In the City of Giants - Chapter III

             Vitoroy had not been looking forward to this trip, preferring home above anything else in the world. But the summers were the only time he got to see his father, and every year Vitoroy thought he could finally figure out what he wanted out of life by spending time away from home. Every year, that did not turn out to be true, even Vitoroy was not sure why he kept going. Perhaps he just wanted to make his mother happy, let her know that her son was not a total shut in, but it did not make Vitoroy dread the trip any less. It was not the heat of the desert heat that worried him, all dwarves even half-breeds had internal temperature regulation. It was just having to be away from his mountain, or even his father’s house, away from any semblance of home that made Vitoroy uncomfortable.  

            But now, now Vitoroy was there at the dig, marveling at the massive tent that surrounded him, a shade shield from sunlight made of Dragon Silk. The pitch-black fabric not only kept things cool within but was also immune to fire. This immunity is what allowed fire to be used for light instead of having to cut holes in the tent and letting the hot desert air in. the downside to this was that it was extremely difficult to tell what time it was. They had only been there for a single sleep and Vitoroy was already unsure if it was night or day.

            Vitoroy awoke the ‘morning’ after arrival to find that his father had already left to do whatever his job was here. Vitoroy remembered it having to do with translating the ancient giant language. In the meantime, Vitoroy had agreed to walk around with his brothers and sister, to explore the camp, and meet some of the people.

            The camp was littered with ten-person tents all around. Most of them were a dull tan color but three of them stood out. The yellow ‘Language Consultant’s’ tent which Vitoroy and his family were staying in, the red ‘Director’s’ tent, and the blue ‘President’s’ tent. Bard had said they should go and meet the other officials, but to Vitoroy and his siblings, the Eianth workers were by far the most interesting and important. Finding one of them was not exactly hard either, there were hundreds scuttling about. All Vitoroy had to do was tap one of the ant women on the shoulder to get their attention.

            The woman turned to face to Vitoroy and he was shocked to see how human they looked up close. Most of their body still looked like that of an ant except standing on their hind legs, but the face was just that of a human woman. Ignoring the antenna and helmet like continuation of exoskeleton in place of hair.

            “Excuse me,” said Amare. “Could we ask you a few questions?”

            “Sure,” sighed the Eianth exasperatedly. “I got work to do so make it quick.”

            “Excuse my kin,” said Shabaka pushing both Amare and Vitoroy out of the way. “But I think we should introduce ourselves first. We are the children of the translator, Bard. And you are?” The Eianth woman responded with a literally inhuman sound that no one without the appropriate Eianth vocal organs could hope to imitate.

            “But you can just call me Ra-Ka,” said the Eianth woman with a smile.

            “W… well Ra-Ka, what is it you do here?” asked Shabaka, tripping over her words.  

“Dig. Same as I would do normally,” said Ra-Ka. “Granted this is not directly expanding my home but if this can get us some money to by nature preserves that you humans can’t expand on, that would be.”

“But none of us are full human.” asked Smalls, seeming oblivious to how none of them were exactly human passing to begin with.  

“All the same to me,” said Ra-Ka.

“One more question,” said Vitoroy. “It is actually about the architecture of your home tunnel systems.”

“Oh okay,” chuckled Ra-ka smiling with her eyes wide. “Go for it.”

Vitoroy then proceeded to ramble on, asking minute questions about the Eianth tunnels that ran all under the continent of Olden. The answers to which typically amounted to either the Eianth’s ability to sense strong stable areas of earth, or their other ability to excrete a sticky resin from anywhere on their body. This all bored Vitoroy’s siblings immensely but he thought that they had dragged him around to places he hated enough times that they could bear with him for this.

“Well thank you for all that, it was very fascinating,” said Vitoroy with a smile. A sigh of relief fell over the other four.

“No problem,” said Ra-Ka. “Say, could you actually do me a favor?”

“We would be glad to help you in any way!” cheered Shabaka.

“You are on you, way to meet the director, right?”

“How did you know?” asked Tilian swith a raised eyebrow.

“Guess really, but it was a safe one seeing how you are the translator’s kids,” said Ra-Ka. “I want you to ask him about those big, locked boxes we had to haul around earlier. Not complaining, the carpet guy just brought them in and told us to bring them to the president’s tent without saying why. Just hoping to get some more info is all.”

“What do you mean by big, locked boxes?” asked Amare.

“Well, they were sort of like black coffins with gold lining. And boy were they heavy, took nearly the entire crew just to carry one, and there NINE!”

“We’ll check it out for you then,” said Vitoroy.

Not two minutes later they had arrived at the cloth door of the red tent. Vitoroy poked his head through to make sure they would not be interrupting anything. What Vitoroy found was a room scattered with crumpled up pieces of paper and clothes. In the middle of it all, a white feathered birdman, passed out seemingly from exhaustion. His breathing was quick and heavy, Vitoroy felt the need to head on in and make sure he was alright.

“Mr. Buskdor?” asked Vitoroy, stepping through the tent door, followed by the others. The Avareed jolted awake and jumped up in a daze, a few feathers flying off him and one getting stuck on the right nostril of his beak.

“So, so, so, so sorry!” Buskador the birdman cried. “I was working all night and must have collapsed.”

“What was so important?” asked Smallblade.

“Well… um, I, uh…” stammered Buskdor twirling the tips of his feathered wing arms together. “I am not sure if I can talk to you about that. I am kind of in a deep pit with the President for going over his head and asking the Imperial Court for a new translator.”

“That’s our dad!” exclaimed Shabaka.

“Eh… you all look enough alike,” said Buskdor with a shrug.

“Wait. New translator? What happened to the old one?” asked Vitoroy.

“Well, um…” Buskador returned to his stammer. “In for a penny,” he sighed in a whisper. “This dig has been going on for quite a while actually. For years people have suspected there might be ruins of a Giant stronghold here. And a few months ago, a translator named Juna Maleek found the hieroglyphics that your father is working on. After she finished deciphering them it brought a whole lot more attention to this project, what you see now. But before she could publish her findings, she just vanished.”

“What did the hieroglyphics say?” asked Tilian. “Surely you as the director of the dig should know.”

“I wasn’t the director then though. They fired the old guy. I am not in charge here, I just manage things. It is the financers who make the decisions,” said Buskdor rushing through his words.

“And this President, would he be the financier?” asked Vitoroy.

“Yes him, minus the grant he got from the Imperial Court,” said Buskdor. Smallbalde slammed his fists together.

“Let’s go get some answers out of that pig then!” Smallblade exclaimed rushing out of the tent before anyone could react.

“Did Smalls just rush into the lair of who is probably the bad guy?” Vitoroy asked as the rest of his more heroic siblings rushed into the lair of who was probably the bad guy.

“Could you go find my dad for me? I am sure he has already sniffed this stuff out and is just being a bit more discreet. I need to go herd some cats,” said Vitoroy as he pushed aside the cloth tent door and looked out into the open dig. When Buskdor gave a nod, Vitoroy ran off to the blue tent.

Within that place, Vitoroy found his siblings confronting an old man who was sitting behind a desk. He had muttonchop sideburns, pale grey eyes, and was somehow both fat and withered. Standing on either side of him were two massive men in pitch black armor. Soldiers of the Bludcrav Mercenary Company, the most feared and well-trained private army in the world. Upon the man’s desk, was a nameplate that read ‘President Autca.’

“Just come clean old man!” shouted Smalls. “We know you are up to something, and it proboly has something to do with those big black things.” The guards looked at each other.

“He means those boxes we were told about from the Eianth,” said Tilian quickly at first and then slowing down, pointing an accusatory finger at Autca.

“Deer oh deer, oh my,” said Autca with his index fingers against his lips and his head tilted down. “Corporate spies come to steal my archaeological findings. Guards, take them away.”

The guards in black sprinted forward, Amare held out his arms to cast a spell, but it was too late. Before Vitoroy or his siblings could do anything, the BMC Soldiers had knocked them out. As the darkness took hold of Vitoroy, his only hope was his father, the Fury of Sound and Flame.