Chapter 7

All day, Vera was pampered and waited upon beyond any degree she had previously known. She had hoped to speak with the queen about the so-called “crusade” in the works but Elfwina was nowhere to be found. Her majesty was attending to other matters of state, perhaps meeting with her war council to discuss the giantess’s role in the assault on the North. Vera sighed and went back to enjoying the feast and entertainments the Southerners had prepared for her. The war could wait.

One of the more amusing diversions had been a play performed by the little people on the armrest of the throne. It was a sort of passion play, a reenactment of a story from their holy books. Most of the actors played ancestors and ancient royalty while a woman on stilts played the role of the Goddess. Even towering above the rest of the troupe, with a long white robe draping down to cover the long wooden legs, the lady could not hope to match Vera’s lofty height. Still, the illusion was sufficient for their purposes.

As the sun began to set, Vera was escorted to the ancient chambers of the Goddess. The room was built into the side of a mountain a few miles outside the city. A natural cave system had been expanded and excavated, creating a makeshift living space for She-Who-Is-All. Once again, Vera had to clear away a few cobwebs and a layer of dust that were too high for the Piconoreans to reach. But for the most part, the apartment was in readiness, prepared for the eventual second coming of the Southrons’ deity.

There was a bed (of sorts) constructed from a shelf of rock that extended out from the wall. Another tapestry of sewn-together pillows and cushions provided padding for Vera to rest on and a burlap tent had been filled with thousands of goose feathers to create a makeshift pillow. There were ancient-looking tankards and cups which she could fill from the underground stream inside the mountain. A side chamber had been converted into a miniature larder and filled with foodstuffs harvested by the people. Ceramic plates as wide as a village square were stacked neatly in a corner, untouched since the elder days. There were even a few dusty books on a high shelf of stone. Most were written in Middle English and beautifully illustrated in the illuminated medieval style. Though the spellings were foreign, Vera found that she could figure out the majority of the words.

Overall, it was the most at home she had felt since arriving on the island. True, everything was old and crumbling but at least she would no longer need to sleep in a courtyard or an open field. She could relax in comfort without fear of crushing someone’s house if her sleep was fitful.

A cluster of servants looked up at her obediently from floor level. “Is there anything else you will need, my lady?”

“No, thank you,” she said, peering down with amusement at the tiny forms standing before her toes. “I think I’ll be fine.”

The serving-men nodded and bowed deeply before the giantess. They mounted their little horses and galloped out of the cave into the gathering twilight.

When she was certain she was alone, Vera pulled open the cup of her bikini top. Lord Fallowmark was still there but the minuscule nobleman was fast asleep, snuggled against her bosom. She almost hated to wake him. Almost.

Vera reached in and plucked the little man up with two fingers. “Hey, Ozzy. You can come out now.”

Osric Fallowmark blinked sleepily and muttered to himself. “Huh? Wuzzah? Wh-where am I?” He snapped back to alertness and glared at the giant woman. “You! Again you imprison me with your colossal teats! It’s indecent and barbaric! You can’t treat a Commander of the Republican Guard like this, you half-clothed heathen!”

Vera frowned and brought Fallowmark closer to her face. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord,” she snarled sarcastically. “Where would you prefer to ride? Up my nose? Or inside my mouth?” She snapped her huge teeth a few inches from his face, giving Fallowmark a start. “Maybe I could slip you under my tongue like a lozenge. Or, hey, I could just stuff you up my butt. Would that be better?”

Fallowmark cringed but said nothing. “No? Didn’t think so,” Vera continued. “There are worse places on the human body that a giant pair of boobs, Ozzy. Some guys would actually count themselves lucky to be where you just were.”

“I assure you, madam, the reality is far more sweaty and unpleasant than the fantasy,” Fallowmark shot back.

“Whatever,” said Vera. “Just be glad I’m letting you tag along. If these people had their way, you’d be a sacrifice gobbled up with my evening meal.”

“Indeed,” Fallowmark said, drumming his fingers in annoyance against her thumbnail. “Enjoying the worship and adoration of the masses, are you, great ‘goddess’? How long can you keep up this charade?”

“Oh hush up, pipsqueak,” Vera told him. She grabbed a tall ceramic cup from a nearby shelf and dropped Fallowmark into it. The walls were too tall and smooth for the little man to climb out. As an afterthought, she tore a tiny pillow off of the cushions of the bed and dropped it into the cup as well.

“Get some sleep,” she said, setting the cup on a makeshift stone table beside the bed.

“Sleep? What do you think I’ve been doing all day while you kept me imprisoned?! Let me out of here at once!” he bellowed. “This constant abuse will not stand, you horrid beast! Oi, giant, I’m talking to you!”

Vera sighed and picked up the cup once again. She placed it instead on the highest shelf of the cave, next to a weathered old manuscript and some decaying sewing equipment. When she returned to the bed, she was pleased to find that Fallowmark’s squeaky cries were almost inaudible.

Vera pulled a tattered blanket over her (it seemed to be formed from the sails of some ancient ship) and went to sleep.

* * * *

The following morning, Priestess Regan summoned her congregation to the yard outside the largest church in the city. Attendance was at an all-time high. Almost every citizen of the capital had turned out, hoping to hear more about the Goddess’s return. What did it mean? Had She come back to stay? To rule? Was it a sign of the End Times? Would the Holy One finally destroy those blasphemous North Piconoreans?

Regan was hesitant to begin the service without Vera present. She did not want to misrepresent the mission of the Goddess’s emissary. At once, she sent forth several of her attendant priests and priestesses to summon the giantess so that they might address the people.

This proved a more difficult task than they had anticipated. At last able to sleep in a bed, Vera was having her most restful snooze since arriving in Piconorea. Waking her would be a challenge. Clad in their red hooded robes, the tiny clergy-folk climbed up a ladder to the outcropping of rock that had been converted into a bedside table. They called out to the giantess in their high squeaky voices but she did not stir. The priests conferred among themselves, uncertain what to do.

“Someone must get closer so She can hear,” a holy-man said.

“Are you mad?” said a priestess. “What if She crushes us in Her sleep?”

“Have you a better idea?” a younger, novice priest asked.

“I don’t want to be the one to tell Lady Regan that the Goddess is sleeping in today and there will be no morning service,” an altar girl added.

“Then what shall we do?” the first man said.

After some debate, they finally chose the altar girl to venture closer and roust the Goddess from her slumber. They’d half-convinced her that speaking to the Goddess directly was a great honor for one of her station and that Lady Regan would be most pleased by her initiative; perhaps she would even reward her. In truth though, the others outranked the girl and didn’t want to be the ones to risk their necks.

The young lady stepped off the stone table and onto the vast bed. Cautiously, she crept nearer to Vera’s colossal head, which loomed over her like a hill. A contented snore rumbled like thunder from the giantess’s throat and off in the distance, the landscape of the bedding gently rose and fell with her breath.

As she got closer, the girl was forced to wade through a sea of silky brown hair. It was strewn all about the giantess’s head and in places it was almost waist-deep to the tiny lady. Once or twice, her ankle got caught in a snarl and she nearly lost one of her sandals in the silken mass. Finally, she arrived at Vera’s head and stood below the enormous ear. It was more than twice as long as the altar girl’s body (she was short for her age, barely topping half an inch in height). Sheepishly, the young woman stepped up to the large concave opening and called out.

“Er, my lady? The sun has risen and the cock has crowed. The people await You.”

There was no response from the giantess other than a slightly louder snore. The girl took another step closer and gripped the edge of the ear with her hands, leaning forward. Her face was practically inside the ear.

“Will You not awaken and greet Your worshippers? Holy One? Hullo?”

With a suddenness that surprised everyone, Vera turned over in her sleep. The giant head rolled downward towards the startled girl, who was still leaning into the ear. The little lady dropped to her knees and shielded her head as the huge ear closed over her body, trapping her inside its hollow. She was imprisoned in a small chamber of flesh and bone, caught below the weight of Vera’s head.

Muffled cries could be heard inside the ear but the words were unintelligible. The other clergy looked at each other bewildered and guilt-ridden.

“Don’t just stand there,” the priestess ordered. “Do something!”

The three remaining little people hurried to the gargantuan head and tried once again to awaken Vera. When she did not respond to their shouting, they desperately began to climb up the tendrils of hair and onto the surface of her face. One of the priests made for her other ear on the top of the now-vertical head and started bellowing into its depths. The priestess followed him but slid down a wide cheekbone onto the side of Vera’s nose. She balanced there precariously and attempted to pry open the lid of a closed eye. The last of the priests, a young man who had only recently been sworn into the brotherhood, merely paced about on Vera’s temple, uncertain what to do. This was far different from the sort of temple he had thought to serve in.

At last, the giantess stirred and groggily began to lift her head. As she sat up in bed, the little people felt the ground below them shift position. The priest at the ear tumbled forward and caught hold of the earlobe, dangling from it like a human earring. The priestess lost her footing on the nose and fell downward, reaching out to clutch at the side of a nostril. Meanwhile, the poor man on the temple had nothing to cling to and began to scramble up the forehead, hoping to reach her hair. He failed in this quest and felt himself hurtle into open space. He reached out for a handhold desperately, finally grabbing Vera’s upper lip.

Still half asleep, Vera gave a tremendous yawn. The young priest grasped her lip desperately as the humongous mouth opened wide below him. He dangled there, staring in horror into the vast recesses of a cave that could swallow him whole. He could feel a rush of air being drawn into the mouth and held on all the more tightly lest he be taken with it. Vera finally closed her mouth, leaving the man standing on her lower lip and still clutching the upper one. She sniffled slightly and the priestess was sucked into her nostril headfirst. Only the lower portion of a robe and a pair of kicking legs were left visible.

Vera snapped to attention when her nasal passage was obstructed. With confusion, she felt the tiny forms scattered about her head.

“Jeez, what a wake-up call,” she muttered, causing the young man on her lips to be thrown up and down with each word. Vera carefully reached up and removed him. She placed a finger against the side of her nose and blew a quick burst of air, shooting the tiny priestess out into her hand beside the priest. She next reached up and plucked a man from her earlobe. She was surprised to find that her other ear felt clogged, as if from wax buildup or the popping sensation of a change in air pressure. Poking a finger into it experimentally, Vera felt a small girl curled into fetal position inside. She pulled this intruder out and set all four little people on the blanket covering her lap.

“Everybody okay?” she asked. “Maybe you guys should just let me wake up in my own time, hmm?”

* * * *

After a quick trip to the larder for breakfast, Vera set out for the church to greet the people. The four little clergy members rode in the palm of her hand. She had found a tattered leather cloak, yellowed with age, in a corner of the cave and wrapped this about her shoulders. It felt good to have a little more clothing, though the combination of bikini and animal skins made her feel like a bit like Red Sonja.

Vera was soon sitting cross-legged in the churchyard with a mass of tiny people surrounding her. Her four intimidated passengers had disembarked by now. Priestess Regan was standing on a wooden stage near Vera’s legs, preaching from a small pulpit. Queen Elfwina stood behind her, flanked by her royal guards.

“Sisters and brothers of the Southlands!” Regan cried. “Know the truth that I have learned from our sacred visitor! She is not the Goddess of our scripture!” A few scattered murmurings from the crowd followed. The people seemed confused. Regan proceeded.

“Be not afraid. Though She-Who-Is-All has not returned to us, She has sent a messenger! A holy emissary from the Silver Cities where giant demi-goddesses stride the earth! Praised be the name of Honored Vera, Handmaiden of the Holy One!”

The people echoed this exclamation excitedly. “Praise Honored Vera!” “Praised be her name!” “Huzzah!”

“I know what is in your hearts,” Regan continued. “You hope for Piconorea to be united once more, for all people to embrace the true faith of the Goddess! You hope that Honored Vera’s presence is a sign of that blessed day’s approach. And indeed, it would seem that our prayers have been answered. I ask you now, beauteous demi-goddess from the World Beyond…” Regan was now looking up at Vera. “…will you lead the crusade and bring the Light of the Holy Mistress to the North? Will you punish those who reject the Sacred Word?”

Thousands of tiny eyes were now trained on Vera. Regan was all smiles and her hands were pressed together in supplication. The queen looked up at the giantess pointedly, waiting for confirmation that the war was to begin.

Vera blushed under all this attention and rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “Um…well…look, I’ve been to the North. Most of them didn’t seem so bad. Can’t you guys just live in peace?”

The crowd instantly burst into a cacophony of voices, all arguing and debating this point. Vera could only hear snippets of the high-pitched conversations.

“Peace?”

“How can she—”

“Surely, the Goddess would want—”

“They are sinners!”

“Blasphemers! They should all—”

“Death to the North!”

In the midst of this uproar, a young page boy ran up onto the stage. He bowed before Queen Elfwina and handed her a scroll. She opened the message and read it gravely. Vera looked down at them curiously but could not possibly read the tiny letters or hear what was being said.

When she had finished reading, Elfwina held up her hands, beckoning the crowd to be silent. Gradually, the debate died down. Regan stepped aside, allowing the monarch to stand at the podium, and the queen addressed her subjects with a clear, commanding voice.

“My people, peace is no longer an option,” she said. “My scouts inform me that even now, the Northern army is gathering at the border.”

Gasps and shocked mutterings came from the crowd. Vera arched her eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

“Though they encroach upon our lands, surely they will soon see the Light,” Elfwina continued. “They can no longer deny the truth of our faith. The evidence is before their very eyes!” She gestured up at Vera, proudly. “Many will no doubt convert and join the fold. And if they do not, well…we have the power of a demi-goddess on our side. They cannot hope to stand against us! Children of the South—we march to war! To war!”

The people of South Piconorea cheered. The churchyard and the surrounding streets were filled with sounds of celebration and the battle cries of impending war. Elfwina and Regan exited the stage quickly, rushing off to confer with the generals and prepare a plan of attack. Vera called out to them but even her booming voice was drowned by the crowd. She reached out to grab them but the tiny women were gone, lost in a sea of miniature humanity. Vera was about to stand up and search for them but a large mass of Piconoreans was closing in around her. She couldn’t so much as shift position or she would crush someone.

“Honored Vera, wait! Don’t go yet!” a tiny man cried. “I am a poor farmer who can no longer afford to feed my family. Will the Goddess not answer my prayers?”

“Please, Honored One!” a middle-aged woman exclaimed, dragging a small, emaciated-looking child by the arm. “My son is very ill. Can you not heal him?”

An elderly gentleman hobbled up to Vera on a crutch. “Great demi-goddess, I am crippled and blind! Only your touch can restore me!”

More and more people closed in as Vera sat there, bewildered. Many began to climb over her feet or up her crossed legs. A few made it all the way to the peaks of her knees or into her lap. And still the plaintive cries continued.

“Feed us!”

“Heal us!”

“Bring us riches!”

“Honored One, answer our prayers!”

Desperately, Vera began to brush them off her legs as one would sweep ants from a picnic blanket. The people tumbled off but continued to swarm over her.

“Please, get away! Get away!” she begged. “There’s too many of you! I don’t want to hurt someone! I’m not a goddess! I’m not a goddess!!!”

To be continued...