A Wizard's Wings by T. A. Barron Page B

me, then. What is it?”
    I forced myself to swallow. “It will upset you.”
    “It will upset me more to watch you suffer inside.” Her brown eyes, ever welcoming, watched me. “If telling me would help, then do it. Please.”
    I drew a breath. “All right then.” I glanced upward at the gray, shadowed sky. “Last night, I saw a vision. A face in the clouds. It was—”
    A sudden pounding, rolling out of the distance, arrested me. I listened as it swelled steadily, like a thunderstorm fast approaching. Unlike the rumbling I had heard last night, the sound that had called me to Dagda, this sound had no subtlety. It simply pounded. Before long the boulder beneath us began to shake, vibrating to the incessant rhythm. Hallia squeezed my whole arm as the trees at the base of the hill started swaying dangerously. An enormous limb tore away from an old, leafless elm and crashed to the ground near the spot where we’d slept just a short while before.
    I grabbed my staff so it wouldn’t slide off the edge of the stone. The pounding continued to rattle the hillside, more so by the second. Hallia’s expression told me she wanted to bolt, to become a deer and bound away into the forest. But I shook my head, urging her to stay. For I had heard this sound before, many times. It was a sound that had stirred the land of Fincayra for ages beyond memory, for seasons beyond count.
    The footsteps of a giant.
    Out of the mist-shrouded forest, a shape gradually appeared. Like a hillside itself, it rose above the trees. In time, I could make out the giant’s wild hair, enormous shoulders, and gangly arms, though I couldn’t yet discern any features of the face. All the while, the pounding, pounding, swelled louder. Now I could see enough to know it was a male, wearing a baggy yellow vest and wide brown leggings, in the custom of the residents of Varigal. He lumbered toward us, wading through the forest much as a man would stride through a field of wheat.
    At last, I saw his eyes, wide and reddish pink. And a cavernous mouth full of misshapen teeth. Above that hung a nose that bulged like a swollen potato—a nose I couldn’t help but recognize.
    “It’s all right,” I assured Hallia, clasping her shoulder. “It’s my friend Shim.”
    “Young hawk, what about that vision?”
    “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”
    With a few more enormous strides, Shim reached the base of the hillside. Bending a pine tree aside with his huge hand, he stepped out of the forest. As he released the tree, cones and needles rained down, bouncing through the branches. He took another step closer, planting his massive foot on the slope, and his weight caused the stargazing stone to shift. My staff nearly rolled off again, but I seized it just in time. At last, the giant (as well as the hillside) stood still.
    Gingerly, Hallia and I rose to our feet. We found ourselves facing the tip of his bulbous nose. “Well met, old friend,” I declared, swaying from the force of warm air from his nostrils. “It’s good you found us atop this hill, so we can look you in the face, instead of staring up at your hairy toes.”
    To my surprise, he didn’t laugh at the joke. Nor did he even so much as grin. Rather, his whole face twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. He blinked once, nearly brushing Hallia with lashes as big as oak saplings. Then, in a voice that bellowed hoarsely, he spoke.
    “I is, this oncely time, not happily to see you, Merlin. Or you, missly maiden Hallia.”
    At my feet, my shadow stirred, waving one of its arms.
    Understanding, the giant nodded. “Or you, wizardly shadow.”
    The dark form assumed a dignified pose, holding its chin out with pride.
    Ignoring the shadow, I demanded, “Why? What’s wrong?”
    Shim’s eyebrows, as thick as forested knolls, drew together. “The wickedly king, the one you calls Stangmar, escapes this morning! Nobodily knows where he is gone.”
    My knees suddenly weakened. I stumbled, almost stepping