Chapter 8

After a few attempts, Vera was able to brush her tiny worshippers away and retreat from the churchyard. Once the Piconoreans were off her person, it only took a few brisk steps to outpace them. The little people couldn’t catch up with her giant strides and she was soon far from the city center.

Playing demi-goddess had been fun at first. She had to admit that. As a struggling actress and sometime model, Vera had rarely shied from the spotlight. This particular “role” had required no audition beyond simply being. But the charade had gone too far and it was now showing its dark side. What had started out quaint and cute was about to become a holy war. Vera had gotten rather fond of these little creatures and seeing them die in her name was the last thing she wanted.

Hurriedly, she rushed back to the Goddess’s chambers seeking her minuscule prisoner. “Ozzy! Oz—Lord Fallowmark. Look, I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you,” she called out as she entered the cave. “But this has gotten serious. The Northern army is on its way! You’re a big hotshot with the North. You’ve got to call them off before—”

Vera stopped in front of the stone shelf. The goblet that had imprisoned Fallowmark was turned on its side. Amid the aged books and sewing implements, a large spool of thread had been unwound and now snaked its way down to floor level. Osric Fallowmark was nowhere in sight.

“Great. Just great,” Vera muttered. She sighed wearily. “Okay, I guess I kind of deserved that.”

* * * *

Like a shot, Vera sped from the cave and towards the border of the two kingdoms. She wasn’t sure yet what she would say to the Northrons but there had to be a way to stop this war. If they’d cross back into their own lands, perhaps the Southrons would no longer feel threatened. An edict from “Honored Vera” would hopefully get the Southerners to lay down their arms once there wasn’t an invading army at their door.

As she rushed across the fields and jumped the tiny stone walls of the farmlands, Vera spotted them. From this distance, they looked more like insects than ever, a vast swarm of North Piconoreans marching in formation. It seemed they had already crossed the mountains and were making their way toward the capital. The soldiers were each in full uniform with the horse-tails of their helmets dancing in the wind. Some marched on foot while others rode on horseback. Tiny beasts of burden were dragging miniature machines of war—catapults and trebuchets, large mechanized crossbows, siege towers that would stretch all the way to Vera’s knees.

The army halted when they spotted the giantess’s approach. As she quickly knelt to speak with them, Chancellor Brogan made his way to the front of the line.

“Lady Vera,” he called up to her. “Thank goodness you’re all right. When you didn’t return, we feared these Southern savages had captured you.”

“I’m fine, Chancellor,” she said. “I hope all this isn’t on my account. Now, why don’t we just turn our little army around before somebody gets hurt?”

“Don’t listen to her, my lord,” a familiar voice bellowed. “She’s in league with the South, addled and placated by their adoration.” A cluster of soldiers stood aside to allow Lord Fallowmark to come forward. A new, rather splendid-looking helmet adorned his head, to replace the one that fell from Vera’s lofty height.

“There you are!” Vera exclaimed. “Osric, tell the chancellor he and his people can go home.”

“I will do nothing of the sort!” Fallowmark insisted. “While you slumbered like a fat and contented babe, I made myself useful. I crept through the city by night and assessed the enemy camp. I know where the defenses are weakest. I know the location of the armories and food larders. What’s more, I know that these primitive pagans have not even a blunderbuss or pistol to their names! The time to strike is now! The North will take these lands and unite Piconorea under one rule!”

Vera scowled. With terrible swiftness, her hand shot down and plucked Fallowmark from the crowd.

“Why, you miserable little worm!” she spat, squeezing him tightly between two fingers. “I ought to pop you like a grape!”

There was a clicking and creaking of machinery. When Vera looked down, she saw that the war machines were all aimed directly at her. The catapults were loaded with nasty-looking spiked metal balls. The large iron arrows of the mechanical crossbows seemed big enough and sharp enough to pierce even her flesh. She’d been impervious to the Northern army’s weapons before but Vera wasn’t sure she ought to press her luck, especially when her only protection was a skimpy two-piece bathing suit and a tattered, centuries-old cloak.

“I wouldn’t do that, my lady,” Chancellor Brogan said calmly. “We had hoped you would be our ally in this war. ‘Twould be a pity to have to turn our attacks upon you. I do not wish to mar such a beautiful specimen of femininity.”

“Chancellor, there’s no need for this,” said Vera. “I’ve spent time in the South. You don’t have to be enemies! Sure, they’re a little…zealous about their religion. But if you guys stay in your own lands, just live and let live, I’m sure that—”

“It’s too late for that, Lady Vera,” the chancellor told her. “Much too late. In any case, here come the Southrons now.”

Vera spun around and saw the army of South Piconorea marching up the dirt road. They too were in full uniform, the red of their tunics matching the robes of the priests and priestesses. The Southern army had a similar mix of foot soldiers and mounted cavalry. Swords were drawn and spears were hoisted. Each soldier carried a large wooden shield emblazoned with the image of a woman’s hand holding a tiny man. As Fallowmark had noted, none of the Southrons was carrying a gun and what few devices of war they possessed looked woefully primitive compared to those of the North.

“Oh God,” Vera muttered. “This is going to be a bloodbath.” Distractedly, she dropped Fallowmark back to the ground from a higher altitude than the commander would have preferred. He tumbled down with a crash of armor and a rather comical “Oof!” Fallowmark instantly picked himself up, rubbed his bruises, and attempted to regain his dignity in front of the troops.

Vera stood up and rushed to where the Southern army was massing. “Stop this!” she yelled futilely from above. “Your Goddess commands you to stop!”

Some of the soldiers looked up at her, confused and uncertain. They turned to their fellows questioningly then looked to their commander. He in turn looked back to an elaborate horse-drawn caravan at the top of a hill where Queen Elfwina and High Priestess Regan were seated, preparing to observe the battle.

“Pay her no heed,” Elfwina declared via bullhorn. “We cannot stop. The Northrons are here to slay us and take our lands. We will beg the Goddess’s forgiveness when this is all over. But we must defend South Piconorea!”

“You heard her majesty,” the tiny general said. “Soldiers of the South—begin the attack!”

From behind, Vera could hear the rallying cry as it was echoed by Lord Fallowmark. “The battle is joined! Men of the North—attack!”

At once, there was a clamor of squeaky cries as the armies began charging towards each other. Vera watched as the minute Southrons ran past her feet and under the wide arch of her legs.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. She turned and walked several paces into the field between the two armies. In just a few steps, she was ahead of the Southern soldiers, who scurried like mice behind her. Slowly, Vera began to lower herself down into the grass. The men at the front of the line halted as a shadow fell over them. They quickly turned about face and retreated as the giantess’s enormous legs and colossal backside descended towards them. Vera touched down roughly in the field, sending a tremor through the ground that toppled the little people. She lowered her upper body next and lay down on her back, stretching her arms out above her head. She pressed her hands against the side of a hill and the bottoms of her feet against another hill. Soon, her body was forming a huge, living barrier between the Northern and Southern armies. She felt like a human Berlin Wall.

“Stop this at once, you stupid little bugs!” Vera cried. “There’s no need to kill each other! This war is completely idiotic!”

Fallowmark and a handful of troops brazenly approached the enormous woman, standing in the shadow of her midsection. The height of Vera’s body completely obscured anything on the other side.

“You merely delay the inevitable, giant,” Lord Fallowmark said. “Need I remind you that we conquered your gargantuan form once before?”

“I was unconscious at the time,” she shot back. “I’d like to see you try it now.”

“I accept your challenge, woman,” the commander answered. “Bring the siege towers!” He leaned close to one of his soldiers and whispered something, then resumed barking orders to his infantry.

The tall siege towers were brought forward and set up along the length of Vera’s body. Nervously, several squads of soldiers ascended the towers and pulled levers that released metal gangplanks. These formed bridges onto her torso. They climbed down the walkways and onto the vast plane of Vera’s belly. Meanwhile, the Southrons were gathering wooden ladders, preparing the same maneuver on the other side of the giantess.

Vera wriggled and squirmed and arched her back, causing the men on her stomach to stumble about. One fell into her belly button headfirst and was stuck fast. Others slid along her torso to collide with the hills of her breasts. Vera’s hands swept along her middle and scooped up tiny men by the handful. These were soon tossed back onto the grass.

This continued for some time and the siege towers spilled more men onto her. She was beginning to wonder how long she could keep this up when Vera felt a slight tickle against her toes. She lifted her head awkwardly and saw that the remainder of the army had changed direction and marched along the length of her body. They were now climbing the steep hill near her feet, intent on simply going around her. She was about to sit up and try to stop them but her midsection was still swarming with tiny warriors.

“Your compassion is your weakness,” Fallowmark announced from somewhere near her ear. “Shift position now and the men on your form plunge to their deaths. Stop interfering in our affairs, you freakish monstrosity. You cannot stop this war.”

Vera reached out to grab him but Fallowmark was mounted on horseback and had quickly spurred his steed away. He rode with the speed of the wind towards her feet to join the rest of his army.

As Vera scooped or brushed the men off her torso, she heard the sounds of the battle at last beginning. The Northrons crested the hill and met their opponents on the other side. Gunshots echoed through the field. The crash of weapons against shields followed, along with the neighing of horses and the screams of dying soldiers.

Once the last man had been removed from her body, Vera sat up in a panic. She pushed the siege towers away and loomed above the remaining soldiers. They blanched at the sight of her anger but returned to their duties. With the passage now clear, they began to pilot the war machines towards the open area that Vera had vacated. Vera desperately placed an arm in their path but the tiny men launched a volley at the giantess with the catapults and trebuchets.

Large, spiked balls of metal hurtled at her, slashing the skin of her arms and leaving a deep gash across her cheek. Vera cried out in alarm as a second volley was launched. The spiked weapons grazed her waist, leaving more nasty gashes. A sizeable rock collided with the side of her head, bringing sharp pain and blurred vision. Vera had had enough and crawled on all fours towards the war machines. The men abandoned their posts in terror as her fingers closed around each device, crushing and splintering the wood. The few soldiers who remained on the machines were flicked away like tiddlywinks. Vera brought a balled fist onto the unmanned weapons, annihilating them.

“Goddamn it!” she screamed. “I don’t want to hurt you guys but you are seriously pissing me off!”

There was a loud clank and something whooshed through the air past her face. Vera turned and saw the huge mechanical crossbows trained upon her as they were wheeled forward. Another arrow was loosed and she quickly sidestepped it. Enormous to the Piconoreans, these arrows were almost normal-sized projectiles on Vera’s scale. They could easily pierce her naked flesh and presented an even greater threat than the catapults.

Vera hurried to the side as more arrows were sent her way. She circled around behind the crossbows and began flicking the men away from the launching mechanisms. She then brought her foot down and crushed each crossbow device with a few well-placed stomps, rendering them useless.

The young woman balled up her fists and held them threateningly above the startled soldiers. “Anyone else want to try something?” she snarled. The men shrieked and fled from the field.

Vera ran to where the battle was raging and dropped once again to her knees. With wide sweeping motions of her hands, she tried to separate the two armies. Tiny warriors were barreled over by the giantess’s fingers and sent sprawling across the field. But the orderly lines of infantry and foot soldiers had broken and the two sides were no longer clear cut. The armies mingled and merged into a chaotic mass of little shapes below her. Vera could barely tell who was who at this point. All around her, Piconoreans were dying as gunshots rang and swords flashed crimson with blood.

“Stop it, you idiots! Stop!” Vera raged at them. She fought back tears as the men continued to drop like flies all around her. Had she caused this? Had her presence ensured this war? Or was this day inevitable, the two sides on an inescapable collision course?

Vera felt the urge to charge into the heat of the battle and stomp both sides into submission. If they wanted to throw their lives away, she could certainly oblige and leave them all bloody smears beneath her feet. They deserved it, the tiny fools. But what would that achieve except more senseless death? It certainly wouldn’t stop the war or keep the two sides from hating each other. There had to be another way.

Whether her presence had caused this war or not, Vera was determined to end it.

She got on her feet and stood to her full height. Some of the soldiers paused, mid-battle, and gazed up in awe as the towering, two-hundred-fifty-foot woman rose above them. Her shadow eclipsed the entire field, plunging them into partial darkness. They stared up at her with trepidation and fear, uncertain which side the giantess would take in the conflict. More than ever, Vera felt like a goddess. She was a Valkyrie, soaring above doomed warriors. She was the Morrigan, spreading her raven wings over the battle-plain.

Vera lifted a foot over the clashing armies and could hear the gasps of the tiny figures below. Some of them flinched, believing they would be snuffed out. Instead, the giantess stepped over the entire battle with a graceful hop. She landed on the other side with a tremendous quake that threw the Piconoreans off their feet. Vera proceeded past them to the hill where Queen Elfwina and her entourage were watching from a distance.

The queen looked up from her lavish horse-drawn coach as the giant woman approached. “Honored One, do you still oppose us?” she asked. “Why do you not strike? With your power, you could turn the tide of this war!”

“That’s just what I’m doing,” Vera said. She stooped slightly and reached into the cushioned interior of the coach. She grabbed the startled queen between thumb and forefinger and hoisted her into the air.

The royal guards hurtled a few ineffective spears at the giantess which bounced off her arm like blunt toothpicks. Undeterred, Vera turned around and hurried past the battlefield, shaking the soldiers once again with her thunderous footfalls. As Elfwina struggled and kicked and spat royal decrees, Vera proceeded to the Northern army’s camp. She made her way past the crushed remains of the war machines and found Chancellor Brogan cowering behind a large rock. Stooping down a second time, she swept the tiny man into her other hand.

With the two heads of state clasped between her fingers, Vera headed back to the site of the battle. The men were still fighting and dying but between attacks, they cast curious glances at the giant woman. What was she up to?

“Listen to me, all of you!” the gargantuan lady announced. Stage whisper abandoned, she was using the full volume of her voice. The soldiers momentarily ceased fighting and clutched their ears in pain. “I have the chancellor and the queen at my mercy! End the war this instant or else I…I’ll swallow them both!”

“Oh, I say! M-my lady!!!” Brogan babbled.

“Honored Vera, spare me!” Elfwina declared from her other hand. “I have only ever served the Goddess faithfully!”

There was a murmur that spread among the two armies. Some feared for their glorious leaders while others doubted the veracity of the giantess’s claims.

“Think I’m kidding?” Vera challenged. “Ask Lt. Swiftbow, if he’s here and still alive. You little fellas can survive inside me longer than one might expect. But you’re not invulnerable.”

On the plain below, Edwyn Swiftbow removed his bayonet from the chest of a fallen Southron. Stoically, he wiped off the blood with an edge of his tunic.

“It’s true,” Swiftbow said. “Though it’s not an experience I’d recommend.”

“Let’s get a few things straight,” Vera told the assembled armies. “I am not a goddess or a demi-goddess or a savior. I am not a weapon of glory and conquest. I’m just an ordinary girl. But whatever I may or may not be I’ve gotten pretty attached to you little guys, at least when you’re not being ignorant morons. Look, you don’t realize how good you had it! Two nations, one for people of science, the other for people of faith? It’d be a perfect set-up, if you’d all just let each other be!”

“Back home, we don’t have that luxury,” she continued. “We’re all thrown together in one place. And it’s a big ugly mess sometimes. We fight, we bicker, we hate, we pass laws to marginalize one group or another. But you know what, we’re trying. And the least you people can do is try as well. You don’t have to agree with each other. You don’t even have to like each other! But fighting and killing like this isn’t going to solve anything. End this now.”

She looked down at a cluster of Northrons. “That’s the enlightened, logical thing to do.” She turned to the Southrons. “That’s what your Goddess would want for her people.”

The soldiers looked around and muttered amongst themselves in confusion. Some considered Vera’s words. But Osric Fallowmark was unimpressed.

“Naïve, sentimental bollocks!” he spat, riding his horse amid the two militias. “Are you really going to listen to this rot? ‘Oh, let’s all hold hands and sing and love each other because the nice giant lady told us to!’ You call yourselves soldiers?! You weak, detestable, lily-livered—”

“All right, so maybe impassioned heartfelt speeches aren’t my strong suit,” Vera said. “I was only ever so-so as an actress. If you won’t end the war for your own sakes then I’ll make you an offer. I can give you something much better than conquest of Piconorea.”

“And what would that be, Lady Vera?” Brogan asked, still clutched between two fingers.

“Another world,” the giantess answered. “Think of it, Chancellor. Imagine all those wondrous technologies and inventions I described. Imagine towers of steel a thousand times taller than the tallest castle on this island. Think of all you could you learn from a society centuries more advanced than yours. And you, Queen Elfwina, imagine seeing the Silver Cities of your legends. You could walk among giants and gods and learn the secrets of the World Beyond. You could see the land that birthed the Goddess herself.”

Brogan and Elfwina dangled from Vera’s fingers, lost in thought. Stars were in their eyes as they pictured the kingdom of the giants and all the promise it contained.

Vera brought her hands close to her face and addressed the miniature nobles. “I can’t take you there on my own. You two need to pool your resources and find a way to get me home.”

The queen and the chancellor glanced at each other. At once, the spell was broken as the old rivalries returned to the surface.

“Work with these savages?” Brogan said. “Never! The North must prevail!”

“I would sooner die than ally myself with such blasphemers!” Elfwina declared. “Long live the Southlands!”

Vera closed her eyes and scrunched her brow in frustration. “Are you serious?!” she shrieked. “What is it gonna take?!”

“The giant is weak and soft,” Fallowmark told his troops. “She will not make good on her threat to the chancellor. Northmen, resume the attack!”

“Belay that order!!!” Vera snarled at the Northerners with such ferocity that they halted. “You think I’m bluffing, Ozzy? Is force the only thing you respect? Fine. I’ve tried reasoning with you. Let’s see if these two would be more inclined to begin peace talks inside my belly!”

Vera roughly transferred the chancellor and queen into one hand and held them high above her. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth as wide as it could go. A gaping chasm framed by sharp white daggers loomed below the horrified rulers. They watched with terror as a huge, writhing tongue larger than they were rippled and undulated in the dark. The furnace-like heat of Vera’s breath swept over them.

Vera opened her fingers and released the miniature dignitaries onto her tongue. Elfwina and Brogan skidded along the slippery surface towards the darkness beyond. The young woman closed her lips and began manipulating her two tiny hostages, sloshing them back and forth on her tongue and sending them ricocheting off her teeth. She could hear their frightened screams like an echo inside her head.

“Okay, you two,” Vera mumbled quietly. Each flick of her tongue caused them to be thrown violently about and even a whisper was a deafening roar. “Less screaming and more peace treaty or it’s down the hatch for both of you.” Brogan and the queen were tossed this way and that and bounced off the roof of Vera’s mouth, landing with splash in a puddle of saliva.

Fallowmark continued to be unconcerned. “Release them, giant! You’re not fooling anybody. You haven’t the stones to go through with it.”

“Well, Kruscynski,” Vera thought to herself. “How far are you willing to take this?”

She looked down at Fallowmark, riding his steed before her toes, and gave him a mischievous wink. Vera tossed back her head and let her hostages slide into her throat. She could feel their ticklish kicks within her gullet and the vibrations of their screams. In a single tremendous gulp, she swallowed both the leaders of Piconorea whole.

A collective gasp spread across the battlefield. Even Fallowmark was speechless. Vera leaned over the crowd and opened wide, showing that her prisoners were indeed gone. She rubbed her bare belly and flashed the little soldiers a wicked smile.

Vera looked down and patted her tummy. “Not sure if you can hear me in there,” she said, “but as you can see, the kid gloves are off.” Her belly gave a sudden gurgle and she clutched a hand against it. “Ooh, watch out for those sweet rolls, guys. They haven’t been sitting well since breakfast.”

A few of the Southrons dropped to their knees in worship. A sacrifice had been chosen as in the stories of old. Others charged at Vera, screaming in challenge, and fought side by side with the Northrons as they attacked the giantess’s feet and ankles.

“At least they’re not fighting each other anymore,” Vera sighed.

Unaffected by the little people’s assault, Vera casually massaged her throat. Though they were only an inch tall, swallowing both Brogan and Elfwina together had been a bit of a task. It was like gulping down large pills or vitamins without water, and if the supplements in question were squirming and fighting her the whole time. Vera had found it rather unpleasant but she would now have to do something even worse if this plan was to succeed.

Ignoring the ankle-level attack, Vera walked several paces from the battlefield. She crouched behind a large hill, opened her mouth, and thrust two fingers down her throat. Vera coughed and gagged and sputtered. She hacked and wheezed. For a moment, she feared she wouldn’t be able to do this. But after a few attempts, she brought up the contents of her stomach and spewed them across the grass. Brogan and Elfwina lay in the mess, shivering and horrified but still alive.

“Ugh, that was vile,” Vera muttered. She turned to her abruptly liberated snacks. “I suppose it was worse for you two though. So, have we made a decision? Will you sign a treaty or do I have to send you back down there? Not sure I could do this trick again, or if I’d even want to. Maybe I’ll just leave you in there next time.”

The two rulers were wide-eyed and as white as sheets. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign!” Brogan squeaked.

“W-we agree to your terms, Honored One!” Elfwina added.

“I hoped you’d say that,” Vera told them. Though she’d been forced to strong-arm (strong-stomach?) an armistice, it was a start.

* * * *

In the weeks that followed, North and South Piconorea came together in an uneasy alliance. Families mourned the losses of the battle and the old hatred and mistrust still burned strong. But a treaty had been signed and the two nations were forced to begrudgingly tolerate each other. The chancellor and the queen had ordered the finest minds of the land to begin research into a method of returning Vera to her home. Whether this was spurred by the promised secrets of the giant-world or by fear of the giant in their midst, none could say.

Truth be told, many citizens of both North and South wanted the giantess gone. As time wore on, keeping Vera fed became an ever-increasing challenge. Though she tried to take smaller portions and ration what was available, the island risked a food shortage if she remained for much longer. And after hearing how she had treated their illustrious leaders, the Piconoreans didn’t want Vera to consider an alternative food source.

Whatever the motivations, there was a free exchange of ideas between the two nations for the first time in centuries. The priests and priestesses of the South consulted their scriptures and history chronicles, seeking clues for what had brought the Goddess to Piconorea millennia ago. The scientists and inventors of the North studied the weather patterns and the eerie phenomena of the hurricane that accompanied Vera to their land. Both groups convened on neutral ground to compare notes and theories under the ever-watchful eyes of the giant woman.

“In all the stories of the Goddess’s arrival,” a priestess said, “there are reports of mysterious lights in the sky—dazzling displays of green and red and purple.”

“Yes, this is an observable event,” a scientist insisted. “We surmise it’s caused by the planet’s magnetic field. It can be spotted quite frequently off the coast of the island.”

“Our scripture describes this as a mystic portal,” continued the priestess. “A doorway to the Silver Cities.”

“Superstitious tomfoolery,” another man of science scoffed. “But perhaps not far from the mark. My theory is that Lady Vera is from a separate dimension, one where everything is scaled differently than our own.”

“Ha! A different plane of reality!” Vera exclaimed. She sat beside the balcony where the miniature “think tank” was holding this discussion. “I totally called that from the start.”

“Er, yes. The lights could be a side effect of some sort of tear in space and time,” the scientist proceeded. “Magnetic and atmospheric forces thrown into upheaval.”

“But if those lights appear in the sky so frequently, why haven’t more, um, ‘giants’ come through to Piconorea?” Vera asked.

“In the holy books, the Goddess describes an empty waste in the borderlands at the edge of her queendom,” said a priest.

“Hmm, yes. The other side of the anomaly must be somewhere remote,” the first scientist theorized, “a place little traveled by Vera’s people. And I’d venture to say that this ‘portal,’ if it exists, is small by the giants’ standards. A single castaway can evidently pass through but perhaps not an entire sailing vessel.”

“If I were to swim out to these lights,” said Vera, “could they take me home?”

“It’s possible,” the scientist acknowledged. “But this is all just supposition.”

“Then I ‘suppose’ we ought to test it,” Vera told him.

* * * *

To test the safety of the mysterious lights, the scientists of the North loaded several lab animals onto a boat. Sailors steered it towards the colorful aurora on the first night the lights were spotted. They abandoned ship as the vessel approached the so-called “portal” and hurried back to shore in lifeboats. However, a large line had been attached to the ship and Vera held the other end of this as she sat upon the beach miles away. She felt like a little girl sailing a toy boat down a river.

After sufficient time had passed, Vera hauled the ship back in and the scientists climbed aboard to view the results. The animals didn’t seem to have suffered any adverse effects. Whether they had been to the “other side” was unclear but the lights at least didn’t seem to be harmful. The time for a human trial had come.

Though it took most of the accumulated lumber on the island, the Piconoreans constructed an enormous raft for the giantess. Even with the scale of this undertaking, Vera barely fit atop it. It was much like lying on a surfboard. Still, it was better than swimming out into uncharted waters alone.

Both the North and the South insisted that Vera honor her promise and take an expedition of Piconoreans with her. The little people wanted to see what was beyond the lights, to see the lands of the Goddess and the wondrous works of Vera’s people. Much to her surprise, Lord Fallowmark volunteered to lead the Northern contingent, perhaps for the glory and fame promised by the assignment. Chancellor Brogan recommended Lt. Swiftbow as Fallowmark’s second-in-command, due to his ingenuity and survival skills against a giant in the past.

The two were hesitant to work together and eyed each other suspiciously. “Sabotage me again,” Swiftbow warned, “and I’ll have Lady Vera eat you. You know she’ll do it, man.”

“We shall see, Swiftbow. We shall see.”

The Southern contingent was headed by none other than Priestess Regan. She could not resist the chance to see the world of the Goddess and all of their stories come to life. She chose some of her finest acolytes to accompany her.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Regan,” Vera said, holding the priestess in her hand as preparations for the journey were being made. “You called me a demi-goddess and I never outright denied it. Guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Honored One. You ended the war and brought cooperation between the South and the North,” Regan answered. “I still believe that the Goddess sent you to us, whether you know it or not. You were the savior we needed.”

Vera only agreed to take as many little people as she could safely stow in her bikini top. It was embarrassing and overly familiar once again but there was little room on the raft and she didn’t want anyone washed overboard. In all, there were nine members of the expedition—four from the North, four from the South, and one gigantic guide on her way home.

She paddled her way out into the cold ocean waters to the sounds of cheers and farewells on the shore behind her. The little people’s heads and shoulders poked above her bikini line. Many shielded themselves against the spray of the surf or fought to climb higher as the mountainous bosom pressed against the raft.

In short order, Vera reached the lights. All around her was a glittering swirl of color, a veritable kaleidoscope of shapes and hues. Everyone aboard the vessel felt an odd tingle as they entered the swirl. The hairs on their arms and the backs of their necks stood on end and a vague hum could be heard in the background. Vera ignored this and continued to paddle into the heart of the aurora. By now, the light was nearly blinding.

After a few moments, the lightshow subsided and they were once again in the open ocean. The night was dark and silent. Vera glanced behind her but could see no sign of Piconorea, nor hear the voices of the tiny folk. She clutched the bag of food and supplies the little people had provided her (a gunny-sack procured from the Goddess’s chambers). If they had indeed crossed over and this area was as remote as the stories claimed, it might be a while before they could sight land.

After several hours, they had seen nothing but empty sea and a thick mist. Vera’s tiny companions were becoming rather agitated.

“We should turn back,” Fallowmark said. “There’s nothing here. I was a fool to agree to this. ‘Mystic portal,’ my arse! More Southern nonsense.”

Regan shot him an angry glare from her perch in the other cup. “Your servants of science believed just as firmly in the lights. Have a little faith, my lord.”

“Faith! Bah!” Fallowmark shot back. “I’ve no more faith in this expedition than in a sea monster arriving to devour us!”

Suddenly, there was a deafening “HROOOOOO” and a massive black shape emerged from the mist. Vera and her tiny charges screamed in unison until the outline of a huge ship came into focus. A huge, properly proportioned, normal-human-sized ship! Vera’s heart practically leaped with joy. The ship sounded its foghorn once more and a light was cast down at the little raft.

“Hello down there!” a man’s voice called. The deep tones were so odd and foreign after weeks among people who sounded like tiny chipmunks. “Is someone in the water?”

“Yes! Hello! I’m here!” Vera cried. “Oh, thank God!”

She whispered to the little people and stuffed a few of them back down into the bikini. “Stay down and keep quiet,” she said. “We’re on our way.”

As the crewmen lowered a rope ladder into the water, Vera could hardly contain her excitement. She was going home.