The king stepped into the room. Before him lay a bed chamber: plush curtains that blocked the outside world, carpet from foreign lands, bedding that even a king was envious of… and, all this complete with a miniature giant lying in the bed, half naked. His footsteps were loud enough to awaken Amelia, not to mention his snorts.
Even next to her, Amelia did not open her eyes. She didn't want to give Ilicain the pleasure of her pain. Don’t open.
The king leaned over at her stomach, touched his nose, and inhaled a whiff. All the while, he moved up her body… stomach… to breasts… to neck… to her face. His stench was revolting; she tried her hardest not to vomit. He rose back up, a smile spread across his fat face.
"It's funny," he started, and began to pace back and forth, "you smell exactly like a normal human girl. You look like a normal human girl… and…" He descended upon her, tongue out, hands ready; he groped her breasts, massaging them roughly.
Amelia, almost in tears, was relieved he finally stopped. He rose, licked his lips....
"You even feel like a human girl." He stepped back.
"But all this is of no matter… giant." The sinister smile left his face.
"But what to do with you?" He started to pace again. "Sacrifice you? To the Gods whom so desperately want giants cleansed from the earth?" Tip. Tip. Tip. Tip. The clack of his boots.
"Burn you at the stake? Make an example for all the world to see that Ilica is the one true nation of the world?" Tip. Tip. Tip. Ti- He stopped, intrigued, like a child who figures out the solution to a puzzle. He meshed his fingers together, forming a fat fence, and smiled, wide-eyed.
"Well, giant…" He turned to her, smug eyes scanning her body. Amelia did not see. She refused to fear. "My scouts tell me that your lover boy… what was his name… Matt? Is on his way here, right now…. To fetch you, no doubt."
Amelia's eyes shot open, her lips parting slightly. Matt… she thought. Coming… here… But how could he? After the argument? He and she both knew what had happened: the wolf cannot lie with the raven… The killer and the mind in the sky… They had that much established... but the pounding in her heart… the butterflies swarming her stomach… could it be real?
He knelt down, at the side of the bed, laying his elbows on the cushion, and holding his head up. "I bet he means a lot to you. And you to him, most likely."
He drew closer. Amelia could taste his breath. The alcohol lined his breath. Not enough to get him drunk, though. She smiled in her mind. Lightweight. His eyes locked into hers… Nothing like Mattie's… So…. Evil… When she looked into Matt's eyes… she saw evil… but she also saw pain. Pain and the deepest sadness one could ever know… but with the king… just evil. Black and pure.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to him? Do you?" He started to laugh, eyes closed.
"I am going to murder you… right. In. Front of him."
The butterflies in her stomach turned into an infinite foul…
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty…" Some no-name servant came through the door. The king whirled around.
"What is it?!"
The knave bowed.
"My liege…" He spoke, out of breathe.
"He's here, my Lord…"
Amelia's eyes widened. No… please…
"So…. Are you ready for death…" The king turned back to Amelia.
"Giant?"
Matt surveyed the city. He had been to the city many, many times, yet he never really looked at it. Beautiful, really. No wonder he loved the city so much. Lush trees, the smell of warm bread baking in the air, roaring fires… one could really call it home. He yawned, put his arms up and stretched.
"Ah… wonderful."
He looked back down, to the some fifty soldiers pointing spears right at his chest and head.
He poked the tip of one with his finger.
"Youch. That's sharp." He scratched the back of his head. "Hey guys… any chance I could speak to the King?"
No one moved. Scowls remained…
"Damn."
On cue, a horn blew its call. At the sound, the castle doors opened wide, revealing a fat king on his white (and flustered-looking) horse. Following closely was a maiden on a stake, but Matt took no notice. It was night, and all Matt really saw was the gleam of armor, blades, jewels… Just the things that mattered. All he could think about was how he was going to interrogate (and for Matt that usually means stab first ask questions later) the king into telling him where Amelia was. He smiled. Lots of fun ahead…. For Matt, anyway. A knight rode in front of them, towards Matt and the fifty spears. He called out, "Let the boy pass! The King commands it."
Like a way for a king, the soldiers parted. Matt started through. Only a few short hundred feet away from his target.
Sturgis' hand found its way to his nose. Not fully healed, it was still tender to the touch, and occasionally a drop of blood would escape. The blood spoke volumes: Hate, regret, pain, hate, humiliation, hate, hate, hate. Oh, Gods, how it sang songs of such revenge to Sturgis. How he longed to rip the beating heart from his chest… soon.
The king called out to Matt.
"And so, here we are, boy…" He clasped his hands together, and the sound pierced the cool summer's night air. "You are a slippery one to kill, my friend. You killed my soldiers, and that doesn’t sit well with me…"
Matt smiled, and dismounted Arod.
"Well, king, it's very hard to believe that you care so deeply or soldiers that you don't even know, nor care about." He looked at him for half a second.
“Ilicain… “He closed his eyes, and stared at the ground. “We have much to speak of…”
He raised his head and looked straight to the King’s eyes.
“King… what do you know about regicide?”
The king took a step back.
"W…what did you say?"
Matt continued walking towards him.
"Where is she?" His face was emotionless, but his voice was as dark as the devil's.
“Tell me… and I promise, your fate will be nothing in comparison to that if you didn’t tell me. There are so many things worse than death, my Lord.” He smiled… insanely.
The king laughed once, smiled softly, smirking. Gods, he could have wet his pants right there.
"Insolent dog." He kept smiling, nervously. "Bad dogs must be punished… kill him."
He snapped his fingers, and numerous soldiers enclosed upon him: the front guard, the side flanks, and even the fifty behind him locked their shields and spears together, ready for a one-sided, one-victim massacre. Matt sighed.
"Are you sure about this?" He asked the king with a cocked eyebrow.
"Can't we just…" he searched for the word, snapped his own fingers, "talk about it?"
To no avail. He sighed once more.
He walked through the group of soldiers, their spears aimed, nervously shaking. Matt put his hand on his sword, calmly, methodically, like a samurai. He breathed slowly, eyes to the ground, but closed.
"Your king wants you to kill me. But I will tell you here and now…" His eyes opened, staring straight ahead. The soldiers quaked; never had they felt such power from eyes. Many of them trembled.
"…that not a one of you will not take me down." He crouched, one foot in front, other in back, and floating gently above the sword's hilt.
"Anyone who wishes to die, please step forward. Otherwise, go home now…"
Grips tightened. Teeth gnashed. Eyes twitched.
One soldier lost his nerve… and charged forward. Only a foot away, Matt's sword flashed from its hilt; the blade found its mark, cutting horizontally across the knight's chest. He stumbled back, only to meet Matt's sword again, cutting from the above. The knight fell, his blood splattered on the ground.
Amelia, the scantily-clad maiden on the stake (in her defense, she did not pick the outfit), could only watch. This was her Matt… Such cruelty… but something was… different. She tried to place her finger on it, but only one thing came to her mind: reserve. His blade was not covered in blood… Nor was the white spear on his back. He's… changed…
The tears in her eyes had been the happiest in months.
The rest of the soldiers could only stare in awe. Grossly outnumbered (Matt counted about one fifty, maybe more), Matt could only pray that this would defer the others from fighting. He could handle twenty, maybe thirty, but no more. Even Matt the monster would die like a human.
They closed in around him…
"Hold!" The voice was familiar. Parting, the soldier's canyon revealed a man with long black wavy hair, a goatee and noble's moustache.
"Matthew."
The noble drew his gold-hilted sword.
"Long time no see, Sturgis… how's the nose?"
"Ha ha. Funny. Drop the sword and draw your spear."
Matt cocked his eyebrow.
"You want me to win this fight?"
"Just do it."
Matt dropped the sword, clang.
"…Ok…"
Reaching behind him, Matt drew his white ashen pole. He readied himself, stancing himself for close combat.
"Attack, peasant."
With a great warcry, Matt thrust forward.
Amelia did not see much of the battle; the soldiers guarding her gathered round and obscured her view. But she did hear a lot of it. Clang, twang, and the like. Mostly parries and thrusts, and the occasional yelp of pain. The fighting continued for nigh ten minutes, when she heard the most terrifying sound of all: silence. A body fell to the ground. Her heart sank. She cried, for who knows what warrior…
"ILICAIN!"
Matthew! Her tears intensified. The soldiers around her parted, to reveal a truly sordid sight: There he stood, with cuts numerous, bleeding out, and a spear behind him, sticking up into the noble's stomach. The warrior looked like Hell.
Matt leaned down, and took Sturgis' gold-hilted sword in hand. He climbed up the hill, hardly breathing.
"Ilicain…" he could hardly croak out.
"Where…. Where is she?"
The king could only stare in awe… awe and anger. He stepped back.
"G-guards! Kill this dog!"
Nobody moved. The king looked around. Was it really happening to him? He looked to each and everyone of them, sending a silent cry for help to each one of them. They only looked back.
The fire of change burned in every one of them.
Matt was on the king, sword at his throat.
"No man is subject to abuse, Ilicain. No one. Not the baker, not the blacksmith, not the farmer, not the noble… not even the killer. No one here will ever raise a sword for you again.” With a smug satisfaction, Matt tightened his grip on the throat he could barely wrap his hand around, and uttered,
“Where’s your crown, King Nothing?”
Ilicain gulped.
And Matt smiled.
"Now…. Tell me: Where… is… Amelia?"
The king started to breath heavily.
"The… the giant? She's over there… just… just take her!" He motioned to the stake. Matt looked… and couldn’t believe his eyes.
Yet there she was: In next to no clothing, tied to a wooden stake… was his red-headed princess, Amelia.
For a moment he could only stare, mouth agape: eyes locked with her… tiny, brown eyes. She smiled at him. Tiny.
He dropped the sword, falling with a clank on the hard stone ground.
Matthew walked painfully slow to her, and gently touched her delicately small arms.
"Amelia… is this… you?" Tears started to form in his eyes.
Her tears renewed, nodded her head furiously.
"Yes, Matt… it's me."
Embracing each her tightly, they never felt so alive… Matt produced his knife, and cut the ropes which bound her. She fell into his arms.
"I'm… so… sorry, Amelia… I deserve to die, leaving you like that."
Amelia put her head on his, and her warm tears ran down and washed his head.
"No, Matt… I'm sorry…. I shouldn’t have let you leave… please, forgive me…"
For an entire minute, they kissed, they hugged, and they apologized for a full minute. But after, they just held each other, watched by a crowd of hundreds as their witnesses.
"Matthew… you've changed…"
He looked down on her face, eyes still streaming.
"Yeah…? I guess…. I don’t have to kill to live… do I?"
She shook her head.
"No, Matt… you don’t have to kill anymore." She put her head on his bosom, and closed her eyes, soaking in every last ray of the failing light.
From the back:
"Oh, save me the theatrics."
Matt whirled around, and pushed Amelia behind him: the King, clutching the gold-hilted sword in hand, was standing over them.
"Just get over it… and DIE!"
He screamed, raised the sword over his head…
Matt felt the warm blood on his face.
A spear had pierced its way through the King's stomach. The king, surprised, looked down to his chest. He dropped the sword onto the ground, and brought his hands down to the spear's head. Touching it, "This… is my blood?"
He fell over, dead, eyes wide in disbelief. Behind him… was Sturgis. In his hands was Matt's white ashen spear… bloodied.
Matt and Sturgis, that traitor knight, locked eyes. What was he planning?
"Well, Matthew…" He smiled. "Looks like your spear really did pierce the king's heart."
Matt still held onto the shrunken Amelia... but he let go. He drew his knife out, and spread his legs apart, ready for one more fight-
Sturgis’ face dropped. He rolled his eyes.
"Gods, Matthew, just quit it, will you?" Sturgis said. "Haven't you had enough fighting for one day?" He let the spear rest at his side.
He nodded to the side gate.
"Just go home. Take the girl and leave." He pointed a finger at them. "But don’t let me see either of you ever again… or Gods help me, I will finish the job…" He snarled.
Matt stood still for a second, then nodded. He turned back to Amelia. She looked cold. He rubbed her arms. On the ground was a blanket. How or why it was there, no one knew. It was rough and made of wool. Matt wrapped it around Amelia, who was now shivering and chatting her teeth.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
He started to walk slowly away with Amelia, embracing her close to him. The silence in the town was deafening, and to be honest, it made both of them uncomfortable. Amelia did what she always did with silence: avert her eyes. Matt, on the other hand, eyed everyone warily. He half-expected an arrow to shoot out at them from nowhere, and by Gods, he was going to catch it.
Some of the guards still pointed there spears: "Let them go." Sturgis called out. Followed by hundreds of eyes, they were ushered out of the gate.
Behind them, it closed with a loud thump. They looked back, looks unsure of what to think of it. Without another word, and hands clasped together tightly, they started walking towards Amelia's now very large abode.
After an hour:
"Matt?" She looked at nothing.
"Yeah, Amelia?"
"How… old are you?"
Matt squinted, not looking at anything in particular, either.
"I'm twenty one. Why?"
She smiled, and laid her head down on his shoulder as they walked.
"Nothing. I'm just… glad."
And forward they walked through the eastern forests, Arod trotting delicately behind.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
The rain fell in timed intervals, almost. Every now and then, the sky would let loose her fury, and the rainfall on the stone ground would resonate louder than the actually thunder. Compounded with the wind blowing over the massive cave opening like breath over a bottle mouth, it made quite the wail.
All just white noise.
"Mmmmmm," Amelia would moan as she shifted. She was quite warm, and every once in a while would shift in her rough wool blanket, trying to take in every bit of heat she could get. She shivered, and moved closer to Matt.
Matt just sat there, starring at nothing, letting the beautiful redhead lay her head down on his chest. Her hair was smooth, flat…soft. He could tell, even when his tunic was on. He ran two fingers through it… like silk. Just like when she was bigger.
Matt never told her this, but he once at her pillow, playing with her hair. He liked the way it felt. But, he would never say that to her…
"I like your hair." He blurted out, rather calmly.
She shifted again, turning her head towards him. She didn't open her thinnly, then,
"Mmmhuh…?" She turned again.
"…Weirdo….mmm."
Matt smiled. It was pretty odd, he agreed. He started thinking about what people inevitably think about when ever they're cast out of a village and living in a cave formerly inhabited by a red-headed, mountain-tall girl.
Now what?
It burned in his mind. He honestly didn’t know the answer. So, he decided to sleep on it- but he wasn't tired.
Sighing, and realizing that he couldn't get up, fearing that he would disturb his freshly miniaturized girlfriend, he reached to for a familiar object: His (Well, it was Amelia's, and technically it was stolen from it's original owner) stringscop.
He brushed his fingers lightly against it, hearing the delicate hums of reverberating strings over acoustics.
He started out with a simple quarter note melody… and his voice softly began to echo:
Father I have killed many angels,
I think
I will now walk to the sea.
I hope I will someday forgive me
Please moor
my empty boat on a pier
I can blame for the blue blood that runs in my veins.
But I seem to forget that we are all the same.
In your own blaze of hate you've spawned the fear in many lives
You've taken action thinking it was all said on the signs.
You cannot heal the feeling burning deep inside this mind
You now collapse, cave-in revealing scabby marks of life
Mother I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.
Forgot every word you told me, stubborn little child, (angel of your life)
I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.
But the pain will remain.
No power to gain.
Now I have time to dwell on, self awareness, dreadful crime.
I saw the colors too bright, not knowing that I was blind.
I slayed a man who took a chance and drank the forbidden wine.
The map I draw reveals that I have been complete, machine, in team.
Father I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.
Forgot every word you told me. Stubborn little child, (angel of your life)
I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.
The pain will remain.
No power to gain. No!
Mother where's your son.
When has this begun?
Who has been the fool?
No one was born to be a servant or a slave.
Who can tell me the color of the rain?
In the world that we live in, the things said and done
They can well overrun
The power of one!
No one was born to be a servant or a slave.
Can you tell me the color of the rain?
In the world that we live in, the things said and done
They can well overrun
The power of one.
To live and let die
To give hope and take life
Is that what you're here for?
To think that you are right
To make sure it won't fly
Is the making of a hate crime
In the lands of the brave,
In the homes of the land slaves,
We are all the same
I need to believe.
There's more than the eye can see
All colors of rainbow.
No one was born to be a slave
Seek the past and place the blame
Tell me the color of the rain
No one was born to be a master
In the land we live, we die
praise the oneness, praise the lie
To bind a web around the faker
We will need a true
Rainmaker
As the last chord rang out in the hollow cave, the rain finally began to reclaim the sound it had lost to the magical tune.
Matt sighed, one last time, and set the stringscop down. He wrapped his arms around tightly around Amelia, and set his head to hers. Softly, he spoke,
"Amelia."
"...Matt…"
"I think….
… I think I found my Eden."