“There is one way that almost always works,” said Yipes, and then he knelt down next to Murphy and looked at us as if he were about to do something underhanded.
“How is the nut?” he asked.
“Fine, thank you,” said Murphy, though Yipes only heard him squeaking.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.”
Just then Yipes tapped Murphy upon the head, ran his hand along his back, and grabbed hold of his tail.
There is one thing a squirrel cannot stand, and Yipes had just perpetrated it on our little friend. Instinct will send a squirrel caught by the tail into a fit of biting, scratching, and screaming, and Yipes was well aware of this. He quickly moved out into the open, away from the bushes, and began swinging Murphy in circles over his head, which kept the sharp teeth from whipping around and finding his forearm. All the while Murphy was screaming his head off, and though this was not the loudest sound one might hear, a hawk has exceptional hearing (not to mention outstanding sight), and Squire dived into the ravine looking for a trapped squirrel almost immediately.
As soon as Squire started for us, Yipes stopped spinning Murphy, crouched near the ground, and let go of his tail. Murphy rolled several times and landed punch-drunk on his feet in the wide open. He wobbled back and forth and then fell on his side, the twirling having dizzied his mind.
“Grab him!” yelled Yipes. Squire was within a hundred feet of us and heading straight for Murphy. I was the closest, so I bolted the two steps I needed to and crouched down over Murphy, covering him with my back. Squire pulled up short and circled low, then landed on Yipes’s outstretched arm.
“That went rather well, don’t you think?” said Yipes.
Murphy recovered, and I cradled him with one arm while I handed him back his nut. He grabbed hold of it and began working at the shell again.
John approached the hawk and put a hand near his head. Squire remained calm as John slowly moved the hand closer and finally touched her with two fingers on the neck. None of us, John included, could know what Squire was thinking or if she really understood the things we said. Still, John spoke to the stately creature in a quiet voice.
“Can you tell us if they are coming?” He ran his two fingers along the neck to the top of the wing, picked up the fingers, and started again at the neck, then softly spoke to the bird one more time.
“Will you warn us if they move for the hill?” He took his hand away, reached into his pocket, and presented a bit of dried meat to Squire.
“Let her go,” he said. Yipes threw his arm up, and Squire’s powerful wings moved her off toward the distant sky. We watched until she resumed her circular motion over the hill, quietly floating above the earth, watching all that lay beneath her on the ground.
“We could also leave Murphy to watch,” Odessa said. “I’m a prize they are likely to come after with arrows, but Murphy they would ignore.”
“He wouldn’t make it through the day,” said Yipes. “It’s amazing he’s not dead already.”
At first I was puzzled by his reply, and then all at once I understood.
“Squire,” I said.
“Indeed,” said Yipes. “She’s a lovely bird, but a rodent is a rodent and nature is nature.” He looked up into the sky. “That bird will devour Murphy if we leave him all alone at the top of the hill. Look at him, he can’t sit still, and in this case his life would depend on it. We can’t risk it.”
I could feel Murphy trying to wriggle free from me, to escape and run back up the hill. As Yipes had observed, he had no fear, so I kept him close and calmed him down until he agreed that he should stay with us.
“We must run with all our might back to the rocks, the largest of the three groupings to the right, and we must do it now and trust Squire to warn us if the giants emerge,” said John.
It was quickly agreed, and after a brief glance up to see that Squire was still circling, we began running back into the Dark Hills. Odessa was by far the fastest among us, and she raced out ahead. The rest of us stayed clumped together and tried not to trample the brush too much for fear that a scout might see where we’d been and become alerted to our presence.
I listened for Squire over labored breathing and the noise of packs bouncing upon backs and feet scuffling over dried earth. We were a few minutes into our run, all of us tiring badly, when Odessa reached the rocks in front of us. The rest of us still had a hundred yards to go, and though most of the work was behind us, that last stretch seemed like miles and miles in my exhaustion.
With fifty yards left to go it seemed as though I could almost touch the rocks with an outstretched hand. The group of us caught our second wind. This was further helped along by Squire, who began screeching from the expanse behind us, a sound that scared me into a full sprint until I fell to my knees breathless behind the rocks.
No one spoke while we recovered from the run, which made Squire’s screeching all the more terrifying. I hoped, as did the rest, that she’d only been happy to see us reach our destination or that she’d caught sight of another hawk and they were alerting each other of their presence.
The rocks were not as protective as we’d hoped, and we had to sit or lie down to avoid being seen from the top of the hill. The situation was further complicated by the discovery that two of the rocks sat together and one was several feet to the left and all alone in the dirt. Each of the stones was large enough to hide a body or two, but not much more. Odessa had arrived in front of the lone rock, and there she stayed. The rest of us were crumpled together behind the two remaining rocks, which were barely big enough to conceal us. Murphy darted across the three feet that lay between us and jumped onto Odessa’s back.
“She’s stopped her shrieking,” I whispered, and then I realized how unnecessary whispering was since we’d gone so far out into the Dark Hills. I continued in a normal tone of voice. “Murphy, jump up on the rock and tell us what you see.”
This he did, nervously flitting from side to side on the fat stone.
“Stop moving around so much,” said Yipes. “You’ll only draw their attention.”
“I don’t see anything moving on the hill. It’s perfectly still,” said Murphy, and then he jumped back down onto Odessa’s back.
Yipes, John, and I rose slowly until the tops of our heads peeked out over the rocks and the hill came into view. It was true — no one was on the hilltop. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
We became momentarily relaxed and raised our heads a bit more over the edge of the rocks. Then Squire landed directly in front of us, her powerful wings flapping her to a stop. The three of us were so startled we fell back from the rocks and landed on our elbows.
“Maybe you could give a little warning before you arrive next time,” said Yipes, beginning to stand so he might be able to wipe himself off.
“Wait,” I said. Then I turned to Murphy and asked him to jump on the rock and look once again. Squire flew off, her wings so powerful they stirred the dust beneath the rocks, and we waited on our backs.
“Don’t move,” said Murphy. “Three giants, all with spyglasses aimed this way, are standing on the hilltop.” Sweat dripped down my temple and I quietly relayed this information to the others. I stayed completely still and out of sight along with the rest.
Murphy jumped down off the rock and ran off somewhere I could not see. The seconds turned to minutes.
“I’m scared,” I said aloud. I felt like I might begin to cry, the weight of our circumstances quickly becoming more than I could handle. I took a few strands of my hair into my mouth and chewed them, a nervous habit I hadn’t fallen into for a long time. John took hold of my hand and rubbed the backs of my fingers. His thumb was incredibly worn and rough. It had a protective, powerful way about it, as if it had been through much worse and survived.
“They’ve gone.” It was Murphy, who had returned to the rock. “The hilltop is empty and Squire is circling again.”
“It would seem that our winged companion has become quite use
ful,” said John. I brushed the strands of hair out of my mouth and let go of his hand so I could sit up without trouble. Then we all gathered behind the two rocks and quietly prepared the small bit of food and water that remained.
We sat hidden behind the rocks until the sun set behind the hill. Not long after that, everything was quiet and dark. It was nighttime in the Dark Hills, and we were without food, water, or shelter.
CHAPTER 13
AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT
The lights were moving swiftly down the face of the hill, but they did not bob and jump as they might if men were running with torches. They were giants, and they were simply walking toward us. It frightened me to think how quickly they could overtake us on foot if they chose to. Odessa began a deep, low growl as we watched the torches continue their descent.
“Try to stay calm, Odessa. You’ll give us away,” whispered Yipes. He and John had both set arrows into their bows to try to protect us. We had come with little weaponry; a few small knives and two bows were the whole of our defense.
A hurried conversation ensued. Should we stay hidden behind the rocks? Should we run into the Dark Hills where no protection could be found, hoping they turned and went back? All the while, the lights kept coming, slowly closing the gap between us.
“I feel it again, the same presence I’ve felt all day,” said John.
“Of course you do,” said Yipes. “The giants are right there in front of us.”
While they spoke I realized that Murphy had disappeared once again. Could he have darted out ahead to bite the legs of those awful creatures? The giants were off the hill and walking in the open expanse between us now, Murphy was missing, and we had nowhere to hide. I whispered Murphy’s name and when he didn’t answer I began to panic. Odessa uttered a low, barely audible growl. We all looked hopelessly at one another, and a distinct feeling of despair hung in the air.
“Quiet,” said John.
Odessa stopped growling, and there was no noise but for our breathing. Then I heard the scamper of tiny feet, and all at once Murphy was among us again, shouting incoherently in his squeaky voice, excited beyond words and unable to contain himself.
“Calm down,” whispered Yipes. “Can’t you see the giants are coming toward us?”
Murphy tried desperately to calm himself until finally he was able to form a few simple words.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Just stay quiet.”
This was a strange thing to say, especially given that Murphy himself was so agitated he could hardly calm himself long enough to put together a plain sentence. Our confusion was further heightened when he darted out into the Dark Hills, away from the advancing giants. We lost sight of him again.
“He’s finally gone completely out of his mind,” said Yipes, his head shaking back and forth. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.” Then he went back to preparing his bow and watching the torches in the distance.
Odessa turned and growled in the direction Murphy had gone, after which Murphy came darting out of the blackness again, his small frame like a formless shadow rushing along the ground.
I had a sensation then that wasn’t quite feeling or hearing but a mix of both at the same time. I looked into the night and pressed against the rocks, the feeling growing more scary and real as the seconds passed. And then I saw him coming out of the darkness — an immense, formless mass. Out of the night came a giant, and before we could think to run, he towered over us not unlike the walls of Bridewell had in years past. He was gigantic, beyond comprehension in his magnificent size. A sword was sheathed in his belt.
“The arrows will do you no good,” said the giant. “You should put them away.” His voice was surprisingly soothing and aged; this was not a young giant but an old one. His face was difficult to see in the darkness.
“Armon?” questioned John. “Could it be?”
“The very one,” replied the giant. “Come to save you in your hour of need, just as Warvold instructed.”
There was very little light, but the moon was on the rise and the stars were thickening by the minute. I began to distinguish his face. It was just as I’d hoped it would be: very wise and very kind; old, but not ancient; strong in a graceful way.
“Gather your things and move as quietly as you can,” he told us. “They place the rocks here on purpose. As you see they are the only places to hide, and it is here as always that they will come looking for intruders.”
Armon reached down and picked up our empty wineskins, which seemed extraordinarily small slung over his shoulder. On the other shoulder hung a large leather pack, three feet wide and five or more feet in length. I wondered what might be inside.
Yipes walked up to Armon and stood in amazement at his feet. He looked at John and said, “Now you know how I feel.” Then he reached out and touched the giant’s knee.
“Move away from the rocks, if you would,” said the giant. We all obeyed without hesitation.
He proceeded to pick up each of the gigantic stones one by one, the largest of them almost as big as my desk back home, and moved them four giant steps closer to the hill. This he did with great care and speed, placing the stones in the same formation they had been in, dusting his tracks after each trip out. Not the least bit out of breath from the effort, he stood before us and pointed into the Dark Hills, away from the oncoming lights.
“Run, but go quietly as you do,” he said.
Armon walked slowly behind us, covering tracks as best he could as we went. A short while later he told us to stop, kneel down, and remain silent.
“They have arrived at the rocks,” he whispered. The torches had split into three, one at each of the formations we had seen earlier in the day. We paid careful attention to the rocks we had hidden behind as the light danced along the ground, rose into the air, and started moving back toward the hill. We watched as the three torches came together once again and moved away from us into the night.
Armon knelt before me, his wonderful face close enough now to see clearly, wrinkled with the years and yet somehow ageless. His skin had no beard or stubble like a man’s — it was clean and perfect. Waves of black hair ran over his ears and onto his shoulders.
“You must be Alexa,” he said. He placed his fingers on the side of my face, each as thick as five of my own and more than twice as long. I was overcome with emotion; his presence among us was like we were in a real fairy tale, bringing hope to a hopeless situation. Could it be that Elyon was among us? If so, Armon was the greatest gift he could have given. With Armon’s touch my fear melted away. The mighty giant had arrived to protect us. He was the one giant among them all who was bound to Elyon and so bound to us.
He rose again to his feet without another word and looked up at the stars in search of direction.
“I have prepared a place where we can rest,” Armon said. “It’s not far from here.”
“What’s it like up there?” asked Yipes, standing again at the foot of the giant. He seemed terribly curious about Armon, as though the opposing nature of their size gave them something in common. Armon put one hand around Yipes’s middle and lifted him ten feet off the ground into the night sky, where he looked him straight in the eye.
“I have heard about you,” said Armon.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Yipes replied, his short legs dangling helplessly over the ground.
Armon set Yipes down and began walking parallel to the great hill. Murphy leaped onto the giant’s leg, ran the length of his body, and sat on his shoulder. Armon paid Murphy no attention other than to gently tap him twice on the head with his big finger.
“The last of the stones,” he said, as if reading from an ancient text. “I had another stone long ago, but its powers have been erased by time. I hear only squeaking when the squirrel opens his mouth, but I gather you hear much more.”
He looked at me then and, though it was dark, I could tell he was smiling.
Armon slowed and put his hand on John, covering his back
entirely with the palm, his fingers wrapping around John’s arm on the other side.
“Warvold spoke highly of you,” said Armon, still looking forward as he walked. “You and Yipes and Alexa. There were times the three of you were all he talked about for days on end.” And then Armon looked down at John. “He was of the opinion that behind your weathered face lies untold wisdom.”
John put his hand on Armon’s great forearm and squeezed what little of it he could get his fingers around.
“I’m delighted to have you among us,” said John. “With Warvold’s story unfolding these past days, I’ve hoped for some help. This is beyond my wildest dreams.”
While they spoke, a thousand questions ran through my head. I was beginning to have some trouble keeping them to myself.
“What became of Catherine and Laura?” I asked.
Armon looked at Yipes and found that he was having some difficulty keeping up with the rest of us. We were all walking faster than normal, and even though Yipes was energetic, the fact remained that his legs were tiny compared to Armon’s. Armon removed his hand from John’s back, picked up Yipes, and placed him on his shoulder, which put Yipes’s head at something on the order of twelve feet in the air.
“You’re too kind,” said Yipes, while Murphy scampered even higher than he had been and sat on Yipes’s shoulder. Murphy on Yipes on Armon — it was beginning to look like a circus act from where I stood below, and it further illuminated the unique nature of our group. I was beginning to see fewer of our weaknesses and more of our strengths; the events of the day were a reminder of how each of us had certain abilities that the rest did not. It was as if we were each a part of a whole body — one the hands, another the legs, and so on — dependent on one another and working best when we performed in unity. I felt inadequate then, unsure what part of this body I might be.
“We have only another hour to walk, and then we shall rest and talk of how to overcome the Valley of Thorns,” said Armon. “I must warn you that we will only have a short while to sleep, a few hours at the most. We must rise before dawn and set our plan into motion.”