Near the northeast shoulder of Gryphon Mountain spread an ancient forest. Mendrion and Siggorund had finished their descent of the north face and rounded the shoulder, having been left unguarded by the gryphons of the high slopes yet harrassed no longer by the niflungs. Mendrion had begun to think that perhaps the worst part of the journey was behind them.

Then Siggorund stopped at the sight of the giant wood and refused to enter it.

The Seer hadn’t seen his warrior companion look at anything with such an intense stare. He looked like a dog whose master was trying to pull it into a hole in the ground.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Siggorund. Nothing but that stare. “I have to go in there. Surely there aren’t ghosts.” Siggorund shook his head.

Curious, Mendrion drew the Gryphon’s Claw out of his satchel. “What dwells in the forest that gives Siggorund cause to be wary?” he asked. The glass surface glimmered. Mendrion saw the depths of the forest, all nearly motionless. Nothing happened for a moment, and then a hulking form emerged from between a pair of trees. Lack of light offered Mendrion little detail, but he could see gimlet eyes and waves of hair on the head and shoulders. “What in … ?” he murmured. Some sort of beast-man?

He looked up as the vision faded. He could certainly skirt the forest, but he had no idea how far it spread, and going around could take him much too far out of his way.

“Very well,” he said to Siggorund. “I must go in. If you like, meet me on the far side.” He paused. “You know, you really don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to follow me. You’re welcome to go live your own life.” The stare softened a little. “But I have appreciated the help. I probably wouldn’t have made it past those niflungs without you.”

Siggorund’s mustache quirked, and a smile nearly touched his eyes. His eyes turned hard. He faced the forest for a moment and then turned to Mendrion. One hand reached out, gesturing toward the forest. Mendrion nodded and stepped forward.

The woods closed about them in moments. Hardly a breeze stirred the branches and leaves high overhead, which almost completely blocked the sunlight. As a result, little grew on the forest floor, and the two men walked unimpeded by brush. The ground rolled, gradually rising toward the summit of the Mountain. Disembodied bird calls accompanied them. Occasionally, some small creature raced across their path or away from them, skittering through old leaves and sticks, but nothing larger than a badger showed itself.

About midday, they came to a stream that slipped over a high embankment and skipped down through a collection of head-sized stones. Mendrion and Siggorund climbed up onto the brink near the water and sat to eat their meal. They drew out their food and ate in silence because Mendrion could think of nothing to say, and Siggorund could say nothing.

They were nearly ready to resume when a shadow fell over them. They looked up, and Mendrion’s stomach sank as if a millstone were somehow fastened to it.

Mere feet away stood a man—or thing—so huge that it would loom head and shoulders over a troll. It had to be three times the height of the Seer. Mendrion stared, unable to take his eyes away lest the movement somehow catch the giant’s attention. A broad face looked out over the forest; a massive hand gripped a tree trunk; hides crudely stitched together hung about the bulky frame. Great shocks of hair framed the face and hid the neck, arms, and legs.

Mendrion and Siggorund sat there for moments that stretched as long as the miles to Gweth. When it seemed they would go unnoticed, the giant turned their direction, and his eyes fell upon them.

The face twisted with rage, and the wide mouth opened to reveal wide, tapered teeth. A roar burst forth, sounding like both man and animal. Before the sound stopped, one callused foot lifted toward them.

The travelers were already moving. Mendrion scrambled away from the brink on all fours, balance escaping him. Siggorund tried to follow, but the giant’s foot came down. It narrowly missed him only because the warrior leaped backward. Unfortunately, he leaped out over the stream and dropped onto on his back with a loud splash.

Mendrion finally gained his feet. The giant turned its awful gaze on him. Without any other warning, it leaped and brought down a fist.

The Seer rolled away. The giant reached toward him.

Then a rock the size of Mendrion’s head sailed through the air and bounced off the assailant’s temple. The giant stumbled to the side. Mendrion saw Siggorund below, waving him on, then climbing up with his large sword drawn. Mendrion took the opportunity to struggle up the slope. He made for several trees growing close together. The hand grasped at him again; next he heard the song of a blade and an answering roar.

Fear and exertion nearly choked him, but Mendrion hurried on. He made it through the trees and continued upward. The sounds of the battle gradually faded behind him. Guilt turned him around in time to see Siggorund tumble over the earth in an arc and then disappear.

The giant began scanning the forest, searching for Mendrion, he was certain. The Seer backed up quietly and as quickly as he dared. A twig snapped beneath his boot, the giant found him, and the chase resumed.

Mendrion made it another twenty yards before he came upon a thick growth of bushes. He threw his cloak up before his face and thrust through in hopes of finding a hiding place. Before he emerged on the far side, the brambles snagged his cloak, and he pushed and fought until he spun around and staggered backward.

Something struck his head, and he stumbled. He spun and looked about, looking for the giant.

Next to him rose the hilt of an oversized sword. The crossguard stretched wider than his shoulders. The blade was jammed deep in the earth and was marred by patches of rust. The hilt was spotted too.

Mendrion looked around for the giant and saw that he stood surrounded by the wall of bushes in a tiny hollow. He could see almost nothing of the woodland around him. The ground was furrowed perpendicular to the orientation of the sword’s hilt, appearing to have been dug by giant hands.

Giant hands … and a giant sword.

The giant had hidden his sword long enough ago that it had been spoiled by the elements. Why had he done that?

“YOU!” The word was a bellow echoing through the forest. The birdsong stilled. The cloak stuck in the branches must have given him away. “What brings you here? Come you to slay me? Or just to torment me?”

Not sure whom he was talking to, Mendrion cleared his throat. “Neither,” he answered, trying to manage a firm tone. His voice squeaked slightly. “I don’t know who you are. I am simply passing through this forest on my way toward the summit. I mean no harm to you or your forest.” Not sure how it would be received, he added, “I am Mendrion, Seer of Gryphon Mountain.”

A barklike laugh cut the air. “Impossible. Terla is the Seer. Unless you have …”

“I am replacing her,” Mendrion explained quickly. “She sent me on a journey about the Mountain. I promise you, I am only passing through.”

“With a companion carrying a large sword. He cut my leg.” This last statement carried a growl with it.

“He protects me,” the Seer said. He paused. “And his sword isn’t nearly as large as yours.”

Silence. Mendrion waited.

“You are a cruel man.”

Mendrion’s heart became heavy. He had never been called cruel, at least not to his face. “I mean you no harm. I’m coming out. I place myself at your mercy. Perhaps we can come to an understanding….” He twisted and pulled back through the wall of branches. When he emerged, the giant stood over him, arms folded. Mendrion held up one hand and drew the Gryphon’s Claw out of his satchel. “I carry the Gryphon’s Claw. I can prove that its power is mine now. I have done nothing to Terla. If I did, do you think I would be foolish enough to stay in the area?” The giant said nothing. “Have you a name?”

The giant regarded him for a moment. “Gargant.”

“Gargant,” Mendrion repeated. “I ask for your leave to depart unhindered.” He looked around. “As soon as I find my friend.”

“Very well,” Gargant rumbled. “But make sure he sheaths his sword and keeps it that way until you leave the forest.”

After Mendrion disentangled his cloak from the bushes, they located Siggorund, who lay unconscious near the stream. He stirred when Mendrion shouted his name. The Seer gave him a drink from his waterskin, then helped him stand. “He is allowing us to go,” Mendrion told the warrior, who nodded. Nevertheless, he kept a wary gaze on the giant.

Mendrion swallowed, gathering courage—or gall—to ask the question that nagged him. “May I ask you why your sword is fixed in the earth?”

“Why don’t you ask the Gryphon’s Claw?”

Mendrion’s mouth was tight. “I believe it would be against the Claw’s purpose to ask it something that … well, something personal. If you would rather not say … then I will leave it at that.”

The giant looked at him for a while, then replied, “I did something terrible with it once. I decided I would never use it again, so I hid it.” He turned and looked up toward where a few of the sun’s rays were slanting through the canopy. “This forest is large enough to hide me from those who think I am nothing but a beast, a brute. But there are certain other things that it can’t hide me from.” His voice had softened slightly.

Mendrion was uncertain he and Siggorund were supposed to hear that. “We will be going,” he said quickly.

“Yes,” Gargant said, his steely tone returning. “Begone. I don’t touch that sword, but I have other weapons.” He held up a fist. “If you set foot in my forest again, you may not come so well out of it.”

The travelers located Siggorund’s sword, and the warrior sheathed it on his back. They angled up the slope, steering well away from the hollow that sheltered Gargant’s regret. Siggorund tried to hide the soreness left from the giant’s strike, but his gait was stilted. Gargant himself stood still and silent as a statue, arms folded once more. His gaze and followed them until the trees separated them from each other’s view.

The Seer found himself tempted to ask the Claw about Gargant. He decided, however, that the giant deserved some privacy. He had hidden in a forest seeking it, and it wasn’t Mendrion’s place to take it away. He had no desire to give Gargant more reason to be his enemy. Out of all the beings he had met on his journey on the slopes of Gryphon Mountain who had tried to do him harm, the only one Mendrion felt a desire to make an effort for personal peace with was Gargant. He would be happy to never see Durgul the troll or the tribe of niflungs again.

But Gargant was different. Perhaps more intelligence or capacity for friendship was betrayed in the giant’s eyes. Or maybe it was because he could still have trampled Mendrion and Siggorund when the Seer surrendered, but he didn’t. Whatever it was, Mendrion knew that in spite of Gargant’s final warning, he would return.

This tale is #8 in “The Coming of the Seer,” the story of how Mendrion becomes Seer of Gryphon Mountain. Read the beginning of the story, “The Seer of Gryphon Mountain. The next tale is “Northward and Back Again.”

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