Arminic the Giant

by Gary Clifton

“Faster, freak!” The burly guard’s whip burned another scar amidst countless others across the back of Arminic, a slave who lived permanently chained to the Royal grist mill of the Kingdom of Balmarica.

Ruled by Prince Marba, Balmarica covered a relatively small area but was of strategic importance. The Western border was high, mountainous cliffs, which for centuries had proven impregnable to any hostile force intending to invade the much larger kingdom of Simraz to the east of Balmarica. Prince Marba was the oldest son of King Barloc, the exalted ruler of Simraz.

Arminic’s sin for which he was tethered to the Stone of Death as it was called, was not a crime for raising a hand against another citizen or stealing property. Arminic was afflicted with dwarfism, a condition thought to be brought on by witchcraft and punishable by death throughout Transylvania.

As a child, when the condition became apparent, Prince Marba ordered Zebnar, the Captain of the Royal Guard, to locate and behead the child. However, word soon spread across the kingdom that Arminic’s father, Calzarg, was a former Captain of the Guard and hero of the realm through past conduct in battle. Prince Marba, aware of political implications, sought solutions.

The Royal Counsel recommended that Zebnar take discreet action to ensure that Arminic disappear from sight. Zebnar arranged to hide the child in the grist mill, where grain was ground into flour.

The Royal Grist Mill was small, offering limited space for men to stand at the arm of the wheel. As Arminic matured, because he was small in stature, he was pressed into service helping turn the wheel.

After fifteen years, his short, but powerful limbs became stronger than the massive oxen used in larger mills, where space was greater. His arms and legs grew powerful. He spent all his days and nights chained to the wheel and now turned it alone, with no assistance.

Arminic would often hear talk of war. Warlike tribes from the western plains periodically tried to scale and breach the western cliffs of Balmarica, intent on reaching the gold and silver mines of Simraz.

One day, screams and curses of men wafted in from the west. In the afternoon, three men, in bloody armor, appeared at the grist mill and murdered the guard. Speaking in a language Arminic only partly understood, they said they were hungry and demanded that Arminic give them flour to make bread.

“Flour is not mine to give, master.”

“Die, Balmarican dog.” The stranger, swung at Arminic with his broadsword. Arminic ducked and with his great strength snapped the chain binding him. The remnant of its deadly metal struck the intruder across the side of his head, spewing gore.

The two other intruders drew swords but, in the twinkling of time when the headless intruder fell to the floor, Arminic smashed the skulls of both.

A simple man, the idea of harming another human, especially when he himself was of no value, simply did not register. Arminic stood quietly waiting for his guards to come and execute him for his action.

He stood, amidst pools of blood, the screams and grunts of men locked in mortal combat growing closer. Suddenly, a wounded Balmarican soldier stumbled into the loading area of the mill.

“Bring the king in here. Conceal him in the wheel section of the mill. We can make a stand against these Elushian devils.”

Arminic remained standing quietly over the three men he had slain. Zebnar, Captain of the Guards, bleeding profusely from a gaping shoulder wound, appeared, accompanied by several soldiers escorting a bearded man in silk garb.

Zebnar spoke sharply to Arminic. “Idiot, stand ready to defend Prince Marba to the death.”

Arminic recognized the Prince not on sight but by name. Even so, he stood paralyzed.

The captain roared, “The Elushians have scaled the western heights and breached the line of defense. They’ve overrun much of the western frontier.” He picked up a broadsword and thrust it in Arminic’s hand. “God save the Kingdom!”

A glut of Elushians rounded a corner, screaming and stabbing.

Arminic, in the strange and mysterious ways of a passive man, saw the terrified expression of the Prince and seized the weapon. With many Elushians crowded into the small area, Arminic beheaded one, then another, then ran through a third. He lashed and stabbed in a frenzy he could not understand.

Hours passed. Arminic was wounded many times. He slaughtered the enemy in droves. The Elushian corpses wedged the loading door closed. Sounds of soldiers clawing to get inside penetrated with the hideous noise of tearing flesh mixed with the grunts of savage men.

Men began to break through. One shouted, “Stop, we are Balmaricans. We have prevailed.”

As order was restored, a small group of captured invaders stood tied together against the loading dock. The Prince, eyes wild with terror, was led out under heavy guard. One prisoner muttered a threat against the Kingdom, only to be slapped down by a Balmarican soldier.

The prisoner snarled up from the ground, “But for your powerful army, we’d have had his skin.”

“Elushian fool,” Captain Zebnar scoffed. Soldiers dragged Arminic’s limp form onto the stone dock. “This is the army that routed you. Only a small, lonely, malformed man who, before your attack threatened his grist mill, never bore a malevolent thought toward another human. He is dead, now you will take his place at the wheel.”

“Nonsense, Balmarian fool. The defender of the mill was driven either by the Almighty or Satan. He is a god.”

Zebnar responded, “Almighty help, perhaps. But he could truly be a god. Prince Barloc has decreed he be buried at the palace gate.”

On his monument was chiseled: Arminic, small in stature, huge in heart, with the shoulders of a giant god.

Arminic would never have understood.