Against the Giants (21 page)

The paladin didn’t look very happy about it, but he nodded.
“In exchange, Khlened, you and everyone else, keep this in mind. Someone who’s
been a prisoner here may know his way around this level.”

“Huh,” Khlened replied shortly. “Know ’is way from where ’e
came in to ’is cell.”

“Possibly,” Rowan said, “but the giants often use prisoners
for laborers, and prisoners share information when they can. If I were penned
down here, I would learn all I could about the place. Wouldn’t you?”

“And think of this,” Vlandar added. “The person we rescue
might be the one who saves your life down here.”

“Now
you
sound like a paladin,” Khlened grumbled, but
he sighed faintly and shrugged. “Something to that, I s’pose.” He brightened
then. “Could be ’e’d know where treasure’s hid too.”

“Just so,” Vlandar said, his face expressionless, then
stepped aside so the barbarian could help him raise the door.

The outer chamber was vaster than it had seemed when Lhors
had seen it through the spy hole. The roof was vaulted, its upper reaches hidden
in gloom.

“No wonder the staircase was so long,” Rowan murmured.

Vlandar gestured for silence, listened intently, then led
them along the west wall where there was little or no light from the one dim
torch burning between a north passage and a rough door. Agya touched the
warrior’s hand, pointed toward the door and signed,
Giant. Beast.
The
warrior worked this out and nodded. After a moment’s consideration, he indicated
first the dark opening straight across from them, then the ill-lit door just
south of that.

Passage?
He signed then pointed toward the opening.

Malowan nodded then pointed at the door and signed back,
Prison.

The prison door rattled slightly, and someone behind it
cursed in a hoarse, thick voice. Vlandar looked around, then stabbed a finger
toward the far side of the chamber. Malowan touched Agya’s arm to get her
attention, then sprinted across the vast stone floor to vanish in the darkness
of the hallway, the girl right on his heels. Vlandar put Lhors in front of him.
Khlened came behind and the rangers, and Nemis brought up the rear.

The mages lips and fingers were moving in his personal
beneath notice spell as he gained the east passage. The man spun around and
knelt just behind the opening, one hand fumbling at his belt as everyone else
crowded close behind him. Lhors could see a little box, but before he could
study it further, an enormous, shaggy creature stumbled into the open, backlit
by torches in the cell area. The sudden light hurt the youth’s eyes, and he
shrank against the wall, blinking furiously. Vlandar’s hand closed reassuringly
over his forearm—the warrior had his sword in the other.

“It’s a bugbear,” he whispered against Lhors’ ear. “We’re
protected by Nemis’ spell.”

The brute snarled an oath at someone in the pens and gestured
furiously. The door slammed behind him. Nemis seemed half-blinded by the light
as well. He worked the lid from the box by feel, then froze as Malowan touched
his shoulder.

“It’s only me,” the paladin breathed against his ear, his
voice prudently low even with the beneath notice spell in place. “What have you
there?”

Nemis held the box out. “Illusionary wall.”

“Not a good idea. The creature sees a wall where there should
not be one and he’ll raise an alarm. Save your box. I know how long it takes to
prepare that powder.”

“What would
you
use?” Nemis whispered.

The paladin grinned, his teeth ruddy in the faint light.
“Fear.”

The mage shook his head. “That takes as long as the wall to
prepare!”

Vlandar tapped both hard on the shoulders and drew a
meaningful hand across his throat.

Nemis eyed him sidelong and nodded. “Won’t do, Mal. He senses
fear, he’ll raise an alarm or run yelling for help. Wait.” He leaned forward,
keeping a close eye on the massive brute. It was mumbling to itself in a
nasty-sounding guttural voice. The creature shambled off straight south. A
little dim light leaked into the chamber as the south door opened, but it cut
off as the door slammed. “Save your spell. We are clear for the moment.”

Vlandar eased around mage and paladin. He froze as the door
into the prison slammed open again. Lhors swallowed dryly. Someone in there was
wailing in a high, broken voice and two guards were bellowing furiously at each
other.

How can Vlandar bear that? he thought. The warrior showed no
emotion whatever as he looked a question at Nemis, who nodded. I hope that means
his spell is still working, Lhors thought.

Another door—the one set in the south wall perhaps—banged
into stone, the sound echoing briefly through the chamber before it was
swallowed by a blare of arguing, shouting, and fighting. Someone stomped into
the open and bellowed what sounded like an order. The prison door slammed shut,
and a moment later, the second door cracked into its frame. Utter silence
followed.

Vlandar sighed and eased back on his heels. “All right,” he
whispered. “Unless the guard and his ape came out unheard during all that, we
have the space to ourselves. I suggest we make use of it and get ourselves down
that long hall before someone else comes.”

“No one else is out there,” Malowan said. “I would know. Get
going, Vlandar, and I will catch up in a moment. My business is against the
north wall. If there are giants close by, I may be able to learn what they
plan.”

The mage eyed him. “If—”

“If I can, then we may have useful information. If not, we
will not have lost anything. Either way, I will join you at once. I do not seek
a martyr’s death here, my friend.”

Agya stirred.

“No,” he added. “You stay with them. I am safer alone.”

To Lhors’ surprise, the girl nodded and slid back into
shadow while the paladin edged along the east wall, heading north. He gave the
doorway around the guards’ room a wide berth, skirted the north opening, then
settled against the middle of the north wall, listening intently.

Vlandar got to his feet and led the party straight across the
open, the shortest distance between east passage and south corridor.

There was light in the vast open area, most of it leaking
around the door leading to the prison cells. Once they plunged into the
corridor, however, the darkness was daunting. There were no openings of any kind
along either wall, and it seemed to go on forever.

Halfway down the corridor, Malowan caught up to them.

“Anything?” Vlandar asked softly.

The paladin nodded. “Not now.” He sounded short of breath.

Near the end of the long passage, Vlandar stopped and drew
the company around him, then gestured for Lhors and Rowan to check the
cross-passage. The youth nodded and moved out along the west wall, glancing now
and again at the ranger, who had set her back to the east wall and moved in
utter silence. He hoped he didn’t look as afraid as he felt.

Rowan reached the corner and dropped to one knee, then went
flat, listening for a long moment before she edged the top of her head into the
open. She looked behind her first, then turned her head slowly so she could look
over the west tunnel. She made no sudden moves, Lhors realized, and she moved
the way his father had taught him when they hunted deer. Silent, slow, steady,
cautious moves were unlikely to be noticed by those who called an area home. He
suddenly felt more confident than he had in all their journey. This is something
I know, something I’m good at, he thought. Sliding down the wall, he slipped
quietly into the open to check the east corridor.

There wasn’t much of it. Seven or eight long strides on,
enormous boulders blocked the way as if there had been a slide. He could see
this clearly, he suddenly realized, because of an opening to his left, halfway
between him and the stones, where a torch was burning. The sputtering flame cast
an uncertain light on the shaggy bugbear guard who sat bolt upright just inside
the doorway, its back against the nearest side of the opening, its attention
fixed on that boulder-pile—or possibly something beyond it.

Lhors brought his head slowly back around. There was a door
just beyond the guard on the other side of the hall. There was a door opposite
Rowan also, and a dreadful smell came from the hand’s width of space between
floor and ill-fitting slab of wood. Possibly a prison, Lhors thought. The door
didn’t seem to fit well enough into its stone sill even to latch, but there was
a thick iron bar on the outside, holding it shut.

Somewhere to his right, he could hear the distant but
unmistakable rhythmic clang of a hammer on an anvil. There was a smithy down
here.

He looked over at Rowan, who was waiting for him. She sent
her eyes sideways, back the way they’d come, then slowly began easing away from
the opening. He did the same, only getting to his feet after she did. With one
last look toward the cross-hall, the ranger came over and wrapped an arm around
Lhors’ shoulders, briefly hugging him.

“Well done,” she murmured against his ear.

Lhors nodded. His face felt hot, and he was too embarrassed
by the unexpected praise to know what to say. Besides, it was hard for him to
remember that she was at least as old as his mother would have been. She was
warm and sleek-bodied, like a very young woman. Her hair was soft. He forced his
mind back to more serious matters—such as how to briefly let Vlandar know what
he’d seen down there.

Vlandar drew him back a little farther up the broad
passageway where he squatted near the wall close to Malowan. Agya crouched by
his feet, eyes moving constantly. The paladin’s eyes were closed, his hands
outstretched, and his lips moving soundlessly. As soon as the two passed
Malowan’s fingertips, Vlandar nodded and spoke in a low voice. “You can talk
here. Malowan has worked a spell to keep sound within the tube of space formed
around his arms.” A faint smile turned his lips. “Had he longer arms, everyone
could hear at the same time.”

“I’ll pass on to my sister anything she needs to know,” Rowan
said. She glanced up the hall where Khlened and the Maera stood.

Lhors gave a brief account of what he had seen. Once he was
done, Rowan took up the narrative.

“There is a long passage, half the width of this, and a
chamber at the end with no door. There are two giants asleep on a mat near a
fire, and there may be others. I know there are more fires. I could see the
light of at least three. It must be a torture chamber. I am sure I saw a rack
and a spiked crown of pain hanging from a chain. There is a door straight down
from here flanked by matching doors. Both are barred. Farther west, an opening
seems to angle southwest. There may also be another passage going north. I could
just make out shadow but nothing else.”

Vlandar nodded, then fixed his gaze on the opposite wall as
he decided on a course of action.

Lhors studied the rest of the group while he waited for
Vlandar’s decision. Maera seemed to be talking to Khlened. As Lhors watched, the
ranger drew the man into the middle of the corridor away from the wall. What
Lhors could see of the barbarian’s face was unnerving. He was dead white and
sweating freely. His eyes were screwed shut, and he was chewing on a corner of
his moustache.

“He fears caves,” Rowan murmured against his ear, “any dark
and enclosed place. He admitted that last night when Maera and I pressed him
about it. Do not let him know you know it. It shames him to be afraid of
anything, but he cannot control it.”

“Two of the women in my village had such fear,” Lhors said.
He eyed Khlened for a long moment. “It must be hard for such a brave man to
learn he can fear something.”

“Yes. He can learn to bear it, if he will listen to Maera.”

Vlandar nodded sharply and dismissed them, beckoning for
Nemis, Khlened, and Maera to join him. Lhors watched from nearby. He could see
Vlandar’s lips moving, then Maera’s and Khlened’s. Nemis merely folded his arms
and listened, but Lhors could hear nothing of what was said.

Several moments passed before Nemis beckoned. Rowan gripped
Lhors’ shoulder and drew him back over to the rest of the group. The mage
caught hold of Mal’s hand and stretched his own arms as far as they would go.

Making a bigger tube, Lhors realized.

Vlandar gestured for all of them to come close. The air
inside the tube felt as if a storm was coming—Nemis’ contribution, perhaps.
Lhors swallowed dread and tried not to think about the last time his hair had
stood on end.

Vlandar cleared his throat. “We can’t stay like this for long. Anyone or
anything down here sensitive to magic will sense the tube and surely know we
aren’t their kind. If you must say something, it better be important.” The
warrior quickly laid out his plan. “We won’t go east. Nemis says the region
beyond the rockslide leads to the caverns he sensed earlier—with the way out
through water and the other through dread creatures. Besides, there is one
bugbear just visible, and it seems to have orders to keep constant watch on the
ruined passage. There are others inside the chamber, and they are ready to
fight.”

“Why?” Lhors asked. “What enemy could they have back there?”

“Mal thinks they are orcs—a good many of them. From what we
saw of the way these giants treat their servants and slaves, I believe there may
have been rebellion down here. The bugbear on guard down there feels anxious,
Mal said, and his companions are very alert.”

“Bugbear guards… afraid of
orcs?”
Khlened
demanded.

“Orcs are as big and as bloodthirsty as bugbears. If they
were enslaved and are now armed and spoiling for revenge… well, they would
be a dangerous enemy even if there were only a few of them.”

Several of them nodded agreement, then Vlandar continued, “So
that is no way for us, even if we chose to face the pool or chance the other
portal. Nosnra is also
our
enemy, but that would not make the orcs our
allies. The three chambers across that hall are orc housing, but Mal does not
think they are prisoners—servants or trusted slaves perhaps.”