That One Time I Went on a Quest

The Little Giants

The council of little giants stare at us with their lidless black-marble eyes. There's no way to tell whether they are talking or not, for their round, lipless mouths don't seem to move at all.

'I just told them who you are, Aunt Kath,' Haylis says, 'but they've already recognised Kaishen.'

'In that case, might they consider offering the slayer of Elisaad a discount?' Kathanhiel asks with a winning smile.

Haylis nods, and returns to banging her chain of peculiar bells. With two soft-tipped mallets in each hand, she hits them in complex sequences, often three or four at once. They don't make a sound – not in human ears anyway – but the little giants seem to be shaking their heads in response.

'Fifty thousand crowns for a coach to Iborus, non-negotiable – oh but they –' Haylis cups her ears. 'They're offering to send their hunters.'

'Hunters! Fighting giants!' Arkai exclaims. 'A rare sight indeed – at an enclave in the heartlands, no less! If we've a legion of giants –'

Turns out, there are only two hunters in the entire enclave: a pair of siblings named Oon'Shang and Oon'Shei, both over ten feet tall and not-so-little in every aspect. They greet us with polite bows, then single out Kathanhiel and drop to one knee before her. Oon'Shang, the bigger of the two wearing an orange-coloured veil, unties a bracelet from her wrist and lays it out; threaded onto it are twenty-eight dragon incisors, some the size of a thumb, others longer than my whole arm.

Trophies.

'They're honoured by your presence,' Haylis says, 'and wish to join our quest as coach runners. They pledge to you their lives in the hope that one day their ancestral home in the Endless Ranges may be reclaimed.'

Kathanhiel shakes their hands – or rather, their index fingers. 'Many tales I've heard of the dragon hunters amongst the little giants. I am grateful to be placed under your care.'

The siblings lead us from their simple, stone-chiselled houses to a walled field. Here the grass had been thoroughly cleared, and sitting upon the barren dirt are rows upon rows of massive rickshaw-like carriages with hulls of shaped steel and crystalline windows of solid quartz. A couple of them are so large they have five human-height wheels on each side; one of those could probably fit a hundred people.

The one we hired is the smallest by far: four bedrooms, complete with a bath, a working kitchen, and a stable big enough to fit three horses. The smallest. It doesn't even have red carpet attached to the folded steps.

'They're ready to depart when we are,' Haylis says, already eyeing the luxurious interior with an eager expression.

To be inside the most expensive mode of transportation in the Realms – my butt on the same leather seat a prince from the Vassal States would have sat on, seeing people-shapes blur past the window, listening to the neighing of our nervous horses in the next room, passengers now because they couldn't keep up – is moderately exciting.

Out front Haylis is braving the wind and talking with Oon'Shang, who is pulling our carriage at a neck-breaking sprint while Oon'Shei, the younger brother, is pushing from the rear. He also carries on his back a bundle of six-foot javelins and a scythe-like blade that could easily lop off the head of an elephant. The weapons look used. Well used.

Being hunters, neither of them are particularly good at coach running.

As yet another massive bump sends everything airborne, Arkai, who is sitting on the roof as lookout, expresses his displeasure with polite language.