond as he neared the arm that was still steadying her against the ground, he spun, slicing through her wrist, and completely cutting her hand off. The roar of pain that followed was twice as powerful as that which had come before, and threatened to throw Gaelin from his feet through sheer force of it’s shockwave. But he never stopped moving, running between her crouched legs.

The Titan turned back around, holding the stump of her hand with her other hand, trying desperately to comprehend the pain that now burned from her missing appendage. She almost doubled over, crouching low to the ground, hugging her arm to her body for comfort.

Meanwhile, Gaelin bolted straight for the nearest house in front of him. Kicking down the door, he sprinted through the fire that had begun to engulf the lower section, heading straight for the stairs ahead. Taking them two at a time, he leapt from the staircase to find the entire upper level of the house had been torn away, leaving the second floor completely open. He continued sprinting, the Titan’s immense form directly in front of him, her head hanging low and breathing heavy. Gaelin ran across the floor until he had run out of ground, and leapt through the air. His body sailing just beneath the Titan’s head, he raised his sword up and snapped it forward, cleaving open her throat.

Gaelin’s body continued to fly forward, rapidly descending, until it crashed violently against the wall of the house opposite the one he had jumped from. He landed in a sprawled heap upon the grass, the sword tumbling from his fingers. To the left of him came the sound of a great crash, followed by gurgling breaths. With no strength left in his body to stand, Gaelin settled for turning his head. The helmet had fallen from the Titan’s head, and had landed not far from where he lay. Casting his eyes up, he gazed upon the form of the hideous beast that had lain waste to his very life.

She was perhaps fifteen winters of age.

The fear that contorted her face made her look much younger, and her shaking hand gripped her neck, blood seeping between her fingers. She gasped for air, making gurgling sounds in the process. She continued in vain to stop the bleeding and breath, until her body collapsed forward in a thunderous avalanche. Gaelin lied still, unable to shake away the image that had seared itself into his brain forever. The sight of her dying breath. Climbing quickly to his feet, he looked around at the other Titans, whose helmets had fallen free when he had killed them. They were all so . . . so young. So afraid. Because he had killed them.

With a cry of great pain, great, horrible pain, Gaelin ran from the village, leaving it to burn.

*************************************************************************************

“I ran until I collapse from exhaustion,” he narrated for his audience of one. “When I woke up the next day, I was alone. I spent the next year afterwards trying to find my mother and sister . . . Never quite did.”

Nefferel, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. “You blame yourself for their deaths.”

“I killed them.” he replied. “Who else’s fault is it?”

“Theirs.” she affirmed. “I have seen war only once, however I have an understanding of it. They chose to invade your home. They attacked and slaughtered your people, for fun. They burned your village to the ground. This was all their own choice. You rose up to defend it. You cannot blame yourself for taking the right course of action and striking them down.”

Gaelin sighed, seeming in that moment, much older. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Is it not?” she asked him. “They had killed your father.”

Taking a moment, Nefferel mulled over his story. “They had killed your father, and your mentor. They had burned your home to the ground. They had separated you from your mother and sister. And they had attempted to enslave or kill you, as well as everyone you had ever known.”

Wiping a single tear from her eye, the Titan looked again on the Guardian that sat before her. “Why did you spare my life in the arena? Why did you teach me all of those things so that I may continue to live? Why do you not hate us all?”

“I’ve tried.” the Guardian said in a very worn and tired voice. “I’ve tried to hate you all for a long time. In the end, what I really hate are your ideas. The idea that smaller people are somehow less than people in your eyes. Ideas that take innocent children and turn them into slave masters or murderers. Those girls wouldn’t have touched my village if they had really understood us. Thought of us as more than just animals to play with and kill. I don’t hate you. I hate what your people stand for.”

At once it became abundantly clear why Gaelin chose not to kill his opponents in the arena, and Nefferel was at a loss. Not knowing what else to say, she stood without a word, and departed from his cell. Before she had passed beyond his door, she turned back to look at him once more. Gaelin was no applying large doses of the burning cleansing fluid to the cut on his cheek. This time, he uttered no word of protest or pain as it washed over his wound, eventually mixing with the silent tears that fell from his eyes.

 

A week had gone by since Annallya had been visited by her mother and learned the terrible secret of the Titans heritage. She had since doubled her efforts, spurred on by the knowledge that her friend was still alive, for the time being. Although it was likely that she was not yet ready, Annallya realized that she could not afford to waste anymore time. Gaelin fought for his life everyday, and was hampering his own ability considerably by refusing to kill his opponents. It would not be long before this handicap would cost him his own life. So, against her better judgment, Annallya decided to not prolong her departure a moment more. That morning she had awoken early, and went to work on the collar, using the arrowhead Gaelin had given her, in an attempt to break the lock on the back of her neck. This proved especially difficult. Annallya was no locksmith, and did not understand the intricacies of opening it with the pointed piece of metal. She tried breaking it, but could tell from feel alone that some pieces within the mechanism were thicker and stronger than others. Should she pry too hard, the arrowtip itself could break instead of the lock. So the Titan was forced to work slowly, whittling away at the metal pieces, moving them and breaking them wherever possible. It was stressful work, but after almost two hours of trying, the lock snapped open, and the collar fell from her throat. For the first time in more than a month, Annallya breathed deeply, enjoying the liberating sensation of no longer being fettered to one size. The sensation brought tears to her eyes. Titans were beings that were meant to be enormous. Though they could change their size, it felt unnatural for them to be small. As unnatural as it was for any creature to be confined in a space that was too small for them to properly fit in. This sense of claustrophobia only increased as the days of being small wore on. It was not until the collar had been released that Annallya realized how close she had come to madness. The thought of remaining another day at that size sent shivers down her spine.

Not wanting to waste another second, she knelt at the door of her cell, trying to accomplish the same feat with that lock. After about fifteen minutes of uncertain progress, Annallya was forced to halt her efforts as the sound of sandaled feet alerted her of the approaching guards. Stepping back from the door, Annallya tossed the arrowhead onto her cot, and fitted the collar around her neck again, being careful not to actually lock it. The guards marched into sight a breath later, the same two guards as always. Her mother had been serious about her desire to not want anyone else in the palace to know of her imprisonment. To that extent, the same two guards had been incharge the entire time of distributing food to the shrunken prisoners, and were sworn to the utmost secrecy. The shorter of the two guards carried a tray with her, which held a number of tiny bowls of the prisoners breakfast. Approaching the wall of the shrunken prisoners, the taller guard banged her fist against it, rousing each one of them from whatever they had been doing at the time, be it sleep or some form of entertainment. The prisoners at once stood at attention in front of their doors, awaiting their meals.

The guard drew a set of keys from her belt, selecting one in particular. This key had a handle of normal Titan proportions, with a shaft and tip that were ludicrously smaller, as it was designed to be able to open the tiny locks of the cells. Titans, given their ability to change size, are adept at being able to make large objects specially suited for handling tiny ones, as they can craft tools for all sizes. One by one, the guard opened each door, the prisoner would step back, and the guard would place the miniature bowl of food on the floor of their cell before closing the door. Annallya watched as the guards went through each cell, one by one, her mind debating with itself on whether or not it was the right time to act. She could simply wait for them to leave the prison, before continuing her attempts. What if, however, she was unsuccessful in picking the lock, or her tool broke? She would have to wait for them to return, only to be back in the same situation. Better she act now.

Plus, it was about time for Annallya to test the limits of what she had managed to learn. She yearned to see just how far she had come.

So, when the guard came to her door, Annallya stepped further back than normal. As far back as the wall would allow her. As soon as the guard opened the door, Annallya ran towards her at full sprint. The guards eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had no time to react as the shrunken Titan ran towards a drop of about 90 ft at human scale. It was not until Annallya had cleared the door, and leapt fully into the open air, that she allowed the unlocked collar to fly free from her neck. The guards eyes widened in full shock as her prisoner grew to full size in mid air, turning her leap of suicide into an airborne tackle. The woman was thrown backwards by the force of Annallya’s leap, as well as her now drastically increased mass, and went down with a tremendous grunt of pain. Annallya, having already gone through her actions in her head multiple time beforehand, transitioned smoothly into her next move by rolling forward over the body of the first guard. She came to her feet and was instantly upon the other guard, throwing her weight against her opponent, managing to push her against one of the walls.

This guard had had a second more to react than her companion, and was not caught completely off guard, as she had managed to get her hands up to defend herself. Both women were now locked in a grapple. Placing one of her feet against the wall, the guard heaved forward with all of the strength of her upper body, while simultaneously kicking off of the wall, pushing Annallya away from her. Annallya, however, was ready for such a move. She stopped struggling with the guard the second she was pushed back, and reached out for the longsword that was sheathed at the woman’s waist. She was just able to grab it before her body was forcibly cast backwards, and drew the sword with her. Reacting with the speed of a practiced soldier, the guard in turn drew the dagger from her belt, and stood ready in a knife fighters stance, feet planted, and knife held out in front of her as her first line of defense. The other guard that had been tackled rose to her feet, drawing her own sword, and now also stood in a fighting stance.

Neither woman moved for a long moment. The prisoners watched the staredown before them with baited breath.

The woman on her left with the sword made the first move, stepping forward, while she raised her sword up to strike downwards at Annallya. A bare moment later, the guard with the knife made her move, planning to take advantage of the distraction her partner had afforded her. Annallya had expected this, as it is what she would have done, and so stepped into Wind Blows East. Bringing her sword up to intercept the strike from the guard with the sword, she stepped backwards with her right foot while shifting her whole body, and sweeping her sword, almost ninety degrees clockwise with it. The result saw Annallya catching the blow from her opponent with the sword, and sweeping both of their weapons to the side to collide with the other guards weapon, countering both attacks at the same time.

Now came for the moment Annallya had spent over a month preparing herself for. She could only hope that she would one day forgive herself for it.

Pivoting her sword in the other direction the exact moment that she countered both attacks, Annallya stepped into the other swordwoman’s guard, and whipped her blade across her throat. The guardswoman, blindsided by the sudden burning sensation erupting from her neck, dropped her weapon so that she could grasp at the wound, attempting with the strength that had not yet been leached from her to stop the bleeding. Annallya stepped passed the body as it fell to the ground, allowing it to put some space between her and her remaining opponent. The woman who remained with the knife, though appalled at the sight of her dying companion, was still a trained Thylaran soldier. She recovered her senses in a mere moment, scooping up the sword her friend had dropped, and stepping towards Annallya.

“There is no returning from this now,” she muttered in a dark tone. “You have spilled the blood of  your own people, all for the sake of animals. You will never be anything more than a criminal.”

“I can only imagine the amount of Titan blood you have spilled on battlefields, for much less reason. And yet our people think you to be deserving of honor.” Annallya countered in a softer tone of voice.

The guard raised her blade up in an overhead strike, attempting to cut her down in one slash. Annallya stepped forward with her right foot, raising her own blade up to intercept it. The two swords clashed above their heads. Without missing a beat, Annallya stepped forward with her left foot, spinning her entire body to the right, while ducking beneath both swords. As she completed her spin, the young Titan brought her blade around with her, delivering a powerful slash across the guards protected midriff. Though the blade glanced off of the armored breastplate she wore, the force of the attack momentarily stunned her. It was all the opening Annallya needed, as she stepped passed her and then turned again, bringing her blade down across the back of her neck, decapitating the woman completely.

Blood flew from the wound like water escaping a fountain, as the body collapsed to the ground with a terrible THUD.

Annallya was left standing there, her breaths coming up labored from the quick bursts of speed she had employed during her fight. Leaning against the wall, she took a moment to regain her energy. She had expended much more of it than she had initially assumed that she would. Her lungs burned from effort, while her arms felt heavier than had they been made of lead… Of course, that could have just been a result of the killing she had just done. The entire time she stood there, waiting for her breathing to slow its pace, Annallya never took her eyes from the two bodies that now lied prone on the ground, spilling their life blood onto the cold stone floor of the prison. She never wanted to forget this sight. The sight of the first two women she had been forced to kill. Annallya always wanted to remember the weight of this horror. She had not wanted to do this, and yet she had made the choice all the same. Perhaps there might have been another choice, one that could have circumvented all of this bloodshed. It mattered little now. She had done it.

She had killed.

She had killed her own people.

I suppose this makes me a true Titan now, she thought to herself. We have done little else for hundreds of years but kill each other.

Finally managing to tear her eyes from the sight of the bodies on the ground, Annallya walked over to her former cell, relieved to finally be at her true size now. Reaching inside, she placed her fingers atop the pile of tiny papers that she had left lying on the cell floor, and slid them into her hand. She did not want to leave information such as this behind for other Titans to find. Annallya looked upon them in wonder one last time. Scrawled on the surface of each page in charcoal was Gaelin’s last gift to her: instructions on sword forms. Each form had come with a detailed description on foot placement, arm position, and body movement. She had spent weeks studying, imitating, and perfecting each form to the best of her ability, using the broken length of wood kept under her cot. These instructions, coupled with the arrowhead, had been exactly what she had needed to escape. And Gaelin had needed to get himself captured in order to give these to her. He had surrendered himself, so that she would have a chance at freeing herself.

It was, what Gaelin had assumed, to be his last act in life.

But he was still alive, something neither of them had expected, and she refused to believe that that had changed in the week since her mother had given her the news. Her friend was still alive, and needed her.

Turning back to the bodies, Annallya gave them one last look over. She knelt by the side of the woman whose throat she had slit, and removed her armor. Now, decked head to toe in the armor of a palace guard, and with a sword now sheathed at her side, Annallya strode from the prison a free woman.

*************************************************************************************

Annallya remained at her full height while approaching Sol-har. She wanted the force of her steps to rouse attention from the villagers, she needed their presence. Fortunately it worked. As soon as the clearing appeared that housed the village of Sol-har, men and women began filing out of their houses one by one, intent on seeing what Titan had come for them now. She could not distinguish what exactly their reactions were as soon as they saw that it was Annallya walking towards them. However, they did not run away from her while screaming, so she supposed that that was a well enough sign. The crowd stood their ground as Annallya stepped into the boundaries of the village. A lone man stepped out in front of the rest of the crowd to meet her.

“Annallya,” Rhollan called to her. “Blazing embers girl, but you gave us a terrible scare! What’s going on?”

Stopping before everyone, Annallya looked down at the men and woman at her feet.

“Hello Rhollan.” she replied. “I apologize for the urgency of my arrival. I simply had to make sure that the village had remained unharmed in my absence. Has my mother kept to the agreement?”

The old Innkeeper spread his hands, indicating to the crowd behind him. “Surprisingly, yes. So far no Titan’s come back to take anyone else away. That’s why we were so worried when we felt you coming. You’re the first Titan to come back since that night.”

Annallya breathed a sigh of relief that was strong enough to stir the clothes of the first few rows of onlookers. “That is wonderful news.”

Now at ease, Annallya shrunk down to her human size, and walked up to the crowd. Rhollan raised an eyebrow. “How’d you manage to get away? Did they let you go free?”

“They did not exactly let me, Rhollan. However, I did not much care for their permission.” she replied.

Rhollan’s eyebrows climbed halfway towards his hairline. “You escaped!”

“And went shopping on the way here, as you can see.” she said, indicating to her new set of armor.

The Innkeeper chuckled. “You don’t get into trouble by halves, do you girl?”

“No,” she agreed with a smile.

The two of them shared a smile, before Rhollan’s expression became more serious. “What of Gaelin? Did . . .” he hesitated. “Did they execute him?”

Annallya’s smile remained, though it was noticeably sadder. “Fortunately they have kept him alive. He remains imprisoned somewhere else within the palace. As far as I know, he has not been seriously harmed.”

Rhollan’s eyes widened, before his smile returned. “Hah! I should have known that fox’d find some way to keep his hide in tact! And to think, a living Guardian had been coming into this village for almost four years now, trading with us!”

“Yes, it certainly was a surprise to learn of, for me as well.” she agreed.

Rhollan was about to say something else, but hesitated again. “What’ll happen to him?”

“Nothing, if I am to have anything to say on the matter.” Annallya responded.

“You intend to free him?” he asked.

“I do.”

“How do you plan to do that?” the old man asked.

Now it was Annallya who hesitated. “I . . . have some form of a plan. I would have freed him while I escaped myself. However, I could not risk being caught again. Not until I had made sure that you all were safe.”

“That’s very kind of you, girl.” Rhollan told her. “But if you do manage to spring him from whatever cell they got him locked up in? What then?”

The young Titan paused, the weight of the crowd’s attention was fully upon her, and she was painfully aware of it. “I had hoped that he could remain with you in case he was injured, or unwell.”

At once, a few voices rose from the crowd, raising concerns over her plan of action.

“They’ll break the agreement!”

“Those Titans’ll come back for him, and punish all of us!”

“They’ll tear the whole village apart just looking for him!”

“He chose to surrender himself! Let him stay there!”

Rhollan at once held a hand up, bring the complaints to a halt, before speaking himself. “If you bring Gaelin back here, then I’ll house him myself.”

Voices began to rise again, while Rhollan’s wife stepped up beside him. “Rhollan let’s-”

She stopped speaking, along with everyone else, when Rhollan held his hand up again. “I won’t argue on this, Anda. If Gaelin comes back, he stays with us. After what he did, we owe him that much at least.”

He took a deep breath. “But they make some good points. What’s to stop them from coming back here and taking him? Even if you don’t bring Gaelin back here, this village is the first place they’ll tear apart to find him. I can’t imagine they’ll want a Guardian running about free.”

“No,” Annallya begrudgingly admitted. “You are right. I know not what else to do. Gaelin surrendered himself so that he could give me the tools to escape. I cannot leave him to rot in Thylara till his death. I must save him somehow.”

“If you got out of there once, they’ll be making sure that he stays put,” Rhollan noted. “They’ll probably have more guards. You can’t take on an entire palace of soldiers by yourself.”

“No but I know that he is kept in a special prison. One that is built to be small, to keep all Titan prisoners at their smallest size.” she explained. “Confined spaces would limit the number of guards I would have to face by myself at a time. It is possible that they would not be able to come at me with more than one woman at a time. In addition, they will all be at their smallest size so -”

Annallya paused as a new line of thought opened up. “They would be vulnerable to humans! I would only need a little help!”

She looked around at the many faces before her. “Please! Anyone! I beg of you! I need only a little help in freeing my friend!”

This time, no voices were raised in objection. No eyes were raised either, as each villager looked downcast upon the ground. They refused to meet her pleading gaze. Rhollan himself closed his eyes as he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Annallya, but we’re all just country folk.” he sorrowfully explained. “We all owe him for what he did to save us. For that I’d give him the shirt off my back and my bed to sleep in. But we ain’t fighters. And we certainly can’t take on Titans, even at our own size. I’m sorry, but we can’t-”

Rhollan was cut off when a man forced his way to the front of the crowd, to stand directly in front of Annallya. He was just an inch or two taller than herself, and was dark of skin and broad of shoulder. The Titan recognized him. It was Lyal, the man who had fought Gaelin that night at the Inn. He gazed impassively at her as he stood with his thick arms at his side, his fingers flexing once more as if they longed to test their might in physical combat again. Annallya fought back the nervousness that had begun to rise in the pit of her stomach, as she met his gaze unwaveringly. Suddenly another figure materialized from the crowd, this one much smaller. Jess Wedirn made her way to the front of the crowd as well, appearing next to Lyal, turning at once to face him, her hands on her hips. Lyal looked down at the woman who barely came up to his shoulder. At once, his face softened, as he draped a protective arm across her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. Then Lyal turned back to Annallya.

“You and Gaelin brought my wife back from her own imprisonment in that city.” he expressed in that gravely voice of his. “You brought the Sun back into my life. For that, I’ll help you bring him back. I owe you both that much.”

The Titan’s jaw was left hanging open for a moment. Jess had made mention that she possessed a husband while in Thylara, however . . . however Annallya could have lived the rest of her life and not have once fathomed that it was Lyal. The man held a calloused hand towards her. Recovering from her personal shock, Annallya reached her hand out in turn and shook it. The two nodded to each other.

“Don’t forget me!” came a familiar voice from the crowd.

This time the people parted as a lanky figure in a green shirt, brown vest and trousers, and boots danced his way towards the young Titan. The Whistler removed the green cap from his head and bowed theatrically.

“Tull Val’ Anders, at your service.” he introduced himself. “I’d like to join this little excursion of yours.”

If Lyal’s offer had given her pause, The Whistler’s volunteering had come completely out of nowhere. Annallya barely knew how to react.

“Um . . . Master Tull I-”

“Tull is just fine,” he interjected with a grin.

“T-Tull,” Annallya corrected herself. “I greatly appreciate your offer, however this will be a very dangerous mission.”

“Oh, I’m hoping so.” he expressed as if they were speaking of taking a walk through a meadow. “If you’re worried about me, Ms Rhaolin, you don’t have to. I know a few tricks that might prove useful in a tight spot. Plus, there’s no way I can allow such an adventure to pass me by. Think of it!”

He spread his hands and looked up, as if were seeing the adventure before his eyes. “A lifetime of telling stories of heroes and daring rescue, and now I have the chance to be a part of one myself! Hah! I’ll compose the greatest ballad that’s ever been sung!”

Annallya was struck speechless. “I- I know not what to say. Thank you. Both of you.”

The two men nodded to her. They knew what kind of danger they were getting themselves into, and yet they were ready all the same. It was inspiring.

Rhollan stepped up again. “There’s still the matter of what happens after you save him, Annallya. What’ll you do? They’ll come back here whether you bring him here or not.”

Annallya’s brows furrowed as she thought furiously over the problem. He was right. Without any leads, her mother’s first instinct would be to return to the village and search for him. If Gaelin was not there, it would not be likely that she would simply leave them in peace. More than likely, she would consider the agreement broken, and return to collecting Offerings from the people. The entire village would have to . . .

Suddenly her head perked up. “What if all of Sol-har were to make their escape as well?”

Jess Wedrin tilted her head. “What do you mean, Annallya?”

“If I cannot return Gaelin to the village, he will have to run far from here. However, Rhollan is right. They will come to the village, whether he is here or not. They may even demand more Offerings.” she explained. “So the entire village would have to leave. Travel somewhere far from the reach of Thylara. Somewhere where you all can build a new village, hidden away from all Titans. A place where you all can finally live in peace.”

Murmurs rose from the crowd again as villagers considered her words between themselves. Some of them were quick to agree with her line of reasoning. Specifically those that had been freed from captivity. Others were less than sure. Jess and Lyal shared a look between the two of them, unsure of whether or not it was the right course of action. Tull remained silent on the issue, as it was not his village. Rhollan brought the crowd’s volume down once more.

“What you propose is not an easy task, Annallya.” he reminded her. “It would take weeks to make those kinds of preparations.”

“I could assist you.” she offered. “Gather whatever possessions you have and all of the carts in the village. I will load everything, and speed you on your way. Somewhere where Titans will not be able to find you ever again.”

More villagers were beginning to consider her idea now, even Rhollan was mulling it over.

“What if they do find us?” Lyal asked. “We are not Guardians. We cannot fight Titans at full power.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I will be returning a living Guardian to you who can. Gaelin can protect you all while you travel.”

Lyal and his wife exchanged another look. This time, though, Jess appeared hopeful at the prospect.

“Annallya . . .” Rhollan said at last. “This village . . . it’s our home. We can’t just up and abandon it like this . . .”

Annallya’s expression became one of determination as she stood up taller. In fact, she was taller now, standing at least a head above the crowd, so that all could hear her.

“I have seen your home!” she declared to them all. “I have seen the way fathers clutch their families tight against them to protect them! I have seen wives hold their husbands up high when they appeared ready to collapse! I have seen this village endure pain and sorrow and hardship! I have witnessed you all fight merely to live another day. All the while, oppressors and kidnappers try their hardest to break your spirits. Your will to live!”

She cast her powerful gaze over the assembled villagers. Many faces were openly surprised with her words. Jess, her friend, was staring up at her in open wonder. Tull Val’ Anders stood off to the side, nodding to her in approval. She continued.

“Before I had visited your village, I knew not what the word community meant. We Titans have no such word. We live lives around warfare and bloodshed. We do not endure as you do. We do not create as you do. We do not love as you do. What impressed me the most by far about your people was your capacity for love, such as I have never seen before. You do not merely love your families, but your fellow villagers. Everyone in this village cares for one another in a way that is truly awe inspiring. Your houses can be torn asunder, your livestock slaughtered, and your lives held captive by giants. However, so long as you all remain together, I genuinely believe that you will press on, despite every force standing against you. I believe it is because of your capacity to love, that gives you the strength of the Sun, and the blessings of the Stars. You will survive! And I will do everything in my power to see to it that you do! Just as the world once looked towards Nephrotora for protection, so too will all humans look to Sol-har for hope and love!”

The crowd erupted into cheers as the emotions pouring forth from the Titan were felt by all people there. It was as the Whistler had told them before, so long as they survive, they have won a great victory for themselves. And so long as they remained with each other, they would always survive. At once they dispersed to their houses, gathering all of their belongings. Villagers began organizing carts and pack animals for their journey. Everyone was set to work. Provisions were to be gathered. Plans to be made. Maps to be studied. Annallya watched as they set themselves to their tasks, a fire lit beneath their feet that spurred them to make haste. It was an incredible sight to see so many people work together towards a task that did not involve invading a city or destroying an army. She returned to her human size, to find Lyal, Jess, Rhollan, Anda, and Tull standing with her. Jess wrapped her arms around her.

“That was unbelievable!” she exclaimed. “You sounded just like a hero out of a story!”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” the Whistler interjected. “I’d like to write that down and compose something out of it.”

Lyal only stood back, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Jess stepped back, the hope in her eyes burned twice as bright as before now. “We’ll all get right on it. We’ll have everything we need packed as soon as possible!”

Lyal chuckled. It was the first time she had ever heard him do so. It was the first time she had seen him smile, in fact. “Jess’ll see to everything. If it weren’t for Rhollan, she’d be head of this village.”

The little woman gave her husband a sharp shove against the shoulder. “I’d need your oaf-ish strength to keep all of the wool-heads in this village in line.”

Lyal laughed again, as he put a hand over his wife. “She’ll tend to the village. I’ll help you free Gaelin.”

“And me,” Tull reminded her.

She nodded. “Thank you both, again. I will never forget this.”

Rhollan cleared his throat. “If you’re going to spring him free, you’ll need something.”

The portly Innkeeper jogged off towards his Inn. He returned a few minutes later, breathing heavy, and carrying a cloth bundle. Taking the bundle when offered to her, Annallya unwrapped it, to discover Gaelin’s sword. The blade of a Guardian. Forged by smiths of legend, and enchanted with the power of mages, so that it could cut through anything.

“Thank you Rhollan.” she told him.

He nodded. “What about yourself, girl? What’ll happen to you?”

“I have not yet decided, though I have some idea of what I shall do. But worry not over me.” she assured him. “We all have our tasks set before us. We must get to work.”

 

 

The dark of night had settled over the landscape, bringing with it the peace of deep slumber to all inhabitants, save for one exception. General Sylpa scanned over the map she had spread on the ground, inspecting details that she had long since memorized on this month long trek. Beside her was an oil lantern with a glass covering stained red. The red cover prevented the light from being too bright and did not obscure her night vision as a clear covered lantern would. The entire army around her moved about with these lanterns, performing each task slowly so as not to make too great a mistake and accidentally ruin all of their careful efforts. One way or another this night would find its way into the history books of Titan military tactics. Whether it would be spoken of in amazement or in shame, no one would know for the next few hours. They had made all of the preparation that could possibly have been made. Now, it was time for action. A single figure was motioned passed the guards that surrounded the general, and snapped off a quick salute to her.

“Fighlyn,” Sylpa addressed her. “What have you to report?”

“Our first wave invasion force was successful. They have infiltrated the city and eliminated the necessary sentries.” the field commander replied. “So far, no alarm has been raised.”

General Sylpa nodded. “And our siege engines?”

“In position and awaiting the signal.”

“Pass on the first signal to the infiltrators.” she ordered. “They have thirty minutes to escape the city before we commence our attack. In the meanwhile, begin moving our catapults into position.”

Fightlyn snapped off another salute, before leaving to carry out her orders. Sylpa returned her attention to the map once more. History would be made this night.

*************************************************************************************

Marid sat fidgeting in her cell for perhaps the hundreth night in a row. It took great amounts of will power to avoid touching the collar around her throat once more. Stars above, it took great amounts of will power to avoid clawing at her neck in a vain attempt to rid herself of the accursed thing. She had been a prisoner in the Thylaran dungeons for many months, and it would be many more months before she was allowed to walk away with her freedom.

Freedom. The word was almost foreign to her now. She had been locked away for abandoning her post during a campaign not long ago. In the Thylaran military, abandonment of one’s post was comparable to treachery, as it endangers the entire camp. For that, she was shrunken down, and the metal band clasped around her neck. She has remained in such a state ever since. It was not healthy for Titans to remain this small for long periods of time. It made one ill, both physically and mentally. Every night Marid dreamed of walls closing in around her, ropes constricting themselves around her body, and her own giant comrades holding her in their hands and squeezing the life from her husk. Nights were not pleasant and she longed to finally be rid of her fetters.

This line of thinking drew her mind back to the events of the morning, when that girl had escaped. It was all any of the prisoners could talk with each other about that day. The young woman had somehow rid herself of her collar, leapt from her cell the moment it was opened, fought against two trained guards of the palace, and killed them both before making her escape. And not a single woman in the dungeon knew how she had done it. There was certainly no shortage of theories, yet very few made any sort of sense. She had not been brought back to the dungeon yet, which means she had either made good on her flight from the palace, maybe even the city altogether, or had been killed while attempting to flee. Many of the inmates had spent much of the day making plans of their own with each other. Annallya Rhaolin’s departure from the dungeon had given them the kind of hope that Marid had long believed was dead in her. Were she just able to lift herself from the bondage of the prison, she would use the opportunity to take vengeance upon those that had shackled her in the first place. Then, the city would never see her again. Mere months before, Marid was considered a cowardly individual, who would never entertain the thought of seeking retribution upon anyone. Let alone collect said payment in bloodshed.

Her time spent in prison had not been kind on her.

A loud clamor was suddenly heard coming from the top of the stairs leading out of the dungeons. Without ceremony, the unconscious form of the palace jailor tumbled down the last few steps, before coming to a crashing halt at the very bottom. What followed were the sound of footsteps descending the same stairs, slowly coming into sight. The figure was one all too fresh in the minds of the prisoners. Dressed in a borrowed set of armor that fit her tall and athletic figure nicely, longsword at her hip, and determination on her face, she was quite the imposing intruder. Annallya strode over the sleeping body of the jailer and made her way first to the wall that housed the many tiny cells. What drew the eyes of each woman in the prison, giant and tiny, were the keys she held in her fist. The Titan swordswoman stopped in front of the shrunken prisoners, one hand on her hip as she studied them over. A slow smile formed itself on her lips.

“You are all fortunate today.” she announced. “I am in need of a distraction. How would the lot of you like to earn your freedom?”

*************************************************************************************

Mistress Oragale Rhaolin, staff in hand and cloak around her shoulders, strode briskly into the ceremonial throne room of the Queen. Upon the throne sat Phelonous herself, looking particularly distressed, yet not any less regal than befits her position of authority. Bowing respectfully to her, Mistress Rhaolin approached the throne while the Queen ordered her guards to secure all entrances to the room. The task took the guards out of earshot of the two women, so that their conversation may have some form of privacy.

“How is the situation out there?” the Queen asked.

“Worse than we feared.” her advisor explained. “We had erroneously believed it to be an attack on the palace by an invading force. Rather, these women are prisoners that have all escaped the dungeon.”

The Queen sat up straighter on her throne. “Indeed? All of the prisoners?”

“Only the ones in the dungeon. Not the ones locked away in the arena.” she clarified.

“That is something at least.” the Queen replied. “How many from the dungeon, then, have escaped?”

Mistress Rhaolin grimaced. “All of them . . .”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed in thought. “They could not have all gotten out on their own. Especially not the tiny ones . . .”

“No, your majesty.” her friend agreed. “They must have had help . . .”

Phelonous reached the same conclusion as Oragale. Standing up from her throne, she stepped down, and took her childhood friend’s hands in her own.

“I am truly sorry for all of this Oragale.” she assured her. “You know how much I cared for her as well. Had I known what was happening with Annallya, I would have done everything in my power to set her right again.”

For the first time in a long time, Queen Phelonous watched her friend fight to hold back tears, and fail as two made their way down each cheek.

“I know, Phelonous.” she whispered. “And I know that you have to do what you have to in order to stop her from wrecking more havoc.”

Phelonous sniffed, barely holding back tears of her own. She had watched that young woman grow up besides her own daughter. They were both her children. “I am truly sorry, my sister.”

“I do not blame you,” Oragale assured her. “I blame myself. And I blame that man, who poisoned her mind.”

Phelonous hesitated. “I will advise my guards to try their hardest not to use lethal force if they do not have to.”

But Mistress Rhaolin shook her head. “There is only one way we may stop her without killing her. And I shall not have any more good soldiers die at her hands.”

Oragale Rhaolin brushed aside her cloak, revealing the short sword of a soldier buckled at her waist. An old memento from their respective days in the military. Turning briskly, she walked towards the doors leading out of the throne room.

“Oragale.” the Queen called out to her. “You are an advisor now, not a soldier.”

“And I advise you not to order me to stop,” she replied.

*************************************************************************************

The palace guard approached the blank wall, two prisoners in hand, all the while she nervously looked over her shoulder. A huge commotion had been raised down in the levels of the palace below her. From the sounds of things, guards had engaged in combat with the invasion. Or perhaps, the woman considered, it was more of a revolt. Whatever the case was, she needed to get inside before any of the ensuing chaos found its way to where she was. Placing her captives on the ground of the highest step, she reduced her size, until she was just a tad shorter than the other two figures. Though their hands were bound, and their heads were covered by sackcloth bags, she took no chances, drawing her longsword for comfort as she approached the tiny door. The guard banged on the knocker, casting occasional looks towards the stairs, and waited. Eventually a slit was opened and a set of eyes peered through, taking in the sight of the new arrivals.

“What is the meaning of this?” the woman on the other side of the door asked.

“I am to deliver these two to the arena.” she replied in a rushed, yet professional voice. “Now hurry and open the door! Can you not hear what is happening down there?”

“What has happened?” the guard behind the door asked. “And why are you transporting two prisoners by yourself?”

“Prisoners have escaped the dungeons and are running loose throughout the palace!” she exclaimed. “The two others that were with me left to help reinforce the guards fighting them off! If they come up these stair seeking safety, I cannot hold them back by myself.”

The slit on the door was closed, and the heavy door groaned as it was pulled open. The guard prodded the two captives with the flat side of her sword, herding them to the safety of the new prison. The escaped dungeon inhabitants would not dare invade such an area. After such a long time spent shrunken, most of them were likely deathly afraid of putting themselves in such a vulnerable position again. The first captive, hands bound in front of them, crossed into the threshold of the new jail. At once the figure turned to the guard that had opened the door, ropes suddenly falling loose from his hands, and struck her a massive blow across the jaw. It was a textbook perfect punch, backed by all of the considerable power of his upper body and arms. The guardswoman barely had time to grunt, as she was thrown backwards against the wall. Her head struck the thick stones, before the lights went out in her eyes, and her body dropped limp to the floor. The first guard had been dispatched without raising any alarm.

Lyal removed the bag and looked down impassively at the guard he had knocked out. Though he had had reservations over striking women, he had been correctly reminded that these were not just women. They were killers, and slavers to his people. The simple craftsman and husband took in the sight of the woman lying unconscious on the floor and spat.

“For my wife.” he muttered.

Tull Val’ Anders took off his bag as well, and stepped aside to allow Annallya to lead them further down the passageway. They had to pass two more checkpoints on their way. The second one, Lyal and the Whistler remained out of sight to the side while Annallya talked her way in again. This checkpoint, however, had three guards stationed, and dispatching them caused much more noise than the last one. By the time they had reached the third one, the guards on the other side saw them coming, and engaged all of the numerous locks on their side. Fortunately, they had the one tool with them capable of making all locks in the world redundant. Lyal drew Gaelin’s sword and stabbed it through the top of the door. Shrieks could be heard through the thick wood as he cut downwards, slicing through both wood and metal. Annallya and Tull stepped backwards, before stepping forward and delivering two simultaneous kicks, throwing the door back, and into the faces of those that hid behind it. Sheathing the sword, as he was far more adept with his bare hands, Lyal slipped in through the opening and took advantage of the guards surprised disposition. Annallya and Tull stepped in to reinforce him, and within moments they had subdued the last checkpoint.

The group then sprinted down the last of the hallway, heading for the opening up ahead. A guard stepped into the opening from each side, creating a final barrier for them to pass. The difference here, however, was the fact that these guards stood on the other side of an opening that lead to a much bigger room. They began to grow, which would mean that Annallya would have to fight the two of them herself, putting her at a disadvantage. She knew it had to be done, though, and was preparing herself for the fight ahead, when the Whistler sprinted on ahead of her. The Titan guards had only had enough time to grow to the same height as himself, before he waved his arms at the women. At once a small flock of about five doves materialized from the air, and swarmed towards the guards, who were taken completely aback by the sorcery before them. The birds flew passed the guards, completely obstructing their view. Lyal took advantage of the distraction, and charged the woman on the right, while Tull took the one on the left. They had not had the time to grow too big, and were overpowered and dealt with easily.

Annallya emerged into a cavernous room, circular in design, and lined with various levels of cells. She took a second to catch her breath and look wonderingly at the Whistler.

“You can perform feats of magic?” she breathed.

Tull grinned slyly at her. “All good Whistlers know how to perform a few magic tricks. Sleight of hand and misdirection are all that you need for a good prison break.”

Prisoners all around rushed to the bars of their cells, trying to get a glimpse at who was invading their place of torment. Before them on the chamber floor were two men and a Titan woman wearing the guise and armor of a Thylaran palace guard. The woman stepped apart from her companions, and began to grow to a height of fifty feet.

“Gaelin!” she called. “Gaelin are you here!”

“Annallya!” answered a deep voice from the third level, the one level with her face. Gaelin rushed to the door of his cell, not quite believing what was happening before him.

“Annallya!” he roared in both joy and confusion. “What under Sun and Stars are you doing here!”

“It is good to see you too, my friend.” she replied with a grin.

It seemed that his time in prison had not robbed him of all of his charm and grace. Reaching down, she gently wrapped her fingers around the bodies of Lyal and Tull, and brought them up to the level Gaelin was held on. Guards immediately ran to meet them. Annallya also noticed guards on the ground running towards her, growing bigger with each step. She had to leave Lyal and Tull to themselves while she turned to deal with the two coming for her. The first guard had grown as tall as her knees by now, so she dealt her a swift kick to her helmet covered head, sending her flying backwards, and knocking her out cold. This gave the other guard the time needed to grow to an equal height with Annallya, and the two engaged in a grapple for control. Allowing her opponent to press her back a bit, Annallya surprised the guard by snaking her right arm around her neck, and pulling her body in close, so that she could knee her squarely in the stomach. The blow was not particularly powerful, but managed to stun the older woman by forcing the air from her lungs. Pushing the guard passed her, while simultaneously brushing the helmet from her head, Annallya gripped the back of her scalp and slammed her face against the stones of the floor as forcefully as she could. She had to deliver two more strong blows to the woman before she was down for the count. Turning back to her friends on the third level, she was relieved to see that they had dealt with their own opponents. Annallya gripped the edge of the walkway, and held on as she began to shrink, until she had reached her human height, and hoisted herself up to join them. Before her stood a stunned but impressed Gaelin Val’ Saida. Despite all of the fighting and running about she had just been doing, Annallya secretly hoped that she did not look too sweaty. From her belt, she drew the same set of keys she had used to free the other prisoners, and unlocked his cell. Gaelin opened the door, and immediately embraced her.

“You shouldn’t have come back for me.” he told her. “You could have been killed.”

“You are hardly one to talk,” she reminded him. “Casting your life away simply so that you could give me more homework to study.”

Rather than reply, he only squeezed harder, before letting go, and observing the other two who had come with her.

“Lyal?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Come all this way to settle the score?”

The burly craftsman chuckled. “You helped free my Jess from this place. This was the least I could do.”

“Jess?” he exclaimed in surprise, turning to Annallya, who shrugged.

“Trust me, it makes sense when you see them together.” she assured him.

Gaelin nodded in uncertainty then looked back at Lyal, holding out his hand. Lyal took it in a firm grip and the two men shook, nodding respectively to each other. The sound of approaching guards to the left drew their attention. Five more guards women had ascended the stairs and were sprinting towards the small group. All the while, the cheers and jeers of the other prisoners provided some oddly comforting motivation to the humans and rogue Titan. The Whistler stood apart from them all, drinking heavily from a small bottle of whiskey. Tossing the bottle aside, he pulled out a pack of matches, and struck a few to life. Just as the guards were within fifteen feet of him, the Whistler spewed the fluid at the matches, which ignited the alcohol, creating a maelstrom of intense fire and heat. The flame almost seemed alive with fury, as it launched itself at the group of guards. Some of the women, taken by surprise by the sudden fire, and scared of the possibility of real magic being used against them, hurled themselves over the railing. Only one was not fatally injured. The other two still on the walkway were the closest to reaching the Whistler, and found themselves severely burned by the torrent of fire that had surrounded them. They ran away screaming in agony, some of their clothing still burning. The Whistler looked back at the group, his face was neutral and betrayed nothing of how he felt over the acts he had just committed.

“Tull,” Gaelin addressed him with a nod.

Tull returned the gesture, walking back up to them. “I suppose it would be an appropriate time now to make our grand escape.”

“You’ll need this,” Lyal said, handing him his sword. Once it was buckled back onto his belt, Gaelin found the familiar weight of the blade comforting to him. He cast a side look at Annallya.

“How do I look?” he asked her.

Like a warrior, she wanted to say. Instead, she put on a considering face. “Not at all bad for one who has clearly not washed his face in many months.”

He snorted. “I’ll take it. May I borrow those?” he asked, indicating to the keys Annallya held.

She handed them to him without question and Gaelin proceeded to walk down a few cells, until he had come to the one he was looking for. There stood a woman with deep black hair, tan skin, and lips that pouted in the shape of a heart. She stepped back while the Guardian unlocked her door.

“Gaelin,” she greeted him.

“Kollen.” he replied, tossing her the keys. She caught them gingerly, and looked back up at him in open amazement. Gaelin nodded.

“Free the other captives, get everyone out of here.” he instructed. “And work on that underhanded slash.”

Without another word, he lead his small group of friends towards the stairs, Annallya stepping in beside him.

“You have been making friends with the women trying to kill you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re not so bad, once you beat them up enough times.”

The Titan chuckled to herself, but stopped abruptly when an enormous tremor caused the entire chamber to shake. Everyone was forced to steady themselves against the nearest rail or wall. Before they could regain their balance, another tremor, this one even stronger, hit them all again. Stones were shaken loose from the ceiling, and cracks were beginning to form along some of the walls. Smaller tremors followed this.

“Blazing embers!” Lyal swore. “What was that? A Titan?”

“Impossible!” shouted a recently freed prisoner. “This entire wing is designed so that no Titan may approach it at full height!”

Annallya looked frantically around as more tremors continued to rock the very foundation beneath them. “I must find a way outside!”

“Follow me!” Gaelin yelled.

He took off at a sprint for the main doors opposite the way they had come in. The party travelled through two hallways, one set of stairs, and a room full of weapons, before they emerged in the arena where Gaelin had been fighting battles for more than a month. The arena, being at the highest peak of the Thylaran palace, was designed to be open to the sky, allowing them a view of the stars above. Running out to the middle of the arena, Annallya grew to her full height, and beheld the unspeakable sight below her. As far as the eye could see the grand city of Thylara lay in the night, torn asunder and burning!

Gigantic balls of fire fell from the sky, collapsing houses and setting them alight. Inhabitants scattered in all directions, screaming in fear as they sought shelter. Off in the far distance, beyond the walls, Annallya could make out massive fires that lit the landscape outside of their borders. These fires are what allowed her to see the siege engines surrounding the entire city, which launched volley after volley of tar soaked boulders at Thylara. Close to the fires were immense banners. Though they were too far away to make out any details, Annallya recognized the colors used by them.

“Nashvani!” she called down to the men by her feet.

“What?” Gaelin asked.

Annallya shrunk back down to their size before answering.

“Nashvani! They are a city whose military force we had been tracking. We had believed that they were marching on another city, and were making preparations to take theirs while they were away.” she explained. “But it seems we have been tricked and now they are here! Thylara is under siege!”

 

 

 

 

“What!” Gaelin yelled. “What in blazes do you mean we’re under siege!”

“Under siege!” she replied in much the same tone. “Explain to me which part of that escapes your understanding!”

The swordsman stuttered. “That isn’t- I mean- . . . What!”

Annallya groaned, turning to Tull and Lyal. “Do the both of you understand the gravity of the situation.”

They nodded in response. “So how do we get to safety?” Lyal asked.

“We must first leave the palace. Once out, navigating the streets will be dangerous. However, I believe I shall be able to manage it while carrying you all.” she elaborated. “If I can safely make it to one of the gates, then we have a chance. I will shrink down, and together we shall all try and slip passed their notice.”

Tull stepped up. “With all of this confusion and chaos, it’ll be easy for them to overlook a couple of tiny refugees.”

“Precisely. If they are looking for fleeing citizens, however, then we will have a much more difficult time of it. We will be left facing an army by ourselves.” the Titan warned.

“We’ll make it.” Lyal stated as if the outcome had already been determined for them. Gaelin stepped  up.

“To get out, we’ll have to go back the way we came.” he told them. “Come on.”

The swordsman, being more familiar with the lay out of the prison, lead his friends back the way they had arrived. Through the hallway, then the weapons room, down the staircases, and finally the last hallway before the cavernous room where all of the prisoners were held. The sound of running feet up ahead drew them all to a halt. From the dimness, three guardswomen materialized, each of whom was brandishing a sword. They likewise stopped when the small party in front of them came into sight, and both groups were left staring down the other, making no sudden movements. Finally, Gaelin stepped in front of his friends and addressed the guards.

“Just stand aside. We don’t have time to fight each other.” he told them.

One of the guards stepped forward to meet him as the unofficial leader of her own party. “Then return peacefully to your cell, Val’ Saida, and tell your friends to surrender.”

“Bigger things are happening!” he insisted. “Your city is under attack! You could be out there helping to save lives right now! Just let us go!”

But the Titan remained adamant. “You are too dangerous an individual to let loose on the world. Surrender, or we will stop you.”

Gaelin took a second to look over his shoulder, at the friends he had at his back. When he had arrived in Thylara, it had been as a prisoner under execution. His only purpose was to stall for time so that he could give Annallya the tools and instructions necessary to aid in her escape. He had believed his death to be certain from the very beginning. That was why he had refused to kill any Titans during his stay. There was no more point, there was no one to protect. There had been only himself, a man who had no more reason to live than a rock. But standing there behind him, were three good reasons. Three brave and selfless individuals who had chosen to put their own lives in peril so that his could be salvaged. And that was something worth protecting. It was worth remaining alive for.

It is the only cause I have ever seen that is worth going to war over, Annallya had told him.

So long as there is life, the light of the Pillars shines, his father’s voice echoed to him.

“I spared the prisoners during my fights because they had no choice.” he explained to the guards in a low tone. “They would have been killed had they chosen not to fight me. You lot have a choice. Walk away, now.”

He met the eyes of each guardswoman one at a time. “Or under Sun and Stars, I’ll kill you.”

The guardswomen tensed, but held their ground. Each one of them brought their sword up in a defensive manner, and slowly advanced towards him. Gaelin, for his part, drew the hood up over his head, bared his blade, and walked over to meet them. The last few feet were crossed in the blink of an eye, as Gaelin suddenly ran to close the gap. The first guard lifted her sword high so that she might bring it down in one mighty cut. Just as her blade descended, Gaelin lifted his own, right arm held high, tip pointed down, so that the attack slid right off of his sword and to the side. Already anticipating the thrust coming from the guard to his right, he swung his sword overhead, spinning to the right to face her, and brought his weapon down with tremendous force. The mage-wrought metal of legends, propelled by all of the strength of his upper body, seared right through the inferior weapon of the Thylaran smiths, leaving nothing more than a handle, with two inches of metal that ended in a flat edge. Continuing his spin, Gaelin keep his sword moving as he turned back to the first guard, taking advantage of her faulty balance from their first clash, and drew a paper thin line across her throat with his blade. In the same swing, the swordmaster reversed the grip of his right hand, now holding his weapon in a backhanded manner, and plunged the indestructible steel backwards into the armored body of the guard behind him, whose sword he had sliced in half.

He was instantly upon the third guard, but by now more were coming in through the hallway entrance. The hallway was just wide enough to allow Gaelin room to maneuver his sword, while also limiting how many of the guards could come at him at once. He made it even more difficult for them by continuously going on the offensive, taking the fight to them at all times. He pressed them back, flourishing his sword this way and that way, forcing each woman to move where he directed. Two more fell to his blade as the man danced ever closer to the exit. The seventh guard stood right in the doorway, unable to react as she bore witness to the slaughter of her comrades, and the swordsman coming right at her. Charging at full speed, Gaelin found himself flashing back to that night long ago, when he had believed that he fought to protect those he loved. The reality was, he had selfishly abandoned those he loved in order to pursue revenge.

Now, he fought those he cared about, so that the light of the Pillars could shine on for another day.

Stepping into Whirlpool in the Pond, Gaelin spun his body, sword held aloft, and completed his spin with a strike that severed the Titan’s head from her shoulders. The force of the attack was so great, the head rolled backwards a good fifteen feet, leaving the hallway, and ending in the holding room where the prisoners had previously been locked up in. From where he stood, Gaelin could see that this was no longer the case. Shouts and clashes of metal told of the battle that was raging on in that room between prisoners and guards. Titans of varying sizes fought on all levels of the prison, struggling with all of their might to overcome one another. As soon as the helmet clad head rolled into the midst of the room, raising a chorus of CLANGs, the fighting quieted down, as all eyes turned towards the hallway entrance. From that entrance strode a tall, hooded figure, brandishing a sword coated in the blood of those that had tried to kill the innocent men and women under his protection. Gaelin Val’ Saida, last known Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight, took in the Titans all gazing at him. He looked over his shoulder, to see his friends follow behind. Tull wore a neutral mask that was only betrayed by his piercing gaze. Lyal looked at him with something akin to respect. And Annallya . . .

He could not quite tell what lay within her eyes when she looked at him, but they were wide and unblinking.

He nodded to them, accepting whatever it was that they thought of him, however good or bad it may be. Then he turned back to the Titans and raised his voice.

“Thylara is under siege!” he cried out. “The city burns right now! Everyone, guard or prisoner, needs to leave. Or we all die.”

The room paused for but a second, before the flood gates were opened, and Titans ran for the doors. Prisoners and guards no longer gave each other a second glance as survival overruled their instinct to quarrel. Using a nearby scrap of cloth that had been cut from someone’s outfit, Gaelin wiped the gore from his blade, before sheathing it.

“Annallya, you’ll lead us from here.” he told her.

Having seen Gaelin fight, and the adversity that lay before them, Annallya was only now beginning to grasp the size of the obstacle they confronted. An entire war awaited them outside. Hesitating a moment, she looked back to him.

“Do you believe I shall be able to carry us all safely through a besieged city?” she asked “I- . . .”

She paused as Gaelin laid a hand on her shoulder. “I do.”

For the first time since they had reunited, he took a moment to really look her over. He smiled. “Interesting suit of armor. Custom made?”

The armor Annallya wore was that of a Queen’s guardswoman, and so more intricately designed than the standard guard’s set. The taller guard that Annallya had taken the set from had been just her size, so it fit her form perfectly. Glancing up at him, she returned the smile.

“Merely something that I found lying around. How do I look?” she asked, waiting for the inevitable sarcastic remark.

“Like a warrior.” was all Gaelin said.

Annallya paused, momentarily at a loss for what to say. She was interrupted, or perhaps saved, by the looming shadow of a thirty foot tall Titan. The woman was of dark complexion, and hair worn in the dreadlock style of Titans from the northeastern regions. Standing above the small group, she lifted her foot up, aiming directly for Gaelin. It was one of the women who had tried to have her way with Gaelin on his first day.

“Val’ Saida!” she roared.

Before Annallya could intervene, or before Gaelin could defend himself, another immense figure tackled her away. The second Titan, catching the first one by surprise, delivered two stunning blows to her head, before pushing her to the ground, where she collapsed in a stunned heap. Nefferel turned back to the stunned group of humans, and shrank down to their level.

“How many friends did you make?” Lyal muttered beside him.

“Enough, apparently.” Gaelin replied. Then to Nefferel he said, “I’d say that makes us even.”

But the girl shook her head. “You did more for me than that, I am afraid.”

“Come with us, Nefferel. You’ve got to get out of here, and we can help.” he insisted.

She shook her head. “I have been united with my captured sisters from Oalam. We intend to make our way back together. I only wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you for sparing me, as well as keeping me alive.”

Behind Nefferel stood several Titans, all of which had shrunken down to human size. They all differed in appearance, with varying heights, shades of skin and hair color, and mannerisms. All of them were Titans Gaelin had fought. Some glanced back at him in calm neutrality. Others gazed intently, remembering the battles they had fought against him in the arena. Most, however, smiled at him. Nefferel Stepped forward with her right foot and placed her right fist against her left shoulder, as is the customary salute in Oalam. Each of the other Titans behind her mirrored the gesture. Gaelin hesitated slightly, before imitating their salute, conveying his own respects to them. Nodding in satisfaction, Nefferel tensed up, seeming to be on the edge of some action. At once, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around the swordsman. Caught off guard, Gaelin awkwardly returned the hug. The young soldier held him for a good few seconds, before releasing him and stepping back.

“If you should make good on your escape, and somehow find yourself in Oalam, know that you have friends there, Gaelin Val’ Saida.” she told him.

Without another word, Nefferel turn towards her fellow soldiers, and followed the group as they all ran towards the exit. Gaelin, meanwhile, turned sheepishly back to face Annallya. The Titan stood with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow quirked, but said nothing. Rather, she waited.

“It’s not what you think.” he insisted.

The corners of her mouth quirked in what was the tiniest form of a smile. “And what, pray tell, am I thinking?”

Gaelin opened his mouth to answer, before performing the wisest action of his life by closing it. Annallya laughed.

“The once proud enemy of all Titans is embarrassed to admit that he has made friends with some.” she exclaimed. “How under Sun and Stars did you manage such a feat?”

He grinned shyly. “I had a good teacher.”

Annallya paused as she began to feel a dash of color creeping onto her checks. Fortunately for her, the sound of a clearing throat drew attention away from that.

“Am I the only one who seems to remember that the city is burning?” Tull asked.

But Lyal grinned as he clasped the man on the shoulder. “Let him have his moment, Tull. The man’s been cooped up in a hut by himself for the past five years. Odd’s are he’s never had so many young women speak to him before.”

“Ah-ha,” Gaelin sarcastically replied. “If we’re all done laughing now, we can go.”

Annallya gave him another mischievous smile as she stepped passed him. “As soon as we are all safely away from the city, trust that the laughing will continue.”

She lead her group through the many doors of the prison, finally emerging outside to the full scale wing of the palace. Once there, Annallya returned to her true daunting height of 100 ft tall. One by one her friends climbed onto her soft palms, and together they traversed through the palace. Now that Thylara was under attack, all prisoners and guards had ceased fighting, electing to either escape or help where needed. As such, Annallya found no resistance while making her way through the extensive marble building. Traversing the hallways she had grown up in, it took her only minutes to make her way to the main doors, from which all manner of visitors and dignitaries would enter the palace.

Were it not for her mother standing in her way, she would have gladly sprinted through it.

Mistress Rhaolin stood before the massive doors, naked sword in hand, with a longing gaze directed at the floor. Her head perked up when she heard her daughter come around the corner, looking surprised by her presence. She did not smile this time.

“When you were little, you and Thoren would happen into all manner of trouble,” she remembered. “I had believed that you only required focus for your energy and fancies. Then, you brought all of this onto your own family. This, I could never have imagined.”

“Are you truly attempting to lay the blame of an invading army at my feet, mother?” Annallya asked.

“No daughter. Rather, I lay the blame of our weakened state of response to your freeing of the prisoners. After you had escaped your lawful punishment, killing two guards in the process as well. All for what? An insect?”

Annallya squared her shoulders, taking on a more serious demeanor. “I am not going to waste time arguing with you while our city falls. Mother, you need to leave with Phelonous and Thoren. Have the guards take you to safety.”

Oragale mirrored her posture. “And what of you? Do you believe that those pathetic scraps of dust will protect you?”

“I have no time for this!” she insisted. “Stand aside and let me follow the path I have chosen!”

Her mother bared her teeth. “You would speak to me in such a way!”

Without another word, Annallya’s own mother ran at her, sword at her side. The long skirt she wore was divided in the middle, allowing her to run quite easily, taking Annallya by surprise. Or perhaps it was just the fact that her own mother was charging towards her with a sword. Surprise seemed a reasonable reaction, all things considered.

With her friends in her hands, Annallya could not readily defend herself. Fortunately, the sword forms she had spent the past month learning instructed her on how to maneuver more than just her arms. In addition, some part of her knew on some level that her mother would not kill her. Maiming and injuring, however, was much closer to her parenting style. So Annallya found it easy to anticipate where her first strike would be aimed. Holding her friends securely against her chest, Annallya back stepped her mother’s first slash. Then her follow up slash, bowing her upper body forwards and backwards to keep herself just out of range. Mistress Rhaolin launched a horizontal slash at her daughter again, only for Annallya to dive roll in the direction of the attack, avoiding her sword and gaining some distance. The humans in her hands held onto whatever cloth they could grab. In reality their fate was literally in the hands of their giant protector, which surrounded their bodies like immense pads which kept them from being tossed about like rag dolls. Unfortunately, Annallya could not fight in such a manner. So, once she had rolled to her feet and gained some distance, the Titan placed her hands to the ground and slid the humans off of her palms as gently as possible.

“Run to the door.” she instructed. “I shall join you shortly.”

Without another word, Annallya turned back to face her mother, who only stood gazing at her.

“You care greatly for them.” she noted. “Greatly enough to unleash criminals upon your own loved ones. You have well and truly betrayed us.”

“I am not having this discussion with you, Mother.” Annallya responded. “Nothing I say will touch your ears.”

“I birthed you.” she whispered. “I raised you.”

Mistress Rhaolin charged at her again, winding up another attack. Annallya made no move to defend herself until the last second. Her mother found her strike being met with the longsword of her daughter. Ever the soldier, Mistress Rhaolin continued to launch simple slashing attacks, all of which were redirected.

“From the day you were born, I have given you everything!” she raved. “This entire palace has raised you! Phelonous looked upon you as much of a mother as I have. And you repay us by stealing from your family, and slaughtering your own people! All because of insects! Creatures so far beneath us, they are barely worth stepping on!”

“If you believe that I have wrought such horrors on our lives, try to imagine what our own people have been doing to them for hundreds of years!” Annallya countered.

“Is it not the will of the Stars that the superior should do as they please?” her mother asked, not once relenting her onslaught of attacks. “We are superior to them in all ways.”

“Clearly you have not faced a human at eye level. Otherwise you would understand how grossly mistaken you are.”

Gaelin, Lyal, and Tull stood on the ground in front of the main doors, watching the two Titans spar back and forth in open wonder. They had all seen Titans wreak havoc plenty of times in their lives, and each time it had been a terrible sight. This, however, was new. Never before had they seen Titans fight each other in earnest combat. The skill of their moves was barely overshadowed by how frightening their display of power was. Even Gaelin, who had seen Annallya render a Titan Catcher unconscious, had never witnessed such a drawn out contest of skill. Each sweep of their sword, as ordinary as it must look to them, could have leveled forests. Mistress Rhaolin’s ferocity and relentless attacks seemed limitless in power. No walls built by human hands could stop her assault. She fought like a living force of nature. For all of her power, though, her unstoppable force met the immovable object of Annallya’s bladework. This was the first time Gaelin had seen her new skills in action, and he was struck speechless by the display before him. The way her body flowed and bended from one move to the next, was indescribable. Her sheer power and grace was akin to watching a storm dance. They were Titans in every sense of the word, and they fought each other, while the human men stood at ankle level with them, watching as if it was the last sight they would ever see.

Oddly enough, neither opponent seemed to be fighting to hurt the other. The way they exchanged arguments while they fought, lead the men to believe that the mother and daughter were having a different conversation with their swords. What that conversation was, they could only guess at. They knew that, whatever it was they were saying, was for their ears only. And so they watched, and waited.

“Let me go!” Annallya yelled. “Leave me to follow my own path!”

“You have no path, you have a home!” her mother retaliated while hammering away at her daughter’s defense with more brute force than technique. “You have a family! You cannot leave us! You cannot leave me!”

“I did not leave! I was pushed away, when I saw how dark your world was! I cannot be apart of that! It is not who I am!” she reprimanded her. Turning aside her mother’s latest overhead strike, Annallya went back on the offensive. She forced her mother back through sheer skill with swordplay that Oragale had never seen before.

Her mother clenched her teeth. “You betrayed us, abandoned us, all to learn how to wield a sword? To run away and see the world? To catch the eye of a creature who crawls on the floor?”

“I did not do this for myself mother, I did this for love!” she yelled.

Just she turned another one of her mother’s attacks to the side, Annallya spun her sword around, changing from a deflect to an underhand strike, aimed just above the hilt of her mother’s short sword. The weapon, struck with such force, while held in such an awkward grip, flew from the Titan’s fingers, and landed far behind her with several loud CLANGs following suit. Mistress Rhaolin found herself facing down the tip of her daughter’s blade, for once completely unsure of what was to follow. It should not have been a difficult problem to figure out, though. For all of her anger, Annallya could not hurt her mother. Rather, she sheathed her sword, walked back over to her friends, and picked them up in her hands again. Oragale made no move to retrieve her sword. All that she had had to say had been said. Save for one more question.

“For love?” she asked. “You truly believe that those pests will ever feel love for you? You believe that they will ever see you as anything other than a Titan? A monster?”

Annallya looked over her shoulder at her mother for the last time. “I did not save them for any love they have of me. They have something special in their hearts. Something that could only have come from the Sun and Stars. Something that is desperately needed in our world. Whether they love or hate me, I will see to it that it is preserved.”

She exited through the doors, leaving her mother to escape the city through the Queen’s emergency escape passage. Stepping out into the open air, Annallya was left standing in awe at the sight of her beloved Thylara, once the favored jewel of the Stars, burning to the ground. Everywhere she looked was illuminated by raging fires, allowing any onlooker to easily make out the darker shapes of fleeing citizens, panicking through the streets. Acrid smoke filled the once fresh air, attempting to aid in the Nashvan’s assault on all life within the city. Her people were under attack, they were dying. And there was nothing she could do to save them.

The worst part of it was knowing that they had all brought this upon themselves. Titans were forever locked in their ancient ways of waging warfare for the sake of fighting. All it will ever bring to them is destruction. Thylara was not the first city to be toppled by fellow Titans for little reason, and it will not be the last. The Titan’s could be a race that lived on for thousands of years in glory and honor. It seemed to Annallya that the only thing preventing that vision from becoming a reality were themselves. The Titans would not stop until they had killed themselves for no good reason. Perhaps this was the judgment of the Stars upon them, as punishment for their evil ways. Whatever the case was, Annallya could not change it. She had others to protect. With bravery born from pure need to survive, she charged through the ember laden streets, navigating her way towards the main gates. The journey itself was belied with dangers, as massive rocks, soaked with pitch and lit afire, fell randomly throughout the city. Annallya had to keep as much an eye on the sky above her as she did the debris coated streets. Buildings burst into flames and shrapnel at the blink of an eye. She clutched the men in her hands closer to her chest, both to protect them, and ease herself. Though they could do nothing to help her, she drew comfort from their presence. After more than ten minutes of adrenaline fueled sprinting through the city, the massive gates of Thylara came into sight. The gates were not guarded at the moment, as all of the soldiers were taking cover, preparing for the assault on the walls themselves. Annallya ran straight up to the doors, gently lowered the men she carried to the ground, and then joined them at their own size.

“Are you alright?” Gaelin asked, indicating to her arms. They had received several minor cuts from stone shrapnel. None appeared to be any serious at the moment, so she elected to ignore them.

“I shall be fine.” she assured him.

Lyal inspected them over for a second. “Jess makes the best ointment in Sol-har for patching up cuts like these. You’ll be right as ever soon as we get back.”

But Gaelin stepped up closer to her, his voice dropping to a heavier tone. “But are you alright?”

Annallya knew at once what he was referring to. Much had transpired in such a short amount of time, and they were not done yet. She stood up straighter, and looked him in the eye.

“I do not know. But there will be time to figure such matters out when we are safe.”

He smiled with noticeable pride. “Like a warrior.”

She drew strength from his encouragement and carried on. “Right. Let us begin.”

She lead the way beneath the gates, which were raised high enough off of the ground for humans to duck under. On the other side, the party was met with the sight of the invading army which had formed a ring around the city. To a Titan, the distance between the army and the walls may have seemed no more than 1200 ft. To the humans and the shrunken Annallya, they appeared miles away. Their catapults, as enormous as they were, had no trouble closing the distance with their flaming projectiles. Each catapult was spaced 100 meters away in Titan scale from the next one, with each catapult marking a small cohort of about fifty Titans. Five Titans operated the catapults, loading the ammunition, igniting it, and firing the machine. Others controlled smaller devices shaped like oversized crossbows mounted on three legs, which swiveled in almost all directions, allowing unrestricted aim. The rest prepared their armaments while they waited for the siege to end and the mounted attacks to begin. Many openly slept on rolled out mats, as they knew it would be a long time before they would be needed. Tull indicated to the Titans controlling the crossbow-like machines.

“What are those?” he asked.

“We call them ballistas. They operate much like slingshots, only they are far more powerful. They use stones for projectiles, so armies can collect buckets worth of ammunition while travelling.” she explained.

Tull raised an eyebrow. “What is their purpose?”

“To fire at any soldiers attempting to approach them while small under the cover of night.” she elaborated. “Though they will likely be unable to see us at all, they will be firing in many directions, and they fire dozens stones in a wide volley. Once we are in range, we shall have to watch out.”

The Whistler nodded. “Then let us not keep our audience waiting.”

As one, they began walking towards the front line of the army. Though the ballistas were powerful, they could not cover anywhere near the range of the gigantic catapults. The tiny group had a while yet ahead of them before they would be in range, and so decided to conserve their strength. Tull, true to his title, whistled a song as they marched. The Flight from Yurkshen, a solem tune which, when sung in voice, told the tale of a family’s escape from persecution to a far away land. It fit the atmosphere perfectly, and the rest of the group found themselves humming along, savoring the spell of peace they had. It seemed almost comical to Annallya. After facing such hardship and violence while in Thylara, and knowing what awaited them in the near future, that they should be given such a peaceful and entertaining walk beneath a star lit sky seemed absurd.

After maybe a mile of walking they began to hear the sound of giant rocks impacting the ground. It sounded much like an avalanche all ahead of them. Not long after, the stones they were launching became easier to make out in the dark of night. Recognizing that their comfortable walk was drawing to a close, the group began to jog the rest of the way, warming themselves up for what was to come. After another two minutes, the first stone landed not more than thirty feet away from them, kicking up small geysers of dirt with its impact. More began to fall like a giant halestorm all around them, and the tiny men and woman found themselves running forward for their lives. Much like Annallya’s sprint through the city, they had to keep one eye on the sky for falling rocks, and one eye in front, for the landscape ahead of them was littered with boulders. The distance they had yet to cover seemed only to increase, not decrease. Yet they pressed on, for they had no other option but to try and survive. The volleys came in intervals, giving them precious moments to cover more distance at full speed. Then they would be forced to slow down again so that they could watch for more boulders, while avoiding the ones on the ground. It was slow and excruciating work, but eventually they found themselves closing the distance. Annallya looked over towards her friends and called out to them.

“When you see me move, sprint for the tree line and do not look back! I will join you after a few minutes!”

“Wait!” Gaelin cried out, but she had already moved.

Annallya grew to her full height, surprising the Nashvans, and drawing all of their attention to her, as she closed the last of the gap between them before they had time to react. She ran straight for the ballista as soon as it had finished firing, leaping into the air, and kicking the machine backwards into the Titans loading and aiming it. She then drew her sword and went to work on the remaining Titans. She did not stand still long enough to engage one in single combat for more than one strike. She move constantly, deflecting attack after attack, moving from one opponent to the next, drawing all of their attention and keeping herself alive. In battle, one does not fight many enemies and live for long. She could not stand to fight them by herself and win, she needed to occupy their attention. So she moved, making sure no two Titans had the chance to take her on at once.

“Others are escaping!” she heard a soldier shout.

She barely took notice of the few soldiers running off in the opposite direction, shrinking themselves down to better see their tiny prey. Annallya could do nothing for them, except pray that her friends truly were escaping with their lives. She was quickly becoming boxed in, with only her longer sword and superior techniques keeping her enemies at bay. It was only a matter of time, however, before they would spy their opening.

So this is how Gaelin must have felt, giving up his life to save an innocent one, she thought to herself. I wonder if he ended up discovering some goodness inside of him as well.

Suddenly the soldiers to her right began to cry out and fall to the ground, opening up an escape route which she immediately took advantage of. Sprinting for the tree line, Annallya began to shrink, allowing the fifty foot trees to mask her escape and hide her from pursuers. Once she had fully shrunk herself, she turned around and gazed back at the army. Not a single soldier pursued her at the moment, for they were all trying to give aid to the ten or so women that had fallen. They now lay screaming on the grass, as their comrades inspected their legs. They had all been severely cut through both calves and were bleeding rapidly. Annallya stood there in fascination as Gaelin ran up to her in the forest, blood still dripping from his blade.

“I don’t care how blazing big you are,” he panted. “The next time you get it in your head to face an army, you do it with me.”

 

 

 

Together, Gaelin and Annallya trekked through the woods until the came upon Tull and Lyal. The two men each leaned against a nearby tree panting heavily. All around them lay the unconscious bodies of four shrunken Nashvan soldiers. Lyal was bleeding from a gash on the left side of his torso. He had a cloth pressed against it to control the bleeding, and other than that both men appeared to have no more injuries. They stood wearily to their feet when they heard others approaching them, and were relieved to see that it was their friends.

“We thought you’d been recaptured,” Lyal breathed, leaning back against the tree.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gaelin replied. “Seems you won’t be rid of me for a while.”

The man grunted. “Just grateful I don’t have to get off my ass and rescue you, again.”

“Careful what you say, Lyal. Otherwise I might think you’re starting to like me.” he warned.

The craftsman looked off to the side to spit some blood that had leaked into his mouth. “I just hate shoddy work, even rescues.”

“Lyal!” Annallya exclaimed when she saw him bleeding. She ran over to take a look at it. “Is it serious?”

The man groaned as he moved the cloth slightly so that he could better look at the wound. The dark of night was now heavy in the air, and without torchlight the wound was hard to make out. But he did not appear to be in too great a pain.

“I’ll live,” he assured everyone. “We should keep moving. They’ll send more after us.”

Pushing himself off of the tree, Lyal took a few steps forward, only to lose his balance and stumble to his knees.

“You’ve been pushing yourself hard, and you’ve lost a bit of blood.” Tull noted as he slid one of Lyal’s arms over his own shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, man. Heroes aren’t left behind in any of my stories.”

Together they walked through the midnight forest, each member of the group keeping the other going in some way. The events of the past few hours weighed heavily on everyone’s mind, and their bodies each felt close to their limits. So they took this walk slowly, using the time to process all that they had endured. Tull kept them going with another song from his seemingly bottomless quiver of tunes.

Yurn Gellar, son of stones,

Who approaches your own gates.

Built by fathers long ago.

Defend the city is your own fate.

Be they travelers through the snow,

Welcome they shall find this day.

Be they bandits and be they foe,

To best my hammar’s the only way.

It was a slow tune with a steady beat that kept them walking in good spirits. The words of the story, detailing the life of a great protector, filled them with quiet reserves of strength. For all that they had done, and all of the carnage they had seen this night, none of them felt like heroes. Yet, the knowledge that such a mountainous task was behind them, brought each member of their group a sense of accomplishment. Loyal guards had been slain, innocent civilians were under attack, and a mother’s heart had been broken. There was too much pain in this night for heroics, but there was contentment in knowing they had survived together. Gaelin, Annallya, Lyal, and Tull walked to the beat of the song, and others, for about an hour before they came upon the village.

Or rather, what was left of the village.

The expansive clearing that had once held Sol-har no longer contained the distinct shapes that, even in the black of night, marked the inhabitants of the little haven. Sturdy, well crafted structure that had once been homes were now nothing more than splintering wreckage. The dirt streets were littered with debris of all kinds. Furniture could even be sparsely seen among the demolished buildings. Even the Black Stallion, the greatest building in the village, not for its size, but for its integral part in keeping the village together, was no more. Small fires dotted the scene as the last remnants of what was earlier a much greater inferno, now dying down amidst the moonlight. Not a sound was heard from the remains of Sol-har, and not a thing stirred.

Gaelin was struck speechless by the sight before him. From beside him Lyal swore, Annallya looked to the ground, and off to the side the Whistler spoke.

“Well . . . this is awkward.”

Annallya turned to Gaelin. “I am sorry, this is my fault.”

“You didn’t tell him?” came a voice off to the side.

From the darkness of the woods materialized a faint light which revealed the familiar shape of Rhollan. He was carrying a lantern and dressed in a cotton shirt, pants, and his best pair of boots. The former Innkeeper walked over to the disheveled group and looked them up and down.

“It is my fault, Rhollan.” Annallya explained. “I forgot to tell him.”

“In her defense, we were occupied with other things.” Lyal groaned. “Slipped our minds.”

“What in blazing embers are you all talking about!” Gaelin swore.”What am I missing?”

The older man sighed. “That was very cruel of you all.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll live.” said Lyal through clenched teeth.

“Follow me,” Rhollan instructed, leading them back into the woods.

Taking hold of his arm, Annallya walked a bewildered Gaelin after Rhollan, with Lyal and Tull following them behind. Despite his well rounded size, Rhollan moved through the woods with the grace that only came from experience, and an unmatched knowledge of the surrounding area. The Titan had to imitate his movements in order to keep her footing on the uneven ground, though her time spent wandering the forest the past months had greatly helped her. Even Gaelin, tired as he was, had to put effort into navigating the foliage as the woods seemed to grow denser. Before long, curtains of branches and leaves had to be pushed from their path to allow the to move forward. Looking above, the trees formed an almost solid canopy, blocking out almost all light from the moon and stars. Rhollan’s lantern kept them from completely losing their way in the confined spaces of the trail. Eventually, the noise of people could be heard, and grew stronger the further they travelled. After a total of five minutes walking through the woods, Rhollan parted one last curtain of branches.

Before them was a clearing in the forest, much smaller than the one which housed Sol-har. This clearing contained the single largest camp any of them had ever seen. Many dozens of tents stretched out, filling the hollow to the brim. Torches and campfires allowed clear sight of the many people running all over the camp, providing aid for any tasks that need finishing. Men and women in simple clothes assembled, loaded, and hitched wagons. Children helped stitch together extra tents, blankets, and clothes. Everywhere around them was activity. A sense of energy. Life.

Gaelin recognized the faces among them as inhabitants of Sol-har, and it seemed not a soul was missing. At a loss for words, he turned towards his friends. Annallya gave him an embarrassed smile.

“I apologize, Gaelin. I meant to tell you. However, all things considered, it slipped my mind.” she elaborated.

Attempting to take all of this in, Gaelin put a hand over his eyes and massaged his temples. Then, taking a deep breath, he looked back at her, and spoke in a slow tone.

“So then why don’t you explain it all now?” he asked.

“Lyal!” cried a voice.

Jess Wedrin ran over to the group and was at her husband’s side in an instant. “What happened?”

“I had to save Gaelin’s sorry ass, that’s all.” he groaned as she lead him over to a chair. Jess immediately called for a nearby boy to fetcher her some ointment and first aid supplies. While she got to work, Gaelin, Annallya, and Tull each took a seat on the ground.

“I used the supplies you had given me to escape,” the Titan began. “I learned from my mother of your situation in prison, and knew that I had to rescue you. First I returned to the village, to assure myself that the promise had been kept. It had been, and Sol-har had remained untouched.”

“She said she was going to get you out, and we all knew that she had nowhere else to bring you but back to the village.” Jess picked up for her, while washing Lyal’s wound. “The problem was, as soon as she got you out, we knew that’d be the first place they come to look for you. Figured they’d probably tear the whole place apart just to find you too.”

Annallya nodded. “With no other option, I convinced the people of Sol-har to gather all of their possessions and leave.”

“Leave?” Gaelin asked. “And go where?”

“We don’t know.” Rhollan remarked. “But anywhere is better than here. Somewhere where there’s hope of living without Titan kidnappers.”

“Tull and I agreed to help get you out.” Lyal breathed as Jess began to sew his wound closed. “I owed you a debt for saving my wife.”

“You’ve done far more than pay it off.” Gaelin remarked. “I owe you now.”

But Lyal used his free hand to wave his comment aside.

“Annallya made quite the heroic speech.” Jess continued. “She convinced the whole village to go along with her idea. We spent the day gathering our things, and she helped us load them all. The work went by fast when you’ve got a giant to lift everything.”

Annallya blushed. “Once everything was completed, they set out for this campsite, and we set out to fetch you.”

“But what happened to the village?” he asked.

“That was her,” Rhollan clarified, nodding to Annallya. “We figured that her people might not come looking for us if they thought some other Titans had already taken us out.”

Jess finished for him. “So once we cleared out our houses of everything we wanted to take with us, she smashed them all.”

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow. “You . . . destroyed the village?”

Rather than answer, Annallya looked down at the dirt covered ground.

“Quite the spectacle that was.” Tull remarked. “Before everything else we saw tonight, of course.”

“No kidding.” Jess said. “I’ve never seen anything take out an entire village that wasn’t a natural disaster. Annallya’s always so gentle and kind, I forget how powerful she is.”

Suddenly rising, the Titan looked around at the assembled group of humans and smiled easily. “I am happy I could have been of help to you. I thank you again for assisting me in freeing Gaelin, and I understand that you have quite a ways ahead of you. I too must be off now. Good night, and the blessings of the Stars be upon you on your journey.”

Without another word, Annallya strode off. Some of her friends rose in response to her words.

“Wait a minute, girl.” Rhollan called after her. She ignored him, however, and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Jess ceased moving for a moment.

“W-was it something I’d said?” she asked in a concerned tone.

Gaelin looked back to them. “I’ll talk with her.”

Marching off, he followed her path into the thicket. He soon caught up to her, having no difficulty in following the sound of her movements through the branches.

“Hold on, wait!” he called out, stepping in front of her. “That’s it? You’re going to rescue me and then walk away? That’s how this ends?”

“That is how this must end, Gaelin.” she insisted. “We follow two different paths, and this is where they diverge.”

“Why?” he asked her. When Annallya could not readily give an answer, he pressed her. “Furthermore, where do you even go from here? Thylara is under siege. And even if it wasn’t, you’re a wanted criminal back there. What do you have left to leave for?”

“I cannot stay, Gaelin.” she repeated.

“You keep saying that, but you’ve yet to tell me why.” he reminded her, becoming flustered.

“Because I am a monster!” she shouted.

“Give over with that. We both know it’s not true.”

“Yes it is!” Annallya insisted. “My mother was wrong about a great many things, but not this. No matter how many good acts I perform, those people will never see me as anything more than the same monster that has caused them all to live their lives in fear. I do not belong with them, so it is better if I leave.”

“We’ve already been over this,” he reminded her. “Your people’s sins aren’t your responsibility!”

“And what of my own?” she yelled back. “What about the blood I have spilled? The destruction I have caused?”

Gaelin paused. “What are you talking about?”

Annallya hesitated, before continuing. “In order to escape I had to fight two guards. In the end, I was forced to take their lives so that I might flee. I spilled the blood of my people, and tore my mother’s heart in half when I fought with her. . .”

The once mighty Titan shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as if it would help stave off the bad memories. “Everywhere I go, in everything I do, I bring nothing but ruin. Now my home burns, my family is in ruin, and the friends I had believed I was making must leave and I must stay far away from them all.”

“Come with us,” he insisted. “Whatever reason you think you have for staying away, believe me it’s wrong.”

“I will not live surrounded by those who see me for what I am, a monster!” she demanded.

“You think just because you’re bigger than us, and you’ve spilled blood, that makes you a monster?” he challenged her. “Well it doesn’t! I know what monsters are like, because I had to live with one!”

“Gaelin,” she began. “Your time in prison is hardly-”

“For seven years!” he finished.

There was a long pause as what he said registered on her mind. “What are you referring to?”

Gaelin spent the next several minutes recounting the night his village was attacked by Titans. He described everything, including his fight, and discovery of how young his victims had been. When he had finished, Annallya was shedding silent tears.

“Gaelin, you cannot blame yourself for their deaths.” she insisted. “They brought it upon themselves.”

“They were little older than children. And I killed them, all of them.” he repeated. “Not out of protection like a true Guardian is supposed to do, but for the sake of killing them. Even worse, I abandoned the only two people I was supposed to protect! The two most important people in my life, and I left them!”

“You mentioned no other Titans. I am sure that they had escaped.” she assured him. But he dismissed her claims.

“I searched for three years.” he told her in a softer tone. “Anywhere I could go. In the end I found nothing. As far as I’m sure, they’re dead, and I caused it. If you hadn’t noticed, I spilled my fair share of blood back in Thylara as well. So can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you’re the only monster standing here right now?”

Annallya tried to meet his gaze, but found herself looking away. Taking a few steps away, she considered what he had told her.

“You think yourself a monster because of what you have done.” she noted.

“And you think yourself one because of what you are,” he concluded. It was almost enough to make her chuckle.

“We are quite a pair, the two of us.” she sighed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, walking over to her. “Suppose we are.”

Taking her hands in his, he looked her in the eyes. Her beautiful, glistening eyes. “Come with us, Annallya. However you think those people see you, I promise there’s too much good in you for them to ignore. You have all of the makings of a hero, and they need a hero to look up to. I need a hero. Someone to remind me that there might still be some good left in me as well. Someone I care about.”

He paused, before forcing himself to finally confess. “Someone I love.”

Both of their hearts stopped the moment those words were released into the air. They did not move. They barely breathed. For the longest time, his words hung above their heads, daring either one to give the first reaction. This finally came in the form of another tear that escaped Annallya’s eye and carved a path down her cheek. Overtaken by a sudden rush of emotion, and tossing thought out the window, she pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Both Guardian and Titan stood there for an indeterminable amount of time, before they broke away, and Gaelin pulled his student in for a hug.

“You’ve been through so much in such a short amount of time.” he whispered. “I don’t want you to be alone while you learn to handle all that.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” she whispered back.

“Then come with us,” he said, pulling back to look her in the eye. “Or don’t. Wherever you feel that you have to go, I’ll go with you. We’ll see what there’s to see in this world. Together.”

Annallya looked to be about to answer, but hesitated again. “Gaelin I- I do not know if Titans are capable of such love. In addition, there is such great difference between us. I am not a tiny woman who can grow big.”

Stepping back from him, Annallya slowly increased her height, quickly filling up the tiny clear patch of woods they had been standing in. She dropped to one knee as she approached her full height, so as not to give away her location to anyone that might see her towering over the trees. As gentle as ever, Annallya lowered her palm to the ground, allowing Gaelin to step on. She brought him up to her face, smiling sadly.

“I am a giant woman who can become small, but only for a while. This,” she said, gesturing to herself. “Is what I am. This is what you will have to live with. Can you love something so monstrous?”

Drawing his sword from his sheath, Gaelin took a moment to glance it over, before holding it out for Annallya to see.

“Before he left for the final time, my father recited an oath to us all. An oath he told me the Guardians of the past would swear before the Pillars of Morning and Twilight, to signify their absolute devotion and protection to them.”

Getting down on one knee, Gaelin presented the blade to the Titan that held him in her hand.

“My body, my blood, my blade.” he recited. “I am yours.”

*************************************************************************************

When Gaelin and Annallya walked back to the campsite Jess, Lyal, and Rhollan walked over to meet them. A few other villagers standing nearby also ended up joining in the ceremonial greeting for some reason.

“Annallya,” Jess began. “I am sorry if I said something that upset you. I didn’t mean to, please know that.”

The Titan smiled reassuringly. “It was no fault of yours, Jess. Much has happened in a very short amount of time. I merely needed to speak of it aloud to get a handle on my feelings. I will be fine.”

The smaller woman seemed to ease slightly after being told that. Rhollan, on the other hand, looked as if he needed to say something.

“You intend to leave, then?” he asked her.

Annallya nodded.

“Where will you go?”

“I have not yet decided.” she told him.

“We’re thinking somewhere north, or maybe to the west.” Gaelin continued.

All eyes turned towards him as more villagers gathered around to hear what was said.

“You’re going with her, Gaelin?” Rhollan asked.

He nodded. “I faced my sins back in Thylara. Now that I’m done hiding, there’s nothing left for me here. Might as well go out and see the world.”

Rhollan seemed to struggle to continue with what he was about to say. By now, more than half of the village had joined together to view their exchange. This did not go unnoticed by either of them. Gaelin took in the sight of the villagers, waiting to see what would be said, and raised an eyebrow. Rhollan continued.

“Seems to me, there’ll be plenty out there for us to see while we look for a new place to settle down in.” he explained. “Plenty of dangers too. If Titan’s should come upon us, we have no way of defending ourselves. We’d need help . . . a Guardian’s help.”

The entire village now stood gathered before them all, and they all waited his answer. It seemed that they had all agreed upon this, and wanted to find out if he would agree as well. Gaelin nodded to himself, before looking over at Annallya.

“And if I were to agree to this,” he began. “Would there be any room for my giant friend over here?”

Whispers began to rise from the assembled mass of people. Nothing that could be easily distinguished, save for those in the front of the crowd. From there could be heard she’s a Titan . . .

“I mean-” Rhollan began. But Gaelin cut him off with a raised hand, bringing the crowd to a hush in the process.

“Annallya Rhaolin is my student, my friend, and my companion.” he announced. “Wherever she goes, I follow. If there’s no room for her here, then there’s no room for me.”

He looked over all of the people to make sure that they understood his commitment to his claim. For a long time, not a soul spoke.

“Of course there is!” came a voice made loud enough for all to here. Lyal Wedrin, though leaning on his wife for support, stood in front of everyone. “Annallya brought Jess back to me! That makes her welcome in my home!”

“She brought back my son!” yelled Idoata, Andrill by her side. “She’s welcome in my home as well!”

“She brought back my brother!” came the voice of Jall Cordrick, a mason. “She can stay in my home. And if she needs more room, I’ll build me a house big enough for a Titan!”

“She’s the reason we’re escaping in the first place!” reminded Drion Jerriday, the blacksmith. A man who stood a head above most everyone in the crowd. His rumbling voice carried over the camp. “If anything, we should be begging her to allow us to stay with her.”

That seemed to strike a chord with everyone as they were reminded of the role she had played in their escape from Thylara. Voices now spoke their agreement with much more fever, taking Annallya back. Of all of the outcomes she had expect, this was not one of them. Holding his hands up, Rhollan brought the crowd to silence, before speaking up.

“”How about it, Annallya?” he asked her in a formal, yet warm tone. “Will you allow us the honor of travelling with you, while we search for a new home? Though we can never repay you for what you have already done for us, we can offer you a home within our village, and a place in our community.”

Overcome by the sudden sense of belonging she now felt from the village, the same sense of belonging they extended to their own kind so joyously, she allowed a tear to freely fall from her eye. Stepping back a bit, Annallya grew to her full height, dropping to one knee as she had with Gaelin, and looked down at the village that was, and is, Sol-har.

“If you can all accept me for what I am, and not hate me for it, then I would be grateful to have a place in your village.” she told them.

“We don’t hate heroes, lass.” Rhollan reminded her. “However big or small they are.”

The Titan felt more tears begin to come to her, and so she shrank down again, so that she did not end up raining on those standing around her. Drying her eyes, she walked over to Rhollan and embraced him. “Thank you, Rhollan.”

“No Annallya, thank you for staying with us.” he countered.

As soon as the hug ended, Rhollan turned to the crowd. “Alright everyone! Finish loading those carts! We’ve got a lot of distance to put between ourselves and Thylara before we can rest for the night! Remember how we discussed driving close to the trees…”

His voice trailed off as Rhollan walked away to oversee their departure, leaving Annallya standing by her friends. Jess was shedding tears herself, and not bothering in the least to hide them.

“Lyal speaks for both of us,” she told her. “I’ll never forget how you risked everything to save my life. So you’ll always find a seat at our table, Annallya. You too, Gaelin.”

The swordsman chuckled. “As long as you’ve got some decent draft.”

Lyal let a small grin slip. Standing up straight, he took the weight his wife had been supporting off of her shoulder, so that she could hug her friend.

“You were the first one in the village to accept me, Jess.” Annallya reminded her. “I will always be grateful for that.”

“Then make sure you take plenty of meals at our new house.” Jess told her.

Annallya laughed. “If you will share some at mine. I am sure Gaelin can help me build a table big enough.”

The two of them laughed before pulling away. Together, the couple nodded to both of them.

“We’ll see you on the road.” Lyal assured them.

Once they were alone, Gaelin looked over at her. “Still think you’re a monster?”

“I am . . . open to being convinced otherwise.” she admitted.

He chuckled. “Monster doesn’t fit your description. You’re too beautiful to play the role.”

“Do not attempt to flatter me, that is an underhanded trick.” Annallya warned in an unconvincing voice.

The Guardian put an arm over her shoulder. “No, protector is a far better description. That’s all you’ve ever been since I’ve known you.”

“Will you admit to yourself that you are one as well?” she challenged him.

“Maybe,” he honestly said. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

The Titan and the Guardian looked out over the village that was now under their protection and thought, for the first time, how vast and strange the world before them truly was.