Cold: Chapter Six

In which spiders proved the more terrifying potential adversary. Good luck with the giants...

E. D. Jones

Sep 22, 2025

Chapter 6

I still hated the idea of spiders, so fighting giants felt somehow more appealing.

How big could giants be, anyway?

Were we talking something like a Shaquille O’Neal, or were we in true “fee fi fo fum” territory?

I had to hope these giants were closer to Shaq than Jack.

I patted myself on my extremely clever back for coming up with that little bit of wordplay, never mind that it didn’t make much sense.

“Will you come with me?” I asked my new ghoul friend. True, he didn’t smell great, but he’d been helpful to me without requesting a body part in response, which was more than I could say for Saath Ma’at.

“I cannot,” the ghoul said. “I must return to my warren.”

“Alright. Do you have any extra weaponry I might borrow, or at least a warmer set of clothes?”

“Perhaps,” said the ghoul. “Come with me.”

I followed the ghoul through the frozen landscape toward what looked like a small settlement in the distance, although as we approached it became clear that this place had been abandoned for some time. Buildings leaned into one another like drunks telling secrets in a loud bar, and looked just as likely to fall over.

The snow had thinned here, and I could see through it to a buckled brick pavement that ran between the crumbling buildings.

“This town had a name once,” the ghoul said, “but the Cold One’s minions stole all of its memories.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are familiar with the Cold One?”

I nodded. “I’m actually investigating the cult.”

The ghoul stared at me. “You cannot investigate what you cannot understand.”

“What?”

“The Cold One is incomprehensible, my friend. You cannot possibly hope to understand it.”

“I can try,” I said. “Everything can be understood with enough time and brain power.”

The ghoul laughed again, a strange, meeping and gibbering noise.

“I wish you luck,” he said, and continued forward.

“Where are we headed?”

“As I said, to my warren. It is just through here.”

The ghoul pointed left, and I saw the remnants of tombstones, some toppled, some still upright, in a small area denoted with a crumbling brick fence. At the back stood a mausoleum of grey stone, with a picture of a severe man’s face on the front.

“You live in a cemetery?”

“Under,” the ghoul said. “Follow. You…may not like the smell.”

“I’m getting used to it.”

“You say that now,” the ghoul said with a skeletal grin.

He walked straight to the mausoleum and pushed open the front door with a grunt, revealing a dark passage inside.

I didn’t know how to feel about any of this.

“You sure you want me to follow you in there?”

“If you want supplies, you must follow me.”

“Ok,” I said.

I ducked into the mausoleum behind my new friend, where new and spectacularly putrid smells greeted me. I held my gorge and watched as he hefted and moved a large stone on the floor, revealing a set of stairs that led down. He looked back at me and then started down.

All I could do was to shrug, try not to breathe through my nose, and follow.

After longer than I thought realistic, we emerged into a long corridor where I heard a series of noises coming from various directions. It was that same kind of meeping and gibbering that my new friend seemed prone to, and I took it for language.

“What are they saying?”

“Various things,” my ghoul friend said. “It’s like a town. Not everything is about you.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shush,” the ghoul said. “This way.”

I followed him this way, and we entered a dark chamber. Vague shapes lurked, but I figured they were just furniture. Still, my inability to see anything stopped my progress into the chamber.

“Apologies,” said the ghoul, carrying a hooded lantern which he placed on a black stone coffee table, “I forget that your kind cannot see in the dark like my kind can.”

“No problem,” I said. With the lantern in place, the room looked almost cozy, if it hadn’t been for the smell. A rumpled black couch and two armchairs faced a wall where some decorative grasses had been placed into a tasteful vase.

“Nice place,” I said.

“Thank you,” the ghoul said. “It serves my purposes.”

I sat in one of the couches, which billowed fetid dust at me, making me cough and sneeze simultaneously, a weird noise that startled my host.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I think so,” I said, sniffling. “Might just be allergic to some of the dust in here.”

The ghoul came back to me and dropped several items onto the stone coffee table. I peered at them: a staff with a wicked point, a small crossbow, and a dagger.

“Which would you like?” the ghoul asked.

I didn’t know how to use a crossbow, but then again it might be the best ranged weapon against a giant if I could figure out how to fire it. A dagger seemed way too up close and personal, but the pointed staff might just be the sweet spot I needed.

“Which would you recommend for fighting giants?”

“Quite honestly, if you find yourself having to fight the giants, you will have already lost. These will just…help you die less quickly, perhaps. And help you defend yourself against other things the wilds of Leng might contain.”

“Like what?”

“Leng contains many dangers, my human friend. You are so small and pink and easy to pierce.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

I decided to take the staff, just because I didn’t trust myself with the crossbow. I hefted it and thought that I might be able to hurl it into a giant’s head or something, which sounded both awesome and impossible.

“What do you want in return?”

“Your survival,” the ghoul said. “Once you have fought the giants and made it to Inquanok, we will see each other again. And then I may have some further tasks for you to return the favor.”

“That sounds fair,” I said. “Although I’d have more luck if you were there with me.”

“Again, I cannot,” the ghoul said.

“Ok,” I said.

“And here,” the ghoul said, and handed me a bundle of rags whose smell was frankly astonishing. I coughed and spluttered at them.

“I apologize,” the ghoul said. “The smell should fade over time. As a bonus, the giants are less likely to come after you if you smell like my kind.”

“Thank you,” I said. I fashioned the rags into a kind of toga.

“Survive, my new friend. I have no use for a dead you.”

“Thanks?”

Ominous statements or not, my gratitude to the strange creature was real.

I emerged from the mausoleum feeling warmer and better armed. If anything, my smell might put off any potential predators. Before leaving, my ghoul friend had given me precise directions toward the pass that contained the giants’ quarry, and had even told me the best way to approach to avoid alerting them.

I ventured past the broken village and to the southwest, keeping an eye on a distinctive mountain that the ghoul had described. It had nearly identical crags on each side, both spiking upward just before the peak.

As I started to climb, I could hear distant rumbles and thuds, like thunder or bowling. I did as the ghoul had instructed, skirting around the edge of the pass, hiding in shadows, walking without rhythm to confuse the giants’ excellent hearing.

I had to hope it was enough to hide me from them.