THE VALLEY OF THE FOUR GIANTS: RESCUE

"Of course he will!" says Hopelessness. "Thanks to her, he has renewed courage and hope... Plus..."

"He needs to be a hero!" laughs Lustfulness.

Hopelessness scratches his leather face.

"Yes. He won't be able to resist it - the adventure, the rescue. He will come."

"You won't win," says the Photographer from the corner. Lustfulness raises an ugly hand as Hopelessness grabs her wrist.

"No. We must not give the Maker any cause to... intervene, remember. We have come so far because that little imbecile has decided it. We must let him finish his journey here. Then we can ignite our rage. Meanwhile... gag her."

Lustfulness stares at the Photographer. The Photographer smiles back.

"Now then," continues the taller giant, ripping a strip of fabric. "Are you feeling cold?"

"Oh awfully chilly!" replies Lustfulness, cackling behind him.

"Then we must have a fire, my dear, right here in the valley."

"But whatever shall we use for firewood? The forest is dry?"

"I feel certain my friend, that we can... improvise. Tie her up."


-

There's only one place to finish this, I think to myself, pushing through the undergrowth. The valley must be this way, toward the East, toward the sun. That's where it began when they blew that trumpet, and that must be where the Maker intends me to finish.

I have Hope, I have courage and I have friends. I have defeated two giants and I can defeat two more, and I can rescue her.

-

Far away, on a writing desk in a quiet, sunlit studio apartment, a telephone is ringing. There is nobody there to answer it.

-

I must be close. I'm leaping over fallen tree trunks - they look familiar somehow but there's no time to stop and figure out why. I don't even see the bits of broken typewriter that have been scattered, or the enormous gouge of fresh earth where a giant once lay. I race through the forest, looking for the clearing, looking for the place where the trees let the sunlight in and the valley begins.

-

Ready.
Then we wait.
You're not worried?
Worried? We've got him. All of us.

-

I stop short of the open air. I need to see properly. There's some sort of structure, right there in the valley; it looks like a pyramid with a pole at the top. The sun is blinding. The pole is... moving... is it... it's... her. It's the Photographer.

And it's not a pyramid at all. It's an enormous pyre, a cone of sticks and branches, ready to be lit. I cover my mouth with my hand. She's right out in the open. No sign of giants.

-

There. In the trees.
Wait.

-

I scrabble up the sticks.