Page 7 of Greed of Giants

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I assumed the previous scholar filled you in and you came to complete his work.”

I pressed my lips together, wondering what I’d missed. “Previous scholar? Wasn’t that decades ago? Surely you weren’t his guide too?”

Harlan chuckled. “As though I look young. Aye, it was me those years ago. Scholar Benjamin, older fellow, very serious, intense. But you’re not his apprentice?”

I pondered my next words. I’d never heard of Scholar Benjamin, nor seen his work in the archives. But that meant little. If his focus had been on giants and ancient ruins, I’d ignored it because it wasn’t a field I was particularly interested in. I truly doubted there was anything left to discover, but Harlan’s words piqued my curiosity.

“No, I’m not his apprentice, nor am I familiar with his work. There are many scholars and libraries full of their books. I admit, I did not have time to conduct an in-depth study before taking the train here. I’d appreciate anything you know about the ruins, the giants, and Scholar Benjamin.”

“He seemed troubled, that’s all I know. He was focused on his studies, and we exchanged few words. I am surprised to see you, because he suggested no scholars would come here again, or at least he did not recommend it.”

I nodded slowly. In my mind it made sense. I wasn’t here because there was anything new to discover. I was here as punishment. But Harlan didn’t need to know that.

We walked in silence until the morning mist parted, displaying the dock that stretched into the gray water like a finger pointing. Barnacles and salt clung to it. Boats were tied on both sides, bobbing in the water. Otherwise, it was still, no one around aside from us. The fog hovered like grasping fingers over the water, only showing a few feet in each direction. A cold clamminess came over my skin. Thiswas the kind of mist that swallowed people and never let go.

“Mind your step,” Harlan called.

He led the way down the dock and held out his hand for my bag before helping me into the boat. I lowered myself down, clinging to the damp sides as it rocked under my weight. I peered down at the water while Harlan loosened the rope and climbed in. Grabbing the oars, he pushed off.

“How do you know which way to go in the mist?” I asked.

“I’ve been rowing back and forth across the bay for decades. I could do it blind. But it’s the scent, smells different this way, although I don’t have the words to explain it. If you close your eyes, you might catch it.”

Stilling myself, I closed my eyes, letting my other senses work. The rhythmic splash of the oars. The brine of salt and water. The musty scent of grass. A wetness clinging to the air and. . .there. A hint of something ancient. It was peppery, almost spicy, and tickled my nose. But that wasn’t all. Sound rolled up from underneath the waters, a melodic whisper, something like music but not quite.

When I opened my eyes, the buzzing inside my head ceased. A moment later, sunlight burned through the clouds and my mouth fell open. I angled my head up, then leaned back as a massive island rose before me. We were headed for the sandy beach, warm-toned and bathed in sunlight, a smattering of seashells, starfish, and crabs lay upon it. The inlet we headed toward was open, but craggy rocks rose on either side, making it impossible to land a boat anywhere aside from the open beach. The groundslanted sharply upward into weaving grass and distant trees. Beyond them, a bare mountain reared its naked head above all else.

My throat went dry, not from fear, but from awe. This was wild land, desolate and lonely, and I was sent to find its secrets.

A multitude of questions rose in my mind, and I struggled to organize them as Harlan steered the boat to the beach. I was on my feet before we stopped moving, boots splashing in the shallow water as I climbed out, eager to explore. Behind us, a wall of mist surrounded the island, obscuring it from the mainland.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Harlan huffed, tugging the boat ashore.

The peppery scent had faded, replaced by sea salt and wild grass. My gaze drifted to the mountain, almost invisible among the canopy of trees, now that we’d entered its domain.

“Does anyone live here?” I asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder, wincing as my ribs protested.

Harlan shook his head as he started across the sand. “Not that I am aware of. Some come to fish or hunt, hence the huts. The trip across the water is treacherous at night.”

“But not for you, because you can do the trip blind.”

“Even I don’t attempt it at night.”

“Why?”

“The water is peculiar. I’m sure you’ve heard the music, the wordless song.”

“I heard you playing the flute when I woke.”

“Perhaps you did, perhaps you didn’t. But the music ofthe waves is harmless enough, unless you give in and slip inside. Once you do, you belong to them.”

“Them?” I eyed the waves, which seemed harmless in the sunlight. “Is this a tale that has to do with the giants?”

“How could it? They are long dead and gone. No, there are many tales, but some say old spirits live at the bottom of the sea, dragging the living down to keep them company.”

“Mermaids?” I asked, racking my mind for fables.

Harlan chuckled. “No one believes in mermaids. Leastwise, we’ve never seen them either. They are only a tale from forgotten times.”