The Mad Giant (Shioni of Sheba Book 3) (15 page)

N
ightfall was deep and
mysterious up in the mountains, and bitterly cold. On a clear night in the high passes, snow could sometimes fall. On such a night, the stars were so brilliant it seemed one could almost reach up and pluck them as though they were diamonds nestled between folds of dark cloth.

It was the second night after the battle on the
Mesheha River. Shioni had drifted off to sleep trying not to think about how she might have earned her first proper whipping at Annakiya’s hand.

The touch of a blanket startle
d her into wakefulness. Shioni managed a muffled gasp. It seemed the only possible response to the fact that Talaku, looming over her like a shadowy crag, was the person pulling a blanket over her numb shoulders. Her captors had been remiss. Her chill was settled in the very marrow of her bones.

His bonds were gone, as were
her guards. No, there they were–sprawled senseless over the earthy mound they had been using for a pillow. They were clearly in no fit shape to protest what he was doing.

Talaku’s
thick fingers fumbled with the gag.

“Mmm?”

“If we could only keep the Fiuri this quiet,” he joked in a low whisper, “we’d know the meaning of peace. Peace… ah. That is denied me, in this life. That is why I must leave.”

Shioni’s eyes leaped about. How was it that Captain Dabir’s
watch could allow this? Or had he set a perimeter guard and left no-one awake amongst the sleeping warriors… the groans of an injured man reminded her of another reason why the camp was so subdued. A night bird called softly. It seemed even the cicadas were too depressed to sing, too horrified by the deaths and injuries that had been sustained.

“Pesky, thrice-darned knots!” Talaku settled for yank
ing the gag down to her neck, bruising her lip in the process. He fished a sodden mass out of her mouth. “What fools! Shioni, will you come with me?”

She worked her aching jaw.
“Talaku–”

“I know.
It would be unwise. I thought I might ask.”

Better
, then, that she left her answer unspoken. Shioni licked her lips and whispered, “Talaku, did you murder that villager? I have to know.” She might as well have slapped him. He sucked in a breath; let it out in a long hiss. “Don’t misunderstand me: I don’t think you did. I’m not saying you did. But Talaku–”

“But I’m a mad giant?”

Shioni took her turn to sigh. “I
worry
about you.”

She could barely feel her feet and fingers. Wasn’t it dangerous, having her blood stopped up for so long? She writhed uneasily upon the
hard dirt, trying to force some kind of feeling into her trussed limbs.

“
Mama Nomuula’s mother enough for me,” he chuckled. But in the darkness, his face was shadowed with emotions she could only guess at. “I did not murder that man. I’ve never touched a villager. Why should I? Well, save one loony old fellow who was lost. I help them against the Wasabi. The Wasabi tax them, you know. Cattle, goats, chickens–whatever they can get. And these people have nothing to begin with.”

“And the stealing
you do…?”

“
Did
. That was my last. I was desperate. My father made me promise. And… I don’t suffer out here, Shioni. Save from loneliness. The hunting is good along the Mesheha.”

She grinned up at him. “I noticed.”

“You are one tough cub. After all that’s been thrown your way, you’re still smiling.” He brushed a hank of hair out of the corner of her mouth. “That lion must think highly of you.”

“Anbessa? How do you–”

“The warriors. There was talk of nothing else around the fires this evening. How you walked down the hill, cool as a dewy morning, chatting to the biggest lion any warrior has ever seen. You didn’t hear because Dabir is planning to brand you a witch. Or asmati–you know, one of those troublemaking spirits the mountains people believe in. So he kept you apart from the rest of the camp.”

“Oh no.”

Talaku nodded. “Oh yes. It’s safe to say that particular secret is a secret no longer. That’s why I began to ask you–” he stopped and peered about like a wary animal before continuing, “–no, your place is in the castle. The General will take care of you.”

“I’m a bit scared… of your father.”

The giant laughed silently.

“What?
What?
”

“
You don’t know? Hilarious!”

Shioni glared at him, although she wasn’t angry in truth. “Stop cackling like a hyena and just tell me!”

“He has such a soft spot for you!” said the giant. “He won’t admit it–and don’t you go saying I told you–but I can see it in his eyes. He’s not as harsh as he might appear. Now, hush, I must make my escape.” He offered her the cloth again. “It must not seem as if we’ve spoken.”

With a groan, Shioni opened her mouth and let him press the material back in again. He pulled the loop back over her chin, bruising her lip a second time, and settled it between her teeth.

“I’ll be watching over you, Shioni,” he whispered. “Don’t you fear that coward Dabir. I plan to put the fear of the Almighty into him, just you wait and see.” He raised his forefinger to his lips. “Prepare to laugh–a lot. And if you get a chance, will you convince Anbessa I am not his enemy? He seems to think he and I are on growling terms only.”

She
waggled her eyebrows. She had been getting plenty of practice recently at communicating without the use of her mouth or hands.

The giant
tugged the blanket up to her neck, seeming torn, not wanting to leave. He patted her shoulder uneasily. But eventually he stood and, looming over her once more, said, “Walk strong, walk tall, and… you know where I live.”

Talaku disappeared
into the night like a cloud merging with its neighbour–living his Wasabi nickname, swallowed up by the shadows as though she had woken from a dream. For a huge man, he could move with the stealth of a sneak-thief when he wanted to. Not exactly an endearing skill, she decided. No wonder the Wasabi called him Metfo Dimmena! The evil cloud. The only problem with that nickname was that he was not evil, no matter what people thought. There was good in him. Good, fighting against his insanity… she shivered. God help him now.

Shioni laid her head on the hard ground and wriggled
as best she could, trying to find a position that had not already been prodded and bruised by rocks and sticks, or deadened by the tight ropes. Why did people pretend, anyway, that to feel numb was to feel no pain? Numbness had a peculiar type of pain all of its own! Be that as it may, her captors had not taken any care over finding her a place to sleep. But the blanket was lovely. She felt warmer already.

She
thanked Talaku silently for his thoughtfulness. A good man… a good giant! Mad, perhaps, but good… if only he did not lose his humanity to the dragon venom. Was he doomed to madness? Would he ever stop growing? And what about his comment about never having peace in this life? How unfair!

Sleep stole over her. She dreamed of Talaku striding over mountaintops and trampling villages.

W
aking, Shioni heard laughter
rippling through the Sheban camp. Surprised, she jerked and tried to roll over. Her abused arms and shoulders quickly told her what they thought of having spent another night lashed together like the ridgepoles of a hut. She groaned. She was stiff, cold, sore, and still in trouble… but why were the men laughing?

The two warriors who were supposed to be guarding her, rubbing their sore heads, were nevertheless
staring over to her left, where the commotion had arisen.

A
shriek split the damp morning air, “Who stole my clothes? Who?”

“
Holy mother of God!” gasped one of the warriors. “It’s Captain Dabir!”

“He’s as naked as–”

“You have to see this!” declared the first, striding over to Shioni and starting to pull her upright.

The other stopped him, “No she doesn’t!
And, he’s as ugly as sin. Ugh!”

He
dumped Shioni unceremoniously upon the ground. But she did not mind. Not one bit. Her sides began to shake. Talaku! You great, galumphing idiot! He was as subtle as a wild hippopotamus with a toothache.

Ho
ots of laughter surrounded Captain Dabir. Shioni could hear him storming up and down, screaming, ranting, and spitting out threats, demanding to know who the culprit was; but the more incensed and demanding he became, the more the warriors split their sides laughing. Nobody seemed inclined to help.

Eventually, a voice she recognised as Tariku’s claimed to be able to show Captain Dabir what was left of his uniform. “Get dressed, sir,” urged the voice. “Here’s a spare–”

“I am
not
wearing someone else’s clothes! I am–what? What kind of a sick joke is this? They’ve been shredded! Somebody shredded my clothes!”

“Now, now, sir–”

“I will not be spoken to like a child! It’s that witch, that girl-witch, I tell you!”

“She has been tied up
all night, sir–”

“She made the baboons do it!” shrieked the Captain. “She made them!”

“Baboons do not leave giant-sized footprints around your bedroll. Sir.”

“
The giant escaped?” Dabir’s voice faded. Then, with less conviction, he cried, “She helped him! She must have!”

“Why don’t we get you dressed, sir?”

Shioni was laughing so hard, it hurt. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Two hours later, she had finished laughing, but was no less sore. It was the start of her third day in the saddle, and her third day of being treated
as if she were the most dangerous of prisoners. At least her hands had been retied–Tariku’s doing. She wiggled her fingers. Much better. She could actually feel them now. But the warrior was too handy with a rope by far. She was heartily tired of being gagged, and sick of all the looks from the warriors, even though many seemed sympathetic–at least a little!

The battered column marched down
the pass on the flank of Ras Dejen, obscured in a cloud that clung to one side of the mountain but not the other. The weather was otherwise fine. Even belaboured as the column was with wounded warriors, and depleted of those who would never return to their homes, they moved quickly now–making Shioni wonder if the Sheban force was anxious to be home and put their memories of the abortive raid behind them. Without any further delays, they might even be back at Castle Hiwot by nightfall, she thought. What would the General say? And Annakiya? How would she welcome her thieving, runaway slave-girl?

Wrapped
up in her pensive thoughts, Shioni did not at first notice a new arrival. But she soon tuned an ear to the hubbub, to tempers rising in the mist.

Thunder twitched his ears in a way Shioni had learned meant he was about to make an important announcement. “It’s your friend Kifle,” he duly
revealed. “The human who runs like a horse.”

“Umm?”

“And that, if I’m not mistaken, is the gait of General Getu’s mount.”

“Umm-hmm!”

“I’d wager a lovely bucket of warm mash and all the salt I could eat for a month, that you are about to be released,” said Thunder, with a showy flick of his mane. “Want to bet on it?”

Shioni chuckled into her gag. What c
ould she do? Whatever happened now, happened. She was so grateful to Thunder for his unfailing kindness toward her. Clearly, he was on her side! If horses could only speak… well, he could, but nobody would take
her
word for it now, would they?

“Good. Bet accepted then,
” Thunder nickered cheerfully, swivelling his head to gauge her reaction with a roving eye. “Did I forget to tell you that Tariku sent Kifle off right after the battle to take his report to the General? Without Captain Dabir’s permission? Your ill-discipline is catching, say I. In the best possible way.”

“Mmm!”

“Temper, temper. You can thank me later. And don’t forget the mash–lashings of mash.”

Shi
oni tried to pull a face at him; however, it was rather spoiled by all the cloth padding her cheeks. Her half-hearted glower seemed to amuse Thunder no end. He was making all too much fun of her predicament.

But a ray of light as gentle and warming as the sun peeking over the hills had begun to steal into her heart.

What did all this mean?

The voices
moved closer, still sparring, but the side she recognised as General Getu’s characteristic growl was winning the argument. In short order, she found herself surrounded by General Getu and most of the Captains of the Elite warriors of Sheba. A visibly chagrined Captain Dabir was whining non-stop behind the General, until he raised his hand with a chopping gesture and snarled, “Do us all a favour, Dabir. Shut your backchat!”

Shioni’s cheeks burned furiously, but
as the General surveyed her sorry state–stained clothes, tied hands, hair hanging in filthy knots about her face, legs lashed to the saddle and cheeks bulging over the gag–his eyes appeared to develop a lively twinkle in their depths. She suspected he would have loved to tease her mercilessly, but instead, under all the eyes of his warriors, he had to fall back on his role as General. He barked, “Will someone cut the wretched slave-girl loose?”

Tariku rushed to obey.

“Shioni,” said the General, shaking his head from side to side as though he were an old donkey plodding along a road. “Shioni, Shioni… Shioni. What can I say?”

“Hmm?”

“The Princess of Sheba has ordered me to return you to Castle Hiwot, in one piece, to face her undeniable wrath.” Shioni rubbed her chafed wrists. But with her mouth still stuffed to bursting, she was unable to make a reply. Perhaps that was all for the better. “Personally, I find you difficult, disobedient, rebellious, and all too stubborn for your own good. You stole a state secret and the King’s horse, and consorted with an accused murderer. Yet, every last one of these warriors standing here today has you to thank for their lives.”

Finally! She yanked the foul cloth
out of her mouth and threw it on the ground. Her legs were still tied to Thunder, but that hardly mattered. Shioni waggled her aching jaw, gingerly. “
Gashe
,” she said, using the term of highest respect for his station, “I’m sorry I disobeyed your orders. I would have found it easier to bear had you given them to me openly.”

General Getu leaned
close. His one remaining eyebrow crawled into his scarred hairline. In a firm whisper, he said, “Don’t you try the old verbal double-edged sword on a master of the art, Shioni.” But his eye closed in a slow wink. “Not until you’re a General too, alright?”

She blurted out,
“My Lord, about Talaku. Surely his actions–”

“Talaku is no longer accused
,” Getu said, watching her response intently. “The village boy eloped with his girlfriend. They have returned safely and are now officially man and wife. A group of
very
sheepish village elders came to give us that little gem yesterday.”

Her heart swelled so much within her throat that not a word would emerge.
Shioni wiped her eyes and tried to clear her throat with a cough.

“
Now, to more important matters.” Turning to the Captains, he raised his arm aloft and cried, “Warriors of Sheba! I give you Shioni, our Champion!”

“SHIONI!” they roared in approval, crashing their swords and spears against their shields. “SHIONI
OF SHEBA!”

“It wasn’t only me!” Shioni protested. But she was unable to make herself heard above the din. “I had help… Talaku and Thunder…”

“A truer warrior and a worthier soul Sheba shall never know,” General Getu added quietly, beneath the clamour. Then, making Shioni jump, he bellowed at full battlefield volume, “Why are we still standing around on this mountain? Let’s go home!”

As the gathering dissolved, Shioni
glanced across at Captain Dabir to find him regarding her with such naked hatred, she imagined he must want to thrust an iron spear through her heart. Dabir instantly smoothed the expression off his face, however, whirled on his heel, and appeared to shudder as if fighting an urge to throw up. The Captain had a knack for revenge–as she well knew! Now she would have to watch her back doubly well…

Thunder
lurched into motion. She grabbed for the reins, crying, “Easy, son of the desert!”

But the
great Arabian would not be withheld, not even with her sawing at the reins with all of her strength. Flattening his ears and snorting like a furious warthog, Thunder surged forward and sank his teeth with the greatest relish right into the seat of Captain Dabir’s trousers.