Fabled (Fabled Hunters Book 1) Read online

  “Quick, inside!” Jack hissed. He darted to the wooden door. It towered above them, huge, but the crack between it and the ground was wide enough for a man to slip under. Jack grinned at her, wiping his palms on his trousers. “We’ll slither under the door easy enough. Hopefully we’re not caught like rats in a trap.” Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled under.

  Isabelle hesitated. What was in there? More giants? What if they were caught? Jack had his harp, but would he be able to play it in time?

  Isabelle heard heavy footsteps coming from around the house, indicating the giant’s return. Heart thumping, she scuttled under the door, entering the structure.

  She stood in a massive kitchen. A fireplace more than ten feet high was off to her left. It was unlit, and she ran to it now, slipping under some logs of firewood. She suppressed an impulse to giggle. The logs were literally trunks of the tree. The giant hadn’t needed to do much chopping to fit them in the hearth.

  She held her breath as the door slowly creaked open. The giant stood in the doorway. Stepping inside, he slammed the door behind him and walked over to a huge table standing in the center of the room. He flopped the ox onto it, his other arm cradling something. Isabelle frowned. It looked like a chicken. A small one, to the giant, but as large as a middle-sized dog to a human. He set it on the table as well. He settled himself in the only chair, frowning at the chicken.

  “Lay,” he commanded.

  The chicken pecked at the table. Its feathers looked golden, but perhaps it was the dim light that made it hard to tell. Brown, maybe.

  “Lay, blasted bird.” The giant frowned at the hen. “Or I’ll cook ye with this ox.”

  The hen clucked furiously and, ruffling its feathers … laid.

  A gold egg.

  Isabelle’s eyes bulged. That had to be a trick of the light. A gold egg? Isabelle would be set for life with that chicken.

  She thought of Jack, casting her gaze around the room. Where was he? What did he think of the chicken?

  A sweet melody began to spread across the room. Isabelle frowned, trying to pinpoint its location.

  The giant started in surprise, sniffing the air. “Man?” he growled, as his eyelids began to droop. “Must find …” He fell to the floor with a crash that shook the house, sound asleep.

  Jack stepped out from behind a gigantic broom leaning in one corner, his fingers dancing across the harp. He frowned toward the fireplace. “Isabelle,” he hissed. “For the love of magic, you nearly gave me a heart attack when you didn’t follow me!”

  “Sorry.” Isabelle clambered out from under the logs, brushing soot off her clothes. “I wasn’t sure coming in was the right thing to do.”

  “And standing out there like a stone-blind fool was?” He looked angry, and jerked his head toward the table. “Quick, grab the chicken.”

  Isabelle looked at the huge chair with some trepidation, but to her luck the hen fluttered down to the floor at that moment, clucking. It trained a beady eye at Isabelle, watching her.

  Isabelle put her hands out, approaching the large hen cautiously. “Come here, chicken.” She expected it to run away, but it seemed all right with her picking it up. She stroked its feathers. They did look golden. “Good girl. We won’t eat you like that horrible giant.”

  The hen clucked and snuggled in her arms, as if it understood. After Ash, Isabelle was fairly certain it just might.

  “Excellent.” Jack didn’t let up his playing. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The three slipped outside. Jack didn’t stop playing his harp until they reached the end of the yard, reaching the trees. Jack took the hen from Isabelle. “Hurry. To the nearest beanstalk.”

  They ran, heedless of the noise they made. With the music ended it was only a matter of time before the giant woke. They retraced their steps, their breathing becoming ragged.

  They reached the beanstalk. Isabelle felt a moment of panic, looking at it. The stalk curled out of the ground. How would they climb down when there was no down?

  “It has to be an illusion of some sort,” Jack panted, his face streaked with sweat. “Climb it.”

  Isabelle didn’t pause to question it. She leaped at the stalk, wrapping her arms and legs around it. The world tilted and the ground disappeared, the beanstalk swaying slightly in the breeze. Isabelle began to climb down, fear lending her strength and speed.

  Glancing upward, she saw Jack climbing down too, hampered slightly as he still held the hen in one arm.

  Down they went, half-climbing, half-sliding. Looking below her, Isabelle almost sobbed in relief to see the fields and orchards. They were still several hundred feet below, but she’d make it.

  Her heart skipped a beat as a shuddering roar split the air. She looked up and felt a thrill of terror as she saw the giant clambering down the beanstalk. He was still far above them but gaining fast.

  “Jack!” she cried out, clambering down even faster. “Jack, you need to hurry!”

  The ground was close. Isabelle slipped, her arms flailing as she tried to grab a branch. Leaves whipped around her as she fell. She managed to grab a leaf with both hands. It tore, but held her weight just long enough to soften her landing.

  She lay on her stomach, trying to breath, the wind knocked out of her.

  Jack. He was still up there. She glanced up. The giant was making fast progress, his size an unfair advantage as he easily climbed down the impossibly tall beanstalk. Jack still stubbornly held onto the hen, whose furious clucking could be faintly heard from the distance.

  Isabelle’s mind raced. She needed to save Jack.

  Ash came running over to her, the straps of Isabelle’s pack held in her mouth. Isabelle snatched it and untied the closures, an idea coming to her mind. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and ripped off the closest leaf from the beanstalk. Folding it hastily, she stuck the arrow tip through it. It had to work. She fumbled through her pack, pulling out flint.

  Another roar. Isabelle refused to look up, but silently prayed Jack was safe. She struck the flint repeatedly, and the leaf caught a spark, quickly turning into a flame.

  Isabelle picked up the arrow and spun around, fitting it to her bow. She assessed Jack’s progress. He was still at least fifty yards above ground level, but the giant was nearly caught up, a hundred yards at most. It would have to be enough. Taking aim, her arrow flew, slamming into the stalk several feet above Jack’s head. A perfect shot.

  The beanstalk exploded on impact, splitting in a burst of wet, green stalk and leaves. Fire was everywhere.

  No. She screamed as Jack threw himself backward into the air, still clutching the large hen. He was going to die, and it was all her fault.

  The chicken’s immense wings flapped frantically and Jack clung to her body. Isabelle stared. The hen was flying. Trying to, at least. Jack was too heavy for it to actually fly away, but his descent was considerably slowed. He landed feet first on the ground, running several yards before stumbling to a halt.

  Fire had caught hold of the giant, and it roared in pain and terror as it fell, landing in a crash that shook the earth. It didn’t move again, it’s body a burnt and broken ruin. Isabelle stared at its form, her heart beating wildly.

  “What were you thinking?” Jack stalked over to her, his face flushed. His green eyes glittered with rage. “You almost killed me!”

  Isabelle gaped at him. Now that the immediate danger was over, her body began to shake. “I was trying to help you. I thought—”

  “That’s just it; you didn’t think.” His face was twisted in an angry snarl. Something shifted in his eyes. Something dark. “Hang it, woman, I was going to release the chicken and play my harp. The giant would have fallen when he fell asleep.”

  “You were going to play your harp?” It was Isabelle’s turn to feel angry. “So I was supposed to read your mind? I thought you were going to die. Did you really expect me to stand there and do nothing? Nothing?”

  She tasted salt; she was crying. She wiped her te
ars angrily. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do and I was scared.” Her lips trembled. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  Jack blinked, and the darkness was gone. “Isabelle.” His voice softened and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He wrapped her in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His arms tightened around her convulsively. “I’m sorry.”

  Isabelle lifted her arms, running a hand up his neck and into his hair. He smelled like leaves and smoke. Like Jack.

  He pulled back, gaze locking with hers. Green eyes with flecks of gold. Beautiful, vibrant eyes. Jack lowered his head, and paused as clucking sounded behind him. They looked over to see the large chicken approach, one beady eye blinking up at them. The bird effectively killed the mood.

  Isabelle wiped her eyes and smiled, kneeling down to be eye level with the hen. “Thank you for flying Jack to safety. I very much appreciate it.”

  The hen clucked approvingly, preening her feathers.

  Jack looked over her shoulder at the bird. “You do realize you’re talking to a chicken.”

  “Hey, chickens are smart.” Isabelle stood, brushing grass off her skirt. “Especially this one.”

  Jack went to pick up the golden hen. She didn’t seem to mind, and clucked softly at them.

  “I don’t think that giant was very nice to her,” Jack remarked. He cast a warning glance at Isabelle. “Don’t tell anyone that her eggs are anything other than ordinary. We don’t want the townspeople trying to collect more than is their due.”

  Ash stepped forward, sniffing the chicken. The hen ruffled her feathers for a moment, but otherwise showed no reaction.

  Isabelle smiled. “Don’t eat the chicken, Ash.”

  A dull roar filled the air. They turned and looked. The beanstalks that stood farther away from them shifted and groaned and, with a final creak, disappeared.

  Isabelle shivered. “What’s going on?”

  Jack shook his head. “I have no idea, but I think this Province’s giant problem is over. Come on.” He turned west toward the farming village they’d passed. “We need to get a letter from the village leaders.” His face split in a wide grin, his eyes shining with triumph. “We’ve solved our first quest.”

  18

  The leaders of the surrounding villages were more than happy to sign a letter claiming Jack had solved their problem with the giant, especially after seeing the charred, broken corpse. The beanstalk had burned away completely. Isabelle asked Jack about the giant’s world up in the sky and he shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

  “There are stranger things in this world, Isabelle.”

  Maybe so, but Isabelle wanted to know how it was even possible. She frowned to herself as they traveled west, mulling over it. They were walking in a direction parallel to the way they had traveled previously, with plans to skirt around Erum. Jack didn’t want news of the chicken to spread. The hen could indeed lay golden eggs on command, and she’d be a popular commodity to steal.

  They were traveling over a rocky stretch of land. The forest had crept back in this area, but sparser than the thick woods Isabelle was used to.

  “It’s going to rain,” Jack declared, peering up at the sky. Isabelle followed his gaze, looking heavenward. The clouds were heavy and gray, forming a dark shield over the sky.

  “We need to set up camp soon,” he said, “or we’re going to get caught in the downpour.”

  “Okay,” Isabelle agreed. She cast her gaze around the rocky terrain. “Let’s find a spot where the trees are thicker.”

  “How about there?” Jack pointed off to their right. Looking through the trees, Isabelle could just make out the gaping mouth of a cave. It was larger than any of the other pits and holes they’d come across in this terrain. Dark and forbidding, Isabelle could just barely see the back of it. “It looks … scary,” she admitted.

  “Would you rather be caught in the rain?” Jack teased.

  Isabelle arched an eyebrow at him. “That depends on what’s in the cave.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. Spiders and snakes, maybe,” he said. He smirked. “Maybe giant beetles.”

  Isabelle sniffed and Jack’s smirk turned into a wide grin.

  Standing before the cave entrance, it was much larger than it had initially looked. Isabelle narrowed her eyes, squinting. It wasn’t very tall. Jack’s head almost brushed the ceiling. The floor was fairly smooth and clean. Jack stepped into it, unslinging his pack. He rummaged through it, procuring flint.

  “I’ll go find some wood.” Isabelle stepped away from the cave, looking for dry wood. Broken branches and twigs that were a few seasons old always burnt better than the newer greenwood. Fortunately, there was plenty to be had, and less than fifteen minutes later Jack had a small fire going with the wood Isabelle brought. Ash slipped away from them to re-enter the forest, no doubt to find some prey.

  Dinner was the remaining fare of rations they’d picked up in one of the villages near the area where the giant beanstalks had grown. Isabelle took the small block of goat cheese and broke it in half. Giving the larger piece to Jack, she popped the remaining bit in her mouth, savoring the tangy cheese. It was probably the last they would have for a while.

  “I noticed the mayor signed your name as the victor of the giant,” Isabelle said.

  Jack nodded. “Yeah. We each have to have a quest solved on our own in order to qualify.” He smiled at her. “Your quest is next.”

  Isabelle nodded. It seemed fair enough. She switched the subject.

  “So,” she said, watching him. “Care to tell me how you got your harp?”

  Jack glanced at her, amused. “You’re not going to stop asking me about it, are you?”

  “Sure … if you tell me.” Isabelle smiled at him innocently.

  Jack sighed with false exasperation. “Fine. I stole it.”

  “You did not.” Isabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Hey.” Jack put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hear me out before you judge.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, right.” Jack snorted, then continued. “So, I told you my mom and I were poor. We had a small garden, and we worked in it night and day, hoping to grow enough food to sell at the local market. We worked so hard, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes I’d pretend I ate already at mealtimes so Ma wouldn’t go hungry.”

  Isabelle sniffed. “From what I’ve already heard of your mother, she would’ve deserved going hungry.”

  Jack shrugged, using a twig to draw in the dirt. “Eh. She had it rough. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to lose the one you love.”

  Isabelle was silent. What about Jack, who was her son? Why couldn’t she have loved him? Her thoughts begin to drift toward her own mother and she pushed them away.

  “Anyway, one day at market Ma and I had done a little better than usual. Well, a lot better, actually. We sold much more than we’d expected, and she gave me some coppers to spend on whatever I liked.” He paused, running a hand through his ginger hair. “As you can imagine, I was ecstatic. I never got my own coppers before.”

  “What did you buy?” Isabelle asked.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing. Old Witch Baba stole them from me.” He spat the name like a curse. He saw Isabelle’s puzzled expression and explained. “She was a witch from the village. Everyone tolerated her because she was the closest thing to a healer we had, but she wouldn’t help you until she’d extracted a price so great, you usually ended up the worse for it.” His face twisted, the darkness in his eyes flickered and disappeared so quickly Isabelle wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. “She was a thief and a swindler of the worst kind. That day at the market she walked by me, cackling, and just like that, my coppers were gone.” Jack’s eyes flashed, and he clenched his fists. “Why would she do that to us? We barely scraped by as it was. I kind of snapped.”

  “What did you do?” Isabelle asked. A tendril of foreboding spiraled up her
spine.

  “I went to her house alone that night. I didn’t tell Ma what had happened or where I was going, of course. Most people avoided her place because of the big dog she kept chained in her front yard, but I threw it a bone from our dinner and it let me approach.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen. Her door was unlatched and when I entered her home, no one was in the front room.” He swallowed, his eyes distant, reliving his memory.

  “I looked around, but I couldn’t find my coppers. I did find this harp though.” He patted the instrument. “I decided it was a fair enough exchange. She stole something from me, I’d steal something from her. I loved music, and my old whistle broke a couple years before that.” He chuckled ruefully. “The moment my fingers touched the harp, she came swirling into the room like a storm. Said she ate thieves for dinner.” He trailed off and was silent.

  Isabelle’s feeling of dread grew. Something was wrong. “What happened?”

  Jack’s back was rigid. “I tried to kill her.” He noticed Isabelle’s look of disbelief. “What? It was fight or die. I had my Da’s old hunting knife with me and fought back.” He trailed off.

  “So that was it?” Isabelle prompted. It felt like there was more to the story. She snapped her fingers. “Just like that, you killed a witch?”

  “No, I didn’t kill her,” he said. “And before I could leave she—” Jack bit his lip. “I, uh, set the dog free and escaped, taking the harp with me. Ma threw me out when she’d realized what I’d done. She didn’t want to risk the witch’s wrath. The end.”

  Jack was lying about something. That or he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Isabelle could see it on his face. She opened her mouth to say so when Jack stiffened, peering at the forest.

  “What is it?” Isabelle pressed.

  “It’s quiet.”

  “Yes,” Isabelle agreed. “It’s a forest.”

  Jack shot her a withering look. “The birds have gone silent.”