Against the Giants

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  Khlened licked his lips. “I’ve fought with dwarves before. They’re not all so bad, though it’s a job o’ work to make ’em divide treasure up.”

  Maera stirred, but Rowan gave her an urgent and complex sign. Maera cast her eyes up and shrugged when Vlandar glanced at her, clearly awaiting her response.

  “It wouldn’t be my choice,” she said brusquely, “but I’ve no say. Go on.”

  “Thank you,” Malowan replied simply. He led the way down-hall and then down the angled passage toward firelight and an increasingly loud din of hammers and harsh voices that sang a guttural song to match the rhythm of the hammer strikes.

  Vlandar eased to the fore, stopping just short of the ruddy light, and waited for Nemis to create his wall of silence. The mage knelt and drew a square of red cloth from his pack. The man was grinning, Lhors realized in astonishment. His black eyes glittered as he got back to his feet and moved up next to Vlandar. The warrior eyed him curiously, then shrugged and moved to the other side of the hallway so he could see more of the chamber. He beckoned for Lhors to join him.

  The smithy was an odd-shaped room, almost a corridor that ended abruptly. One branch seemed to go around a corner north, the other east. Storage, perhaps. Lhors could see two dwarves, bound with enormous chains around their throats and one wrist, carrying pikes and swords in the direction of a—

  No wonder Agya looked scared, Lhors thought. The brute he could see was much taller than the hill giants he had seen, and his skin was a glistening black. He wore only thick hide pants and a buckler that held a hammer so huge that even he must need two hands to use it. The only other giant in view, his skin also a deep black that seemed almost blue in the firelight, was the smith. Slightly shorter but much more muscular than his companion, he wore pants, a leather apron, and a close-fitting cap.

  Malowan said there were only two, Lhors reminded himself. The paladin had ways of knowing these things. Only two. Vlandar seemed aware of his thoughts, or maybe his fear was showing on his face, because the warrior gripped his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. Lhors managed a smile in reply, then turned back to study what he could see of the chamber.

  The hammer wielder waited just at the edge of sight while his two captive dwarves trudged out of sight along the southern wall. They returned empty handed some moments later. As they passed the giant, he reached down and yanked at the loose chain snaking across the floor, then burst into harsh laughter as the two fell.

  The smith turned and snarled something at him. He had to bellow to be heard above the racket of hammers. Five other dwarves were chained at anvils, two working bellows while two others beat spear blades. A fifth sorted through a pile of spears, separating heads from broken shafts and apparently choosing which weapons were capable of being mended and which would need to be melted down and reforged.

  Vlandar eased back a pace and cautiously pointed out to his young companion the several piles of weaponry between them and the forge. There were stacks of pikes and spears, another pile of shields and warhammers, a double handful of maces leaning against a wobbly-looking metal rack. Lhors nodded his understanding. Don’t trip on anything.

  Across the hallway, the rest of the company was eyeing the room and the obstacle course. Malowan gestured an assent. Better if they don’t know we’re here until we want them to, Lhors thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted those two giants to know he was anywhere about, but when Vlandar stealthily eased his sword free and raised a hand, Lhors drew a boar-spear and nodded. He eased back to his usual place with the rangers while Malowan moved back into shadow to draw his blades. Khlened came forward to join him. Agya, to Lhors’ surprise, also came back to join the rangers—either Malowan had convinced her or sight of those two monsters had. A thief whose best weapons were knives had no business in there. Nemis eased over to a place between Vlandar and the paladin.

  Vlandar looked at his people, nodded, then brought his hand down.

  Lhors and the rangers ran into the open, Rowan flanked by her sister and the youth. Maera threw two javelins in quick order, Lhors one that just missed its target. Maera’s were foiled by the smith’s apron and bounced away. Rowan’s arrow caught the second giant high in the shoulder, but her next struck the hammer and spun high, lodging in the ceiling.

  The two giants bellowed in fury, and all the dwarves fell to the ground and covered their ears. The one giant drew his hammer and strode forward, bringing his weapon up to strike while the smith was howling for aid.

  “That spell of Nemis’ had better work!” Khlened yelled.

  Vlandar ran past him. “Rangers! Lhors! Get back! Pick your shots and don’t waste any! Khlened, Mal, to me!”

  The three men fanned out, forming a human shield as the two giants came at them.

  Agya shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth so as not to distract the paladin. Even against such enormous brutes, Malowan still gave the smith first strike.

  The hammer arced down, roaring through the air. Malowan leaped aside, and the huge weapon splintered stone as it struck the floor. Lhors swallowed. Anyone struck with that would not get up again.

  Malowan brought his sword around in a blurring sweep. The tip pierced the giant’s thick pants. The monster roared with pain and fell back just enough to rip the sword from the paladin’s hand. One of Rowan’s arrows buried itself just above the giant’s waist, and the creature retreated in pain. Malowan threw himself forward, snatched his sword off the ground and eased into line with the other two.

  Khlened held his heavy slashing sword in his left hand, and with his right swung one of the bugbear’s morning stars. The second giant swung his hammer, intercepting the chain, and ripped the thing from the barbarian’s hand. Khlened howled a berserker oath, reversed his sword and plunged straight up, but the giant was more agile than he’d expected and was already out of reach.

  “Damn ye!” Khlened roared. “Stand and fight!”

  Vlandar shouted suddenly, mixed surprise and pain. The smith’s weapon had bounced off a hanging chain and recoiled into the warrior’s shoulder. A direct blow would probably have taken the arm, Lhors realized. As it was, Vlandar’s armor was dented and his arm hung limp. Without Malowan braced against him, he would have fallen.

  The giant brought his weapon back to finish Vlandar. In that instant, the smoldering fire that had been building in Lhors suddenly blazed. Between one heartbeat and the next, he saw his father impaled on a giant’s spear, saw the blood gush from his father’s mouth, saw women and children wailing in terror as they were cut down or trampled, saw little Amyn as the life departed his eyes.

  “Noooo!” In one swift, fluid motion, Lhors hefted his spear, stepped, and threw.

  The spear sailed through the air and plunged through the startled giant’s throat. The massive hammer fell to the floor as the monster tried to scream and pull the shaft from his throat. Malowan dragged Vlandar away and deposited him next to Rowan. The smith finally managed to grab hold of the spear and yanked. The javelin came out, followed by a gush of blood that pumped with the beat of his heart. He stared for a moment as his knees gave way, then his eyelids sagged and he slumped to the floor. He did not move again.

  There was roaring in Lhors’ ears, his heart was racing, and he was having trouble seeing. He took a deep breath, and the room slowly solidified about him.

  “Khlened! Get back!” he heard Nemis shout.

  The barbarian swore furiously but began slowly backing away. The giant came after him, howling what Lhors thought must be curses or threats in his own language. Nemis yelled again, more urgently.

  “Damn it all, I’m doing it!” Khlened snarled. “Tell him!”

  “Not like that! Turn and run!”

  “You’re mad!” The barbarian clearly had his hands full and then some. As far as Lhors could tell, the giant either hadn’t understood the exchange or was making too much noise to hear them.

  Malowan came running, his reclaimed sword a dark red.

  “Do it!” he be
llowed. “One, two, go!”

  Khlened bellowed, turned on his heel, and sprinted back toward the corridor. He leaped over a pile of spears, but one shaft caught his foot and he stumbled, sending poles spilling in all directions. He managed to keep his feet and gasping for air, shot past Nemis, who was muttering into his scrap of red cloth. Once past Lhors and the rangers, the barbarian turned back, sword at the ready.

  The giant was coming toward them, licking his lips and shifting the hammer from hand to hand. Suddenly, he stopped dead, stumbled back a pace, and dropped the hammer as a cloud of enormous bees arrowed straight for him. He yelped in surprise and then in pain. Swinging his arms wildly, he suddenly bolted forward in a panic, but his foot caught on his fallen hammer. He tripped and went sprawling.

  Maera was ready. She took three quick strides and threw her javelin. It pierced the vulnerable skin between neck and shoulder. Nemis came right behind her and ripped a torch from the wall. At his order, Rowan and Lhors also grabbed torches and the three moved to contain the maddened swarm and try to drive it away.

  The thick swarm buzzed in a black cloud about the giant, but the smoke of the smithy combined with the nearby torches was too much for the bees. Before long, they had all dissipated into the hall and were gone.

  The giant was a dreadful sight. Bleeding freely from the neck, his face puffy, his hands already too swollen to even try to pluck the shaft from his shoulder, he wheezed fearfully. Possibly, Lhors thought, he’d been stung in the mouth. He almost felt sorry for the creature, but Khlened swore a vicious sounding oath and ran forward, sword high over his head. He had to bring it down across the back of the giant’s neck twice before the brute lay still.

  Malowan eased past the two dead giants and contemplated the dwarves. They gazed back at him, quiet for the moment. Most looked wary, but one fellow—shorter than his fellows, his brown hair shot with gray, and his beard and moustache a mix of brown, gray, and red—gave the paladin back the same measuring, thoughtful look. Malowan broke the silence. He tried two different languages before the dwarves seemed to understand him. The ruddy-bearded one answered him at some length.

  Suddenly, Khlened came across to stare closely at him. “Bleryn?” he asked. “Is that you?”

  “Fist?” the dwarf replied in guttural common. He grinned suddenly and would have come forward to embrace the barbarian, but his chain caught. “My old friend Khlened, the fool of a Fist?”

  Khlened swore, happily this time, and closed the space between them, pounding the dwarf on the back. “Ye great idiot, which of us is fool now? Knew ye’d wind up some place like this someday.”

  “Hah,” the dwarf retorted as he freed himself from the rough embrace and gripped Khlened’s forearms. “Much help you would have been! Some surprise to me that you’re alive at all.”

  “I’m not the one wi’ silver in m’ beard,” the barbarian growled then turned to grin at Malowan. “This ’un you can trust beyond all doubt. I know him, I fought with him, and I’ve reason to owe him.”

  “Ah, that,” the dwarf said easily, “was nothing. Happened to be where I could be of use when I was needed.”

  “Saved my mother and sister from certain torture at the hands of frost giants up in the Griff Mountains,” Khlened said flatly. “Wasn’t for him and his helping us in battle, well…”

  Back near the entry, Agya stirred and mumbled something under her breath. Lhors eyed her curiously. “What was that?”

  Her lips twitched. “Ain’t it a good finding someone he trusts? Makes me want ’im for companion.”

  “You don’t think… ?”

  “Wager we gained us a dwarf—one at least,” the girl replied sourly. She suddenly spun partway around, throwing dagger in one hand. Lhors brought his own spear to the ready, but they both relaxed when a familiar form emerged from the gloom.

  A half-breath later, the mage—who must have slipped back up the hall after containing his bee spell—came walking into the light.

  “How do you do that?” Lhors asked the girl. She shrugged, clearly not understanding, and he continued, “Your reflexes, how can you be that fast? And how did you know he was there? Did Malowan teach you his magic or something?”

  “Me?” the girl snorted, but she was grinning now. “Learn paladin magic? There’s a good ’un. Takes all kinds of purity to do what ’e can, and not just body purity—if it was only that, then p’raps I could.” Her grin widened as Lhors felt himself blush. “Nah. ’Tis where and how I lived, and how I kept alive.”

  “You mean stealing?”

  “Nah, not so much that as…” She frowned at the dagger, returned it to the sheath in the side of her boot and considered this. “City, especially th’ poor parts, is a trap like ’ere. You want t’ eat, it means y’ steal food or steal that as lets y’ buy it. And that’s th’ simple bit. Then ya need th’ right allies to ’elp ya avoid enemies.” She shrugged.

  Lhors merely nodded. So far as he could recall, this was the first time she had actually spoken to him without being rude or sarcastic. His eyes sought out Vlandar. The warrior leaned back against the wall not far away, but as the youth took a step that way, Malowan caught his eyes and shook his head. Lhors swallowed and tried to fight dread.

  Agya looked up as Malowan came over. “What’s t’ do?”

  “Vlandar will be all right.” The man smiled faintly, turning to Lhors. “He’s one of those who can’t bear being fussed over when he’s hurt or ill. But I told him you were worried, and he said for you to come. Both of you need to come listen, anyway. Khlened’s old ally knows the dungeon level well, and he’s willing to share the information if we take him with us and give him an equal chance at battle and at treasure.”

  Agya glanced at Lhors. Her eyes seemed mocking again. “Tol’ you, didn’t I?”

  Malowan merely gestured for Agya and Lhors to follow him, and together they went back to Vlandar. The warrior was leaning against Rowan, his teeth tightly clenched. The back of his hand and his fingernails were bloody.

  “All right, everything’s under control, Vlandar,” the paladin said. “It’s safe for me to take the time to heal that—and no, I will not insist on removing your armor.”

  “It won’t do you any good,” the warrior gritted between his teeth. “I will not let you, and if you even think of touching that…”

  “Lhors is here to help me,” Malowan said evenly.

  Vlandar swallowed, then managed a faint smile. “So he is. Hullo, Lhors.”

  “Sir,” the youth managed.

  Malowan patted his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. It’s not much more than a scratch, is it, my friend?” He moved his hands just above the warrior’s armored shoulder.

  “Aye,” Vlandar smiled, but Lhors could tell it was forced. “But it would have been much worse for me if not for you, Lhors. Rowan told me what you did. I owe you my life.”

  Lhors tried a smile of his own, but he could feel the heat rising into his cheeks and forehead.

  “That was you?” Agya gasped incredulously. “I thought it was Maera!”

  “Not Maera,” Rowan answered. “I saw it myself. Lhors felled a fire giant in one shot.” She gave Lhors a nodding salute.

  “Ha!” Agya said as she eyed Lhors up and down. “Well, well. Seems ya might not be so useless after all, Lhors Giant Killer.”

  “Is someone besides Nemis keeping watch, I hope?” the paladin added, mercifully drawing attention away from Lhors.

  Rowan nodded, and she eased Vlandar into a more comfortable position against her. She brushed damp hair from his brow. “Maera is. And I’ve been paying attention to what’s going on here. Khlened is working on his friend Bleryn’s chains.”

  As if on cue, the dwarf’s fetters clattered to the floor. The other dwarves were still chained and looking restless, but Khlened brought Bleryn over and squatted next to Malowan.

  “Tell ’em,” he ordered the dwarf.

  The dwarf’s voice was very deep—not giant-deep, but deeper than any human voice
Lhors had ever heard. “This Fist say I can trust you, you warrior and yer folk. These others are dwarves like me, but they aren’t family. I’d not trust ’em, though. All they want’s to flee. They know this underground better’n me, been here longer. I’d be glad of it if y’could free ’em where they won’t run into guards and give us away. Selfish, aye, but there it be.”

  “Sensible, rather,” Khlened growled. “’E tells me th’ others are from th’ south, and so far’s ’e can tell, they’ve all been ’ere since they got caught. Bleryn knows a little more of th’ place. Tell ’em.”

  “Wait,” Malowan said and murmured under his breath.

  Vlandar drew a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a gust as he cautiously moved his arm.

  “There,” the paladin said grimly. “Thank me by not doing that again.”

  “I would just as soon,” Vlandar agreed and gripped Lhors’ hand. “There, good as new, my young friend.”

  Lhors managed a smile for him, but he felt sick. This was twice now. Hadn’t his father said three times paid for all?

  “Go ahead,” the warrior added with a nod to Bleryn, “finish your tale, but quickly. We dare not stay here much longer.”

  “I speak Common, but thems”—he sent his eyes toward the still-bound dwarves—“don’t. As this Fist says, most of ’em hasn’t been beyond this room and th’ far corner where we sleep. Me, I got talent at buildin’, makin’ bridges and such, so when I got took, it seemed only sense to me to act like I’d cooperate with ’em.”

  “Sensible,” Khlened agreed. “You cooperate, they trust you, you escape. I’d’ve done the same.”

  “Worked—all but th’ last part,” the dwarf admitted. “Still, I know this level. Up there is the torture chamber. There’s a temple back down the long way and over the barrier, but it’s not a good place. And the caverns beyond where stone is piled—forget ’em.”

  “We know about the barrier and the orcs beyond it,” Malowan said. “What about the prisoners kept across the main passage?”

  The dwarf pursed his lips. “Spent time there myself and wished I hadn’t. Nasty place, lots o’ little reeking chambers with bugbear guards. Hate ’em.”