John Smith--nee Willek--felt the seismic vibrations almost at the same instant as his guide dog, Lorraine D'Alsace (who whined, apprehensively).
"Yes, girl. I know!" he murmured, soothingly: "Something tells me a lot of secrets will be laid bare, tonight. Secrets just as thunderous as those strides."
Two minutes later, there was a knock at the front door of the gatehouse. Lorraine took her companion to it, and he opened it just as easily as any one with normal sight.
"Put him over on the couch," he told the youngsters without preamble, as they half-carried/half-dragged Toray into the living room. Willek was not far behind them and, when they stepped out of his way, he bent forward and placed his right hand on Toray's forehead.
"He's fine," came the pronouncement, moments later: "No internal injuries. Just plain exhaustion. He's been on the run, up and down these steep foothills, since sunset."
"From those three Osiri?" asked Michael.
"From the much larger force they were accompanying," Willek replied.
"Now, look...!" Sandy started to complain, finally losing all patience.
"I know, my dear. I know. Landor will explain everything. But, in his defense, it's going to be a long story. So, Lorraine and I will go into the kitchen, and fix up some instant lemonade to quench everyone's thirst. Come, girl!"
Once they were alone, Michael gestured to one of two matching arm chairs separated from the couch by the almost obligatory coffee table.
"OK!" began Michael: "For starters? My real name is Landor Golarson. And, the reason why I like sci-fi and fantasy flicks, so much, is simple. I come from a parallel-Earth! One where the North American continent developed along radically different lines."
He paused, in case Sandy had any questions. She only had one.
"Define 'radically.' "
Michael half-smiled: "The harsh northern portion of the continent is inhabited by a red-haired/blue-eyed race called the Wotani. While the arid southern plains are home to nomadic clans of polygamous horsemen (with black hair and brown eyes) called the Osiri. In between them, along the temperate eastern coast, are a blue-skinned race known only as the Azulings. Neither of the other two races knows their true name, because the Azulings, themselves, claim its unpronouncable by either!"
Michael went on to describe how, for the longest time, there was no contact, at all, between the Wotani and the Osiri. Except, of course, through the trading caravans of Azuling merchants. But, eventually, the Wotani began expanding southward; the Osiri, northward; and the Azulings, westward.
"It wasn't exactly what you might call 'peaceful co-existence.' The Osiri live by--and for--raiding. And, they raided Wotani farms and settlements more often than they did Azuling ones. A race war was increasingly imminent! Then, Xamurep--Patriarch of the Azulings--had an idea."
Before the Azulings had unified themselves, they had been divided into war-like tribal factions. And, on certain occasions, to avoid what most of the tribal leaders regarded as needless bloodshed, they would exchange their wives with each other!
"By one leader having children, via another leader's wife, it made the two rival factions related by blood. Which would, in turn, inevitably make each faction reluctant to _spill_ that blood. And, that's precisely what happened with the wives of Golar I (High King of the Wotani) and Nahrog (First Chief of Chiefs of the Osiri)."
Golar's Queen Vara, agreed to the exchange. As did Mairhee, Nahrog's First-Among-Wives. Nine months later, the Great Exchange began bearing fruit! Much to the satisfaction of all...save one.
"Who was the sour grape?" asked Sandy.
"Nahrog's twin brother, Ashrog. As First-Among-Warriors (a.k.a. Nahrog's second-in command), he was what you might call an automatic 'babe-magnet.' But, there was only one woman he was seriously hot for: his sister-in-law, Mairhee. She had chosen to marry Nahrog over him. And, it rankled him! He just couldn't accept the fact that he wasn't irresistible to literally all women."
"Heh!" snorted Sandy: "Sounds a lot like Wes."
"With one major difference," corrected Michael: "Wes can't summon hundreds of thousands of high school football players to his cause!"
In Ashrog's case; he used his military influence to not only step up Osiri raids against Wotani civilians. He even led some of those raids, himself. Shamelessy violating the terms of the Great Exchange.
"Finally," said Michael: "...Nahrog had had enough. He called Ashrog before the Inter-clan Council, to take him to task. And, Ashrog admitted to the charges with perverse pride. He then accused Nahrog of being a pro-Azuling boot-licker! And, among the Osiri, there's almost no greater insult. In this case, it prompted Nahrog to jump to his feet in anger. Leaving him completely vulnerable to a club-knife in the back."
That treacherous act of murder was the signal for all of Ashrog's supporters to come charging out of hiding. They massacred everyone on the Council that Ashrog deemed loyal to his brother. While Ashrog, himself, when after his mixed-blood niece and nephew.
"Their mother, Vara, tried her best to defend them. But, she was almost killed herself. It was only through the intervention of her ten year-old stepson, Rojar, that she escaped at all!"
"How old were you, at the time?" asked Sandy.
"Just over a year. So, most of what you've just heard came from Vara and Rojar. Better known to you...as Lucy and Martin Smith."
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
GOODSON ACADEMY
(10:21 P.M./EST)
(10:21 P.M./EST)