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The Giant of Sanmarand Chapter 1: Arrival For Txeptirea By Draconicon

_The storm swells around him, pushing at the sides of the boat. Each wave threatens to push it over, to capsize it, only to come back at the last second and save him again. Asher shivers as he runs from one end of the boat to another, working to keep the sails from ripping, desperately working to keep the boat from flipping over.

But the storm can't be fought forever, and soon, the waves gather the strength they need. A crashing roar knocks him from his feet, sweeping him from the deck as his craft is flipped over. The mast cuts through the water and slams against his head, bringing darkness with it..._

The husky gasped as he woke up, his eyes opening like window drapes. He panted for air, looking back and forth as the tropical sun shone down on him.

"What..."

He was alive. He knew that much, and he relished the realization that he hadn't died in the water. But he wasn't on a boat; the familiar rocking sensations were gone, and were replaced by the solidness of land and the giving sensation of sand beneath his back. A beach? Asher had no idea of how that could be possible. There were no islands near where he'd been sailing, let alone one that would be warm and gentle as this one.

He was tempted to sit up and look around, but the sun was so warm, and the day so nice, that he closed his eyes and let himself rest. Just for a few moments, surely. Just for a few moments to dry off and recover from nearly drowning...

This time, it wasn't the sun that woke him. The soft sound of voices and the pitter-patter of tiny feet caught his attention, drawing him out of his sleep. More, the feeling of something running across his chest - some little creature, perhaps - left him uncomfortable. He started to reach up -

Only to realize that his arm was pinned. Asher's eyes opened immediately, and he looked down at himself only to gasp in shock.

A hundred mice, on two legs like himself but tremendously smaller, were gathered about and on top of him. They wore little in the way of clothing; many were limited to little more than squares of cloth, like a loincloth about their waists, while the best of them wore trousers and vests to keep themselves covered. They had him pinned and tied with dozens, if not hundreds of lines of string about his body, most of them around his chest and arms, but a fair few around his legs as well.

"Who are you? Release me!"

He felt as if that should be enough; a roar such as he released would have startled lesser men back at home, and the mice were nothing if not lesser creatures than he. Yet they did not run; indeed, they lifted weapons, small spears and shaved twigs that nonetheless looked sharp enough to damage his skin and possession.

One, a commander of sorts, ran all the way across his chest before lowering his spear towards the dip of the husky's throat. He held the point there firmly enough for Asher to hold back, not even daring to swallow lest he scrape himself open on the point of it. The mouse leaned forward, hand upon his chin.

"Stay still, giant. Nahplim himself will deal with you, and it will be all the more unpleasant if you choose to struggle. Go peacefully, and perhaps you will be granted peace in turn."

Now, Asher was not used to being commanded; a man of the sea, and a man of travel, the husky had seldom been one to listen to orders. However, there was the fact that a spear - no matter how tiny - was pointed at his throat, and it was an enticement to listen. He nodded, as slowly as he could, to show that he would listen.

The spear withdrew, and the mice continued to explore him, wandering around his body. Some touched at his clothing, taking their little knives and shaving pieces off of it for souvenirs. His shirt, his pants, even his soaked shoes were at the mercy of their knives and curiosity. Thankfully, each mouse only took a small piece, but there were many of them.

By the end of that time, he was left looking scraggy and unkempt, his fur messy with salt water and sweat, and his clothes unable to conceal it. His shirt had been rendered little more than a vest, with the middle carved out and the sleeves sliced off. His pants, formerly warm and comfortable, felt like they were barely enough to cover his hips, buttocks, and unmentionables, while his shoes...

He shook his head at the sight of several mice playing with the laces, the shoes themselves barely sufficient to hold to his feet any longer. It was a disgrace; should any of his countrymen have seen him, he would have had to hide his face.

Perhaps a few hours later - as far as he could judge from the movement of the sun - the soldier mice called out. They filed off of him, and stood at attention at his side. Two lines formed, and in the center, he could only guess, was this Nahplim.

The mouse was attired in a different fashion to his fellows. Rather than the rough breaches and loincloths, he wore a robe of purple and green. His feet stuck out - as a mouse was wont to do, with larger soles - but they were garbed in sandals rather than bare. In his hand was a golden scepter, and Asher wondered if, perchance, he was to meet with a head of state, or whatever the equivalent these people had.

"Excuse me -"

Nahplim raised his scepter, and Asher felt his jaw click shut on its own, as if an invisible hand had shoved it back to a closed position. It shocked him sufficiently to leave his eyes wide open.

"You will be silent for now. When you have reached Sanmarand, we will speak."

Asher couldn't open his mouth, so he satisfied himself with a nod.

"Good. Now, up you will get."

Nahplim raised the scepter once more, and with a swish and a flick, the ropes went flying in all directions. A few of the mice soldiers darted back, but most held firm with a discipline that Asher had little choice but to admire. He had no idea if he could hold himself so close to a giant if their positions were reversed.

He started to move, but the scepter moved again, and his hands remained at his side. Instead, his torso started to rise, pulling up at the hips until he was sitting in an L shape, his leg pointed forward. The mouse's movements controlled him, he realized, as his legs moved one after another to kick off his shoes, and nudge them away. His hands moved slowly, pushing against the sandy beach until he was able to lift himself to his feet.

It was strange, utterly so, to be as out of control of his own body as he was. He struggled against the magical control the mouse creature held over him, but it seemed absolute. A single wave of the scepter pinned his arms to his sides, and as Nahplim continued to wave it about, he felt a strange tingle running over his body. From head to toes - and to certain unmentionable places - the mouse's magic touched him, leaving him feeling as though he had been stroked and touched and groped in a most scandalous way.

At no point did Nahplim say a thing about it, the mouse remaining stony faced. He took the scepter in tail, holding it as he set to climbing up the husky's body. It stung from time to time, but no more than a small pinch as fur was tugged and clothes pulled.

Eventually, the mouse settled on his shoulder, and pointed towards the distance.

"Carry me, giant, to your new home. The kingdom and capital as well, Sanmarand."

A wave of the scepter, and the husky's feet lifted off the ground. Up, down, up, down. As the scepter directed, so his bare feet followed, stomping through the sand towards the far side of the island.

Which, it turned out, was not so far as things went. Asher had barely walked for a minute or two before he could make out the strange rock walls that formed a circle in the ground, and after another minute of the forced, magical march, he could make out more. It was far from a strange but natural formation, as had been his first thought, but was instead a city in miniature. Small building stood upwards, and taller ones as well, though even the largest only came up to his waist.

He was marched to the very border of it, on the northern side - such as he could tell from the position of the sun - before Nahplim forced him to kneel. They stood before the palace, a grand structure that would have tickled the husky's belly-button if he was at his full height. As it was, he knelt before a balcony that was perfectly at eye-level. Nahplim leaped from his shoulder, joining a trio of similarly clad individuals and bowing to them as well.

"Your Majesty, I have captured the intruder. The great giant is now your prisoner. Use him as you see fit, but I beg your leave to use him for my experiments."

The king, a mouse that was aged beyond anyone that Asher had seen before - even including the ruler of his own land - glanced upwards before shrugging.

"So long as the creature obeys me, and is within your control, I care not what happens to him. Use him in war, or use him in your magic; but ensure that he will not injure my people, and I will be satisfied."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Asher tried to speak, but the scepter twitched once more; the husky was rendered speechless as the wizard turned.

"Gather for me a feast; the giant will need his strength! A hundred cows, a thousand chicken, and fifty thousand bushels of bread. That should be sufficient, to start."

As the servants darted away, Asher wondered. Just what had happened to him? Where was this Sanmarand? And what lay in his future with this strange Nahplim?

The End