The Giant Among Us (23 page)

One of the soldiers prodded Basil toward the door. “You’d best be going.”

The runecaster reluctantly moved to obey. “Tell me, are the dungeon thellth very large?”

“Yeah, they’re real big,” snorted the guard. “You’ll just about have room to sit up.”

12
Worm Baiting

With clenched jaw and sweating palms, Tavis watched the sentry herd Avner through the crowded ice cavern. The trip was a slow one, for every frost giant in the chamber insisted on inspecting the prisoner dubbed “Little Dragon.” Many even dropped to their hands and knees for a closer look, blocking the youth’s path until his puzzled escort shoved them away. Slagfid followed close behind the guard, trying not to look surprised by the boy’s unexpected arrival.

To Tavis, the wait seemed forever. A dozen different questions were pounding inside his head, most notably how he was going to get Avner out of the cave before Hagamil returned. The scout was also curious about where the boy had come by the bearskin parka he now wore, and what had happened to Bear Driller. Neither the boy nor his guard were carrying the firbolg’s bow or quiver.

But, more than any other answer, the scout wanted to know how Halflook had discerned that the sentry had captured the boy. Did the shaman’s mystical sight also allow him to see through Tavis’s disguise? That would certainly explain why the giant had insisted that his guest stay until the “surprise” arrived.

At last, the sentry pushed his way past the last curious frost giant and stopped in front of Halflook. Standing between the two giants, Avner seemed incredibly small. The thought of him holding Slagfid’s war party at bay seemed as absurd as a mad squirrel holding a bridge against fifteen armored knights.

“Halflook, call Hagamil,” ordered the sentry. “Tell him.”

“I caught this traell trying to sneak into camp.”

“Hagamil’s sleeping,” the shaman replied. “He already knows about this captive-though he’s under the impression that Slagfid bears the honor for capturing him.” Halflook’s red-veined eye shifted to Slagfid’s face.

“That’s a lie!” The sentry scowled at Slagfid. “You can see for yourself I’m the one who gots him!”

“But Slagfid had him first,” Tavis pointed out, taking a lesson from Avner. If he could start a fight between the two giants, he stood a reasonable chance of snatching the boy and escaping during the confusion. “By rights, the honor belongs to Slagfid.”

“That is not for you to decide, Sharpnose!” Halflook’s voice had turned deep and gravelly. “You are no chief!”

Tavis turned and saw the shaman’s single eyeball rolling back in its socket. Hagamil was returning much earlier than expected.

“Halflook!” the scout shouted. “Our business is not done!”

“Go with Slagfid.” The voice was Halflook’s, but it sounded rather strained. “He’ll show you to one of Bodvar’s mammoths.”

“I no longer wish a mammoth,” Tavis said. “I’ll trade the beast for this little traell.” He gestured at Avner.

A chorus of thunderous laughter echoed off the cavern walls.

“Do not insult us, Sharpnose,” warned Slagfid. He glanced into the pit, where the remorhaz was devouring the last of the ogre. “Watching Little Dragon fight the worm is worth at least ten mammoths.”

“Is it worth-“

“It doesn’t matter what you pay!” To Tavis’s astonishment, the speaker was Avner. “I’d rather stay and fight than become a stone giant’s slave!”

Tavis scowled down at the youth. Avner couldn’t have forgotten his true identity!

“Even if they gave me to you, I wouldn’t go.” The boy pointed to the exit. “So you might as well leave, Gavorial.”

The scout raised his brow. Avner was trying to tell him something, probably that he had hidden Bear Driller someplace nearby. Unfortunately, Tavis did not see how that helped matters.

Still peering down at Avner, the scout said, “At the moment, what you want is not important. I have better uses for you than feeding ice worms.”

“But the traell is not your catch,” growled Hagamil’s voice.

A mass of yellow hair was sprouting on the shaman’s head, but the giant still had only a single, red-veined eye. The orb was fluttering up and down in its socket, as though Halflook were fighting to retain control of the body.

“Leave!” the shaman urged. “I doubt Hagamil will honor my promise.”

“You heard him!” Avner called. “As far as I’m concerned, the sooner you’re gone, the better!”

Tavis shrugged. “It seems I have no choice.” He looked down at Avner, hoping to give the youth one last warning. “But I think you’ll be surprised at how difficult it is to kill a remorhaz. I’m sure you’ll wish you were going home with me instead of dancing across its back with a burning spear in your hand.”

An expression of bewilderment flashed across Avner’s face, but he quickly replaced it with a disdainful sneer. “The only place I’d rather be is with Tavis.” The youth cast a nervous glance toward the pit, then added, “And 111 be joining him soon enough.”

Slagfid grabbed Tavis by the wrist “Let’s go,” the frost giant urged. “I don’t want to miss the fight.”

The scout limped after his escort. The effects of Bodvar’s ice diamond were wearing off, and his injured toe was starting to pain him.

Outside, a stiff wind had risen. It was whistling through the gaps between the nunataks, carrying with it a scouring stream of ice pellets. A ferocious-looking bank of storm clouds was rolling over the caldera’s northern rim, its leading edge gleaming silver in the moonlight. It seemed to Tavis that he could actually feel the temperature dropping.

“It appears there’s quite a storm coming our way,” the scout commented.

Slagfid paused long enough to turn his face into the pelting ice crystals. “Yes, it promises to be a glorious blizzard!” he shouted. “Thrym favors us!”

The frost giant smiled broadly, then led the way to the water hole that the mammoths had gouged in the frozen lake. Although Tavis could hear the ice groaning beneath the beasts’ immense weight, Slagfid did not show the slightest hesitation as he walked out to them. The scout decided to wait on shore, suspecting that if the ice broke, the cold would affect him far more than the frost giant.

Slagfid waded into the herd, looking remarkably similar to a human shepherd pushing his way through a flock of goats. The frost giant stooped over and began grabbing ears. He tipped each beast’s head back so that he could inspect the left tusk, no doubt looking for an ownership mark etched into the ivory. The mammoths trumpeted their protest and occasionally tried to push him away, but the creatures were no match for the giant’s strength. He simply stood his ground and grabbed each animal’s trunk, pinching it shut until the beast stopped struggling.

The frost giant had sorted through about half the herd when the creatures began flapping their ears and changing positions, aligning themselves shoulder-to-shoulder with their heads pointed into the wind. They raised their trunks and let out an intimidating wail, slashing their long tusks through the air and pawing at the ice.

The vibrations caused a large slab of ice to break free, dropping three mammoths and Slagfid into the frigid lake. The plunge didn’t bother any of them. The beasts simply wrapped their trunks around the legs of the closest herd members, then hoisted themselves up with one or two clumsy leaps. No water dripped out of their matted fur, for it had turned to ice the instant the animals had left the lake. Slagfid followed the mammoths’ example, save that he used his hands instead of a prehensile trunk.

The frost giant peered in the same direction as the mammoths. “What’s wrong over there?” he demanded, knocking ice chunks off his body. “Do you see anything?”

Tavis glanced in the direction the giant indicated. “Yes: snow, ice, and shadows.”

The scout did not add that one of the shadows looked to be about the size of a traell. The fellow was lying behind a jagged ridge of ice, with a long bow that could only be Bear Driller on the ground in front of him. Apparently, Avner had recruited some help at the bottom of the glacier. That was why he had been so confident.

Slagfid peered at the shore a moment longer, then shrugged. “Probably bears. Little vermin like that scares mammoths as bad as dragons.” He turned to face the herd again, then shook his head and swore, “By the Endless Ice Sea! Now I’ve got to start over!”

Avner dangled upside down at the end of a greasy rope. A pair of rusty shackles bound his ankles, and in his hands he clutched a blade-tipped spear. The remorhaz danced on the ice almost thirty feet below.

At the top end of Avner’s rope, Hagamil and Halflook were carrying on a bizarre quarrel. The argument would have been comical had the youth’s life not depended on the outcome.

“The body belongs to me until morning!” said Halflook. “If you want to set Little Dragon against the worm, you can wait.”

“By morning, we’ll be on our way.” Hagamil’s gravelly voice rasped from the same mouth out of which Halflook’s had just come. “It’s a long way to Split Mountain.”

“Split Mountain?” snarled Halflook. “We should have left yesterday!”

As the pair argued, Avner slipped his spear between his knees. He took his lockpicking tools out of his belt pouch, then laboriously raised his body up until he could grab his shackle chains. Once the giants dropped him, he would need his mobility-at least if he intended to survive until Tavis returned.

“Hey, what’s Little Dragon doing?” called one of the frost giant spectators. “Is he tryin’ to cheat?”

“Yeah! Ain’t he smart?” answered another. “Just like Slagfid said!”

Hagamil and Halflook glanced briefly at their captive, but made no move to prevent him from unlocking his shackles. Apparently, it was okay to cheat at frost giant games. Under different circumstances, Avner might have enjoyed the company of his captors.

“I would’ve left the day before yesterday,” Hagamil said, continuing the argument. When he spoke, his second eye hung half-descended into the socket. “But we had to wait ‘til Slagfid killed Tavis Burdun. So now we’ve gotta do this thing with Little Dragon tonight.”

The first shackle came loose with a pop. Avner twined his arm around the rope, then slipped the pick into the second lock.

“Fine,” Halflook said. “Then I get to watch the match.” Avner twisted the pick, and the lock popped open. His feet swung free, leaving the shackles in place and him dangling above the remorhaz by a single arm.

“Hey, Little Dragon done it!” called one of the spectators. “He got loose!”

Avner slipped his lockpick back into his belt pouch, then grabbed the spear from between his knees.

Halflook peered down and frowned, then Hagamil’s voice declared, “We’re doing it now!”

The giant-which one, Avner was not quite sure-let the rope slip between his fingers, lowering the youth into the pit like a spider on a thread. The remorhaz reared its chitinous head, ready to strike the instant its prey came into range.

Avner tucked his spear beneath his arm, then began whipping his legs to and fro until he was swinging like a pendulum. The ice worm rocked back and forth in time with the motion. A growing murmur buzzed through the cold chamber as the giants debated the purpose and effectiveness of Little Dragon’s maneuver.

When his captor had lowered him to within a spear’s length of the remorhaz, the youth released the rope at the far end of his arc. His momentum catapulted him far past the ice worm’s tail. He hit the ice close to twenty paces away from the beast, then lost his footing and skidded across the floor. He did not stop sliding until he bounced off a wall.

Much to the giants’ delight, the youth instantly leaped to his feet and came up facing the remorhaz. His shackles clanged to the floor on the opposite side of the pit. The ice worm, which had been turning toward the youth, whirled around and scurried toward the noise, hissing and sputtering.

Avner gripped his spear and crept after the beast in silence, hoping to sneak up on the blind spot behind the creature’s head. The youth kept a careful watch on the ice worm’s legs, alert for any movement that suggested it was whirling toward him. Despite their sticklike appearance, the remorhaz’s legs were surprisingly large, with bulbous joints as big around as a human knee.

The ice worm stopped beside the shackles and ran a face tentacle over the cold steel. Avner was puzzled to see little wisps of vapor rising from the ice beneath the metal. He did not understand what was causing the steam, but it seemed clear enough that he would be wise to avoid the tentacles.

After a time, the remorhaz tossed the irons aside with a contemptuous flick of its head, apparently satisfied that the lifeless steel would cause it no harm. The beast carefully turned around, searching for its prey.

Avner slipped to the side, taking care to stay in the worm’s blind spot, and deftly glided toward the shackles. The maneuver elicited a round of thunderous chuckles from the giants above.

When the ice worm did not find its quarry in the expected place, it vented a gurgling roar and spun around in a whirling blue flash. Avner thrust the tip of his spear into the floor and pushed off, launching himself toward the shackles in a crazy, slip-sliding sprint. The remorhaz hissed in glee and came scratching after him, its many claws gouging long furrows in the ice.

Avner snatched the irons on the move. Allowing himself to glide across the bumpy floor for a moment, he turned and hurled his spear at the remorhaz. The ice worm ducked, though it hardly needed to, and the shaft sailed harmlessly past its head. The youth resumed his sprint, his fingers tearing madly at the rope attached to the heavy chain. He managed to undo the knot quickly, for it had been tied by giant fingers and was quite loose. Behind him he heard the remorhaz’s claws warily clattering on the ice.

“Hey, what are you afraid of!” Avner called. He reached the wall and stopped, then turned around to see the ice worm slowly stalking toward him. He beat the shackles against the ice, yelling, “Come and get me. Hear that dinner bell?”

The remorhaz charged. Avner waited until the worm was moving so fast that it could not possibly stop, then pushed off the wall and ran straight toward the beast. The remorhaz raised its head to strike. The youth dropped to his hip and hit the ice sliding, whirling the shackles like a morningstar. He passed beneath the beast’s belly before it could attack, whipping the irons into the creature’s legs. He heard the satisfying crunch of crackling chitin and felt two limbs fracture.