Against the Giants (29 page)

“We will leave as soon as we can,” Vlandar said. “But all of
you, make sure you are clad as best you can be and that your weapons are to
hand. There will be guards at or near this entry. Our goal is to get through
this place before cold can kill any of us, and we first and foremost seek the
key—whatever it is—that will guide us beyond the Rift. Leave the fire to die
out. We’ll want the warmth to the very last.”

He turned as Maera touched his arm. She was holding up a very
pale Florimund. “Warrior, he recalls something I thought you should know.”

“Tell him, yes,” Florimund whispered. “Such cold, the screech
of wind. This—I think I was—was first brought here when I was—was taken, you
know. I recall giants wrapped to the eyes in thick furs and a white-furred brute
like a hairy man. Tunnels of ice and such cold…” He licked pale lips, and
his eyes kindled. “I was not afraid, only angry they dared lay hands on me!” He
glanced sidelong at Maera, who patted his shoulder. “Still, they eat our kind.
Frost giants. But there was another, a giant called Nosnra. They gave me to him,
and Nosnra’s guards hauled me over to a double circle of chain. I do not
remember anything after that—except dark and pain.” He choked and buried his
face in long-fingered hands.

Maera she stroked his hair. “You are safe, cousin,” she
murmured. “Rowan and I will protect you until you are strong enough to do battle
again.”

“Battle. Yes.” Florimund stirred under her hands. “Yes I
will. I will wreak death among these… oh gods, cousin, I am so very weak! And
the cold wakens each wound the torturers inflicted. No, I will not speak of it!”

Maera spoke urgently against his ear, then drew him away.

Vlandar glanced at Lhors, who frowned at his hands. He came
over to sit beside him and whispered, “Lhors?”

“Sir?”

“I know Rowan spoke to you after some tiff with her sister
last night—over Florimund. What did you think of all that, just now?”

His father had asked such questions this last year, over game
trails, Lhors remembered. “Sir, the fellow was locked in that cell, but who
could have known we would be down there?”

“Yes,” Vlandar said gravely. “He truly was a prisoner.
Still… ?” He looked a question.

Lhors shrugged. “Rowan worries. She told me so—because Maera
trusts him too much. I understand they are kin, if only because they are
half-elves, but my own cousin from New Market was not my friend, and I would
never have trusted him.”

“I agree,” the warrior said. “Sensible youth.” He looked up
as Gerikh and the dwarf came over.

“Uh, sir? This Rift…” the engineer began apologetically.

“Thing is,” Bleryn added, “We know it. Him ’cause of ’is
trade, and I’m from cold near as bad as this. Both of us should be able t’ spot
traps before they get any of us.”

Vlandar nodded. “Good point. One of you up front and one at
the rear. Your choice.”

The paladin broke in. “But whoever goes ahead with Malowan
must accept Agya.”

“Agya—the girl-child?” the dwarf asked.

“She’s Mal’s ward, once a street-thief. Ask Khlened. She can smell things
most of us wouldn’t.”

“That keeper and his ape,” the barbarian agreed.

Vlandar nodded again. “A spell might hide wolves or yeti. Agya’s nose will
warn us anyway.”

“Like it,” the dwarf said. “Me for the front.”

“Done,” Vlandar said and swung his pack over his shoulder.

The sky was a pale gray, proof the sun had risen, but there
was no hint of where it might be under the thick mass. The wind had lessened but
still gusted strongly. To Lhors it seemed even colder outside. Khlened, who had
taken last watch, told them it wasn’t much past daybreak. “An hour when the
chiefs will be sleeping, if they’re like frost giants I’ve battled.”

“Good,” Vlandar replied. “But the guards may not be asleep.”

Vlandar and Nemis spent a few more moments with the map of
the Rift while the others finished getting ready, then the warrior put Bleryn
ahead of him and the mage, Lhors just behind, with Khlened to bring up the rear.

Agya was just behind Lhors and quietly grumbling as she
toiled on. The youth heard Malowan, who was on the girl’s heels. The man’s voice
sounded soothing, though Lhors couldn’t make out the words. Agya sighed as if
she was annoyed but soon fell silent. Lhors glanced at Mal. Unlike his ward, the
paladin seemed unaware of the cold, though he did wear thick mitts.

Nemis walked easily up ahead. Despite the deep snow and slick
spots, he held an oiled rag that he had dipped in some silvery powder—to test
for invisible enemy, he’d told Vlandar. Lhors looked to both sides. With all
this wind and snow,
any
enemy might be invisible! he thought. Wonder if
that herb Malowan gave him to add to the rag really can find evil. But anything
here
would probably be evil.

A steep-sided ravine cut across their path. They followed the
side of this for a little ways, and then Nemis pointed out something below to
Vlandar. The warrior nodded in response, and the mage turned to grip the side
and scrabble for footing. He dropped down gradually and finally vanished below.
Vlandar followed. When it was his turn, Lhors realized there was a trail down
there, and a few rough steps were cut into the side—or maybe the wind had carved
them, since they didn’t seem large enough for giants’ feet. The trail was clear
of snow, but it looked icy. Nemis and Vlandar waited a few paces on for the
others to catch up.

“The entrance to the Rift is just down there, according to
our map,” Vlandar said quietly. “Remember that there are wolves and yeti about,
and there may be giants along this path. But there is no other way in that Nemis
and I could find.”

“We should be aware of them before we see them, Nemis and I,”
Malowan agreed. He glanced at his ward “Agya?”

The girl scowled. “Nose still works good, but th’ wind ain’t
’elping.”

“It gets steeper from here,” Nemis said. “Watch where you
step. It is slick and steep. One wrong step and you won’t get a second.” He set
his feet carefully and walked sideways, Lhors noticed, like his father’d taught
him. Lhors turned sideways and followed.

The ice was chipped into rough steps, but for legs much
longer than their own. The surface of the ice had been cross-hatched and in
places covered in ash, so footing was reasonable. The wind was an unpleasant
constant at their backs, but it kept the ice clear at least.

Vlandar drew them off to one side when they reached the
bottom where the path forked. Lhors stared aghast at the steep drop-off just
beyond. They might have been alone in the entire world. The silence was
absolute, except for the high-pitched wail of the wind high above and the
stealthy hiss of it down here.

“That deep defile,” Vlandar said, “is the Rift itself, not
our path. The main entry is ahead. If our map is correct, there are two levels
to this hold, but unlike the Steading, the upper is for storage and guards and
the like, while the chief lives below. His kitchens are there, and the best
guest quarters.”

“Just beyond the entry,” Nemis said and pointed down the
left-hand path, “there are marks on the map to indicate guards, but the marks
were not made by the originator of the map. I believe Nosnra noted the places he
would be challenged when he was forced to come here.”

Lhors shook his head. None of it made sense to him. “If that
chain could bring him anywhere, then why not set him down in the throne room or
the council room? I mean—” He fumbled for words. “He could fall out here, break
his neck, or be caught by something like his own cave bear.”

Vlandar smiled grimly. “But if the chief here meant to shame
him? To walk even from the entry just below there would remind him each time
that he is a servant here. Think. The great chief of the Steading must walk the
entire way to the throne room and answer each guards challenge. It may not be
so, but it seems likely to me. We will be able to test my theory, if the guards
match the marks on this map. Let us go.”

Vlandar and Nemis led the way down the left path and into a
high-vaulted ice tunnel.

It was still dreadfully cold, but the wind lessened even
more. Enough greenish light came through the thick ice that they could make out
the path heading south on the east side of a steep dropoff. Perhaps twenty paces
ahead, a tunnel branched right.

Nemis and Vlandar slowed at branch passages heading north and
south, and the warrior signed a halt. “Dead end ahead,” he said. “Guard quarters
south, no door. North, a guarded passage, and the way to the living quarters is
beyond them.”

Bleryn drew his axe and went over to join Khlened. Vlandar
put Nemis at the rear to keep an eye and a sense on the guard chamber to the
south. He then brought Agya and the paladin to the fore, gestured for Lhors to
join him, and signed for silence. Agya licked her lips and glanced at Malowan,
who nodded and smiled as if to say, “You can do it.” The girl cast her eyes up
but moved out, swiftly and silently working her way up the crooked passage,
pausing now and again to listen intently. At the innermost point of a right-hand
bend, she stopped cold, gestured urgently for silence, and held a hand to her
ear.

Listen, she must mean, Lhors thought. He could hear giants,
their harsh laughter echoing up ahead. The chamber must open out. He found
himself wishing he understood maps better and promised himself he’d seek out
Vlandar or Nemis for a good look at the map the next time they stopped for a
rest.
If
I survive the next few minutes, a corner of his mind added. He
made Gran’s sign for averting disaster and ill thoughts, then pulled a boar
spear from his sheath.

At the point where they could almost see into the chamber,
Agya stopped, pressed back against the wall, and tested the air once again.
Malowan came up behind her, hands moving in a reveal spell. He held up three
fingers. Vlandar nodded, then beckoned for Bleryn and Khlened to join him in the
lead. Lhors glanced back. Nemis was back against the frozen wall watching their
back trail.

Lhors could see little ahead. Still, the youth was aware of a
large space just ahead. The ceiling arched into a vault, and from where he stood
he couldn’t make out east or west walls.

Vlandar gestured urgently and faded back against the
right-hand wall. Dwarf, barbarian, and paladin joined him, and for one brief
moment Lhors could make out what was in there.

The space ahead was an ice cave, longer than it was tall. The
floor littered with cast off bits of old clothing and broken weaponry. The only
properly clear path through it was a rut as wide as the youths arms could
stretch. It eventually bent right out of his line of sight.

Greenish light made the three fur-clad giants look unwell,
but they stood out clearly against the surrounded ice. Only one was armed at the
moment, and even he wasn’t paying much heed to the passage. He leaned against a
massive pike, egging on his companions who were wrestling. The din was awful.

Vlandar gestured with his drawn sword and ran forward,
Khlened and Bleryn on his heels. The fellow with the pike came slowly around as
he sensed movement or heard their feet pounding the filthy ice floor. He stared
blankly then bellowed a warning—likely to the wrestlers, though Lhors thought he
might be trying to alert the guards back in the barracks to the south. Not a
good time to think about that.

Nemis passed Lhors, his lips and hands already working his
wall of silence spell. Lhors hoped he wasn’t too late. Khlened had freed his
morning star and threw himself away from his companions so he could swing the
massive weapon. He hurled it with a pained grunt, then chuckled grimly as it
wrapped around the pike-holder’s throat, trapping the weapon against the brute’s
ear. The giant fell, and the blade sliced into his unhelmed scalp. He came
unsteadily to his feet, blood soaking into his fur cloak, as he fought to unwrap
the chain. But his hands were trapped, and the spiked ball had caught on his
armor. Injured, bleeding, and disoriented, he fell again and this time stayed
down, thrashing feebly.

Khlened hefted a large rock from a pile nearby—the giants
must use them as weapons, Lhors realized. The barbarian held the stone high
above giant’s head. He was grinning madly as he let go. The brute grunted and
lay still, breathing heavily.

It had all happened so quickly that the two wrestlers had
time to do no more than separate and sit up, dumbfounded. They stared blankly.
One ran for his pike, but Vlandar and Bleryn were there first. The dwarf
staggered under the weight of the massive pikestaff as he swung it away from the
wall. He managed to brace the pole against the floor just in time, letting the
giant’s weight do the rest. The monster stared in shock at the length of shaft
sticking from his belly. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain and fumbling for
the broad knife in his belt. Bleryn was behind him by then, bringing his sword
down two-handed across the unmailed neck. His first stroke bounced off thick
skin or bone, but the second reached its mark. The giant toppled slowly onto his
side and lay still.