Against the Giants (27 page)

“I am not pure enough to wield the thing,” the mage said from
across the chamber, “even if I could use one—or needed it. Mal, come here. You
brought that red powder, didn’t you?”

The paladin settled one sword against his back, reluctantly put the other
back on the wall, and fished a tiny box from a pouch at his belt. He handed it
to the mage, who sprinkled some of it over the shattered wood that might have
been a barrel at one time. There was a faint explosion and a bloom of ruddy
smoke that cleared to reveal a solidly built cask. Another pinch of the red
powder, and this too burst open.

Agya came around Malowan to peer at the contents with them.
“Just a map!” she said dismissively.

Nemis had the thing spread across his knees. Lhors could not
make out any of the writing on the hardened sheet of skin, but Nemis and Malowan
seemed to be making sense of it.

The mage held up a black oblong box. “This was under the map
Vlandar, and the map is a plan of the frost giants’ hold—Nosnra’s guide, from
what is written here. And here”—he pointed—“are instructions for the device that
takes him to the Rift.”

“Rift?” Agya asked warily. “Frost giants?”

“The Rift is a place of ice and cold, such as frost giants
like” the paladin explained. “I doubt we will care for it, but Nemis”—the
paladin glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice—“will the drow be
there?”

“I doubt it,” Nemis said quietly. “Those I knew prefer heat
to cold, and they would not trust Nosnra with anything that took him straight to
them. They may travel to the Rift to meet with him, or he may go beyond the
Rift.”

“We’ll learn when we get there,” Malowan said as he opened
the oblong box.

Lhors hoped the man felt as confident as he sounded. Lhors
merely felt ready to be done with fighting and headed back home.

But you have no home anymore,
the back of his mind
whispered. Lhors pushed the thought away. It was true enough, but that was a
matter to deal with once he was far away from giants and bugbears and orcs.

The box held a chain, a hide scroll, and another black chain
that reflected the dim light. Nemis took the black chain. “Don’t touch it, Mal,”
he warned as he unfurled it. “You won’t like it.” He looked down to read from
the scroll again. “Instructions for the chain, from ‘the Jarl, Chief of the
Rift.’ He addresses Nosnra as if the brute were his slave.” He glanced up. “Mal,
you’re monitoring them up there?”

“As best I can,” the paladin said. “There are no giants in
the passage out there, no one nearby except those manticores.”

“That won’t last much longer,” Vlandar said. “I fear our time
is almost gone. Tell me how this chain works.”

Nemis read down the scroll, set it aside to scrub his hands
vigorously on his pants, then spread the chain out across the floor. It was
longer than it had looked in the chest.

“I won’t loop it properly until we are ready,” the mage said.

Vlandar got everyone together. “We’re leaving here soon, by
the magic in that chain. We have no choice at this point. It is this or fight
our way out against impossible odds. It will be very cold where we’re going, so
whatever warm things you have in your packs, put them on now. And be ready to
fight. There may well be guards where we emerge, frost giants. Khlened, you said
you’ve fought them before.”

The barbarian’s eyes narrowed, and he grinned fiercely. “Aye.
Tough brutes, and far more cunning than these hill giants, but they bleed same
as you’n me.”

“Pardon me, Vlandar,” Lhors spoke up hesitantly, “but how can
we be sure that this chain won’t drop us into a frost giant’s cook pot or in the
middle of a dragon’s nest?”

Vlandar looked grim, but before he could answer, Nemis jumped
in. “It is a possibility. I won’t deny it. But things of this nature are seldom
that precise. Nosnra is a thickheaded brute, but even he would want to travel
safely, and the frost giants wouldn’t want others dropping in at any time. That
would be dangerous should the device fall into the wrong hands.”

“Like
ours,
y’mean,” Bleryn said.

“Precisely.” The mage smiled. “In all likelihood, we will
emerge some distance from the frost giants’ hold, well out of any ‘danger zone’.”

“True enough,” the paladin conceded, “but Lhors does have a
point. Wherever we emerge, it will likely be watched. You don’t leave a magic
door to your stronghold and not guard it.”

Vlandar sighed. “All you say is true, but the point remains:
we have no choice. We can’t swim out of here on the river. One set of stairs is
collapsed and being cleared by who knows how many giants, and the other exits
are surely heavily guarded. It’s this way or no way, but I advise everyone to go
with weapons at the ready.”

Everyone nodded reluctantly. Not one of them seemed pleased.

Lhors watched as the mage felt the links, then picked three
in a row and drew the outer two together, touching the new join with his
fingers. When he let it go, the two stayed together and the third locked between
them. He twisted the chain into a double loop, then squatted to hold the upper
off the lower.

“Half of you stand in one loop, half in the other,” Nemis
instructed.

Vlandar divided them into two groups. Khlened, Bleryn, the
rangers, and their injured comrade composed one. Nemis, Malowan, Agya, Lhors,
and Gerikh made up the other. Everyone who had a weapon held it ready. Nemis
looked them over, then glanced behind him.

Lhors could suddenly hear giants—many of them. The mage got
to his feet and dropped the chain. It hit the floor with a muted clank.

The treasure room flared a brilliant blue-white and vanished.
Lhors clutched Vlandar’s arm, scared and dizzy both, but the sensation of being
nowhere was gone as quickly as it had come. In its place came snow, ice, and a
hellish wind that cut through every layer they wore.

Khlened spat. His moustache was already stiff with ice.

“Frost giants,” he snarled. “I
hate
frost giants.”

Icy wind shrilled, blowing snow and ice crystals around them.
The sky seemed to be night-dark, but it was hard to tell with so much wind and
snow. Agya huddled in on herself, teeth chattering. Lhors, who had enjoyed
snowfalls in his village as a boy, stared in horror at the blizzard. His face
felt frozen in just the few moments they’d been here. He dragged the thick
woolen scarf up over his nose and mouth and peered at a tree maybe four paces
away—the only thing he could see besides blowing white. The branches were so
laden that he could barely make out that it
was
a tree.

Khlened tapped his shoulder. “Stay clear of trees!” he
shouted in order to be heard over the gale. “Tree like that hides pockets under
th’ branches. Means you step in the wrong place, you could fall far enough to
break your neck!”

The barbarian turned to Vlandar. “We can’t stay out in this!
Even a Fist won’t stay in th’ open, and the rest of ye—you’ll freeze in no
time!” He peered around, then walked past the warrior and eased down between two
ice-coated boulders. He was back in moments. “’Tis no true shelter, but there’s
next to no wind back there. Get close t’each other. Me’n Bleryn’ll find some
place better.”

“If not, we can dig snow tunnel,” the dwarf said. Agya stared at him in
horror and Bleryn chuckled. “Surprising, how warm it is in a snow tunnel. No
wind.”

“Go,” Vlandar ordered tersely.

“Do not go down,” Nemis said. “The giants’ hold is down. And
be careful.”

“Careful, huh?” Khlened snorted. “Man can’t spend treasure if
’e’s dead, eh?”

With that, he was gone, following Bleryn. They were lost to
sight before they’d gone ten paces, and their footprints were already filling
in.

Vlandar led the way down between the boulders and back as far
as he could. Lhors sighed faintly. The wind dropped away almost entirely in this
rough shelter, and while the snow beyond the stones was deep, it only came to
his ankles here.

Rowan left her sister to keep their wounded companion close
under her cloak, while she and Lhors helped Malowan compact a high ridge of snow
on three sides to block what little wind still came at them.

“Everyone, get as close together as you can,” the paladin
ordered. “Watch each other. None of us must fall asleep here.” He settled down
next to Agya, and the girl gratefully burrowed into his fur-lined cloak.

After making sure everyone was settled, Vlandar asked,
“Nemis, where are we?”

“Near the entrance to the Rift, a major hold of frost giants,”
the mage replied. His teeth chattered. “I shortened that chain by a link so we
would not appear inside the Rift itself.”

“Well thought, but we’ll talk later,” Vlandar said. “Listen
and watch, for now.”

Even bundled close between Rowan and Vlandar, Lhors felt half-frozen, and the
noise of the storm frightened him. Anyone could be out there, and they wouldn’t
know until too late. But would giants be out in such a storm as this? He doubted
it, but then again, he had no experience with frost giants. They were
used
to weather such as this.

Fortunately, Khlened was back while the youth could still
feel his fingers and toes.

“Found a cave,” he announced, visibly pleased with himself.
“Slopes uphill, low entry, high ceiling inside. Better, some beast ’r ’nother
packed in trees, p’raps to make a nest. Bleryn stayed t’build a fire.”

“Beast?” Agya demanded. All Lhors could see of her was her
eyes peering out from Malowan’s cloak. They were wide and scared.

“Is it safe for fire?” Vlandar asked.

“No creature of late, we checked. Wood’s dry enough t’won’t
smoke, and th’ ceiling will keep it off us and still inside. But no fire’s more
deadly in such a storm than th’ chance beasts or giants’ll smell th’ smoke where
none should be.” The barbarian shrugged. “Way th’ winds are, who could tell
where
it came from anyway?”

“If yon fella says fire, can we go to it now?” Agya demanded.
“P-p-please?”

“Lass is right,” Khlened told Vlandar.

Vlandar nodded. “Of course. Lead, we’ll follow.”

“Stay alert, best you can,” Malowan warned. “I also know
cold. It would be easy for one of us to fall by the way and be lost. Watch out
for each other. Do not worry about guards. I made a search just now, and I can
assure you that there are none outside the Rift in this storm—certainly none up
on this ledge.”

“Are you always so cheerful?” Maera demanded waspishly.

“Call him sensible,” Rowan suggested. “Let us go.”

To Lhors’ surprise, she laid a gloved hand on Vlandar’s
shoulder. “You were wounded earlier. I know how magic healing works. You crave
sleep after. Maera, if you can manage Florimund, I will stay with Vlandar.”

They toiled back into the open and followed Khlened. Lhors
gasped and his eyes teared as the wind sliced through his cloak and makeshift
face mask. He freed a hand to drag his hood down to his nose before yanking the
cloak back snug around him and squeezing his hands into his armpits where they
might thaw.

Moments later, his feet scraped on bare stone, and the wind
was gone again, replaced by flickering ruddy light. He blinked and shoved the
hood back. Khlened’s cave was bigger than their last haven. The youth moved
inside, making room so Rowan could come in with Vlandar. The entry was a low,
only slightly taller than Lhors and no wider than he could reach. Wolves might
use such a den, but giants couldn’t. Mal or Nemis could keep wolves out, he was
certain. But he forgot all that as his eyes touched on the fire.

The dwarf sat cross-legged on a ledge of yellowish stone, his
axe embedded in a thick branch just behind him. Fire, Lhors thought with longing
and moved toward it.

“We had the luck,” Bleryn was saying as the youth came near.
“Ledge is riddled wit’ caves, but we found this and all this wood on our fourth
try.”

“Luck indeed,” Vlandar said. Rowan was getting the warrior
settled on a blanket where he could get warm, his back against the rock wall.
The man looked tired and old at the moment, but the ranger caught Lhors
attention, sent her eyes sidelong, and nodded. He is just tired because he was
hurt, she means. Lhors hoped, but he couldn’t ask while Rowan was hovering over
Vlandar.

“No beast tracks in this cave, no gnawed bones, no scat—fresh or dry.”

“Scat?” Agya asked. She sounded even more tired than Vlandar.
She leaned gratefully forward to warm her hands at the fire. Malowan wrapped his
spare blanket around her.

Rowan laughed. “Food goes in, scat comes out.” The girl
managed a faint grin in response. “Speaking of food, I can make a passable soup
or stew.”

Lhors sighed. “Hot food. It sounds wonderful.” He dragged his
pack from under his cloak. “Take anything you need. I can’t remember when I last
ate.”

“Still growing, are you?” Rowan replied cheerfully. She was
sorting through her own bag and hauled out an odd-looking bit of metal. “One of
you fill this with snow for me to melt for soup water. It will take several
trips, I fear.”