“Commander Avery, sir,” A man called as he ran towards the stationary wagons. “The Giants, they're here just over the ridge in a dip. They have one on guard and the rest are sleeping. There are five Giants sir, five. And a human as well.”

“Thank you,” Alvar interrupted him. “I am aware of the numbers. Go to your station and prepare your men for battle,” Alvar told him and the man marched back to his station with haste. Meanwhile, Alvar went to Varun and Venor, who were sleeping on the ground nearby. Alvar kicked them awake and they stood to command immediately. “Venor, take your archers to the upper pass, the Giants lie just beyond it. Watch yourself, there will be one Giant on guard. Varun send up your youngest and most agile men behind Venor’s men. We will draw the Giants from the mountains to these plains, but be cautious, we are not prepared as we normally are and we are here to kill not capture.”

Asil was awoken by Ilioc, as it was now her watch, but instead of going to sleep Ilioc took her by the arm and whispered into her ear,

“There was a scout on the pass but I can't be sure if he saw me or not. We need to gather boulders in case of an attack,” Ilioc told her and Asil followed his instructions. They gathered around 30 boulders of different sizes. Unaware to them as they awoke the others, Venor’s men lined up on the upper pass which lay just above the Giants camp. Quietly they drew back their bows, lining up their shots before Venor signalled them to fire. The arrows met their marks and the Giants turned immediately towards then just before they fired again. Pacha was behind the Giants and the arrows missed her. On the second wave of arrows, the Giants were more prepared, dodging most of the attacks, while they readied boulders to strike back. By the third wave of arrows, the Giants had thrown several boulders, hitting archers in the chest.

“Retreat!” Venor yelled and the archers pulled back just as a large boulder took a dozen archers out. They turned and headed back down the steep slope to the camp. The Giants picked up as many boulders as they could carry and headed up to the pass. They headed over the top and threw the boulders at the running archers, managing to take most of them out. Meanwhile, Varun’s men came out from their hiding places and struck at the Giants. This enraged the Giants and they charged at the men, running down the slope and towards the camp. At the back, Pacha picked up a sword dropped by one of the men and followed the Giants. As they ran they were unable to see the army that awaited them at the bottom of the slope.

They neared the edge of the solid slope and the ground beneath them moved with each step. The scree slope they found themselves on was easy to run down, due to the amount of loose rock overlying the solid layer. From below, men fired charged spheres at the Giants, which they could not avoid. Many hit the Giants and they came crashing down the slope, taking out many Varun’s men as they did so. Pacha slid down it, keeping her eyes fixed on the falling Giants. She took out some of Varun’s men as she passed before she landed at the bottom where Twulai, Ilioc and Torbjørn lay shaking due to the spheres. Ahead of her, Achala and Asil stood up and launched at the men, taking out many of them with ease. Pacha followed them, slashing at men who ran at her and cutting them down. The Giants behind her struggled to their feet before they picked up boulders from the scree slope and threw them at men. After a while, the men thinned out and Pacha realised that they were in the centre of five wagons spread far apart. In a blaze of white light and loud explosions, which quickly turned to white noise, Pacha and the Giants were thrown in many different directions.

Through the thick mist, which now lay upon the plain, the men emerged. They hauled great nets up and over the Giants. Pacha found herself away from the men, she was covered in dust and watching from afar. She looked behind her and saw someone who was making their way through the crowd, a weapon in his hand. She quickly got to her feet and took hold of a sword which was near her before running for them. She recognised with clarity the weapon he was holding. It was the gun that the Giants had been shot with when they were transported to the North. Pacha got close to the man, knocked him to the ground and forced the weapon from his hand. Within a moment, a swarm of men pulled Pacha away from the man, who she now recognised as the one who had captured her and the Giants many months ago. Pacha was then knocked out.

Pacha awoke, feeling the intense heat from nearby fires. A rock whistled over her head, then another, and another. She became aware of the heavy metal net which was wrapped around her as blazing fireballs landed near her. She scrabbled and scratched at the metal trying to find a way out, she paused when one of the wagons, engulfed by flames, flew over her body and crashed nearby. Achala came into view and unwrapped Pacha from the net, blood had run down the side of the Achala’s face and Pacha had no time to ask her if she was alright. Men came at them from all sides. Achala turned and fought off those nearest to her, while Pacha picked up a sword and both attacked men and dodged attacks. Torbjørn appeared behind Pacha, swinging several nets above his head and then throwing them over the men. Some became trapped under them while other nets caught the men side on and flung them across the landscape.

Soon the plains were a mess of flames, blood and bodies. Ilioc and Torbjørn were taking out most of the men while Asil and Twulai were taking down stragglers. Pacha kept close to Achala as they took down men foolish enough to take them on. Most of the remaining men, which were very few in number, began to turn and run into the wilderness. The Giants let them go, they figured the chances of that getting far weren’t high, and the chances of survival were slim. The flames from the burning wagons lit up the sky. Men lay on the ground injured, some were close to death while others were able to walk. On the shoreline which was close now, Pacha made out a ship. Whether it had been part of the assault or passing traders who had stopped to help the men, Pacha did not know. She just knew that it would be their escape.

The Giants, satisfied that there was no more danger, made their way towards the ship. Pacha followed them, walking at a fair pace while to her right, men scuttled away and retreated back towards the direction where they had come from. Something moved without warning in Pacha’s peripheral vision and she turned with her sword. She found herself facing the man who had captured her. Hatred filled her mind and she tightened her grip on the sword. The man was sitting and looking up at her, while his hand was pressing firmly on an injury to his chest. It was clear that he did not remember Pacha. Fury raged within Pacha and she wanted to kill him where he knelt, but something was holding her back. Killing in order to flee in a pre-empted attack is one thing but murdering someone in cold blood, even someone whose actions had led to such devastation, pain and suffering. Pacha couldn’t do it. She couldn't kill him. She couldn’t kill this unnamed man who had no hint of remorse for his actions.

Within Pacha, her anger became sadness and then it became fear.

“You,” She whispered, holding the sword stiffly against the man’s throat. Tears threatened to surface but Pacha held them back. “I don’t care who you are,” She said, her voice becoming stronger as she grew in confidence. “You have caused the suffering of many. The suffering of these Giants, of the men who now flee and of me.” As Pacha spoke she felt a presence beside her, one of which she could not identify. It wasn’t Elizabeth, but rather one which was much more powerful. “In this death and this pain,” Pacha continued, turning the sword so that it dug into the man’s skin. “I could kill you, cut off your head so that you would never cause pain to anyone again,” The man to whom Pacha spoke remained eerily silent and unmoving. There was something about him that Pacha could not place, there was a sense that he knew death and was unafraid of it. “I will spare your life,” Pacha said slowly, feeling the presence beside her. “I do not wish to know who you are or how many horrific things you have done. Take your life away from here, leave us to sail away in peace from this place, and if anyone comes after us I will personally ensure that they do not come back alive.” Pacha spoke the words with surety and confidence. She drew the sword away from the man, and his gaze did not change. “Tell the men who await you that we attacked you, but we were overcome, and we burned in the flames. Let us both suffer now the pain we feel in peace. For you are forgiven,” Pacha dropped the sword by his feet and stepped away from him. She remained there for a moment, holding his gaze before she turned and ran for the ship which the Giants had now boarded. Pacha ran for the ship, which was leaving the shoreline and reached out her hand. Torbjørn leaned out from the boat, lifted Pacha up and placed her gently on the deck.

On the land, Alvar slowly and painfully struggled to his feet. He picked up the sword which Pacha had left behind and stood watching the boat leave. He had not recognised the woman, but he felt something new and something powerful standing alongside him. He turned back to the devastation of the battleground. The wagons they had brought with them were all broken and burning in the intense heat. Bodies lay strewn throughout the landscape, some men had been singed to nothing but ash while others had been burnt beyond recognition. Alvar knew that among them Venor and Varun lay dead.

Alvar turned his gaze to the sea and drew in a deep breath. Hunting down the rogue giants had reminded him of how much he needed the sea. That woman could have killed him and perhaps she should of. Alvar had stared death in the face many times throughout his life and he knew well the cold emptiness that surrounds death and seeps into the world from his presence. That vast darkness reminded him of the deep, icy waters that he and his sister had been thrown into as children.

His sister had died and yet he had survived. He led others to their deaths and yet he survived. The slaves, the giants and his crew had all died and still death was yet to take Alvar. The woman who had cut into his neck with the sword and had not been surrounded by that chilling atmosphere but instead, she had been radiating heat. Alvar raised a hand and wiped the blood from his neck. His blood was warm. Alvar turned back to the flames and the dead. The world had not been kind to him and now, Alvar realised, he had not been kind to himself.

Alvar gently grasped his right forearm with his left hand. He hated his past but he could not deny it. Now, staring at his defeat, he was going to embrace it and let it lead his future.