Against the Giants

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  The third yelled a clear warning down the passage, trying to be heard by the other guards down that passage, Lhors was sure of it. The brute began edging away from them along the wall, easing toward the east.

  “Stop him!” Vlandar shouted. “He’s after reinforcements!”

  But Nemis was already halfway across the room, pelting the creature one-handed with small objects. In his right hand, he was waving a feather.

  “Man’s gone mad!” Khlened said, aghast, and hurled himself at the giant. To his astonishment, the massive brute turned and eyed him glassily, then snickered. The laughter welled, tears rolled down the giant’s cheeks, and he clutched his sides. As Khlened stared blankly, the giant gasped for air, still laughing hysterically, then sagged into the wall and slid down it.

  Lhors gaped at the giggling, fur-clad mass of giant, then eyed Nemis sidelong.

  The mage grinned at him. “One of my favorite spells. He’ll laugh until he passes out from lack of wind. By the time he recovers, we shall be long gone.”

  “But he’ll raise the alarm,” Lhors said.

  Nemis shook his head and held up a pinch of powder. “With this under his nose he won’t recall a thing that’s happened this entire day.” The mage had to raise his voice to be heard over the crazed laughter.

  The giant tangled in the morning star was beginning to show signs of consciousness. Bleryn came up behind him and drove his sword deep into the creature’s throat, then backed away as blood arced across the chamber and ran down the far wall. The dwarf turned away, teeth set in a mirthless grin. “So should all’ve ’em die,” he snarled.

  “Not all,” Malowan said evenly.

  The dwarf glared at him. Khlened tugged at Bleryn’s sleeve and led him aside, talking rapidly in a low voice. Probably explaining about paladins—at least this particular paladin, Lhors thought. The dwarf looked skeptical but finally shrugged.

  The insane giggling had been fading and suddenly ceased. The giant lay limp against the wall, eyes closed and mouth open. Nemis mumbled to himself a moment, then nodded in satisfaction and smeared the powder under the creature’s nostrils. He was vigorously scrubbing his finger down his cloak as he stepped back.

  “Let us go,” Vlandar said. He led the way into a passage in the east wall that immediately bent south. A short distance on, Malowan, Gerikh, and Agya edged around him. Nemis again brought up the rear.

  Like the previous passages and chamber, the ice let in a greenish light so that they could see a goodly distance both ways. The floor was solid ice, but so tracked with hair from hides, mud, dirt and bits of crushed stone that it might as well have been stone. They stopped halfway down to rest, then went on around the bend, heading toward the Rift ledge once again.

  They emerged from the tunnel to a bone-chilling wind. At Vlandar’s gesture, Agya and Malowan crept close to the edge while the rest of the company waited in the shelter of the tunnel. Florimund, who leaned heavily on Maera, whispered something against her ear. She nodded and led him over to where he could sit with his back against the wall. Malowan and Agya returned swiftly, and the paladin signed something to Vlandar that Lhors couldn’t follow. The warrior brought them back up the passage and took out the map from the Steadings trove. He set Nemis to keep watch while Malowan did the same to the rear.

  “Our way is out there,” he told them quietly. “Left though. See here”—he pointed at an area on the map—“where another tunnel heads east then bends south from a three-way join? The center tunnel opens into a cavern where there are hiding places with guards behind them. We shall see.”

  Florimund whispered something to Maera. The ranger, who’d settled herself and Florimund several paces back, murmured something to her sister, who cast up her eyes but came over to speak to Vlandar.

  “Warrior,” she said softly. “Florimund remembers this place. He thinks. He recalls cold and three tunnels branching. He says his guards went by the lowest one. He remembers little from there except for a vast chamber and a throne. He says his guards were afraid of the middle way.”

  “Afraid?” Vlandar asked. “Why?”

  She shrugged, but Maera came over then, her lips set. “He does not speak Giantish, Vlandar. Oh, certain words as any prisoner might learn. But like most of our kind, he is sensitive to atmosphere, even if not as sensitive as a true elf. He sensed the fear in his guards’ speech the same as I would.”

  Rowan grimaced. She looked apologetic. Likely because Maera is always angry, Lhors thought. It seemed a foolish point for anger. Vlandar was right to wonder what the ex-prisoner knew and how, since he seems to remember so little otherwise. Maera was already deep in some discussion with Florimund, their heads close together.

  “We will not take the south passage,” Vlandar said quickly and very quietly, as if he did not want the rangers or Florimund to overhear him. “There is a mark on the map—Nosnra’s, if Nemis is right—and it cuts across the south passage. Nemis or Mal can check for us, but by this map, Nosnra saw the left passage as a dead end but the other as deadly. This leaves the middle passage or the Rift itself.”

  “Was up t’ me,” Agya broke in firmly, “th’ Rift is dead last. Somethin’ down there smells worse’n anything I ever found in city, even in th’ Sink. I’d wager somethin’ nasty down there kills things but eats only bits and leaves th’ rest to stink.”

  “I agree,” Malowan said. He’d come back to join them. He cupped a small charm in his hands, and his eyes were still fixed on their backtrail. “Pure evil dwells in those depths, but the descent would kill us before we encountered it. The walls are steep and iced, and the wind is dire. There is nothing close behind or aware of us back there. We had better go.”

  Vlandar nodded and put Lhors next to him as they set out again. Nemis lead the way, and Malowan brought up the rear.

  They paused briefly at the three-way branch when Agya gestured urgently. The little thief clutched Malowan’s free hand as she slid into the left-hand passage, her nose twitching. Her hands moved in sign, too rapid for Lhors to follow, and the two retreated quickly.

  “Ogres,” Malowan whispered, “and no moving air. It’s a dead end.”

  Florimund seemed to be arguing with Maera and Rowan and gesturing feebly toward the southwest branch. Lhors thought Maera looked angry with her sister, but the two rangers came quietly, holding up their fellow as Vlandar started down the center passage. He slowed as the passage narrowed, tested the air himself, listened intently, then sent Nemis and Malowan both ahead, keeping everyone else back.

  “Giants, or somethin like,” Agya whispered. She was right at Lhors’ elbow and cross because Malowan hadn’t taken her with him. “No wolves, though—I don’t think.”

  Khlened and Bleryn argued briefly with Vlandar. Of course they’d want to bellow and charge in, letting surprise give them an advantage. Vlandar simply shook his head and shifted the grip on his sword as he settled against the wall to wait.

  Malowan was back almost at once. He held up eight fingers, then the sign for “giants.” Nemis returned some moments later and beckoned everyone close.

  “I used my beneath notice spell and got into the chamber itself. There’s a giant at the entrance to a fairly large cave, here”—he drew a knife and scratched lines in the ice wall. “They cannot all be seen from the entry, and they can watch each other. They’re an elite bunch, not like the last ones. One hidden south of the entry and four back behind a ledge that divides the cavern.” The mage waited until everyone had a chance to look at his sketched map, then used a spell to melt a little of the ice, erasing it. “There’s one that’s different, though. The rest were all business, but he was laughing, gossiping, or just nattering from the sound of it.”

  Seven elite guards and one elder. It didn’t sound to Lhors as though it made better odds for them. Vlandar seemed to think the same way. His face was very grim. “Weapons?” he asked.

  “Pikes and spears, plus some boulders to throw. There’s too many for a straight-on attack, and the on
es behind that ledge are ready to ambush anyone who attacks the others. We need a plan before we go in.”

  Vlandar squatted on his heels and brought out the map. Nemis indicated where the ledge was and where he’d seen or sensed guards. “Eight of them, ten of us, but we aren’t all fighters.”

  “And they’re at least twice our size and in familiar territory,” Malowan added.

  “Two of us have magic,” Khlened put in, “plus a thief, and th’ rangers and Lhors with spears and bow.”

  Lhors was surprised. The berserker might actually be learning that not every battle had to be a melee. Dead berserkers cannot spend treasure, the youth thought.

  Vlandar nodded. “Good thinking. The way the chamber is, it won’t be easy getting Lhors and the rangers in good position. Still…” He was quiet for another long moment, then sat back on his heels and began to talk quickly and quietly, outlining his plan.

  Only Florimund objected. “This is not the way,” he whispered fretfully. “I have been here, and the chamber beyond this one—” He shuddered then broke into tears.

  Nemis hastily spoke one of his silence spells, and Khlened turned away, embarrassed. Maera glared at the Fist’s back, then gathered the half-elf close, speaking quietly against his ear. Rowan watched them both, her face expressionless. Finally, she came over to squat next to Vlandar and Nemis, her eyes moving from one face to the other.

  “How certain are you of the way, mage?” she asked softly. Nemis stiffened, but Rowan laid a hand on his forearm and shook her head. “No, I mean no insult. I must know if you are truly sure of our way.”

  The mage nodded, but his eyes were still angry. “You were there when we found the map. Do you think I am a spy?”

  Rowan shook her head firmly.

  “I am not,” he said, and Lhors thought he looked much less angry. “Perhaps you will trust no oath of mine. Believe this, if you can. I am fond of my life such as it is, but I will never again serve the dark elves, even if it costs me my life.”

  Rowan gazed into his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “I believe you.” She sent her eyes back toward her sister, who was trying to get Florimund to his feet. The male clung to her weakly. “This is not easy for me,” she said reluctantly. “Maera does not trust non-elves very much, as you must know by now. I am not so certain as she that he is cousin, and I am less…” She gazed blankly at the wall, then met the paladins sympathetic eyes. “I do not trust him, but she does. I pray you keep an eye to Florimund, sir.”

  Malowan gripped her fingers. “I will. Indeed, I have since he makes me… uneasy, let us say.”

  Rowan inclined her head and got to her feet. She went over to help her sister with Florimund, and Maera managed a faint smile at whatever Rowan said. Florimund seemed to get hold of himself, enough that Rowan left the injured half-elf in her sister’s care so she could crouch herself at Lhors’ side.

  “Caution, my young friend,” she murmured. “You and I will have a hard role to play here. Mind you don’t let me down!”

  “I—” He gaped at her. “But Rowan, I would…” He leaned back, the corners of his mouth twitching. “It’s another of your jokes, isn’t it? So I don’t get too scared to help?”

  “You’ll do fine,” she assured him. “I’d do the same for Maera or Malowan—or even Vlandar. Relaxed and ready, that’s what’s best for you.”

  Vlandar gestured ready, and Nemis eased around him. Agya caught at his sleeve. “No wolves?” she whispered.

  He smiled faintly and shook his head.

  Malowan pressed past her, a gesture reminding her to stick close to Maera. Bleryn and Khlened followed paladin and mage, all hugging the south wall.

  Lhors swallowed hard as he got his first look at the entry guard: a brute of a giant with some sort of patch—possibly a captain’s rank—roughly slapped onto his fur jacket. The fellow had a good view of the corridor all the way up to the narrows, but at the moment he’d turned away and was shouting something at another somewhere deep in the chamber. By the sound of the other voice, it must be a giant with too little sleep, too much ale, too many years, or altogether too few brains. Possibly all of them at once. The captain swore an oath that set the corridor ringing and turned back to his post.

  Too late. Khlened and Bleryn were already in place, and while the dwarf brought his axe down across the brute’s calf, Khlened launched the blood-darkened morning star at the monster’s neck. It sank into the mail coif around the fellow’s neck, tangling in it. The giant swore savagely as he fell, dropping his pike so that he could use both hands to free the weapon. Khlened caught up the pike, staggered back under its weight, and then ran forward to plunge the sharp end deep into the captain’s throat. Blood arced across the chamber, and in two heartbeats the giant was quite dead.

  Vlandar shoved past the barbarian as two other giants came running up. One was a graybeard who came from Nemis’ marked post in the south end of the cavern. He settled into place, blocking an ill-lit greenish passage, The other stood with his back to the shining black rock ledge, brandishing a manic grin and two long swords.

  “Ynk-knecht—Ogre-Gutter,” Khlened said. He’d stopped cold at sight of the giant and his weapons. Lhors shuddered, but the barbarian was smiling happily, his eyes dreamy. “Look at ’em,” he sighed. “Kord ’imself would risk all for a blade like that!”

  “The god Kord is mad,” Bleryn said flatly. “Do I have to watch yer back so’s ya can steal that monster’s blades? If so—well, I’m not that wild to die, Fist!”

  Khlened shook himself. “’Course not!” But before anyone else could say a word, he’d howled out a challenge and launched himself across the chamber.

  “Deliver me from berserkers!” Vlandar swore, and Lhors was ready to agree with him, but to his surprise, Khlened stopped short of the giant, waited for him to raise both his swords, then shifted grip from hilt to point, and threw his sword. At that distance, he couldn’t miss. The blade buried itself in the giant’s throat, and the Yrik-knecht hit the floor with a clang. The giant landed on them half a breath later.

  Khlened swore in obvious frustration, but before he could seize either sword, a bulky giant with a massive stone in each hand came from an alcove in the west wall and headed straight for him. Rowan shot arrow after arrow at him, but they bounced off his armor or stuck in the fur he wore. Lhors and Maera’s spears fared no better.

  Nemis pressed her aside to launch a barrage of fireballs from his fingers. The giant was unaware of him until his fur jacket and hair caught fire. He dropped the stones and ran, arms flapping wildly as he tried to put himself out. Another giant came from behind the wall to help him. Both went down together, the burned one clutching his companion as both of them shrieked in agony. Agya clutched her hands over her ears and retreated behind Malowan, eyes tightly closed.

  Nemis shifted his angle, hurling more fireballs as another giant came around the north side of the ledge, but the giant brought up a broad-bladed axe and parried them. Finally, one hit the floor by his feet. Nemis grinned hugely.

  “Khlened, stay back!” the mage roared as the barbarian started toward the axe-wielder. “Floor’s slick where that fireball hit!”

  The barbarian raised his just-retrieved morning star in salute and braced his feet wide so he could swing the weapon as the giant glared at him and raised the axe. As the fur-clad brute tried to close the distance between them, his feet went from under him and his chin cracked on the icy floor. Vlandar ran up and plunged his sword through the dazed brute’s eye.

  He swore. The blade wouldn’t come back out. “Someone guard my back while I free this!” he shouted, but Lhors and Rowan were at already inside the chamber.

  The ranger turned with a cry of warning and began firing a deadly stream of arrows toward the south end of the ledge. Lhors turned to see two giants charging from around the stone barrier.

  “Beware, Khlened! Two are behind you!” Vlandar bellowed.

  “See ’em!” the Fist shouted back. He threw himself
across the giant he’d killed and dropped the morning star to tug furiously at the hilt of one of the swords, only letting it go at the last moment to catch up the ball and chain. He swung it furiously and let it fly. The giant ducked, then went to pick it up.

  “Ah, frozen hells!” With a massive effort, Khlened dragged one of the enormous swords free, wrapped both hands around the hilt, and began to swing it. The second giant, who’d just come around the ledge, retreated promptly, but the first had just retrieved the morning star and was in the process of turning back to kill his enemy with his enemy’s own weapon.

  Khlened roared out a challenge in his own language and let the sword’s weight carry him around. He dug in his heels at the last moment and let the blade do the rest. It sliced through thick fur and whatever hardened leather the giant wore beneath. Blood sprayed everywhere. The barbarian was momentarily blinded, but even as Malowan leaped forward to protect him, the giant went down.

  Khlened tottered back, bringing the weapon up again with an effort that corded the tendons in his throat. As he turned, Nemis had just finished off the last of them with some spell that left the monster swollen, blue-faced, and very dead.

  “Do not ask,” he said crisply.

  “Wouldn’t of” the Fist replied flatly and knelt to wipe his new sword on the giant’s fur before going back to retrieve his own sword.

  Nemis went to help Khlened retrieve his blade. The Fist finally dragged it free and wiped it on his dead enemy’s trousers.

  “We go quickly,” Vlandar said as he gathered his company close.

  Nemis spoke. “Our way leads to the lower level through that passage there.” He pointed to the south where Lhors could just make out a dimly lit opening. “The master’s throne will be there—and his personal chambers. There is no indication of a stronghold on the map for this level, but I think it unlikely anything like the chain that brought us here from the Steading is up here. It will be where the master can lay his hands on it.”