The youth rubbed his still-patchy beard. Arkon’s—Plowys’—had been both thick and neatly trimmed. I could envy him just the beard, let alone those blades, thought Lhors. He sighed and said, “I think I understand. Father said a man who fights only those he can beat is a bully. But out there against giants he couldn’t choose his fights.”
“Exactly. Now—” Vlandar broke off as a huge red-haired man came into the barracks and began looking around. The man was impressively built and armed. Tall and massive with broad shoulders, the man’s hands were huge and capable-looking. Lhors tried not to stare as the fellow stopped mid-room, but it was nearly impossible not to. A thick, braided sash held up heavy woolen trousers. A second sash held both an enormous warhammer and a spiked ball and chain. His armor was all padded and quilted, reinforced here and there with black hardened leather that was shiny with age. He was very pale-skinned, his hair pale golden-red and braided back with two narrow beaded strands hanging in front of his ears. His eyes were light winter-sky blue and intense.
“Who is that?” Lhors whispered.
“I’ve seen him round the city once or twice in the past few days. He’s Fist clan, I think.”
“Fist?”
“They inhabit the lands around the Grendep Bay in the far northeast, cold lands. He’s a barbarian, anyway. Why?”
“Just wondered. I’ve heard tales of the northerners.”
Vlandar smiled. “They can be arrogant and touchy, but they are excellent fighters.”
At Vlandar’s gesture, the barbarian strode over to the table and said, “I am Khlened.” His voice was deep, rough, and carried an accent that Lhors had never heard. “I’m seeking one named Vlandar. I hear he wants men to fight giants.”
Lhors edged over to settle on his bunk as the massive barbarian sat on the nearby bench. As Vlandar went over their mission, the newcomer sat and listened quietly, now and again eyeing the youth perched on his narrow cot.
“Well, then,” he said after Vlandar had finished. “I’m good in a fight—good even among my own people.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Vlandar said mildly, “but we also need men who can follow orders.”
Khlened’s eyes narrowed. “You saying I can’t?”
“No. I’m saying I’ve fought alongside northerners before. Where we’re going, we’ll have one person in charge, and that will be me. The strongest and bravest warriors no good to me if he ignores my orders or sets his own course. We’re a small company. With you, we’ll have eight so far. That means we all get along. No feuds or wounded feelings, and we share everything.”
The barbarian huffed and pushed partway to his feet, but then he hesitated and finally bared his teeth in a wild grin. He dropped back to the bench, rattling Lhors.
“All right, Vlandar. There’s sense in that. You have my word. Who else goes?”
The warrior turned down fingers as he went. “Myself, a paladin called Malowan, a young thief who’s his ward, two rangers, a mage named Nemis, and you.”
Khlened glanced at Lhors. “That’s seven. What of the lad, here?”
Lhors shook his head. His skin felt suddenly cold. “I’m not mean—”
“The village was his,” Vlandar replied and gazed thoughtfully at Lhors. “It’s his choice, if he wants to come with us.”
Lhors’ eyes went wide. “I… but Vlandar, I can’t. I mean, I’m no fighter!”
Vlandar held up a hand. “I think you can. Your father began your training, Lhors. I’ve watched you these past days. You have skills that would be useful. You know your limits, you can follow orders, and you listen. We’ll be a small party, and we could use someone who won’t be worn out from constant travel, someone who can serve as extra eyes and ears and hands.”
Lhors had never considered this. Since coming to Cryllor, he had expected to be on his way after requesting the lord’s help. He had never dreamed of being asked to help against the giants. He had Gran to think of… but he knew that was a false excuse. As a village wisewoman, she wouldn’t lack for care.
He had no family to which he could return. He thought of his father and remembered the aging soldier impaled upon a giants spear. In his mind, he saw his father’s life leaking away as the man lay in a pool of his own blood. That faded but was replaced by the memory of screaming, terrified children, too young and helpless to defend themselves. Lhors saw again Bregya’s three year old as the giant took him and…
Something cold stirred inside Lhors. Again he saw the giants laughing as they slaughtered women and children and burned his village to the ground. “I’ll go.”
Even the Fist barbarian looked taken aback at the sudden change in the youths voice and the stern set of his gaze.
“Good lad,” replied Vlandar. “I’ll see to it the king’s steward finds someone to return that horse and have him take word to the old woman—Gran, was it? We’ll have to fit you up with weapons and armor of some sort. Your father taught you to use javelins, right?”
Lhors nodded, afraid to trust his voice. The mention of his father brought back memories that he could cherish later, but now he needed them for other reasons. His fear was still there, but it had now been joined by something else: rage and a sudden thirst for vengeance.
The preparations for departure took even longer than choosing the company had. Lhors spent much of his daylight hours helping Malowan set up a staging area in the stables. They acquired horses and pack animals, tack, packs, and bags that could be fitted on saddles and racks. He and the paladin went over the food and drink, which then went into bags that would be checked a final time by Pferic, a stolid, middle-aged soldier who would serve them as horseman and cook. Lord Mebree provided a small company to travel with them by horse as far as Flen, where a flatboat was being readied to take them to Istivin.
“It’s our best choice,” Vlandar told the company on the second evening when they all gathered. “From Cryllor to Flen is a reasonably easy ride, two days without pushing the horses. The river Davish—”
“The river,” Rowan objected, “goes from its joining with the Javan River due west, and the last time I saw it, Vlandar, it was a fast-moving stream.”
“Then you saw it in the spring,” Vlandar replied. “This is late autumn. Not only is the water low and not nearly as swift, but this time of year the wind most often sets from east to west, flowing into the westernmost corner of Sterich where the Crystalmist Mountains and the Jotens meet up. Lord Mebree has ordered a flatboat for us with sails in case there is wind—and there should be. The south bank and the lands beyond rapidly move into the Jotens where the Steading is, but most of Sterich is flat and we will be able to see far in three directions most of the time. I need not remind you that there will be bandits, pirates, giants, and all manner of unpleasant folk watching the Davish?”
“Pirates?” Nemis murmured and rose to his feet. “Your pardon, Vlandar, but I fear I must decline this journey. You warned me of giants and other monsters and horrors, but you said nothing about pirates!”
Lhors simply stared at the mage, astonished—as did several of his companions. But this seemed to be Nemis’ idea of a joke. Malowan and Vlandar broke into laughter, and the mage grinned. “That is well though, Vlandar. Personally, I prefer a boat under my feet to a horse between my knees. But what if there is no wind?”
Vlandar shrugged. “We pole. This time of year, the water will be shallow and slow. It won’t be so bad.”
That evening was given over to readying for the chance that they might become separated. Bread and other rations were divided up and put in separate small packs that each of them would carry at all times. Individual tins of flint and tinder were also stowed.
The next morning, Lhors went with Vlandar, who had him fitted for thick trousers of brown boiled wool, a soft tunic to match, and a knee-length cloak and hood of waterproofed wool that could also serve as a blanket. The warrior then took him into the armory and acquired a leather harness and case for javelins, then had it cut down so it fit snugl
y. Seven short throwing javelins, each tipped with sharp steel, went into the case, which could be covered over and tied down so that he wouldn’t lose the weapons if the case tipped. To Lhors’ surprise, Vlandar also bought him two long-bladed daggers, a sling, and a bag of hurling stones.
“The blades are for defense and only as a last resort. The sling is as good at a distance as the javelins—possibly better since they work at greater distance with less effort. Mal is better at the sling than I. I’ll get him to show you.”
During those three days, Malowan and Vlandar also found the time to track down people who knew the land near the Steading. They even found one fellow who’d been taken prisoner by one of the hill giants but had managed to escape. None of them had any desire to return no matter how great the reward, but they talked freely and answered questions that Vlandar incorporated into his precious maps. He now had four. The first was a general map of the lands of southern Sterich and the Joten mountains. Another that he’d drawn himself was of the Steading and the lands around it for two leagues. A third, even rougher, showed the outside of the fortress-like building—what he’d been able to learn of entries, guard towers, and the like. The last, mostly blank, was an outline of the outer walls. Vlandar had roughly marked the location of the main entry and the doors leading into the rest of the building. His only source of information had escaped by hiding amid the cloaks and wrappings piled in the entry. With the chaos of so many coming in at once, he’d been temporarily forgotten.
The first meeting of the full group—again, after dark, since it gave the members of the company an opportunity to comb the market for things they would need for the journey—was less pleasant than Lhors had expected. Plowys returned, sullenly mouthing threats and trying to pick fights with everyone, including Lhors.
Khlened finally picked him up by the collar and tossed him into the night. Khlened himself was in an obnoxious mood, picking on everything he saw as poorly planned. He seemed both fascinated and repelled by the rangers and raised one objection after another over division of treasure. The rangers exchanged annoyed glances whenever he turned away.
The two rangers also spent some time helping Vlandar and the others in the company work out a rough series of hand-signs.
“Maera and I have our own,” Rowan explained, “but it’s complex—”
“—and private,” Maera interrupted. She didn’t look at all pleased, and Lhors wondered if they had quarreled about sharing their code.
Rowan glanced at her and moved her index finger and thumb sharply.
Maera nodded and added, “Mostly, it’s complicated—a twin thing.”
“But we think there might be times when it’s dangerous to speak aloud,” Rowan went on, “and so if we all had a set of signs for such things as ‘danger’, ‘monster’… Vlandar, you’re our captain, you’ll know best what we need besides what Maera and I have worked out.”
“Well thought,” the warrior admitted. “We’ll have a little more time here and some time on the road each night. I’ll think on it.”
* * *
The company rode out of the city at daybreak three days later. Vlandar took the lead, and the others strung out behind him. Bringing up the rear was a score of Lord Mebree’s best fighters and Pferic, who led two pack animals while his assistant, Zyb, a freckled boy of perhaps fourteen years, led the third.
For the most part, they rode in silence along the east bank of the Javan River, with an occasional word from Vlandar on direction or stops. The rangers had their own mode of silent communication and moved out ahead to scout once they left the farmsteads and pastures behind. Khlened seemed to be hung over or simply sulking about yet another imagined slight. Nemis’ lips moved now and again—perhaps going over spells that might prove useful. Agya had quarreled with the paladin over one of the last pranks she’d pulled in the lower markets the night before they left. Though she now and again spoke to Vlandar, she ignored Malowan. Lhors found himself riding most of the day next to the paladin, who pointed out an occasional landmark along the broad, smooth-flowing river that began high in the Barrier Peaks and ended in the Azure Sea.
There wasn’t much to see to the east and north but hills. Although Lhors had never been quite this far north, every tree and bush seemed to speak of home to him. It was all he could do not to turn and head south, but a small, despondent voice in the back of his mind whispered, but you have no home now….
The desire for revenge that had seized him the other night was still there, but it smoldered now, and he let it alone to do so. Better to concentrate on the task at hand.
Not very far to the west, Lhors could make out the feet of mountains, the Jotens. Somewhere among those peaks and valleys lay the Steading. Lhors swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, then stood in the stirrups to take the weight off his already stiff backside. Movement well to the rear caught his eye. Lhors stared hard, but the figure was much too distant for him to tell much.
“Malowan? I think there’s someone following us.”
“Yes,” Mal said without looking back. “I saw him earlier. Arkon the Adamant.” The paladin’s voice was dry, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
Khlened, who was riding just ahead of them, reined in so they could catch up to him. “Green whelp,” he growled. “Believe I’ll go back there and teach him the meaning of ‘no’!”
“Leave him be.” Vlandar had apparently been near enough to catch the whole exchange. “He’s not worth the trouble. Save your horse for the journey ahead. The boy will either grow up or he won’t. At this point, it’s his choice.” He kneed his mount and went back to the head of the party.
Khlened moved back to where he’d been. Lhors could hear him mumbling under his breath but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
They rode at a ground-devouring pace, though Pferic made certain they took frequent stops to rest the horses and donkeys. Khlened objected—mildly enough for him—but Vlandar backed the horseman. “We’ve at least two days to reach Flen and our boat. We’re between two prosperous cities and on a well-traveled river. This is still no place to be caught afoot. Others besides honest travelers and king’s men frequent this way.”
Still, they made a long day of it to make up for the lack of speed. Most of the afternoon had been a subtle climb—enough to prove a discomfort to a man riding who wasn’t a horseman, Lhors decided wearily. He was ready to fall from the saddle when they finally stopped for the night just after sundown.
The few oak trees around their camp were heavily festooned with vining leather-leaf, a parasitic plant that only grew at higher elevations, and the evening air was cooler than it had been in the city.
Pferic set the boy Zyb to gathering firewood while he hobbled the horses for the night. The lord’s soldiers had set guard around the camp already and apportioned watches. Lhors helped Pferic, giving a handful of grain to each animal before he accompanied Zyb to help collect kindling.
The next day was much like the previous, but just after midday, they rode into Flen. The boat turned out to be two flat-bottomed boats, each surprisingly small with a long rudder oar and two poles per side. There was a small cabin midships and a sturdy mast just before that. Lhors, who had never set foot on a boat in his life, stared wide-eyed at the arrangement and was slightly disappointed when Khlened and Nemis showed them how the sails were furled. It was a very simple operation, one even he could manage to help with.
Vlandar bid farewell to their escort and divided up the party right away. “I have given some thought to this, so if you dislike my choice, I suggest you try to live with it, since we all must function as a team from now on. Once you know which boat is yours, get your things aboard as quickly as possible and come back out to the dock. There’s a captain coming from the company that patrols the rivers. We’ll all need to know what he can tell us, and he’ll be sending four or so of his men with us to bring the boats back.”
Vlandar then sent Lhors and the rangers to the lead boat where he would be, leaving the
second to Malowan, Agya, Khlened and Nemis. Lhors looked around in the brief silence that followed the announcement. He couldn’t decide if anyone was displeased or not, but he was grateful not to be in close quarters with Agya.
“What of the horses?” Rowan asked.
Vlandar spread his hands. “What I said back in Cryllor still holds. Unless this Captain Holken tells us otherwise, I’ll want someone besides Pferic on horse to keep an eye on the lands along both banks, possibly someone afoot as well if the terrain calls for it. Last I heard, the middle reaches of the river are not well patrolled, and there are villains of every kind who prey on travelers. We won’t need all of the horses, however. Likely we’ll leave Zyb here with most of them.”
“Sounds as if we won’t be coming back the same way we go,” Khlened mumbled.
“No, remember what I told you in the barracks,” the warrior said. “Maybe we’ll return as we went in—and in a hurry. If so, we’ll need the boats and the horses. But if we must go on to another place, Mal and Nemis are working on a way to let our outside party know to turn around and return here.”
“Since we don’t know what we’ll face or find,” Malowan added, “we are trying to provide for several possibilities.”
“Mmmm.” The barbarian nodded and went to unload the packs from his horse.
* * *
The sun was still well above the western hills when a gray-bearded bear of a man with a captain’s patch on his hardened leather armor strode up to the two boats with four men behind him.
“Vlandar, isn’t it?” he asked. “I’m Holken, and these are the men I’m sending with you. They’re experienced in the—ah—trade along the river between here and Istivin.” He grinned. “So’m I, but worse luck, I’m needed here and up the Javan to the north.”
Vlandar met his hand halfway and led them onto the deck of the first boat.
“Be that secret-like, or do we all listen in?” Agya asked.
Against the Giants Page 6