The Giant Among Us (15 page)

After a full day of forcing Gavorial’s massive body to keep pace with the frost giants, Tavis was spent to the core. The fatigue seemed as much spiritual as physical. With each step, he felt a cord tugging at that deep place where he stored his courage and fortitude, and his chances of surviving long enough to rescue Avner seemed more remote.

By the time Tavis reached the chute, half the frost giants in line had already started climbing. Still, the trough was narrow, with icy footing that made for slow going, and the scout could see that he had a few minutes before his turn came. Thankful for the chance to rest, he walked a few paces to the valley wall and sat in a dry side ravine. He braced his back against one slope and his feet against the other, then closed his eyes and listened to the wind hiss through the limber pines.

“You stone giants spend too much time thinking and not enough hunting,” observed Bodvar, who was standing at the end of the line. “A giant who tires so easily is a poor excuse for a warrior-especially if he’s supposed to be the best of his tribe.”

Tavis opened one eye and regarded Bodvar stonily. The frost giant was sneering from behind his unruly yellow beard, his pale eyes issuing an unspoken but obvious challenge.

“Tavis Burdun is not an easy firbolg to kill,” Tavis said. “Let me rest today, and tomorrow I’ll show you who’s the poor excuse for a warrior.”

The sneer vanished from Bodvar’s face. “Thrym stop me! If Julien and Arno had not forbidden challenge fighting, I’d take you up on that offer,” he growled. “But I’m sure Hagamil will let me kill you, once all is done.”

“By then, it’ll be too late to avenge the insult,” said Avner, who was tightly gripped in the warrior’s fist. Slagfid, the war party’s leader, had decided that since Bodvar had captured the traell, he would have the honor of carrying the prisoner back to camp. “Gavorial will be long gone. You have to kill him now-if honor means anything to you.”

Tavis felt a proud smile creeping across Gavorial’s lips. The youth still had not given up hope-far from it, he was taking every opportunity to sow discord among his captors, and trying to avenge the death of a close friend while he was at it.

“What are you smiling at?” demanded Bodvar. “I just might listen to the traell.”

“And you might get killed,” Tavis replied. He knew that any attempt to smooth things over would fail, earning him Bodvar’s contempt as well as his animosity. Frost giants respected strength and prowess above all things. “Either way, it makes no difference to me.”

The scout closed his eyes and returned to his rest, confident that Bodvar would leave him alone. The warrior would gain nothing by attacking now, for frost giants saw no honor in killing by surprise.

A short time later, Tavis was roused from his nap by a large rock bouncing off his head. “Are you coming, Sharpnose?” demanded Bodvar’s annoyed voice. “Or do you want to spend the night down in this heat?”

The scout rubbed his sore temple and shot a menacing scowl at Bodvar, then braced his hands in the pine needles to push himself to his feet. That was when he noticed a tiny, frightened face peering at him through the boughs of sapling pine.

Tavis blinked twice. The face remained, a small olive-skinned moon with the soft features of an adolescent girl and a halo of black hair. Her flat nose and tiny mouth left no doubt of her race, she was of true traell heritage, no doubt from one of the tribes that occasionally crossed the Ice Spires to make a home on the fringes of Hartsvale.

The child’s brown, almond-shaped eyes remained moored to Gavorial’s grim face, as though she expected the stone giant to reach out and pulp her.

“Well, Sharpnose?” Bodvar insisted.

“Go on,” Tavis replied. “I’ll be along.”

“Can’t,” the frost giant grumbled. “Slagfid told me to be sure Bear Driller and those rags of yours make it to camp. Hagamil’s going to want to see them.”

“Okay, I’ll come now.” The scout pushed himself to his feet.

The girl’s eyes widened, but she did not run.

From Gavorial’s full height, Tavis saw that the child’s hiding place was not nearly as good as it appeared from the ground. He could easily see her crouching behind the sapling, her brown woolen cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. The scout glanced at Bodvar and saw that the frost giant’s angle was just as good. If the warrior happened to look in the sapling’s direction, he would spot the child.

The scout stepped in front of the girl. “I said I was coming!” he snapped. “You don’t have to wait.”

Bodvar scowled. “If you say so,” he grumbled. “By Thrym’s beard, I’d think you’d be in a better humor after killing Tavis Burdun!”

The frost giant started up the chute. Tavis slowly glanced over his shoulder and saw the girl backing away from her hiding place. Their eyes met, then she cried out in alarm and sprinted up the side ravine.

“What’s that?” demanded Bodvar.

Tavis returned his gaze to the glacier and saw the frost giant staring down at him. The scout yawned and started forward, dragging his feet to muffle the sound of snapping branches and clattering rocks coming from the ravine behind him.

“Quit your yawning!” Bodvar ordered. “I heard a traell.”

The frost giant scrambled out of the chute and brushed past the scout. Egarl, the next warrior in line, was more than twenty paces ahead. He kept his eyes fixed on the ice ramp beneath his feet, too worried about his traction to notice what was happening behind him. Tavis turned around to find Bodvar peering up the side ravine, his free hand cupped to his ear.

“Don’t you hear that, Sharpnose?” demanded Bodvar.

Tavis heard it: the soft sobbing of a child in terror. “What should I be listening for?”

“Are stone giants stone deaf?” Bodvar demanded. “The whimpering traell.”

Tavis stepped to the frost giant’s side and peered up the gully. It was difficult to see much. Both slopes were covered by dense stands of Umber pines. The trees had thick, downswept boughs that hung nearly to the ground, providing perfect camouflage for small beasts like traells and deer. The small clearings between the trees were full of rocky outcroppings, all the same shade as the child’s cloak.

“Are you sure it isn’t the wind, Bodvar?” Tavis asked. “I see nothing except trees and rocks.”

No sooner had the scout spoken than the girl stepped from behind a boulder, darted up the slope, then vanished between a tangle of pine boughs. The child had already run a surprising distance up the ravine, but Tavis knew that it would not take a frost giant long to catch her.

“I’m sure,” Bodvar said. He thrust Avner into Tavis’s hand. “Hold this. I’ll run that traell down.”

Tavis accepted the burden, too shocked to reply, and stared blankly down at the youth while Bodvar trundled up the ravine.

“You wanted me, Gavorial,” Avner said. “What are you going to do now?”

“Get you out of here,” Tavis said. He started down the main valley at a trot.

“Hey, Slagfid!” Avner’s voice did not boom like a giant’s, but it was loud enough to echo off the canyon wall. “Help! He’s stealing me!”

“Quiet! I’m not Gavorial,” Tavis hissed. “I’m Tavis.”

“Like I’m Queen Brianna!” the boy retorted. “Slagfid, help!”

Tavis stopped and slipped a large finger over Avner’s mouth. The youth promptly sunk his teeth into the hard flesh and ripped out a small chunk of gray hide. The scout pinched the boy’s head between his thumb and forefinger, holding it steady.

“I’m telling the truth,” Tavis said. “I used Basil’s mask.”

The boy raised his brow and stopped struggling, so Tavis took his bleeding finger away.

“What mask?” The boy’s tone was suspicious. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do,” Tavis replied, glancing toward the glacier. When he saw no warriors pouring out of the chute, he began to hope the frost giants had not heard Avner’s cries. He slipped into the woods and started to climb the valley wall. “You remember. We were in Cuthbert’s library, and you asked Basil how I could impersonate a giant if I was too small?”

Avner considered this, then a grin of relief spread across his face. Tears of happiness rolled down his cheeks, and he asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be in Shepherd’s Nightmare?”

“The giants have a spy inside the castle. It was a trap.” Tavis was already panting from the climb. “Gavorial and his son were going to block the pass so the frost giants could catch me from behind. If you hadn’t delayed Slagfid and his war party, their plan might have worked.”

“And you killed both Gavorial and his son?” Avner asked, awed. ‘Two stone giants?”

Tavis braced himself against a tree and paused to rest. Over in the ravine, he could hear Bodvar crashing through the trees, searching for the traell girl.

“I had to kill only Gavorial.” He put Avner on the ground. “Odion pledged to return home and have nothing more to do with the war.”

“And you believed him?” Avner scoffed. “Now I know you’re Tavis.”

“A stone giant’s pledge is sacred,” the scout replied. “And speaking of pledges, weren’t you supposed to stay in the castle?”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t,” Avner replied. “Bodvar would be carrying you into camp.”

Tavis pushed off the tree and started up the slope, angling back toward the ravine. “A promise is a promise, Avner,” he said. The last thing you told me-“

“There were circumstances.” The youth had to run to keep pace with Tavis’s giant strides.

“What circumstances?”

Avner slowed and looked away. “The spy. I know who he is.”

Tavis frowned. “Keep moving,” he said. “Tell me what you know.”

“I saw Brianna with Prince Arlien.” The youth hesitated, then added, “Late at night-in his chamber.” A lump formed in the pit of Tavis’s stomach. “That hardly makes him a spy.” The firbolg grabbed a tree and used it to pull himself up the slope. “They might have been discussing-“

“Brianna was in her bedclothes-or rather, half out of them,” Avner interrupted. “In Arlien’s arms.”

All the strength went out of Tavis, and he had to stop, head pounding and legs quivering. He doubled over to brace his hands on his knees. “Even if you’re sure of what you saw-“

“You think I’d be here if I wasn’t?” the youth snapped.

“No,” Tavis admitted. His voice sounded rather weak and tinny for a giant, and he wondered if Basil’s magic was beginning to wear off. The scout hoped not. He still had business to conclude with Bodvar, and it would be safer if he appeared to be a stone giant. “But the queen must think of Hartsvale.”

“Whatever she and Arlien were thinking of, it wasn’t Hartsvale,” Avner retorted.

Tavis pinched his eyes shut, trying to fight back the image that came unbidden into his mind: an eight-limbed creature of writhing flesh, two backs and two heads, moaning and grunting and smelling of musk… The scout didn’t have the strength. He slumped to his knees, his entire body trembling, tears of exhaustion welling in his eyes.

Avner was at his side instantly. “What’s wrong?”

The scout shook Gavorial’s massive gray head. “I’m tired,” he said. “Being a stone giant is harder than Basil said.”

“You’d better find some strength somewhere,” Avner replied. “Because when you hear what I have to say next, you’ll want to kill Arlien.”

Tavis looked up. “I can’t kill a man for the choice a woman makes.”

“She didn’t make the choice,” Avner said. “The prince made it for her.”

The scout’s jaw clenched tight “He took her by force?”

Avner shook his head. “By magic,” he said. “She was wearing those ice diamonds. I swear they’re enchanted. She couldn’t even remember your name, and I got my hand frostbitten trying to rip the necklace off.”

“Charm magic?” the scout growled. An angry fire began to burn deep within him, renewing his ebbing energies and filling him with a savage, feral strength born of love and fury. “He used charm magic against the queen of Hartsvale?”

Avner nodded.

Bodvar’s voice boomed across the slope. “Come out, good little traell. Frost giants are nice. Bodvar won’t hurt you.”

Tavis rose and started up the hill again, still angling toward Bodvar’s voice. “You’re right about what I want to do to Arlien.” The scout spoke as he moved. “But I’m still not sure Arlien is the spy. Was anyone else acting strangely?”

Avner’s jaw dropped. “How can you think it was anyone else?”

“Perhaps the prince just wanted to be sure he returned with a queen,” Tavis replied. “What he’s done is treacherous, but betraying me to the giants would hurt his cause more than it helped. Without the reinforcements Brianna sent me to fetch, the only wedding she’ll be attending is in the Twilight Vale.”

“Well, no one else was acting like a spy,” Avner said.

“What about Cuthbert?”

“The earl wants to see that army more than anyone,” the youth answered. “He’s scared to death he’ll lose his castle.”

“That’s what worries me,” Tavis said. “What better way to save it than strike a bargain with the giants?”

Avner shrugged. “I don’t think he’s got the guts.”

Tavis saw the ravine through the trees. About twenty paces above, it curved sharply toward him and ran across the hillside. From a dozen paces below the bend came Bodvar’s brutal voice. “Bodvar sees you, little trailer,” he called. “You can’t hide no more!”

The girl cried out in fear. It sounded as though she had reached the bend.

Tavis handed Bear Driller and the rest of his gear to Avner, then pointed across the slope. “Find someplace to hide,” he said. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“What?” the youth nearly screeched the question. “You’re not going up there?”

“I can’t let Bodvar catch that girl.” Tavis heard the frost giant crashing toward the bend. “Not if I can save her.”

“What about Brianna?” the youth demanded. “If something happens to you-“

“Nothing will happen,” Tavis said. “And if it does, Brianna will be safe. I sent a messenger to Earl Wendel with word of what’s happening here.”

“I was thinking of Arlien.”

Tavis pointed at the runearrows in his quiver. “You know how to use those.”

“Against Arlien?” the boy gasped.

Tavis nodded. “If it comes to that.”

Avner clutched the equipment to his breast and turned to do as ordered. Tavis resumed his climb, moving as fast as his weary legs would carry him. As he approached the ravine, he saw that above the bend it became something of a gorge, with rocky outcroppings flanking it on each side. He spied the girl standing near the center of the gulch, frozen in fear.