Miranda's Giants, Chapters 11-13

Chapter 11: A Vague Plan

Ian hurried out of the cottage, trying to keep his mind from processing fully the meaning of its wrecked state. Someone had been there recently, he could see at a glance, and that was all he thought about. As he stood outside, watching the moonlight frolic in the grass with the wind, he wondered. Where would his children have gone from here? It was unlike Miranda’s sensible self to wandering off into unknown places, and even Zeke could not talk her into such a wild idea. There was only one logical, if ugly, explanation: they had been carried off by someone or something that did not want them roaming freely about here. He crouched down in the shadow of the house, wary of being himself caught, scanning the landscape for any sign of who that might have been. Off to his right, a swift movement caught his eye. Twisting his head, he ran his eyes over the place where he had seen the movement. Nothing.
Then, without warning, a tall figure shrouded in a cloak loomed in front of him. He had been seen! It was strike now or be cornered. He drew his knife and blasted out of hiding straight at the stranger. The figure twisted away, drawing a sword that glinted white in the moonlight. His hood fell back and his green eyes sparked.
“Drop your weapons and explain yourself!” the cloaked figure commanded. Ian stood still, too stunned to move. “Unless you wish to be struck down as an enemy,” Ian could almost he a smile in his voice, “for as it stands, you are at a severe disadvantage, armed only with a dagger.”
Finally Ian found his voice, and he laughed out loud with relief. “Shade, you old rogue! Fancy you being here now! Do you consider me an enemy or can I keep my knife?”
“Ah.” Shade did not seem surprised as he sheathed his sword. “No my friend, keep your blade. You will need it. But come. I was just looking for you. I desired your help with something.”
“Listen, Shade, you wouldn’t happen to have seen two children here lately? A girl about fifteen years old – the picture of your sister – and a stocky boy who looks like he could be her younger brother? I think they came through the chink somehow, but I’m a poor tracker and need your skills to find them.”
Shade smiled. “Come with me.” He led Ian rapidly back to the camp, weaving between sleeping bodies, beyond to where a slight girl lay curled in a ball, one arm beneath her head. She had changed much in the week that had passed over her, but he still knew her.
“Miranda!” he whispered as relief engulfed him. The girl stirred, murmuring in her sleep, and opened her eyes.
“Dad? How did you get here? Oh, right, another dream… I’m so tired.” She mumbled incoherently, and was rolling back over when her father touched her shoulder. She jerked awake more fully and looked up at him. Yes, it was her father, and there was Shade behind him. This was no dream. She sat up. “Really?” He nodded, smiling, and she scrambled up into his arms. “I have a long story,” she said, and added in his ear, “I told Shade about –” She didn’t need to say more. They both understood.
The sound of Zeke’s big feet flapped up behind them. “Dad? Is that you?” he asked aloud in astonishment, and Miranda winced. She heard men waking and some leaping to their feet.
“You must be careful when and where you speak aloud in this place, Zeke, but yes, it’s me.” His father said, holding out an arm for his son.
“It matters not this time,” Shade said. “I intended to wake them anyway, for we must move fast.” He blew a sharp whistle through his teeth and the camp became a beehive of action.
In a few minutes, all sleep was banished from the eyes of the men, and they gathered around Shade in the moonlight, only whispers passing among them. Shade raised a hand and silence enfolded the crowd.
“You have all labored hard yesterday, braving the brink of death, and I thank you all on behalf of this kingdom for everything you’ve done. Yet I wake you from your well-earned sleep this night. Why? Because of an unspoken fear that all is not right in the city, and that something terrible has happened to our prince. Where he is, and why he did not come against his own word,” Ian drew in a sharp breath but said nothing, and Shade went on, “I have no absolute proof for. I have a suspicion, a very dark suspicion, that fits with the other facts. As you know, my niece Miranda was kept under guard for several days, and on the night of the last, an attempt was made on her life.” This time it was Miranda who gasped, and felt her father’s arm tighten around her shoulders. “For years the king has been resistant to any proposed move against the goblins, and now, when the hope of their final destruction walks through the gates, soldiers try to kill her, the prince fails a tryst and messages on her count go dead. The king, as always, is ready to break the oath swore to her blood nigh on a score of years ago. Know you what oath that was?” He scanned the faces, painted white in the dim glow of the moon. Most stood slack-jawed and staring in disbelief. A few, mostly belonging to the younger class, looked mystified, waiting merely for the magician to whisk away the curtain and make everything clear. Steffan the commander coughed a little and spoke.
“You – you surely don’t mean the one he made to you and your sister, and that man over there. Not the time you saved him and the queen from that… that awful plot for their lives and…” He trailed off, and Shade nodded.
“Yes, that one. As documented in the royal archives, there is one line that is very interesting, considering his moves against Miranda. ‘To these three, and all of their blood and family, I pledge full safety, refuge and aid in times of opposition and tragedy, and honor and thanks in times of joy and feasting’.” He paused, watching the men’s eyes grow bigger. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly consider my niece – Ian’s daughter – ‘blood and family’. So why, then, is he so intent to destroy her? And where is his own son? Let us return to the castle with all speed and see what may be seen.”
“What do you expect to find, Shade?” Ian asked. “You don’t think the prince is,” he hesitated, “is dead, do you?”
“No, but I do not think it will be easy to enter. I do not foresee the king granting flippant entrance to errant soldiers, much less to me.” His lips twitched and he glanced at Miranda. Her mind flashed back to that day in the throne room, remembered the murder and fear in the king’s eyes, and she shook her head.
“What we know,” Shade said, addressing the men again, “is that whether it is the king, the prince, the people, the goblins, or some other force of whose existence we are at the moment ignorant, whatever the cause is, something is fundamentally wrong back at the city.” There was an uneasy murmur from the men. “Shall we find out what it is?” Shade asked.
A shout of agreement was raised in the night. “We may have to take it by storm,” Shade remarked mildly. The cheers abruptly died, and the soldiers seemed unsure, glancing to their commander.
“We’re with you whatever you plan, Shade,” Steffan declared.
Shade inclined his head. “I thank you, commander, in the name of the true king and for the sake of the prince.”
So beneath that brilliant moon, the confused but stout-hearted remnants of the small army set out to besiege their home.

Chapter 12: Storm The Tower!

Dawn had broken thick and gray, with mist like ghosts wandering in the plain. The sky was forbiddingly black and the wind, soft yet forceful, was a whispered threat when the castle loomed before them. The gate was closed and barred securely. Not a man greeted them from gate or wall, and an ominous silence hung over the whole town.
“Just as I feared,” Shade said, nodding to the wall.
“Maybe they’re just afraid of a goblin raid,” Miranda said unconvincingly.
“Watch.” He strode up to the gate and knocked hard.
The small opening high in the gate slid open and a vaguely familiar voice spoke. “Who goes there?” It was the guard Shade had called Wilbur on her first visit here.
“You know me, Wilbur, and doubtless you guess our business. I am here to see the prince.”
“Oh,” Wilbur sounded uncertain. “I’m sorry Shade, but I’m not to let any in or out for any reason whatever.”
“It is not customary for Wanderers to be refused entrance,” Shade’s tone made Wilbur shift uncomfortably on the other side of the opening.
“I have my orders. I can’t let you in.”
Steffan pushed forward and glared at the guard through the grating. “I am head commander of the second division in the king’s royal army. Surely you will not dare to have the gall to turn me away?”
“I can’t disobey my orders. The king would hang me!” Wilbur slammed the grate closed.
Shade chuckled. “Less of a risk than he realizes. You can’t blame him, though. So,” he said, turning to the ranks of yellow-surcoated soldiers and gray-cloaked Wanderers, “we must get within the walls in order to reach the tower. Yet the guard will not let us in.” He paused, and Miranda realized he had prepared this far should such an incident happen and already had a plan. Shade spoke softly to the commander, who nodded, but no one else could catch the words.
“Dad?” Miranda whispered, “Can Zeke and I go in too? I mean, I know it’s dangerous and all that, but there isn’t exactly any place where we would be safe and, well, I want to follow through, to the end.”
“Nowhere safe unless I could get you to Lady Deja, and she is far away with her people.” Her father hesitated, thinking, not seeing the surprise and confusion on her face. “If you both promise to stay close to either me or Shade and keep out of the action as much as possible, you can come along,” he said at last.
“Thanks, Dad! I promise.”
“Yeah, I promise.” Zeke echoed.
“I’m not sure what Shade plans to do,” her father began, but even as he spoke, the Wanderers, like ghostly ants in the mist, moved to the wall and climbed silently up the rough stones. At the same time, Steffan strode to the gate and pounded with all his might, gesturing for his men to follow suit, bawling insults at the guards and threatening to break down the gate if they did not let him in.
“A diversion!” Miranda and Ian exclaimed together.
“A what? Oh, right! Smar-ret!” Zeke said in awe. Miranda grinned.
A shout came from the gatehouse followed by silence. Steffan abruptly ceased his pounding and stepped back. The gate was unbolted and flung open, and the Wanderer now standing inside gave an exaggerated bow to the waiting soldiers and led them into the town. Even as they stepped into the streets, Miranda and Zeke keeping just behind their father, the sky cracked. Lightning exploded in the sky and thunder roared about them. The city looked so different now. Miranda vividly remembered it so white and sunny on her previous visit, filled with the smells of a market and looking just like a little piece of Rome. But this was creepy. Illuminated by the erratic lightning light, she could see the streets were deserted, all the stands taken down, everything drenched in the pounding rain that slopped about her feet and for once tamed her belligerent hair. The whole place had an eerie quality, and if any city could be haunted, Miranda thought, this was it right now. She couldn’t believe that this frightening place was the same as the picturesque town she had passed through mere days ago. Ahead, the tower looked like some sort of barbaric temple.
Fleet slapping in the rain-filled streets, they gained the protection of the overhang. “Alright,” said the commander, looking grimly at his men, “now for the real dirty work. We’re going to break in here, and spread throughout the tower. Remember, our main duty is to find the prince. This is no time to decide sides or pick fights with traitors. If you encounter anyone, get them to join you, or if they will not, take them prisoner. If you must, knock them out like old Wilbur there. Whoever finds the prince, give one loud whistle. If anyone is in need of help, whistle twice. Search the castle from top to bottom, leaving no room unsearched, from kitchen to turret to dungeon to royal apartments.”
“I and my men will take the throne room, commander,” Shade said calmly, “I have business there. With the king,” he added, his voice making Miranda tense and straighten up. What did he mean?
The commander looked slightly confused, but shrugged. “Whatever you want, Shade.”
Shade looked keenly at Ian. “Will you come with me, brother?”
“Of course. Are you sure you need all the Wanderers?” Ian asked.
“Those who wish to join in the search elsewhere are welcome to,” Shade said as he aimed a skillful kick at the paneled wood door. It rattled, and there was a metallic grind. “But if my suspicions are correct, we may wish we had more than a score, for those who come with me will have their hands full.” He gave the door a second kick. There was a click, and it swung inward.
“With what?” Ian asked, raising his voice to compete with the soldiers’ as they charged shouting in.
“Goblins,” Shade said matter-of-factly.

Chapter 13: Battle in the Throne Room

The white stone hall with its turquoise-framed palms and bamboo mat looked to Miranda like the set in a play; comical, fake, and out of place. Shouts echoed, and in the rush of men she almost lost sight of her father. She grabbed his rain-slicked jacket and held out her hand behind her to Zeke. They halted at the end of the hall before the throne room door. The guards must have either fled or joined Steffan’s men. The Wanderers gathered silently, shoulder to shoulder, behind Shade, Ian and the children. As Miranda collected herself together, she realized suddenly that in the close confines of the throne room, her bow would be useless, and anyway, she had no arrows. A glance at Zeke confirmed her fear that he too bore no weapon. He was still in his sweat pants and old Apple tee-shirt, of course, not knowing he would stumble into another world.
“Leave the bows,” Shade called softly to the ranks of men. “They won’t help us, but only hinder. Cloaks too.” There was a soft rustling as men unclasped cloaks, unshouldered bows and quivers, and passed them to the back. Miranda took off hers and her father unslung his, and they passed them back too. A man took all the things and slid them into a niche, practically burying the small sapling in it. Shade nodded in satisfaction and glanced at Ian. “Ready, brother?”
Ian drew his knife and smiled. “If I were, I would be one of the wisest of men.” He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it with remarkable accuracy into the niche. “But lead on.”
Shade glanced over shoulder, scanning the men. They were set, strong, prepared to fight. “Ready?” he asked. The men drew their swords with a united swish. Shade drew his own and reached for the handle.
“You alright, Miranda?” Zeke asked.
She realized that her fists were clenched so tightly that the nails bit into her palms and though her whole body was taut as a bowstring, she was trembling. Too clearly she remembered her last brush with the king, and Shade expected goblins on the other side of this door. She could still feel their clammy hands and dull, loam-colored scales. In her mind’s eye she saw them, just as she had when they took her prisoner: their shining red eyes, long pointed noses curving over their wide mouths, and bat-like ears. She swallowed, shrugged at Zeke’s question, hesitated, then nodded, slowly unclenching her hands and taking a deep breath.
Shade opened the door, and Miranda, peering around his shoulder, saw only the king, huddled on his heap of cushions. He rose as they entered, and his voice was chill as her addressed the Wanderer.
“How did you get in here? I assume it is your ruffians that seek to ransack the tower, by the sounds of it. Why do you come?”
Shade stepped forward, and Miranda saw once again the man beneath the surface, the Shade that was frightening in his calm sternness. She felt she wouldn’t like it at all if Shade was looking at her the way he was looking at the king now. “I, my followers and friends, have come to settle the matter of a broken oath. Surely your eyes and memory have failed you so much that you do not recognize Ian Castor, who first uncovered the plot for your son’s life so many years ago, nor his daughter, whom you tried to murder contrary to your pledge, nor see in the boy the kinship between them. Do you recall my last words to you after you took the girl?”
The king shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. “And what was that, pray? Refresh my memory.”
Shade’s voice was sharp as a knife. “‘Beware! Do not dare treachery. When you see me again, I will bring the end with me.’ I say again, beware.”
“An end to what, may I ask?” The king asked scathingly.
“An end to your so-called reign of tyranny,” Shade said calmly; “an end to the lies and deceit with which you have for long years blinded the eyes and minds of the people who believed you to be their rightful king. I denounce you as a traitor, murderer, usurper, consorter with goblins, betraying your own by ruling the goblins and releasing your people into their power, and claim the prince and heir of this realm, Natyan, Juno the Wanderer, and others as yet unnamed for their protection, as witnesses of what I know with certainty that you have done, which may be discussed at your trial. By the laws of this land, you are subject to the penalties laid out by King Aadain, declaring your kind to be worthy of death.”
The king’s face was red and contorted with outrage, or was it angry fear? He sputtered, but Shade interrupted him before he could speak.
“I served you for more than five-and-twenty years. I would not willingly slay my sworn lord, traitor though he be. So I give you a choice: fly or die. You may escape now, leaving this kingdom, never to return, and live what is left as your life as the outlaw traitor you are. But stay, and those who once called you king will be duty-bound to strike you down.” The Wanderers moved to either side of the doorway, making way for the king should he choose to run. Miranda stared at her father, standing at the foot of the dais, and Shade, a step down from the top, eye to eye with the king. What was he planning? Let a traitor go, and he will betray again; let a murderer go, and he will murder again; let a rebel go, and he will rebel again, the old saying chanted in her mind, echoing from the passed in her mother’s soft voice. But let a changed man go, and he will be new again. Somehow, though, Miranda didn’t think the king was a turn-over-a-new-leaf sort. She glanced around the room, checking for emergency escapes or something to use as a weapon if it came to a fight. There was something in the air, something that worried her. Maybe it was the look on the king’s face, or an unidentified smell, thought it was hard to smell anything through all the incense curling up around them, or maybe it was simply that her nerves were on edge from the strain of the last few days. A tapestry on her left near the dais rippled. The movement spread, and as she watched in horror, they seemed to come alive.
Miranda screamed. Shade turned, caught sight of the moving tapestries, and called an order to his men. Two horribly familiar figures stepped onto the dais: Jack and Andy, two of the goblins who had first captured her. Andy’s eye was still black and swollen from one of her wild punches on that night. She swung around. The Wanderers were holding the door, but there must have been more than fifty goblins fighting them. She looked back. Shade and her father were back to back, fighting at least another dozen goblins on the dais. She couldn’t see the king. More goblins poured from behind the tapestries. How many more could there be?
She grabbed Zeke’s arm. “The incense stands! Knock them over! It’ll slow them. They’re terribly clumsy.”
Zeke caught on. “Smar-ret!” He threw all his weight against the closest one. It toppled, falling against the next one and the next, taking down four like dominos before the last one fell short. Zeke leapt across to the other side to do the same.
Miranda ran to the wall and jerked a torch from its bracket, its heat singeing her hand. “Let’s see how you jack-in-the-boxes like fire!” she shouted, and plunged it into the tapestry.