by Troy Denning
The castle had fallen surprisingly quiet. He could still hear the fires crackling on the ramparts, the wounded screaming for help or just plain screaming, and the growl of murmuring giants somewhere close. But there was no more crashing. The castle had succumbed to the attack.
Basil raised his eyelids and blinked against the brightness. He managed to hold them open until his vision adjusted to the light. His head was sticking up a little higher than ground level, and he found himself looking across mounds of rubble in the direction of the keep. The frost giants had hammered away one entire corner of the structure. Several of the brutes were watching a small, armored figure, Arlien, climb into a room hanging exposed on the fourth story. If any defenders remained inside the structure, they were no longer firing their weapons.
Out of the corner of his eye Basil caught a flash of blue twinkling in the rubble. He looked toward the sparkle and, a short distance away, saw a pale zaffer light glinting from beneath the shadow of a stone block. The verbeeg glanced in all directions. When he did not see any giants looking toward him, he pulled himself out of his hole, then crawled forward on his belly until he could reach under the rock. He felt the cold bite of an ice diamond.
Even as the stone began to numb his hand, the verbeeg felt a sick feeling welling up inside him. The last time he had seen Tavis, the scout had been wearing the necklace. Basil tugged gently on the ice diamond. It slipped from beneath the rock easily, bringing along a string of many more of the frigid gems. The verbeeg quickly examined the silver chain’s clasp and saw that it had been unhooked, not torn off. The necklace had been deliberately removed, probably because Brianna feared it would interfere with her healing spells. And if there had been time for the queen to heal the scout, it did not seem unreasonable to hope that she and her party were well on their way out of Cuthbert Castle by now.
Basil exhaled in relief. “A lucky find for me, I guess.”
The pain-numbing properties of the enchanted gems were certain to make an interesting study. The verbeeg wrapped the necklace twice around his wrist and clasped it in place, then considered his next move.
The keep’s shattered corner stood less than thirty paces ahead, a yawning enticement to visit the libraries below. To accept the invitation, all Basil would have to do was dodge a dozen frost giants and duck down the stairs before they smashed him into a pulp. Of course, then he would be alone in the keep with Arlien.…
The verbeeg sighed. As valuable as the folios were, they were not worth dying for. He reluctantly turned away and, casting one last look over his shoulder, crawled toward the lake.
* * * * *
The muffled creak of grating hinges squealed from a distant door. The cluttered map room instantly fell silent, and Tavis heard the slap-drag of someone limping through the library.
“Basil!” Avner hissed.
“It isn’t Basil,” Tavis replied. On their way down, they had encountered a keep guard who reported seeing both Arlien and the verbeeg engulfed by the collapse of the inner curtain.
“If the prince survived, why not Basil?”
“Maybe he did, but that’s not him,” Tavis answered. “He’d never make it down here, not with the keep surrounded by frost giants.”
They were all silent for a moment, then Cuthbert said, “I’ll bar the folio room door.” The earl’s eyes were red and swollen, for he had sent his family into the secret passage only a few minutes earlier. “That should buy you time to prepare.”
“Hartsvale shall miss you, Cuthbert” Brianna stooped down to kiss him on his ruddy cheek. “If I survive, you’ll be remembered always as the Loyal Earl.”
Cuthbert managed a weak smile. He pulled his visor down and left the room, battle axe in hand.
The queen turned to Tavis. “Shall we ready ourselves?”
Avner cast a yearnful glance toward the sliding map case, which stood pushed open above the secret passage. “We could still call the earl’s men back.”
Tavis shook his head. “Their weapons won’t pierce Arlien’s armor. They’d just be in the way, and their presence might alert the prince to our plan,” he said. “It’s better to let them drive the giants away from the exit”
The youth gulped, then turned to clear the maps and shelves out of a cabinet near the chamber entrance. Brianna closed and barred the door, while Tavis made sure that every sconce in the chamber held a lit torch. When the battle against Arlien began, the last thing he wanted was for the room to suddenly fall dark. When they had finished their preparations, Avner climbed into the case he had cleared. Since it had no doors, he was clearly visible, but if all went according to plan, the prince would not be looking in his direction. Tavis pulled the sliding map case halfway back over the secret passage and summoned the queen to his side.
“I hope you’re a good actress,” the scout said.
Brianna smiled confidently. “I think you’ll be surprised.”
A muted boom sounded from the folio room, followed by Cuthbert’s battle cry and the clang of his axe striking Arlien’s armor. In the next instant, the earl’s steel-sheathed body crashed through the map room door and fell to the floor in a bloody, jangling heap. His breastplate had been cleft down the center, and his sternum was split apart.
Tavis leaned against the map case. It slid open with a harsh, grating sound.
“Down you go, Majesty!” The scout pushed Brianna into the stairwell, keeping himself half turned toward the doorway.
Arlien stepped into the room and booted Cuthbert’s lifeless body aside. Although the armored corpse probably weighed as much as a small bear, the kick sent it tumbling halfway down the wall. Tavis slipped an arm around Brianna’s neck, then drew his dagger and pressed the tip to her throat. “Don’t come any farther,” the scout warned. “You know what I’m sworn to do.”
“You won’t kill her.” Arlien’s voice had a hoarse, throaty sound. “You’re in love with her.”
The prince stepped forward, more or less dragging one of his legs. Apparently, he had not escaped the rampart collapse completely without injury.
Tavis lightly drew the dagger across Brianna’s throat, opening a shallow cut. She cried out in a groggy voice, and the scout turned her toward Arlien to display the gash.
“I’m a firbolg,” he said. “I’ll do my duty.”
Arlien stopped four steps into the room. The prince asked, “Why don’t we let the queen decide?” He stretched a hand toward Brianna. “Come to me, my dear.”
The queen’s body stiffened ever so slightly, and she tossed her head, as if trying to clear it. “Arlien?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
The prince gestured her forward. “I’ve come for you.” His voice had a sharp edge. “Come here.”
Brianna tried to pull away, but Tavis would not release her. He backed into the secret tunnel, starting down the stairs. As he tried to pull the queen after him, she shot one hand up through the crook of his arm and drove her other elbow into his ribs. The scout dropped backward and descended the stairs in a controlled tumble, grunting and slapping the stone steps to make the fall sound as convincing as possible.
At the top of the stairs, Brianna walked slowly forward.
“Arlien, I thought …” She let the thought trail off, allowing Tavis time to reach the bottom of the stairwell and regain his feet “I thought you had abandoned me.”
“Never, my dear,” said the prince. “Now come to me.”
Brianna moved forward, stepping out of Tavis’s sight. The scout pulled his bow off his shoulder and the golden arrow from his quiver, then bounded up the stairs. He trained his golden arrow on the center of the queen’s back.
“Majesty, no!” he yelled.
Brianna slowly turned, then Arlien’s hand flashed up and pulled her back. The prince stepped forward, placing his body between her and the golden shaft, and cocked his warhammer to throw. Tavis raised his aim, pointing his arrow over his foe’s shoulder at the queen’s head.
“She’s taller than you,
” the scout warned. “I’ll kill her.”
Arlien did not throw his weapon. Behind him, Brianna reached for her hand-axe, and Avner slipped from his hiding place.
“What do you want?” asked Arlien.
“I want you to tell Lanaxis that he can’t have Brianna—even if she is the first queen of Hartkiller’s line.” Avner had told Tavis and Brianna about Basil’s discoveries. “And I want her back.”
Brianna freed her axe, then held it poised to strike. Avner reached for a torch.
Arlien’s eyes narrowed. A cunning smile crossed his lips, and he said, “If you know her ancestry, then you also know our blood runs strong in her veins. I can only imagine how your earls will feel when they learn—”
As Avner slipped his torch from the sconce, the prince suddenly fell silent and cocked an ear.
“Now, Brianna!” Tavis yelled.
The queen brought her hand-axe down, not attacking the prince but slicing the buckles off his breastplate. With her free hand, she grabbed his collar and pulled, ripping the armor off.
“By the titan, what are you doing?” The prince whirled on Brianna, more confused than angry.
Tavis drew his bowstring taut, training his arrow on the center of the prince’s back. In the same instant, Avner stepped forward, bringing his torch down on Arlien’s weapon hand.
The prince roared in pain and dropped his hammer. His hand instinctively jerked away, then snapped back into the youth’s face just as reflexively. The impact launched the boy across the room, his nose flattened and a spray of teeth flying from his mouth.
“Avner!” Brianna cried.
The boy crashed into a map cabinet and crumpled to the floor. The burning torch slipped from his limp hand, rolling across the cold stones to the base of a cabinet filled with vellum maps. Tavis loosed his golden arrow and rushed up the stairs, and Brianna swung her axe at the prince’s neck. But even as their weapons flashed through the air, Arlien was exploding to his true size, dropping his helmet and leg armor as a molting locust sheds its exoskeleton.
When Brianna’s axe struck, the prince had grown so tall that the blade hit his weapon arm instead of his neck. And by the time Tavis’s arrow arrived, Arlien’s shoulders were pressed against the ceiling. The shaft sank not into his back, but deep into his thigh.
The prince did not even feel the missile strike, for Basil’s rune magic prevented the shaft from causing any pain. The arrow paled to the color of ivory. A glassy yellow cast spread outward from the wound, turning the flesh of the entire leg as flaxen and glossy as gold. The knee buckled, and Arlien crashed to the floor. He landed on his side, his body so huge that it completely hid Brianna from the scout’s sight.
The flaxen death magic lost its vigor as it crept past the ettin’s hip, so that by the time it was spreading up Arlien’s back, his flesh was no longer turning yellow and lustrous. His skin merely paled to a dull, jaundiced color, his ribs continuing to rise and fall as the astonished prince gasped for breath.
Tavis cursed himself for not anticipating the explosive change in size, then pulled another arrow from his quiver. As he nocked the shaft, the ettin rolled toward him and the scout found himself looking up into Julien’s swarthy face. Arno’s brutish head, desiccated and lifeless, lay flopped over the festering sore where the runearrow had detonated during the blizzard.
Tavis quickly loosed his arrow. The shaft disappeared into the knotted muscles of the ettin’s massive neck, and Julien roared. The scout glimpsed a great hand arcing toward him from the ceiling, then his entire body went numb as the enormous fist smashed into his chest, shattering bones from his clavicle to his lowest ribs. He bounced off the sliding map case and dropped into the secret passage, listening to his own bones crunch and grind as he bounced down the stairs.
By the time he reached the bottom, the agony was beginning to set in. Every breath sent stabbing pains shooting through his chest and abdomen, while the anguish in his left shoulder was so fierce that he knew even attempting to move the arm would prove futile. He rolled to his knees, but grew dizzy and nearly fainted when he tried to stand.
Tavis smelled smoke. He looked up the staircase and saw dark fumes curling down the passage. That was when he thought of Avner. The youth’s torch had not rolled far after being dropped. If the map cabinets were on fire, it would not be long before the boy burned as well. The scout dragged himself up a stair, then saw Julien dropping to his belly at the top of the passage.
Tavis grabbed his bow and quiver and lay on his back, his feet pointing up the stairs. The ettin thrust a torch into the passage, but Brianna suddenly leaped into view, swinging her hand-axe at his temple. Julien glimpsed the attack at the last instant and turned away. A loud crack echoed through the chamber as the blade scraped along his huge skull.
Blood sprayed in all directions, but Tavis guessed that Julien had suffered only a superficial scalp wound—messy, but hardly fatal. Using his good arm, the scout hooked his bow over his toes, then nocked an arrow.
Julien looked at Brianna. “Stay away!” he growled, shoving her back. “You can’t save him now.”
The ettin thrust his long arm back into the passage, trying to reach Tavis with the torch in his hand. The scout fired, and his wooden arrow sank deep into his attacker’s forearm. The flaming brand dropped harmlessly on the stairs.
Julien withdrew his hand and plucked the shaft from his forearm like an annoying splinter. Tavis nocked another arrow, grunting from the sharp pains the movement sent shooting through his chest. The scout saw a billowing cloud of smoke behind the ettin, and he heard the queen coughing.
“Brianna!” he yelled. “Avner—don’t let him burn!”
Julien peered down the stairs. “Ill trade you,” he said. “The boy’s life for yours.”
“So you can take Brianna to the titan?” Tavis aimed his arrow at Julien’s brown eye. “Not even for Avner!”
The ettin quickly placed a shielding hand between the shaft and his face. Plumes of smoke swirled between his huge fingers.
“My offer is better than you think. Lanaxis doesn’t need Brianna forever,” Julien said. “He’ll allow her to return to Hartsvale after she delivers the child I got on her.”
The bowstring nearly slipped from Tavis’s fingers. “What?”
The ettin lowered his hand. “It’s true,” Julien said. “One child. That’s all we want Is that so much to ask?”
Tavis did not know what to think. If the ettin had fathered a child by Brianna, the king of giants would be born whether they escaped or not. Would Ostoria then be fated to rise again, and what would that mean for Hartsvale? A vision of the human roasting over the ettin’s campfire flashed through the scout’s mind, and he knew he would have to kill Brianna’s child, or even the queen herself, before he allowed such a thing.
From somewhere behind Julien, Brianna screamed, “You fathered nothing on me!”
The prince’s discarded warhammer flashed into view, slamming into the side of the ettin’s skull. A tremendous crack resounded down the stairs. Julien’s brown eyes glassed over, but the brute did not fall.
“Liar!” Tavis yelled.
The scout drew his arrow back until he heard the little bow crack in protest, then released the string. The shaft flashed away, and the last Tavis saw of it was when the dark fletching disappeared into the ettin’s eyeball.
A shocked gurgle rose from Julien’s throat His hands started to rise toward his head, then dropped to the floor as his entire body fell limp. His huge torso collapsed over the stairwell, plunging it into darkness and driving a pillar of choking smoke down the narrow passageway.
Tavis tossed his bow aside. He struggled to his feet and staggered up the dark stairs as quickly as his battered body would allow. When he reached the top, he threw his good shoulder into the ettin’s lifeless chest and tried to push the huge corpse away. He gulped down a lungful of smoke seeping into the passageway and started to cough. The attack racked his shattered body with such pain that he nearl
y tumbled back down the stairs.
Tavis knelt on a step until the fit passed, then held his breath and redoubled his efforts. An agonized groan burst from his lips. A sliver of hazy yellow light appeared between the ettin’s body and the edge of the portal. Clouds of silvery smoke boiled into the passage. The scout pushed his aching body into the narrow gap until he could brace his feet against a stairwell wall and shove the corpse completely out of the way.
Tavis heard Brianna coughing and gasping. He climbed into the map room and saw the queen coming toward him out of the smoke. She held Avner’s limp body cradled in her arms.
“Is he—”
“He’ll need some healing, but he’ll survive,” the queen said.
She slipped past Tavis and descended the steps, holding the youth against her chest like an infant. The scout grabbed a torch and followed her. The smoke thinned as they neared the bottom of the stairwell, and they both stopped coughing. The bodyguard and his queen continued down the dank passageway for several minutes, until the water seeping down from Cuthbert Lake started to lap at their feet and the fire behind them seemed a harmless and distant thing.
Brianna stopped and faced Tavis. She was cradling Avner in one arm, as mothers sometimes hold their babies. “About what Julien claimed,” she said. “I hope you aren’t gullible enough to believe everything you hear.”
“Of course not. I may be a firbolg, but I’m not naive.” Tavis placed his good arm around Brianna’s shoulders and drew her close. “But I do believe you. I always have.”
Epilogue
Brianna stepped into the cool mountain breeze and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp smell of pine. To her side, at the bottom of the cliff onto which the secret passage opened, lay the two hill giants that Cuthbert’s guards had slain when they had opened the passage. Though there had been more waiting in the ravine below, her army had indeed been close by. Earl Wendel had been the first to hear the sounds of battle, and had personally led the charge to drive the outnumbered brutes into the lake.