by Jess Lebow
“You’ll be reporting to me from now on,” said the captain. “Fall in.”
CHAPTER 14
Ryder tried to ignore the current state of his life—namely, that if it weren’t for the cage, he’d be on his way back home. His captivity for the past few months afforded him no luxury except time, which made him long for it all the more. His wounds were now completely healed. He could easily make the trek, but there was little he could do to realize his desires. In the meantime, he focused his attention on getting accustomed to Fairhaven.
Once a day a young man by the name of Jase—a night watchman for the Broken Spear—would come and get Ryder out of his cage and escort him around the grounds so he could stretch his legs and get some exercise. There wasn’t much to the place. There were a few artifacts left over from the giants, but other than that, the abandoned palace was sparse.
The Broken Spear was composed of warriors. They had no families, no attachments, and no need to make aesthetic improvements. They didn’t even keep livestock or pets. Ryder assumed this was because it would be too difficult to get them up the ladders.
When he wasn’t out on a chaperoned walk, Ryder thought often of his home and of Samira. He wondered how Liam was doing. Probably already leading the Awl against Baron Purdun. He smiled to himself. Liam would keep everything in order while he was gone. The thought of Liam planning a raid against Zerith Hold made him swell with pride.
Nazeem spent his imprisonment tinkering with things. He had scavenged the entire cage, broken the thin branches off the brush growing in the dirt, and woven them together into mats, which he placed on the ground for the two of them to sleep on. With a small pile of dead leaves underneath them, they weren’t bad.
The Chultan had taken his imprisonment with the same even-tempered acceptance as he had the long, forced march from Zerith Hold. He had an amazing ability to accept the inevitable. Nazeem never seemed to get angry or sad. He just took everything as if it were all part of the plan. It made Ryder feel rather childish for being so homesick.
Over the past day the Chultan had also managed to fashion himself a sling out of a strap of discarded leather. There was plenty of ammunition, and Nazeem was sorting through every pebble and stone he could reach, looking for the pointy ones.
As day turned into night, Nazeem sat cross-legged in the corner of their cell. He dropped a double handful of stones on the ground and began sorting them.
“You better be careful with that,” said Ryder, looking at the sling his friend had built. “You could give a man a nasty headache with one of those stones.” Ryder laughed at his own joke.
Nazeem only smiled, then stood up and placed one of the rocks in his sling. He spun it around once quickly, then let the stone fly. The projectile whizzed through the air and slammed into the stone wall behind Ryder with tremendous force. It shattered into countless tiny shards and rained down on Ryder’s head.
“Be careful,” reiterated Ryder. “If Giselle catches you with that thing, there is no telling what she’ll do to you.”
The Chultan lifted the leather to his forehead and tied the ends behind his head, turning the sling into a headband. He held his hands out, presenting his new fashion. “Surely it is of no threat to anyone.”
Ryder lay back on the woven mat Nazeem had made for him. “I stand corrected.”
It was quiet up in the Giant’s Run Mountains, especially tonight. The air was calm, so the little whistle of the wind through the broken gates and over the ramparts was noticeably missing. All Ryder could hear was the crackling of the small cook fire on the other side of the courtyard and the tumbling of Nazeem’s stones across the ground as he sorted them.
“I see the warriors of the Broken Spear are leaving on another raid,” said Nazeem, changing the subject.
Ryder lifted his head. In the dimming light, through the bars of the cage, he could see a group of the robed warriors walking out the open doorway. “All of them?”
“No.” Nazeem smiled as he looked down on his pile of rocks. He pointed to the top of the wall. “The lovely little one you watch so closely is staying here.”
Ryder followed the Chultan’s hand up to see Giselle standing atop a stone near the crenellations. “Nazeem, I am a married man,” he protested.
“Yes, but married or not, you are still a man.”
Ryder thought about it for a moment as he watched Giselle lean out on the wall, cupping a hand to her mouth to yell something down to the departing warriors. She was certainly beautiful. And that beauty was only enhanced by her rugged surroundings and seemingly inexhaustible ability to cope with changing situations.
“It’s hard to argue with your logic.” Ryder rested his head back down on the mat. He closed his eyes and thought about Samira. She was strong too, though in a different way than Giselle. Samira had put up with a lot more from him than any person should have to. She held her ground, even when she didn’t know the odds. She waited patiently, not having any idea when her waiting might come to an end. While he had gone out to fight, raising his sword to satisfy his own feelings of frustration and powerlessness, Samira was strong without having to take action. That, thought Ryder, might be the more powerful type of strength, and the more difficult to master as well.
With thoughts of his beautiful wife on his mind, Ryder drifted off to sleep.
A nearly full moon was high in the night sky when he was awakened by the sound of the cage door opening. It was Jase. He looked a little panicked.
“What? What is it?” said Ryder as he came out of his sleep.
“Shh,” said Jase. “Be quiet and follow me.”
Ryder got to his feet. Peering out through the bars, he could see Giselle and several other Broken Spear warriors up on the wall.
“Jase, if you’re trying to help me—”
“There is something coming this way,” interrupted the young night watchman. “Giselle asked me to wake you and your Chultan friend.”
Ryder was puzzled. “She asked you to come get us?”
Jase nodded. “Please, it’s urgent.”
Ryder turned to shake Nazeem, but the tattooed man was already standing.
“All right,” said Ryder to the young man, “lead on.”
Jase tossed Ryder the ruined shackles that had bound him on his way out here.
“You’ll need these,” said Jase. Then he turned and headed across the courtyard, past a line of dead trees beside the wall, and over to the ladders that lead up.
Ryder and Nazeem followed.
When they got to the top, they found Giselle standing on a stone block, peering over the edge with a captain’s glass, a length of rope slung over her shoulder. There were several Broke Spear guards beside her.
“Is it them again?” asked one of the sentries.
Jase climbed up on the stone and motioned for Ryder and Nazeem to do the same.
Without looking away from the view, Giselle started speaking. “Sorry to wake you, but many of our warriors are out on another raid, and we are shorthanded for a fight.”
“A fight?” asked Ryder, trying to look over the wall. The stone was irregularly shaped, sloped up at one end, so only Giselle and the one Broken Spear guard standing beside her had enough height to look out. “With whom?”
“See for yourself,” Giselle stepped aside and let Ryder climb up to her vantage point.
Looking out over the wall, the mountain pass beyond was very dark. The bright moonlight penetrated only the very center of the canyons and pathways that led up to Fairhaven. The plain beyond was well lit, but Ryder was certain whatever it was they were looking at wasn’t that far off.
“What am I looking for?”
“Find the stairs,” directed Giselle.
Though Ryder wasn’t all that familiar with Fairhaven or the view from this height, he followed the statue-lined path to the end of the stairs he had come up when he’d first arrived. He could see where they wound down the mountainside and disappeared into the darkness beyond. He scanned b
ack and forth, but he could make out only rock and more rock. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I don’t see—” Ryder stopped in the middle of his sentence. Just there, where the stairs came out of the shadow into the moonlight, he saw something move. Then it disappeared again in the darkness.
Ryder blinked and ran his hand over his face, clearing the last of the sleep. Then he opened his eyes as wide as he could and looked again. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, gaunt man carrying something heavy in one hand. The intruder walked upright, and though it was a long way away Ryder could have sworn that whoever it was took one of the four-foot-tall stairs in a single step.
Then it dawned on him. “Giants.”
“Yes,” replied Giselle. “We’ve seen them in the surrounding hills from time to time. They mostly come out at night.”
“Mostly?” asked Ryder.
Giselle nodded. “There was something I didn’t tell you when you first arrived in Fairhaven.”
“You mean other than the fact that you were going to imprison me against my will?”
Giselle turned from looking over the wall to glare at Ryder. “The other foe the giants faced when the shield dwarves attacked was one of their own kind,” explained the Broken Spear leader, ignoring Ryder’s obvious slight. “A giant called the Dodkong.”
“The Dodkong?” Ryder had never heard of such a creature. “Should this name mean something to me?”
Giselle shrugged. “Depends. How much do you know about giants?”
Ryder shook his head. “Not much. There aren’t any in rural Duhlnarim. I don’t know that there are many in all of Erlkazar.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Giselle. “For many hundreds of years, the dwarves traded enslaved giants to the human royalty of the various baronies around the continent as a way to build political capital. Though many of the old alliances are broken now, the ruling families still keep giants or their offspring as servants. Erlkazar is not an exception.”
Giselle smirked, obviously enjoying instructing Ryder on the subject of giants.
Though her attitude was irksome, it was also strangely sexy, and Ryder had to look away from her. “So, who is this Dodkong?” he said, trying to stay on track.
Nazeem answered. “He is an undead stone giant.”
“You’ve heard of him, then,” said Giselle. She pointed to her forehead and traced the symbol of a triangle. “All the way over in Chult.”
Nazeem nodded.
“The Dodkong is the chief and ruler of the giant clans in the Underdark,” explained Giselle. “He wages war against the other giants, slowly killing off the chiefs and reanimating them into his undead minions.”
“And how do you know all of this?” asked Ryder.
Giselle pointed down into the courtyard. “When the Broken Spear found this place, we discovered that the giants had left behind most of their belongings. The dwarves must have not cared much for the giants’ possessions. There were piles and piles of scrolls, paintings, and stone etchings.” She shrugged. “I read them.”
Ryder turned to her in amazement. “You speak Giant as well?”
Giselle shook her head. “I can read it, but I’ve not the vocal chords to pronounce the words.”
“There will be plenty of time for you two to get to know each other after the giants are gone,” said Nazeem.
Ryder got the hint. “How many of them are out there?” he asked.
“We’ve counted at least three, but there could be more,” replied Jase.
“And how many warriors do you have left in camp?”
Giselle spread her arms. “You’re looking at them.”
Ryder looked down at the group of Broken Spear warriors. Including Giselle and Jase, he counted only a dozen. He and Nazeem brought the total up to fourteen, but considering their foe, those weren’t the best odds.
“If we help you, will you grant us our freedom?” asked Ryder.
“Will you try to leave?” replied Giselle.
“Yes,” said Ryder.
“Then the answer is still no.”
Ryder headed down the stone toward the steps.
Giselle grabbed him by the arm. “I could have left you locked in that cage.”
Ryder pulled away from her and continued toward the stairs.
“Ryder, please,” said Giselle.
He stopped, not turning around.
“People’s lives are at stake here,” said Giselle.
Ryder looked down into the courtyard. There was only one way out. If the giants breached the walls of Fairhaven, they would be trapped.
“I’ll need a sword,” said Ryder, turning around.
Giselle shrugged. “I don’t even have enough for all of my warriors.”
“What about the weapons the guards in the caravan were carrying?” he asked. “Surely you took them with you.”
“And now more of my warriors are equipped with good steel,” replied the bandit leader. “All that is left is the gold in their chests. But if you think throwing handfuls of coins at the giants will help, I am more than happy to show you where you can get all you need.”
Ryder looked down at the shackles he carried. He swung the chain side to side, feeling the weight of the cuff. They worked well enough while he fought Cobblepot. They would have to do the same here.
Nazeem’s sling seemed even punier than it had earlier. The little rocks would be little more than mere annoyances to a trio of undead giants.
“So,” asked Ryder, looking to Giselle, “what’s the plan?”
“We wait in the shadows just inside the door,” said Giselle, lifting the rope off her shoulder. “When the first one enters, we pull this taut from both sides. We can take out one before they even know what hit them.”
“That’s it?” asked Ryder. “That’s the whole plan?”
Giselle started down the stone block toward the stairs. “That’s the whole plan.” She stared at him. “Unless you’ve got something to add?”
The Broken Spear warriors all began to file off the stone, following their leader. Nazeem looked to Ryder.
“Yes,” said Ryder. “Yes, I do.”
Everyone stopped.
“Well, spit it out then,” said Giselle. “We haven’t much time.”
Ryder nodded. “Nazeem and I will sneak out the front door and hide behind the statues,” he explained. “The rest of you stay here with the rope. As soon as the first giant passes, the two of us will attack from behind, taking him by surprise.” Ryder looked into each person’s eyes in turn as he spoke. “Once we have the giants’ attention, we’ll try to draw them away from the gate. At the very least, this will buy you some time. At best it will distract them, and you’ll be able to attack when they turn around. If we play our cards right, we might be able to confuse them enough to constantly attack their backs.”
The Broken Spear warriors seemed to roll the idea around in their heads. Giselle’s glare turned to dubious optimism.
“What if they don’t come after you?” asked Jase.
Ryder scratched his chin. “Then you go through with the original plan, and we’ll follow up from behind.”
“Well,” said Giselle, “it’s not much better than my plan, but it’s not any worse either.”
Ryder would take that. He turned to Nazeem. “Good?”
The Chultan nodded. “Good.”
“All right, then, if no one else has any objections,” said Giselle, sarcasm dripping from her words, “then I suggest we get on with it.”
At the bottom of the ladders, Ryder and Nazeem crossed the courtyard. The only person still in camp was an injured and badly beaten prisoner who had been marched out of Duhlnarim in chains. The rest of them, having been criminals—or at the very least unwanted in Erlkazar—were more than happy to join the Broken Spear. They had marched out with the raiding party who had left earlier in the day.
The last man was curled up in a ball and appeared to be sleeping. He was likely in no shape to fight, but considering the ci
rcumstances, he didn’t have much choice.
“Quickly,” Ryder said, placing his finger to his lips. “You must wake and defend.…” As he rolled him over, Ryder recognized him as the skinny man who had been chained to Nazeem.
The man’s eyes were open, and he stared up at Ryder with a look of utter terror. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”
Ryder took a step back, stunned. “I … I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re not?”
Ryder shook his head. “No.” He grimaced. “But there are things outside this wall that will if you don’t get up.”
The skinny man nodded and scrambled to his feet. He was quick—quicker by far than Ryder had anticipated. And he was tall, almost two inches taller than Ryder. As skinny as he was, he looked like a cornstalk. Though his skin was pale and he was shaking, the rest of him looked to be in fine shape.
“Are you all right?” asked Ryder.
“No,” replied the skinny man.
Ryder looked the man over once again. No blood, no bruises. He could see nothing to indicate that the man was in poor shape.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t want to be killed,” replied the skinny man.
Ryder laughed. “Neither do I.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Ryder.”
The skinny man shied away, startled by Ryder’s gesture. After a moment, he tentatively reached out and shook his hand. “My name’s Curtis.”
Ryder smiled. “So, Curtis, I’m guessing you aren’t the type who carries a sword.”
Curtis wiped his forearm across his face. “No.”
“Well,” said Ryder, starting to get a little frustrated with the man’s lack of explanation, “do you have any other skills that might be useful in a fight?”
“In a fight?” said Curtis, shifting his feet. “No.” He shook his head, puckering his lips as if the mere thought of a fight put a bad taste in his mouth.
“Well, maybe it’s best if you stay out of sight, then,” said Ryder, ushering Curtis toward a pile of rubble in a shadowy corner of the courtyard.
Curtis nodded, again shying away from Ryder’s hands, but moving where he was directed.
Then he stopped and lifted his hand, pointing his index finger in the air. “I know a little magic.”