The Ruralian governor watched in distress as the defeated remnants of his army returned to the city. After learning of general Istvan’s death, he summoned all the remaining captains to his castle for a meeting. All his advisors were summoned as well, even old Baroth, the man who had foreseen this outcome. The captains gave their report of the battle, or massacre, as they preferred to call it.

“It seems,” Baroth remarked, “that we have forgotten the true power of these monsters. Our history records that we were victorious in the past, but I believe that was only because the giants chose to leave us alone. And now they are back, to finish what they began all those years ago.”

“They?” Pario asked, sounding exasperated. “There was only one of them, you fool, and a woman at that, too! Forgive me, but if our soldiers cannot even defeat her, what chance do we have if more of them should show up?”

“None!” exclaimed Gardar, an ambassador who had just returned to Ruralia. “We have to surrender, sire! Yield to her demands! It is better to be ruled by others than to be destroyed by them!”

“She made no demands!” one of the captains yelled in reply. “Weren’t you listening earlier? She just attacked us, without ever stating her reasons or motives! We have to leave this place, this city, at once, or we shall all be killed!”

It seemed as though a heated argument was about to break out, but at that moment a guard came dashing into the hall. He was out of breath and had trouble beginning his report.

“Oh, get on with it!” the governor yelled.

“Sorry to bother you, my lords, but…one of the surviving soldiers has returned. He…he says he needs to speak with you…at once!”

“Then send him here at once!”

Into the hall came a young man wearing the armour of a knight. He looked beaten and exhausted, and, when governor asked him for his report, took a long time to begin with it. The gathering listened in mixed horror and disgust as he told how he and several others were held prisoner by the giantess. He began to describe the part where she sexually assaulted the men, but was asked by the governor to stop.

“The…the others?” Pario asked. “Wh-what happened to the others who were with you?”

“They’re…dead, sire,” the man, whose name was Erryl, replied. “The giant woman…she killed them all while she was busy, um…while she had her way with them. I was the only one she let go – she wanted me to tell you that her attacks on our people will continue.”

“Why…why is she doing this?” the governor choked out.

“I don’t know, sire. She…she said she will take anything and anyone she pleases, and that all of this land now belongs to her. However, she said she’ll give us a week to recover our strength, and that she’s looking forward to the next time we face her in battle.”

“Jah save us!” Gardar said. “Isn’t there anything we can do? Anything at all we can give her, to make her stop?”

“I told you, we have to flee!” the captain responded angrily. “Can’t you get that into your head? There is no other option! She is too great a foe for us!”

The argument, which had earlier been averted, now erupted with full force. Across the hall, men were shouting and cursing at each other, some imploring the others to flee, while others were in favour of surrendering, and some even suggesting that another attempt be made to fight the giantess. The young governor seemed more and more uncomfortable with all the men urging him to support their side of the argument. He called a halt to the meeting and asked them all to return tomorrow, when he will have given the situation enough thought.

“That will be all!” he ordered, and they began to leave through the doors of the great hall. Pario went to head upstairs to his chamber, when he noticed that someone was still loitering about in a shadowy section of the hall. It was the young, dark-haired warrior, Erryl.

“Did you not hear me, soldier?” Pario shouted. “Guards, remove this man!”

“Wait!” Erryl exclaimed. “Governor, please, I only need a moment! I…I have an idea, sire! An idea how to defeat the giant warrior.”

“Really? You? What makes you so certain your ‘idea’ will work?”

Erryl took a moment to compose himself, before he began to explain.

“My father, governor, was a merchant, and he…he did a lot of travelling. Well, during one of his visits to the northern mountains, in the land of Himbelund, he came across a curious legend among the inhabitants. Apparently, there dwell beyond the northern mountains a race of giants, the Sky-Giants, who are friendly to men. It is said that long ago, the Sky-Giants came over the mountains and…”

“Enough!” Pario interrupted. “I’m sorry, but do you expect me to believe this so-called ‘legend’…this load of nonsense? The northern mountains are an impenetrable barrier! Impenetrable, do you understand? The last inhabitants of that despicable region died during the Battle of Himbel, and only wolves and trolls live there now.”

“Yes, I understand, but…”

“I said enough! Get some rest, soldier: I’ll decide your fate tomorrow.”

“Very well, sire. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

Erryl headed out into the cold night air, images from the day’s events still hovering before his eyes. He shuddered as he remembered how Carinne had raped and killed all those men, without even a hint of compassion in her eyes. Now, it seems they have but one week before she unleashes herself again on the innocent people of this region.

“Damn this!” he said to himself. “I’m not going to sit here and wait to be killed! And I know what my father said was no lie. If there is but a small chance the Sky-Giants still exist…”

With that thought planted firmly in his mind, he planned his next move. Under cover of darkness, he stole one of the horses from the stable next to the barracks – one of many whose riders had perished in today’s massacre. He took enough food and water to last a few days, knowing he’ll have to rely on the wilderness for supplies eventually. As he hastily rode out of the northern gate, he could only hope that the town would still be here when, and if, he returned.

Though he had no map, he was never in doubt as to which direction he should go. The mountains of Himbelund truly were an impenetrable barrier, in the sense that they stretch on for hundreds of miles, and are impossible to miss if you just head north. Erryl rode north as fast as he could, barely stopping during the day, and taking only short rests during the night. Despite this, it took him ten days before he caught his first glimpse of his destination. Three days after that, he found himself among the barren, desolate foothills of the mountains. Ahead of him the nearest peaks rose up steeply, and he was forced to let his horse go back, for the terrain was too difficult.

Climbing amongst the crags and boulders, he came across many caves, all of which were dead ends. He had already given up trying to scale the cliffs and finding a route over the mountains: the only option was to find a tunnel that leads through them. Searching for such a tunnel took up all of his time, and he was unaware that he was being watched. Though the natives who had once dwelt here were gone, these hills were still home to bandits and thieves, preying on lost travellers and merchants. A band of them was watching Erryl heading into a particularly large cave, and they decided to wait for him in ambush. When he failed to return after several hours, their leader, Maruk, decided to go in to investigate.

“Are you out of your mind?” one of his minions insisted. “Who knows what’s lurking inside these caves? That poor fool’s probably in a troll’s belly by now!”

“Huh! Trolls!” Maruk sneered. “Old wives’ tales, that’s all they are! The dumb bastard’s probably gotten himself stuck in a crack or something. I’m going in. If you morons are too scared to follow me, that’s your own fucking problem. Just don’t expect me to share the loot with you.”