The Giant Among Us

by Troy Denning

  The bow of the raft suddenly rose, pitching both giants into the lake, then the mammoth’s head appeared beneath the logs. The beast drove one corner of the vessel high into the air and flipped it aside with an angry snort. Though the craft did not capsize, the two passengers slipped off its deck into the churning waters. The mammoth let out a blood-curdling bugle and paused long enough to gore a giant before turning toward the far end of the lake and diving out of sight.

  “That’s quite a mammoth you’ve got there, Avner!” As she called to the youth, Brianna was hauling her bodyguard into the embrasure. “Do you know where we can get a dozen for the royal stables?”

  “The same place I got that one!” The youth was treading water at the base of the wall. “From the frost giants—and they should be here any time!”

  The youth’s comment sent a concerned murmur rustling down the wall. Brianna lowered her bodyguard onto the rampart at her feet. He was in bad shape: burned, cut, battered, and blistered from frostbite, not to mention half drowned. A pang of remorse shot through her breast, though she could not say why. She had seen many of her soldiers injured more severely than this, and while she was concerned for them, she had never felt anything like guilt because of their injuries.

  As Brianna struggled to untie the wet rope around the scout’s torso, Cuthbert scurried over to her. The earl’s eye went straight to the scout’s face.

  “Is that your …?” He let the question trail off, his jowls trembling. “It is! Tavis! Have all the gods deserted us?”

  Brianna gave up on the knot and pulled the earl’s dagger from its sheathe. “What are you talking about, Cuthbert?”

  “The hill giants are attacking!” he cried. “That’s what I came to tell you. They just launched their entire fleet”

  Brianna looked up. “That is interesting.”

  A hill giant boulder crashed off the castle wall and was immediately answered by both catapults. The queen returned her attention to her bodyguard and cut the rope just above the knot. “Avner’s reported that the frost giants are coming, too.”

  “Then we’re doomed,” Cuthbert uttered. “If Tavis is here, no reinforcements will be coming.”

  “We don’t know that, Earl.” Brianna turned back to the embrasure. “And even if it’s true, haven’t I spoken to you about demoralizing the men?”

  Cuthbert mumbled an apology, then stooped over to pull the unconscious scout away from the embrasure. Out on the lake Brianna saw that the catapults had claimed another raft. The remaining hill giants had given up the chase and were slowly paddling toward the other side of the castle, presumably to join their fellows in the main attack. Brianna dropped the rope to Avner. The youth tied a loop into the end and slipped his foot into the eyelet, then allowed himself to be hoisted up.

  Brianna grabbed the youth’s wet arm and pulled him over the embrasure. “What’s all this about frost giants?” she demanded. The boy looked almost as bad as her bodyguard, with his face and hands blistered and dark from the effects of frostbite. “And where have you been?”

  The youth gestured toward the castle gate, sweeping his hand across the hills beyond the bridge. “The frost giants are hiding behind those ridges. That’s why we had to swim instead of using the gate.” Avner looked down at the scout’s unconscious form, then added, “As for where I’ve been, that should be obvious. The real question is, what are you going to do about Tavis?”

  Brianna regarded the battered firbolg at her feet. “What do you mean?”

  “Heal him!” Avner demanded. “You are a priestess—or have you forgotten?”

  Brianna’s insides turned cold and queasy. “I remember,” she said. “But I haven’t been feeling well. I-I can’t do it.”

  The boy’s mouth gaped open. “Then it’s true!” he cried. “You don’t love him!”

  “Love him?” Brianna echoed. The haze was starting to gather in her mind again. “Love my bodyguard?”

  “Is that all Tavis is to you?” Avner retorted. “Someone to save you from ogres, or to fight stone giants and spy on frost giants while you make love to Prince Arlien?”

  Cuthbert interposed himself between Brianna and the youth. “See here, young man! You will show the queen the proper respect, or you can share a dungeon cell with your thieving verbeeg friend!”

  “The dungeon?” Avner gasped. “You put Basil down there?”

  “The earl had no choice.” The queen swept Cuthbert aside and scowled at the youth, then found herself struggling to keep hold of her slippery thoughts. “And what I do … or don’t do … with Prince Arlien—that should not concern you, young man. But your imagination … your imagination seems to have gotten out of hand.” Brianna was trying to sound indignant, but found the task difficult, her thoughts flitting off in all directions.

  “So you don’t love the prince?” Avner asked.

  “What did I … didn’t I just say that?”

  “Prove it,” the youth demanded. “Heal Tavis.”

  Cuthbert was at Avner’s side again, taking him by the arm. “Can’t you hear, boy?” he demanded. “The queen said she hasn’t been feeling well.”

  Avner jerked away from the earl and stepped forward until he stood almost on Brianna’s feet. “She looks well enough to me. Besides, the queen I remember would’ve crawled off her deathbed to heal Tavis Burdun.” The youth glared up at her as he spoke. “But maybe that was my imagination, too.”

  The youth’s accusatory tone should have angered Brianna, but it did not. Instead, the queen found herself filled with emotions she did not understand, her stomach churning with guilt and her heart aching with shame. She did not understand why, but the feelings were so intense that she almost could not hide them.

  “Get me some water,” Brianna said. “I’ll try.”

  Avner rushed down the rampart. The queen went over and kneeled at her bodyguard’s side. During the past year, Brianna’s goddess had blessed her with many new healing powers, but the firbolg was such a mess that even if she could call on them, he would still be far from whole. The burns, which had begun to ooze and peel, were the most grotesque of his many injuries, but the queen worried more about the tremendous lump she found on his skull. The head injury was undoubtedly the cause of his unconsciousness, and also the most likely to prove fatal. She would try mending it first.

  Avner returned and set a sloshing bucket at the scout’s side. Brianna unclasped her silver necklace, from which hung the flaming spear symbol of her goddess. She placed this talisman inside the bucket, then turned her eyes toward the sky.

  “Valorous Hiatea, bless this water with your magic, so that it may purify this warrior’s spirit and make him worthy of your healing magic.”

  A gentle gurgle arose as the water began to bubble and churn, spewing a cloud of white vapor into the air.

  “You can still heal him,” Avner said.

  “Blessing the water is not the same as healing the patient,” countered Brianna. “It merely shows that Hiatea looks favorably on my entreaty, not that I will succeed.”

  The queen took her talisman from the bucket, then dumped the steaming contents over her patient’s injuries. Dark bubbles frothed up from his many wounds, covering his singed body with a thick, brown-streaked foam that would cleanse his spirit of wicked thoughts and emotions.

  While Brianna waited for the blessed water to do its work, alarmed cries and yells began to ring out from ramparts at the front of the castle. The clamor was followed by the resounding clatter of a dozen firing catapults.

  “That would be the frost giants coming into view,” said Brianna.

  Cuthbert nodded, looking as though he might faint. “Selwyn is commanding the gatehouse,” he said. “He’ll keep us informed.”

  A loud bang reverberated through the castle as the first of the giant’s boulders crashed into the wall. It struck with such force that Brianna felt the rampart shudder under her feet. Another stone hit, then another and another, until a steady, drumlike cadence filled the air.
The rhythm was punctuated every now and then by the clack of a catapult returning fire.

  Brianna glanced toward the front wall. “I hope your masons have kept the curtain in good repair, Earl.”

  “I hope so, too,” he said.

  The queen cringed at the apprehensive reply and turned to her patient. The water had stopped frothing. Brianna held her talisman against the lump on her bodyguard’s head, but before she could cast the spell, a runner came rushing down the rampart. He stopped before Brianna and bowed.

  “Captain Selwyn begs to report that Prince Arlien has returned,” the soldier panted.

  “Arlien?” Brianna gasped. Her hands grew sweaty so that the talisman slipped from her grasp, and the fog inside her head grew as dense as a snow cloud. Her thoughts raced blindly through the gray murk, and she asked, “The prince … Arlien has returned?”

  The messenger nodded. “He should be inside the castle within minutes,” the man reported. “He’s crossing the bridge now.”

  “With the queen’s army?” Cuthbert’s voice was full of hope.

  “No, Milord, not with him,” the messenger replied, his voice mirroring the earl’s optimism. “But he was shouting something. We couldn’t hear it over the battle din.”

  “It must be news of our reinforcements!” Cuthbert faced Brianna, his arms raised as though he might embrace her. “Majesty, your army must be right behind the prince!”

  “Only if they’re chasing him,” Avner scoffed. “Tell Selwyn to keep the gate closed.”

  The glee drained from Cuthbert’s face. He grabbed the boy and spun him around, demanding, “What are you saying?”

  “Arlien’s a spy.” The boy pulled free. “He told the giants about Shepherd’s Nightmare and almost got Tavis killed.”

  “I don’t believe that … it can’t be true,” Brianna said. The words seemed to flow out of her haze-filled mind straight into her mouth. “It could have been anyone … What proof do you have that Arlien has … that the prince is a …”

  The queen let the question trail off, unable to utter the suggestion that Arlien had betrayed her.

  “What proof do I have that Arlien’s a traitor?” the youth asked. “How about your ice diamonds? He’s been using them to charm you. That’s why you’re defending him.”

  Cuthbert turned to Brianna. “Are you wearing the necklace now, Milady?”

  Brianna opened the collar of her cloak and displayed her bare throat. She said nothing.

  Cuthbert looked back to Avner. “It appears you’re wrong about the ice diamonds. Do you have any other proof?” he demanded. “And be certain of yourself. The prince may be risking his life to bring us word of the queen’s army. Knowing what he has to say could save my castle—and your life.”

  Avner pointed at the unconscious scout. “Do you need more proof than that?”

  “You saw Arlien do this?” the earl demanded.

  Avner remained silent for a moment, then looked Cuthbert squarely in eye. “That’s right.”

  The earl looked doubtful. “Tell me, what weapon did Arlien use?” Cuthbert pointed at the scout’s seared flesh. “I don’t recall the prince hurling fireballs about”

  Avner’s eyes widened. “It was his hammer!” the boy said, too quickly. “He shot a tongue of flame—”

  The earl raised his hand. “Young man, I’ve been listening to liars for decades,” he said. “And you’re just good enough that I can’t trust a thing you say.”

  Avner’s mouth fell open.

  Cuthbert turned to Brianna. “What do you think, Majesty?” he asked. “This boy isn’t the first liar to accuse Arlien of being an imposter. Shall we take their word for it, or should I let the good prince in?”

  A nebulous, absurd fear seized Brianna. A whispering voice deep in her heart wanted to say no, leave him out with the giants, but the words vanished as soon as they entered her cloudy mind, and she heard herself say, “Do as you think best, Earl.”

  Cuthbert bowed. “Then I shall.” He glanced at Avner. “Rest assured that I’ll keep a careful watch on the prince.”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “A lot of good that’ll do.”

  “It will do more good than your lies.”

  With that, the earl motioned to his messenger and scurried toward the gate tower. Avner gestured at the unconscious firbolg.

  “Hurry up,” he said. “If Cuthbert’s going to let the prince in, we don’t have much time. Heal him!”

  Brianna returned her talisman to her bodyguard’s injured head, then tried to remember the mystical syllables of her healing spell. Nothing came to her except swirls of gray miasma. She pinched her eyes shut, trying to summon the incantation through sheer willpower.

  “Well?” Avner asked. “What are you waiting for?”

  “The words,” Brianna hissed.

  “What words?” the boy demanded. “You never had to wait before!”

  The queen opened her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

  “Neither are you,” Avner retorted.

  The youth fell silent, leaving nothing but the rumble of boulders and the snapping of catapults to disturb Brianna’s concentration. She tried to ignore the war sounds, but each crash loosened her tenuous hold on her own mind. And even when she did succeed in drawing a thought out of the mist, it was the leering image of Prince Arlien, or the sneering face of a frost giant

  “Hiatea, I beg you!” Brianna whispered. “Send me the incantation!”

  Nothing came. She waited the space of ten crashing boulders, then twenty, then listened to the catapults clatter in reply. A chorus of cheers echoed from the gatehouse, and Brianna assumed a giant had fallen. The queen could not remember how the spell began—could not remember the first syllable, not even the first sound.

  Brianna looked at Avner and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “That’s not the reason,” the youth replied. “It’s Arlien. You’re thinking about him, and that’s why you can’t save Tavis.”

  Brianna felt her face flush, then saw Avner’s eyes grow wide and angry. “The prince is on my mind,” she admitted. “But not the way you think. I’m not in … I don’t care for …”

  Brianna could not bring herself to deny that she loved Arlien. It wasn’t that she did—to the contrary, she feared him—but she couldn’t say the words.

  “You’re not what? Not in love with him?” Avner demanded. “You know me better than that I’m no fool.”

  “Avner, I’m trying, but all the noise—it’s so hard to concentrate.” Brianna scooped the scout up. “We’ll take him to my chamber, where it’s quiet”

  “That won’t do any good!” Avner screamed. There were tears in the boy’s eyes. “You can’t heal anymore!” The youth turned and ran toward the corner tower.

  “Avner, wait!” Brianna yelled. “Where are you going?”

  “To find someone who can help Tavis!” Avner yelled. “You can’t!”

  The boy’s angry words demolished what little strength remained in Brianna’s anguished heart A loud, croaking sob erupted from her throat, then tears began to cascade down her face like rain. She was crying not because of Avner’s anger. Like most youths his age, he was prone to emotional outbursts. Nor was she crying for her injured bodyguard, although deep inside, a voice seemed to be saying she should.

  The queen was crying for something even more dear, for something that had been part of her since her childhood, something that she had lost after taking refuge in Cuthbert Castle. Avner was right: There was a time when she would have—could have—healed her bodyguard, no matter how sick she was herself. If she could not cast the spell now, it had little to do with her illness. The queen had lost touch with her goddess.

  Brianna had to heal the scout—not for his sake, and not for Avner’s, but for her own. She had to find her way back to Hiatea. To do that, she would need to shut the battle sounds out of her mind and think. She would need to calm herself. She would need to wear her
ice diamonds.

  16

  The Storming of the Castle

  A volley of boulders slammed into the castle’s windward wall. The cobblestones bucked beneath Avner’s feet, hurling him into the air. In the pit of his stomach he felt the shock wave of a boom so loud he did not even hear it. His ears merely started to ring, then he crashed into one of the gate towers that guarded the entrance to the inner ward. He slid to the ground in an aching, breathless heap and found himself looking across the front bailey to the outer gate.

  Earl Cuthbert and several of his men lay in the shadowy passage beneath the archway, struggling to stand after the salvo had knocked them off their feet. A few feet beyond them, an armored figure in burnished battle plate kneeled on the threshold of the gate’s open mandoor, his greaves and vambraces flashing like mirrors as he pushed himself to his feet. Although he wore his visor down, the curved horns rising from the temples of his helm left no doubts about the warrior’s identity.

  Prince Arlien had returned.

  Avner rolled to his knees and found himself staring at the castle’s windward wall. The ramparts were littered with rubble: shattered merlons, demolished ballistae, flailing wounded, motionless corpses. In one place, where a loose torch had fallen into a pool of spilled oil, a group of terrified soldiers were throwing buckets of water at a creeping tide of fire. The massive curtain had cracked in several places, and the youth saw blue lake water glinting through three of the fissures.

  Avner cursed, knowing that the giants would breach the walls all too soon. He glanced back at the rampart where he had left Tavis and Brianna less than a minute earlier. The queen was nowhere in sight She was probably descending the stairs in the corner tower and would soon be carrying the scout across the front bailey toward the inner gate. If Arlien saw them, all would be lost The prince would need merely to delay them until the giants breached the outer curtain—a few minutes from now, at best—then the queen would be captured and Tavis killed.

  Avner forced his aching body to rise, then rushed around the corner toward the inner gate. He had to move fast if he was going to win the time he needed to find Basil. The youth did not know what would happen after the verbeeg was free, but if anyone could restore Brianna to her senses, it would be the runecaster.