over. He reached up, grabbing his throbbing skull, agony lancing through his head.
Beorth’s head ripped off like he was just a rag doll. Blood spewed from the headless body as it dangled in the roaring beast’s hands. The giant dropped the head to the rocks below flinging the lifeless body into the mountain pool.
Jonas struggled to get up and grab his sword, shaking away the painful pounding in his head. Jorm leaped up in anger just as a score of arrows mysteriously flew from the woods slamming into the giant. They both looked around, wondering where the arrows were coming from. The giant stumbled around on the rock; many arrows embedded in its flesh. Finally the sheer number of arrows ended the beast’s life, causing it to fall and topple off the rock ledge into the water.
The same fate awaited the remaining giants fighting Baylin and Dagrinal. Black shafted arrows peppered the monsters until they looked like pin cushions. They, too, stumbled around before finally succumbing to the massive amount of arrows and falling dead to the ground. None of the deadly arrows struck the tired warriors.
Dagrinal, Graggis, and Baylin slowly retreated backward towards Jorm and Jonas.
“What is happening?” asked Dagrinal, his crimson stained sword held before him. They were scanning the wood line before them, bloody and tired, but holding their weapons with determination.
“I don’t know, but if they wanted us dead then we would be. Lower your weapons,” ordered Prince Baylin.
After several seconds of waiting, a lone cloaked figure emerged from the trees. He wore a long green hunter’s cloak and his face was hooded in secrecy. He carried a long black bow in his right hand and a quiver of arrows was lashed to his back. “Who are you?” the man said in a commanding voice.
Prince Baylin stepped forward speaking with authority. “I am Prince Baylin of Finarth. These are my knights, along with a young knight apprentice.”
“You are a long way from home, Prince Baylin. What brings you here?” asked the bowman bluntly.
The prince gritted his teeth, not accustomed to such forward questioning, and took a deep breath. This man had saved their lives, and Finarth had no dominion over land this far into the Tundrens. “I am on the king’s errand, in search of a man. His name is Kiln. I have given you my name; it is customary to now give yours.”
The man slowly brought his hand up lifting off his hood. The warrior’s black hair was peppered with gray; his eyes were shadows and cold and his face looked as if it was chiseled from stone, with skin that was tanned and weathered.
As if on cue, eight more men silently emerged from the forest like wraiths. The sun was just beginning to set and the tree’s shadows covered the cloaked men.
“I am Kiln.”
***
It was hard for Jonas, watching Jorm grieve for his dead brother, seeing the pain that Piap was in, his leg crushed by the giant’s rock, and watching Sal grimace every time he moved. Again he felt like he was to blame. These men were here because of him.
Jonas’s head ached, a dull throbbing pain deep in his brain. Why was he able to stop that log and why did it cause such severe headaches? More questions that nagged at Jonas.
The newcomers helped bury Nogris and Beorth before the sun set and the darkness of night made it impossible to see. They dressed each other’s wounds next to a large warm fire built with the very clubs that caused so much destruction. Sal, Baylin, Jonas, Graggis, Dagrinal, and Jorm sat on one side facing Kiln and his eight woodsmen. They were all lean fighting men, most middle aged and several peaking even that.
After a quick meal of venison, cheese and water, Prince Baylin procured the letter that his father had written for Kiln.
“I thank you and your men for coming to our aid. How did you know we were here?” asked the prince.
“We did not. The giants have been getting bold and they have been raiding my cattle for food. We have been tracking them for several days and they led us to you,” answered Kiln, his voice low but resonant with authority.
“I see.” Baylin got up, handing the sealed parchment to Kiln. “Kiln, this letter was written by my father and given to me for safe keeping until I could find you. Now that I have found you, it is yours. It will explain our presence and our purpose.”