Page 9 of Greed of Giants

It came again, the whimpering cry. Rolling up the map, I tucked it back into my bag, hesitating only a moment before abandoning the path for the grass. A flock of butter-yellow butterflies flitted out of white flowers, brushing past me with wings as gentle as silk. Their slight hum reminded me how unique this remote world was from the vibrant city I’d left behind.

The whimper came again, louder this time.

There, tangled in brambles at the roots of a great redwood, was a small dog. As I neared, its movements grew more frantic. It yelped, shaking its shaggy black coat. I knelt and held out my hand to let it sniff me. “I’m here to help,” I cooed.

A tiny pink tongue licked my fingers. Deciding I tasted like an ally, it whimpered again.

Working methodically, I found the bramble that ensnared its paw and gently tugged it free. The pup took a tentative step, then shook itself. Only then did I notice thecurved black horns on its head. They were small, confirming my assumption that the dog was a puppy, yet I’d never seen a wild dog with horns.

I studied it closely, inclined to take out my sketchbook and draw it. Were there pictures of this creature in the archive? If I’d made a discovery, I needed proof to take back with me.

“There you go, all better.” I stood, dusting off my knees. “What are you? I’ve never seen a beast like you before.”

The little dog wagged its tail, barked, then nosed at my boot. It had claws like a cat, yet it was friendly. I laughed. “You look too young to be alone. Where’s your family?”

Liquid brown eyes stared up at me, and my heart went soft. But I was here to work, not to adopt a strange horned dog. It turned and started sniffing around the tree. I watched, but only for a moment before backing away and returning to the path.

The signpost rose before me, a reminder of why I was here. Perhaps I should stop and copy down the runes, but I wanted to get to the ruins first and confirm whether I truly had six months of work in front of me. Then there was the issue of translating the runes.

I hoped Harlan could help, especially because I had no intention of spending six months on the island. Alone. Surely Yonnie would rent me a room. I’d take some provisions from the hut with me so I wouldn’t be a burden, and perhaps I could help around the tavern in exchange for board. My coin wouldn’t last long since the House of Scholars did not pay field workers for their time.

Then I felt it. A presence. Something was following me.

A bead of sweat ran down my spine. Why hadn’t Ibrought a walking stick to defend myself? It would be better than my bare hands, and I was certain wild beasts still prowled the island.

With a shudder, I peeked over my shoulder. Shaggy black fur caught my eye. The little horned dog scampered up beside me, then stared up at me as though waiting. I took a step, and it followed, tail wagging.

I smiled, my heart feeling lighter. “So you’re coming with me then? I could use the company.”

The ascent grew steeper, and the landscape shifted. Though groves of trees still blocked my view, a rotten undertone made my eyes water. I wrinkled my nose. “Do you smell that?”

The horned dog picked up speed, trotting ahead just as the last few shrubs dropped away.

I gasped, my feet slowing to a stop as I gazed up and up and up.

Gray shapes rose on a hilltop, polished stone set in symmetry. Even from a distance, the runes were clear to make out, not rough or crudely chiseled, but perfected in the stone itself. I fumbled for my sketchbook, dropping my bag on the ground as I approached. Each footfall felt sacred, each step slow and intentional. I was seeing this—the gateway to the ancient city of giants—for the first time.

Wind moved through the stones with a low, hollow note, like breath. I’d never live this moment again, never feel this bone-shuddering awe. I relished it, letting it sink into my soul.

Here is where they once walked. Giants. The great intellectuals of that day. As close to gods as any race could be. My thoughts returned to the legend Harlan had shared,of how they dug too deep and discovered something hidden underground, which led to their demise. A burning fever of desire came over me: the need toknow, to discover the truth. My fingers trembled as I clutched my pencil.

The stones rose on either side like soldiers, leading to a grand arch. A golden glow wove between them, glittering like a visible wind. Something white lifted and blew like snow, sending a shiver down my spine. Even though the giants were gone, their spirits lingered, giving the area a hallowed aura. I suddenly understood why the villagers stayed away, but their reason for staying was my reason for coming.

I wanted to understand the unknown, find buried secrets, and expose the truth. Other scholars had missed this opportunity, but perhaps something good would come of my punishment. Right now, it felt like a gift.

I set to work while the horned dog trotted around, sniffing at stones, pausing with ears up, tail wagging as he made his way deeper into the ruins. I took my time copying down the runes, which followed a pattern. Long dashes and square shapes, followed by more lines. They weren’t crude signs of an ignorant culture, but detailed ones, each matching the others in symmetry. An important distinction.

Two schools of thought competed to explain ancient civilizations and how they shaped the known world. One party believed that those who lived near the time of creation were primitive, like children. As the world aged, so did their intelligence.

The opposing party believed that creation was the work of superior beings who wished to inhabit a world of theirown making. Beings far more intelligent than the people of today will ever become. Unfortunately, the created became uncontrollable and, eventually, the superior beings argued and split ways. Some suggested that was what caused the Great Sundering, but it was all speculation.

I believed in the latter school of thought, and if I hadn’t before, simply seeing the runes would be enough to persuade me. Intelligence had built such majestic feats. They had walked in power, be it their own or gifts given. Magic was rare, but occasionally someone with unique abilities appeared, often to be taken and controlled by the government.

As I finished tracing the runes, clouds rolled over the sunlight, and the hillside darkened. I stood, wondering if it was about to rain. Weather on islands was temperamental, at least according to the records. But the sound of music compelled me forward. The same tune I’d heard this morning and assumed it was Harlan’s flute.

Drawn by curiosity, I stepped under the archway.

Air vibrated as though I’d stepped across a sacred threshold. Tightness squeezed my chest, dots spun around my vision, and words burst out of my mouth. “I’m Ilaris the Scholar, and I come in peace to study the city and ensure your history is recorded. I seek the truth, and I have no nefarious agenda, no ill intentions.”