getting to that.” Bercola took a sip from her steaming cup. “I was swimming hard toward the bank when one of the crocs caught me by the leg. A big bastard it was, and every time I got out of the water it dragged me back. Jaws like a damned vise.”
Her jaw tightened, and Lydia thought she must be remembering the pain.
“Figured I was done for, then twang!” She half-shouted the word and all the girls jumped. “Arrow straight into the beast’s eye. And I looked up to find the High Lord himself, bow in hand. Without saying a damned word, he came down and pried the beast’s jaws open and then dragged me up the bank, all his soldiers watching on. I was certain that they’d do their best to extract what information they needed and then string me up—but he just walked away.”
“That’s it?” Lena demanded. “But how—”
“Quiet!” all the girls shouted, including Lydia, and Bercola lifted her teacup in salute.
“I watched him walk away while I bled into the mud and I shouted after him, ‘Finish the job, you Mudamorian coward!’”
All the girls leaned forward. “What did he say?” Lydia finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“He said,” Bercola replied, taking a long pause, “that anyone who fought that hard to live deserved the chance to do so.”
That sounds like something Killian would say, Lydia thought. Like something Killian would do.
“At any rate, the gods in their infinite mercy decided not to take my soul that day or in the days after, leaving me with the predicament of owing a life debt to a Mudamorian. So once I recovered, I had to track him down and explain as much. He told me the only thing he had need for was a bodyguard for his youngest son, and I, in my infinite foolishness, didn’t question why he’d struggled to find someone willing to take the job. In hindsight, I should’ve let the crocodile eat me.”
All the girls laughed, but Lydia was still curious. “Why do the giants go to war so frequently?” She’d heard that it was because they had vile, aggressive tempers, but Bercola had anything but.
“Because it’s good fun chopping off Mudamorian heads.”
Lydia eyed the giantess for a long moment and then shook her head. “What’s the true reason, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Allowing Lena to fill her teacup, Bercola stared at the contents for a long moment, then shrugged. “We do it to celebrate the marking of a new summoner.”
All the girls were paying attention now. Gespurn only marked giants, much as Madoria only marked the Maarin, and from what Lydia could determine, the nature of those marks was not well understood by those outside the two peoples.
“There are never more than twenty-four summoners alive at any given time,” Bercola continued. “When one passes on to the gods, a year must always pass until another is marked by Gespurn. In that year, we are mandated to be vigilant, lest the winds over the Endless Seas rise while our summoners are weakened. Only when the twenty-fourth is marked are we allowed to turn our spears to sport.”
Lydia shivered at the mention of the winds over the Endless Seas. Or the lack thereof. In Celendor, they called the stretches running north to south the doldrums. They were what prevented the Empire from exploring the limits of the Endless Seas—likely all that had kept them from discovering the existence of the Dark Shores. The Colleges believed them naturally occurring, albeit inexplicable, phenomena, but hearing Bercola’s words made Lydia suspect it was the work of Gespurn and his Marked.
Shaking her head to clear away the thought, Lydia asked, “Is twenty-four a significant number?”
Bercola shrugged. “On Eoten Isle, it is said that there must be balance between the gods, and thus there must be balance between the Marked.” She set aside her cup. “Hegeria’s mark is strong but is tempered by the great toll it takes, so she is generous with her gift. Yara and Lern grant untempered power to their Marked, and thus are more moderate in their gifting. Madoria gifts her chosen with the ability to breathe under the sea, but also to manipulate it, which has far-reaching effects. But to command the elements? To be able to turn the skies into a weapon? That is a vast power for one individual to hold.”
Lydia frowned. “It makes a certain sense, but what of Tremon’s mark?” All eyes shifted to her, so she added quickly, “Not that