Pilgrimage to The Giant's Door

High Chieftain King of the South, his Brother, and Nephew take the sacred journey to the Giant's Door only to find ominous ruin. In a fury, they make haste to the Castle of Chalif King.

Book One: Sight Out of Time | Episode 1.4

[This series is rated “Mature” for thematic elements, sensuality, and violence.]

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_+ in the days of Chalif King, beneath the canopy of the eastern Wood, pilgrimage road

The trees of the Wood were still and soft, yielding to the occasional breeze, shivering and shedding their leaves. The somber wind of the coming winter was trying to speak of foreboding to Elles, High Chieftain King and his sister’s husband William, but even the sons of Giants had forgotten how to hear the voice of the wind. Folk of the South were a tall, solid, pale people steeped strong in traditions, customs, and management of taboos. This was a contrast to their older cousins of the North, who were cunning in astronomies, geometries, and city life. People of the south were content to raise small flocks of sheep, fish in the sea, and perfect the construction of longboats. It was more important than ever to tell the stories and sing the songs of their people. Despite their fierce fighting spirit and physical prowess, the people of the south dwindled with every conquest and massacre from the north. It was all they could do to keep pirates and midland Barons away from their lands. A permanent string of warrior outposts had been placed upon the southern shore of the Midland Sea after young Chalif’s attack, and this was effective enough to keep harassment away for a decade. But peace had surely fled the whole world. In their heart of hearts, Elles and William knew it was only a matter of time before their people faced extinction. Their wives were working on a solution to that while the men tracked politics and managed their defense. All this was constantly in the forefront of the minds of the High Chieftains, always the innuendo of the third or fourth sentence of a conversation. It made for weary hearts and brittle tempers.

But on this occasion, Elles and William could not be shaken from their bright temperament. Williams’s son was with them, and it was his very first pilgrimage to the Giant’s Door. For the first time in over a decade, a new generation would lay gaze upon the Mountain Dweller, the very last of the Allfathers.

“You have the face of a giddy ram, Will,” said Elles, sitting gay and proud upon his horse.

“How else can I be, as our people have endured this long?” said Will, smiling wide. “And to be on this road with my son.”

Will trotted his horse over to his son, playfully grabbed him by the hair, and kissed him three or four times on the face and forehead. Young William was duly embarrassed, but not ashamed. A strapping boy of eleven with shiny, blonde locks and beaming mellow-blue eyes like the sea, he was born in the lull after the conquests of young Chalif, twenty years after the conquests of Ulun. All he knew was that the northern king was too distracted by the midland barons to bother with the remnant of the southern people, and that his father and uncle, badly scarred and handsome, were the bravest warriors in the world. 

Young William was very keen to learn what they taught him of warcraft, and soaked in every word, every story, and every admonition, for he was reminded always by his High Chieftain mother that any moment could be the last moment. For all his admirable yet juvenile accomplishments, William was unacquainted with true violence. His elders kissed him and pat his back now, but they knew the loss of innocence would soon come. They had to have faith in young William, else despair would take them over.

“Can you tell me, Willy, the song of the Allfathers?” Elles asked his nephew. “Before the wars, before the great castles and cities, when the giants came down from heaven? Tell me the story we’ve told you, and we’ll see how well you’ve listened.”

Young William was prepared for this rite of passage. He’d sat with the bard’s guild for months practicing the songs. The boy recited the whole story and his personal lineage as they rode for many days through the forest, far around the castle of the North, and up the mountain trails:

When the Foremothers lived in houses of mud and fed on fish from the ocean, a great star fell from heaven and crashed into the mountain. The Allfathers were in the star that fell, and many of their family died in the crash. The Allfathers walked from the mountain through the eastern Wood. They were tall as the trees, so they walked in the trees, so the trees could hide them from the Foremothers in the mud houses. Feeble and starving, the last five giants laid on the beach to die. The Foremothers gave them water from the sweet river and fed them fish stew until the giants were made of fish and water, and they understood each other’s words. When the Allfathers were strong enough to stand, they went to the mountain and brought back tools of starlight and fire.

The Allfathers told the Foremothers they could not travel back to the stars because their star boat had burned and their boat makers had perished. They would live in the mountain. And they made of the mountain a gleaming city of crystal and ore with five standing stones which were polished so smooth they reflected the sky; the sunshine by day, and the stars at night. 

The Foremothers wanted cities of stone like the Giants, and happily they made cities for the people. The Foremothers wanted bread and mead like the Giants, and happily they showed the people to cultivate bees and grain. The Foremothers wanted knowledge of the ways of Giants, and they taught them their ways for many thousand years. And the Foremothers forgot their sacred ways and shunned the forest and the beaches.

Over ages, the Allfathers were finally growing old, and they wanted their Soul to endure. So they took vials of water filled with star magic and created smaller giants, and these were the first of our people. In peace, we lived with the Foremothers. In peace, we drank mead with them in the shadow of the Crystal City. Great prosperity was upon the world for five hundred generations while the Allfathers walked across the ends of the earth, bringing gemstones and metal, new fruits and seeds, and camels for beasts of burden. 

But then, the great sin. The Allfathers awakened the dragons of the far side, and in their fleeing led the dragons to the people. Cities and children, hamlet and families were burned and torn and eaten. And as the blood of the Foremothers was delicious to the dragons and our people bitter to the taste, so many more of the Foremothers were charred and torn asunder. Our people fought the dragons mightily, and many died, but many more prevailed until the Allfathers learned to speak to the dragons and told them to go out from the cities and live in the wild of the mountains. 

In their grief, the Foremothers grew bitter and resentful. They cursed the giants and they swore by the fish they’d fed them that the hoary, ancient ones were the cause of all their sorrow. They would share no mead with their children. They would sing no songs, they would make no trade. In a generation, a new evil festered in the hearts of orphans and strong men bereft of their sons. 

Children of the Foremothers said, we will rule our own people apart! And then they rode crusades to take lives of our people for the lives of their people. The Allfathers came to defend us, and our people fled to the south. Two of the Allfathers died in the battle. Drunk with the stink of victory, warlords then ruled the world from the shore of the sea to the northern mountains. One by one, the Allfathers succumbed to the warlords until our once-great people were naught but tribes and the last of the Allfathers remained.

On the final day of their pilgrimage, a few generations short of completing the last song, young William’s voice trailed off at the sight of singed trees, distressed mud, and pools of thick, black liquid. Elles urged his horse up next to Will and shared a brief look of panic with him, then turned his horse to flank his nephew. 

“Uncle, is that…?”

“Yes, Willy,” said Elles. “It’s dragon blood.”

The wildlife of the forest sighed, punctuating the eerie silence with an occasional mournful coo. High William picked up the pace as they reached the winding path of the Giant’s Door. The Chieftains entered the sacred glen to find tall femur bones crossed and leaning against the boulder holding the Giant’s sword. They dismounted, crying out in the ancient tongue they had not yet taught their young charge, my Lord, my Lord! We come to your door! The traditional greeting, usually ceremonial, was this day spoken with great panic. Seeing only the femurs and no other bones or flesh, the brothers dared to imagine that perhaps the Giant would open his door and explain this horrible omen. But the cartilage was still raw, and the bone bore marks of scraping tools. When they found the rune of the royal taxidermist carved tastefully on the far side of both bones, they knew their enemy had finally gone too far. 

“Give me the key,” demanded Will, and Elles complied, handing him a large and curiously-made silver key from his pack. 

Elles motioned young William down from his horse, and with a loving, firm hand upon the back of his neck, Elles led him forward to the Giant’s Door.

“They couldn’t open it, but they certainly tried,” said Will, examining the door as he found the key port and opened the side of the mountain.

The door opened horizontally, sliding into a pocket in the rock. It revealed a cave that could have fit several families, but was probably only just big enough for a few giants. The door triggered bright, white lights to flicker on; rod-shaped lights without fire. Young William reverently wandered around the long, metal tables that were higher than his head. Rows upon rows of well-organized curio cabinets were built into the walls reaching to the cathedral-like ceiling. Elles pressed a round, red button on the side of one of the tables that lowered steps the perfect height for them to climb. William followed his uncle and father to the top step, and thought for sure he had wandered into a dream. 

The table was smooth glass, but strange writing and images moved and blinked and scrolled underneath the glass like fish in a lake. His father noticed a blinking rune—the symbol of their people—and touched the rune with his finger. Then, what looked like a phantom emerged from the glass table into the air. It was the head and shoulders of what William could only assume was the Giant, and he was speaking in the words of the Allfathers with a very grave tone. Though the Giant’s face seemed to be there in the room with them, when William reached out his hand, it went through the phantom as if it wasn’t there. At William’s touch the image was disturbed like ripples on a pond. Elles gently pulled William’s hand away.

“The Giant has left us a message,” said Elles.

“Elles, I can’t make it out,” said Will. “You and your sister have had more practice. What is he saying?”

They listened for a few moments, and Elles shook his head confused and sad. When the message ended, Elles touched the rune again and the message played from the beginning. 

Elles translated what he heard. “He greets us,” 

“That much I understood,” mumbled Will.

“If we see this message, he is happy and sad; because we have entered his house safely, and because he is dead.” Elles cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “The uh…the time, the time has come for the Giants to go. We could not live forever, and I am tired, he says.”

“He is throttled with despair,” whispered Will. “Look at him.”

“It is natural that the ages of this world will forget us. Do not be sad,” said Elles. “Lock this door, and walk away for a thousand years. If our people have heard our signal, it is then they will come to the mountain. In love I leave you, in peace I submit myself to the angel of death.”

The men stood in silence for a time. The unthinkable had happened, and they were at a loss for words. Indeed, what remark could they give that would remedy what this meant for their tiny stronghold in the south without their creators to advocate on their behalf? At length, Elles noticed Will’s fist tightening around the Giant’s key.

“The magic tools should be put to sleep if they are to lay useless for an age,” said Elles.

Young William knew the look in his father’s eyes. It came from a place of fury and weakness within him. William’s body filled with fear, and he choked with emotion. Unable to stop the hot tears from rolling down his face, William looked to his uncle.

“Will,” said Elles, reaching out. “Give me the key.”

Will seemed not to hear him. Elles’ face hardened.

“Brother,” he said. “you will give me that key.”

Will turned abruptly, handing Elles the key, and walked his raging heart out of the mountain to his horse. Elles shut down all the instruments in the cave. The walls rumbled and echoed with the turning of mechanisms out of sight. Finally, the rod-shaped lights flickered off and the young king ushered his nephew to the wide door. Young William marveled at the Giant’s tools as the wall of the mountain closed. When the lock was secured once more, a tremendous puff of air expressed from the crack of the door, flinging Young William’s braids away from his face. While Will was out of earshot, Elles cautioned his nephew as they walked to their horses.

“No matter what occurs,” said Elles. “Stay very close to me. Do you understand?”

Elles shook the boy by his arm to punctuate, and William nodded.

“Yes Uncle,” said the boy.

Then they mounted their horses and rode after Will, who was descending the mountain like a raging thunderstorm.

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Eyes of the Oracle: Sight Out of Time © 2023 kmCarter (Krista M. Carter) all rights reserved. Properly-attributed quotes of less than 200 words (print, digital, etc.) may be used for criticism, reporting, or sharing to social media. Direct Message for media, publication, or collaboration inquiries.

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