“Oooh, what’s in here?” Frankie said, crawling through the crack in an open doorway. He was a curious boy, to say the least, but it was this giant new world that really sparked his interest. The room inside was dim, brightened only by a sliver of light from the doorway he had crept through and a flickering, near gothic, chandelier from above. But from what he could see, the building was some sort of library, with bookshelves lining the walls and tables scattered with jars and bottles. He tiptoed quietly across the hard wooden floor, listening to it creak even under his light weight.
“Frankie!” a voice hissed from the doorway and Grandpa poked his head inside. “What have I told you about walking into dark ominous houses without parental supervision?” But the boy didn’t seem to be listening, so Grandpa gave a quick glance over his shoulder and stepped inside.
Frankie stopped at the foot of one of the tables and turned around. “Look, Grandpa!” He pointed to a tower of different size books that formed a kind of makeshift stairs to the top of the table. Before Grandpa could stop him, Frankie was already scaling the books, his nimble legs easily able to swing over the bindings of the books.
“Confound it, boy!” Grandpa muttered, staring up the staircase of books. “Well…I do feel younger now. Hold on, boy, I’m coming after you.” He put a wrinkled foot on the first book, testing his weight, and then heaved himself up. It was a bit of an exercise for him, but he still never felt better in his life. Using his cane to support himself, he began climbing after Frankie, and was soon standing on the top of the table next to his grandson.
“What’s inside all these bottles?” Frankie asked, walking across the table. There were hundreds of bottles—some thin and tall like test tubes, some fat on the bottom like beakers, some shaped in curves and some in spirals, but they were all filled with various color liquids. Some of the liquids even had things, like eyeballs, floating in them. And if he didn’t know better, Frankie could’ve sworn one or two of the bottles had miniature people, his size, bobbing up and down in a foamy liquid.
“I don’t think we should be here,” Grandpa said, taking Frankie’s hand. He tried to pull him back, but it was too late. There came a rustling, apparently from the next room, and a door appeared.
A girl, about the same age as Frankie (eleven) and wearing a long lilac robe with white stripes, ambled over to them. She had a book under one arm and didn’t seem to notice them at first until she put the book down, some ten feet away from them, and then looked.
“Oh!” she said. “Customers! Little ones too.”
“We were just about to leave,” Grandpa said, tugging on Frankie’s hand, but he was immobilized, either in fear or infatuation because he had never seen a creature like this before.
“No, no, don’t go!” the girl said. “It’s okay. I’m just watching over the place while Master Luna is gone. I’m her apprentice, Kendira. I’m in charge of training those seeking to learn the ways of the arcane arts.”
“But you’re so young,” Grandpa said.
Kendira pulled a wand out of her robe and rubbed it between her fingers. “I know, but there’s only the two of us. Magic users seem to be in a very short supply.”
“I see…”
“You…wouldn’t happen to want to learn the arcane arts, would you?”
Grandpa puffed his pipe. “Ever try to teach an old dog new tricks? And I’m as old as they come.”
Kendira frowned.
“Maybe the boy here would like to learn your little magic tricks. Would you like that, Frankie?”
“He’s too young,” Kendira said. “I can’t teach the most dangerous magic in the world to some mere…child. The only reason I can even hold this wand is because I was raised by Master Luna since birth. I’m a prodigy, you see.”
“G-Grandpa,” Frankie whispered, finally shaking out of his immobilization.
“Yes?”
“Why do I have a strange feeling between my legs?”
Grandpa looked down and then pushed Frankie behind him to cover him up. “We’ll talk about that some other time. Now, um…Samantha, was it?”
“Kendira.”
“Right. You were saying…”
While Kendira explained the powers of the arcane arts, something else was going on outside the window. Malkav strolled along the cobblestone path towards the shore, where the female sailors were still loading the ship. He didn’t expect any help from them, but he didn’t want any either. He just wanted to get away from all the commotion now ringing through the Abbey.
“Psst!” came a shrill hiss, but it was so natural that Malkav excused it for a spraying of water or the boiling of a kettle until it hissed again, this time from the other side.
He spun around but nothing was there.
“That’s weird,” he thought to himself.
Then, from the shadows, the hiss came again and he began walking towards it. The sound led him under the porch of the building that Grandpa and Frankie were in, where he found a small mousehole carved into the wood. The hiss seemed to be coming from there.
He leaned closer, peering into the darkness. “Who’s there?”
“A friend,” said a hushed, and yet both fearsome and obviously feminine, voice. “I wouldn’t go near the docks if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Female sailors tend to have bad tempers. It’s safer to stay in town when you’re traveling…alone.”
“But I’m not alone,” Malkav said. “My friends are here. We’re all playing the game together.”
“This is no game, fool! …You are alone. We are all alone. The only thing that keeps us bound together is the fact we’re all trapped in the same world, living the same lives, day after day. But that doesn’t mean you’re not alone. When it comes right down to it, the only person you can place your trust in is yourself. Learn to watch your back and no other. It’s so easy to fall when you’re not looking.”
“What? Who are you?”
“Like I said, I’m a friend.”
“So why help me? I thought your philosophy was to trust no one.”
“I don’t trust you enough to see my face. But I do trust you enough to tell you that you can become one of us, if you want to survive.”
“One of what?”
The voice scoffed. “One of the underground—a Rogue. But then, this isn’t something you just decide to be one day. You were born a Rogue. You cannot hide it in your eyes. A Rogue can tell who belongs and who does not. It’s why we only come to those who are already one of us.”
“Whoa, hold it,” Malkav said. “I’m not one of you.”
“…You are alone, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re one of us. And in time, you’ll learn you survive longer when we’re alone together.”
“They’ve really went all out with this game,” Malkav thought to himself. But hell, a Rogue sounded like fun. Sneaking around, picking locks, leaping through the shadows like a creature of the night.
He smiled. “…Alright, ‘friend’, tell me more.”
Giantess World
