The Giant Among Us (37 page)

The earl shook his head. “Not so, my queen.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You are Hartsvale. If you perish, the rest of the kingdom follows. It has been my duty to defend you, and it is my regret that I have done so poorly.”

Tavis felt Brianna touch his shoulder. “You can lower your arrow,” she said. “I think we can trust Cuthbert.”

“We can’t be certain,” the scout countered. “Arlien’s tongue was slicker than the earl’s.”

Brianna reached around him and pushed the arrow down. “If Cuthbert were going to betray me, don’t you think he would have done it before the giants demolished his castle?”

The scout frowned, unable to think of any reason even the most treacherous traitor would have waited so long. He took his arrow off his bowstring and returned it to his quiver.

“My apologies, Earl,” Tavis said. “The queen has often said I must learn to make allowances for human nature. If you wish to avenge my slight on the field of honor-“

“That won’t be necessary, Tavis,” Brianna interrupted. “After Arlien’s duplicity, you’re right to be cautious. And speaking of the prince, why don’t you tell us about this plan you have for dealing with him?”

*****

At last, Basil saw sunlight filtering through the rubble above, and he sniffed the caustic smoke of burning oil. Wine had never smelled so sweet-even to him. The runecaster pulled another block out of the wreckage overhead and tossed it toward the other end of the cramped chamber.

The verbeeg was trapped in a storage room buried in the curtain foundation. By the pale illumination seeping down from above, he could see a small door near where he had been tossing the stones. As battered and weak as he was after his fall with the collapsing ramparts, it might have been easier to crawl out through that portal. But the runecaster could not bring himself to do it. The passage beyond was musty, as black as pitch, and small. He’d rather face the giants than risk lodging himself in the depths of that gloomy tunnel.

Basil removed another block of jagged ceiling, then backed away as a cascade of shattered stones and splintered timbers poured into the chamber. When it stopped, a pillar of brilliant white light was shining down through the swirling dust. The verbeeg crawled atop the rubble and stuck his head up through the hole, pinching his eyes shut against the sky’s effulgence.

The castle had fallen surprisingly quiet. He could still hear the fires crackling on the ramparts, the wounded screaming for help or just plain screaming, and the growl of murmuring giants somewhere close. But there was no more crashing. The castle had succumbed to the attack.

Basil raised his eyelids and blinked against the brightness. He managed to hold them open until his vision adjusted to the light. His head was sticking up a little higher than ground level, and he found himself looking across mounds of rubble in the direction of the keep. The frost giants had hammered away one entire corner of the structure. Several of the brutes were watching a small, armored figure, Arlien, climb into a room hanging exposed on the fourth story. If any defenders remained inside the structure, they were no longer firing their weapons.

Out of the corner of his eye Basil caught a flash of blue twinkling in the rubble. He looked toward the sparkle and, a short distance away, saw a pale zaffer light glinting from beneath the shadow of a stone block. The verbeeg glanced in all directions. When he did not see any giants looking toward him, he pulled himself out of his hole, then crawled forward on his belly until he could reach under the rock. He felt the cold bite of an ice diamond.

Even as the stone began to numb his hand, the verbeeg felt a sick feeling welling up inside him. The last time he had seen Tavis, the scout had been wearing the necklace. Basil tugged gently on the ice diamond. It slipped from beneath the rock easily, bringing along a string of many more of the frigid gems. The verbeeg quickly examined the silver chain’s clasp and saw that it had been unhooked, not torn off. The necklace had been deliberately removed, probably because Brianna feared it would interfere with her healing spells. And if there had been time for the queen to heal the scout, it did not seem unreasonable to hope that she and her party were well on their way out of Cuthbert Castle by now.

Basil exhaled in relief. “A lucky find for me, I guess.”

The pain-numbing properties of the enchanted gems were certain to make an interesting study. The verbeeg wrapped the necklace twice around his wrist and clasped it in place, then considered his next move.

The keep’s shattered corner stood less than thirty paces ahead, a yawning enticement to visit the libraries below. To accept the invitation, all Basil would have to do was dodge a dozen frost giants and duck down the stairs before they smashed him into a pulp. Of course, then he would be alone in the keep with Arlien…

The verbeeg sighed. As valuable as the folios were, they were not worth dying for. He reluctantly turned away and, casting one last look over his shoulder, crawled toward the lake.

*****

The muffled creak of grating hinges squealed from a distant door. The cluttered map room instantly fell silent, and Tavis heard the slap-drag of someone limping through the library.

“Basil!”’ Avner hissed.

“It isn’t Basil,” Tavis replied. On their way down, they had encountered a keep guard who reported seeing both Arlien and the verbeeg engulfed by the collapse of the inner curtain.

“If the prince survived, why not Basil?”

“Maybe he did, but that’s not him,” Tavis answered. “He’d never make it down here, not with the keep surrounded by frost giants.”

They were all silent for a moment, then Cuthbert said, “I’ll bar the folio room door.” The earl’s eyes were red and swollen, for he had sent his family into the secret passage only a few minutes earlier. “That should buy you time to prepare.”

“Hartsvale shall miss you, Cuthbert.” Brianna stooped down to kiss him on his ruddy cheek. “If I survive, you’ll be remembered always as the Loyal Earl.”

Cuthbert managed a weak smile. He pulled his visor down and left the room, battle axe in hand.

The queen turned to Tavis. “Shall we ready ourselves?”

Avner cast a yearnful glance toward the sliding map case, which stood pushed open above the secret passage. “We could still call the earl’s men back.”

Tavis shook his head. “Their weapons won’t pierce Arlien’s armor. They’d just be in the way, and their presence might alert the prince to our plan,” he said. “It’s better to let them drive the giants away from the exit.”

The youth gulped, then turned to clear the maps and shelves out of a cabinet near the chamber entrance. Brianna closed and barred the door, while Tavis made sure that every sconce in the chamber held a lit torch. When the battle against Arlien began, the last thing he wanted was for the room to suddenly fall dark. When they had finished their preparations, Avner climbed into the case he had cleared. Since it had no doors, he was clearly visible, but if all went according to plan, the prince would not be looking in his direction. Tavis pulled the sliding map case halfway back over the secret passage and summoned the queen to his side.

“I hope you’re a good actress,” the scout said.

Brianna smiled confidently. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

A muted boom sounded from the folio room, followed by Cuthbert’s battle cry and the clang of his axe striking Arlien’s armor. In the next instant, the earl’s steel-sheathed body crashed through the map room door and fell to the floor in a bloody, jangling heap. His breastplate had been cleft down the center, and his sternum was split apart.

Tavis leaned against the map case. It slid open with a harsh, grating sound.

“Down you go, Majesty!” The scout pushed Brianna into the stairwell, keeping himself half turned toward the doorway.

Arlien stepped into the room and booted Cuthbert’s lifeless body aside. Although the armored corpse probably weighed as much as a small bear, the kick sent it tumbling halfway down the wall. Tavis slipped an arm around Brianna’s neck, then drew his dagger and pressed the tip to her throat. “Don’t come any farther,” the scout warned. “You know what I’m sworn to do.”

“You won’t kill her.” Arlien’s voice had a hoarse, throaty sound. “You’re in love with her.”

The prince stepped forward, more or less dragging one of his legs. Apparently, he had not escaped the rampart collapse completely without injury.

Tavis lightly drew the dagger across Brianna’s throat, opening a shallow cut. She cried out in a groggy voice, and the scout turned her toward Arlien to display the gash.

“I’m a firbolg,” he said. “I’ll do my duty.”

Arlien stopped four steps into the room. The prince asked, “Why don’t we let the queen decide?” He stretched a hand toward Brianna. “Come to me, my dear.”

The queen’s body stiffened ever so slightly, and she tossed her head, as if trying to clear it. “Arlien?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

The prince gestured her forward. “I’ve come for you.” His voice had a sharp edge. “Come here.”

Brianna tried to pull away, but Tavis would not release her. He backed into the secret tunnel, starting down the stairs. As he tried to pull the queen after him, she shot one hand up through the crook of his arm and drove her other elbow into his ribs. The scout dropped backward and descended the stairs in a controlled tumble, grunting and slapping the stone steps to make the fall sound as convincing as possible.

At the top of the stairs, Brianna walked slowly forward.

“Arlien, I thought…” She let the thought trail off, allowing Tavis time to reach the bottom of the stairwell and regain his feet. “I thought you had abandoned me.”

“Never, my dear,” said the prince. “Now come to me.”

Brianna moved forward, stepping out of Tavis’s sight. The scout pulled his bow off his shoulder and the golden arrow from his quiver, then bounded up the stairs. He trained his golden arrow on the center of the queen’s back.

“Majesty, no!” he yelled.

Brianna slowly turned, then Arlien’s hand flashed up and pulled her back. The prince stepped forward, placing his body between her and the golden shaft, and cocked his warhammer to throw. Tavis raised his aim, pointing his arrow over his foe’s shoulder at the queen’s head.

“She’s taller than you,” the scout warned. “Ill kill her.”

Arlien did not throw his weapon. Behind him, Brianna reached for her hand-axe, and Avner slipped from his hiding place.

“What do you want?” asked Arlien.

“I want you to tell Lanaxis that he can’t have Brianna, even if she is the first queen of Hartkiller’s line.” Avner had told Tavis and Brianna about Basil’s discoveries. “And I want her back.”

Brianna freed her axe, then held it poised to strike. Avner reached for a torch.

Arlien’s eyes narrowed. A cunning smile crossed his lips, and he said, “If you know her ancestry, then you also know our blood runs strong in her veins. I can only imagine how your earls will feel when they learn-“

As Avner slipped his torch from the sconce, the prince suddenly fell silent and cocked an ear.

“Now, Brianna!” Tavis yelled.

The queen brought her hand-axe down, not attacking the prince but slicing the buckles off his breastplate. With her free hand, she grabbed his collar and pulled, ripping the armor off.

“By the titan, what are you doing?” The prince whirled on Brianna, more confused than angry.

Tavis drew his bowstring taut, training his arrow on the center of the prince’s back. In the same instant, Avner stepped forward, bringing his torch down on Arlien’s weapon hand.

The prince roared in pain and dropped his hammer. His hand instinctively jerked away, then snapped back into the youth’s face just as reflexively. The impact launched the boy across the room, his nose flattened and a spray of teeth flying from his mouth.

“Avner!” Brianna cried.

The boy crashed into a map cabinet and crumpled to the floor. The burning torch slipped from his limp hand, rolling across the cold stones to the base of a cabinet filled with vellum maps. Tavis loosed his golden arrow and rushed up the stairs, and Brianna swung her axe at the prince’s neck. But even as their weapons flashed through the air, Arlien was exploding to his true size, dropping his helmet and leg armor as a molting locust sheds its exoskeleton.

When Brianna’s axe struck, the prince had grown so tall that the blade hit his weapon arm instead of his neck. And by the time Tavis’s arrow arrived, Arlien’s shoulders were pressed against the ceiling. The shaft sank not into his back, but deep into his thigh.

The prince did not even feel the missile strike, for Basil’s rune magic prevented the shaft from causing any pain. The arrow paled to the color of ivory. A glassy yellow cast spread outward from the wound, turning the flesh of the entire leg as flaxen and glossy as gold. The knee buckled, and Arlien crashed to the floor. He landed on his side, his body so huge that it completely hid Brianna from the scout’s sight.

The flaxen death magic lost its vigor as it crept past the ettin’s hip, so that by the time it was spreading up Arlien’s back, his flesh was no longer turning yellow and lustrous. His skin merely paled to a dull, jaundiced color, his ribs continuing to rise and fall as the astonished prince gasped for breath.

Tavis cursed himself for not anticipating the explosive change in size, then pulled another arrow from his quiver. As he nocked the shaft, the ettin rolled toward him and the scout found himself looking up into Julien’s swarthy face. Arno’s brutish head, desiccated and lifeless, lay flopped over the festering sore where the runearrow had detonated during the blizzard.

Tavis quickly loosed his arrow. The shaft disappeared into the knotted muscles of the ettin’s massive neck, and Julien roared. The scout glimpsed a great hand arcing toward him from the ceiling, then his entire body went numb as the enormous fist smashed into his chest, shattering bones from his clavicle to his lowest ribs. He bounced off the sliding map case and dropped into the secret passage, listening to his own bones crunch and grind as he bounced down the stairs.

By the time he reached the bottom, the agony was beginning to set in. Every breath sent stabbing pains shooting through his chest and abdomen, while the anguish in his left shoulder was so fierce that he knew even attempting to move the arm would prove futile. He rolled to his knees, but grew dizzy and nearly fainted when he tried to stand.