The Titan of Twilight (14 page)

The ceiling did not come crashing down, but continued to pour into the water in a steady stream of stone and dust. Suddenly, Tavis saw the mountain above him not as a solid mass of granite, but as a colossal heap of pulverized stone being slowly ground to dust beneath its own immense weight. Keeping one eye on the drooping beam, he reached out and lifted Mountain Crusher off the rock that had snagged its string.

A growl of rage sounded upstream. Tavis spun around, already pulling a wet arrow from his quiver.

A pair of silver eyes were glaring over the dead fomorian’s back. The orbs were as large as bucklers, and set so close that the edges almost touched. Tavis could barely see the rest of his foe, a creeping black silhouette slipping across the corpse’s humped back. To fit through the narrow space, the hunter had flattened out his body as though he were a mouse crawling beneath a door.

Tavis nocked his arrow and pointed the tip between the two gleaming eyes. The dark shape of a huge webbed hand interposed itself between the arrow and its target. The high scout drew his bowstring back, groaned at the pain in his cracked ribs, and loosed the shaft.

The arrow tore through the shielding hand with a sound like ripping leather, then crackled into the narrow band of cartilage between the fomorian’s eyes. A deafening screech echoed through the tunnel. Tavis nearly gagged on the rancid odor of the hunter’s death rattle.

The fomorian’s eyes, now dull and glazed with death, continued to move as another hunter tried to work the body out of the cranny.

Tavis retreated to the fork and waded up the tunnel, each step a struggle against the pain in his ribs. This time, there would be no quick cures for his anguish. He had given the last of Simon’s healing potion to Galgadayle, and Brianna had no more mending spells left. The high scout clenched his teeth and reminded himself that his agony was nothing compared to the torture Thatcher and the other front rider had suffered.

Soon, Tavis saw the silvery glow of Brianna’s magical light spilling from a passage ahead. He waded up to the tunnel and found Gryffitt crouching in the entrance. The corridor was scorched and rubble-strewn, with the jagged tips of boulders jutting out of the opaque waters. Loose stones dangled from the ceiling like stalactites. About twenty paces behind the front rider, the queen and her escorts were crouching in ankle-deep water at the edge of a gaping hole.

“I told you not to wait,” Tavis chided. “There are more fomorians behind me.”

“And we heard firbolgs up ahead,” Brianna countered. “Now come here, before they see that glowing bow of yours.”

Tavis slipped past Gryffitt and clambered over the submerged rocks toward the queen. The passage was clearly the route through which the fire giants had entered the mine system, for the walls were coated with fresh soot. The pit where Brianna had stopped was easily ten paces across. A steady flow of water poured into the hole, splashing off stones somewhere far below and filling the battered passage with the eerie sounds of a subterranean cascade.

“Do you have any runearrows left?” Brianna asked.

Tavis nodded. “About half a dozen.”

“Good.” She gestured at the disintegrating ceiling. “Nock three and stick them in the roof.”

From the mouth of the drift, Gryffitt called, “There’s a torch coming down the tunnel.”

Tavis glanced across the pit, and his heart sank. The hole was too wide to jump, and it would not be long before the fomorians cleared the opposite fork of the drainage tunnel. He looked back to his wife.

“If you’re thinking of bringing the ceiling down on us—”

“I’m not.” Brianna tossed her glowing dagger into the pit, revealing a huge tunnel about fifteen feet below. The passage was more than ten feet in diameter, with smooth, soot-coated walls. “We’re going out the back way—and you’re going to close the door behind us.”

Avner stood well back in the drift, spying upon several giant-kin and their captive, Marwick. The young scout held his throwing dagger in his hand, and his eyes were locked on the prisoner’s terrified face.

The throw would be a difficult one. Marwick was kneeling about twenty paces away, in the center of a large, irregular cavity where a tangle of drifts merged from above and below and every other direction. The front rider’s captors sat around him, crammed into the mouths of the nearest passages like bears into badger holes. Two of the ‘kin might have squeezed into the hollow with their prisoner, but the cavern was too small to I hold all five.

Avner could silence Marwick easily enough, but escaping so many ‘kin would be difficult. The three firbolgs—Raeyadfourne, Munairoe, and Galgadayle—had shrunken to a size not much larger than Tavis. Despite the cramped drifts, they would not have much trouble running him down.

The two verbeegs were another matter. Even squatting on their haunches, they had to tuck their chins to fit into the passages. Unfortunately, they each carried a big crossbow and a quiver full of barbed, nasty-looking quarrels. To make matters worse, they had also put together a crude sketch-map of the mine. Their knowledge of the terrain would give them a sure advantage.

“Human, I warn you not to lie,” Munairoe said, speaking to Marwick. “If I must call the wind spirit into this dank place, she will not take pity on a scofflaw.”

“I told you, the queen bore only one child,” Marwick insisted. “Your seer was wrong.”

“Galgadayle’s dreams are as right as a firbolg’s tongue,” insisted Munairoe. “It is humans who lie.”

“Not this time.” Marwick kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “One child. I saw Avner take him from her womb.”

“Raeyadfourne, enough of this!” hissed a verbeeg. He was a slender, gray-haired male with features as sharp as spearheads. “Make us a gift of your prisoner, and we shall know the truth soon enough.”

Raeyadfourne glowered at the verbeeg. ‘Torture is a breach of the law, Horatio.”

Horatio’s lip curled into a contemptuous sneer. “Your law.”

Raeyadfourne scowled. “Must I remind you—” The verbeeg raised his hand. “I know, I know.” There was an air of resignation in his voice. “We agreed to obey your law. Carry on.”

Horatio pulled a parchment map from inside his cloak and unrolled it on the floor. He began to examine the document as though the interrogation no longer interested him.

Raeyadfourne looked back to Marwick. “If the queen bore only one child, was it handsome or ugly?”

Marwick’s eyes flickered from the ground to the chieftain’s face, then back again.

Avner prayed the man to remain quiet. When the firbolgs captured Brianna and found only one infant, there was still a chance they would think their seer had made a mistake. But if Marwick told them about the child’s transformation, Raeyadfourne would realize, as Avner did, that the twins had entered the world in a single body.

When Marwick did not answer, the second verbeeg’s hand shot out and covered the captive’s face. Avner grimaced, for the huge arm blocked his shot at both the front rider’s heart and throat. A quick kill was no longer possible.

“Since you have no use for this jaw, you won’t mind if I crush it,” growled the verbeeg. He was much younger than Horatio and, save for his harelip, too handsome for his race. “Speak!”

Raeyadfourne grabbed the verbeeg’s arm, but could not pull it away. “You’re perilously close to a breach of the law, Jerome,” the firbolg warned. “And harming the prisoner will not guarantee his honesty.”

“There are ways to learn the truth even from liars.” Jerome started to the pull the front rider toward him. “And I promise not to break any of your darling laws.”

Avner considered throwing his dagger into Marwick’s stomach, but that would not silence the front rider for long. The shaman Munairoe would simply heal the prisoner, as he had already healed the wounds of both Raeyadfourne and Galgadayle.

Raeyadfourne grabbed Jerome’s arm with both hands, refusing to let the verbeeg drag Marwick any farther. “You do not know the law, Jerome,” the chieftain said. “How can you promise not to breach it?”

Avner saw that a narrow angle was opening to Marwick’s throat. The throw would be difficult, through the crook of Jerome’s elbow and perhaps under Raeyadfourne’s forearms, but it was his only chance. The young scout raised his arm and waited.

A series of muffled steps sounded from the drift behind Raeyadfourne. “We’ve found them!” yelled a booming voice. “Tavis Burdun is with them!”

Raeyadfourne and the verbeeg both released Marwick. Avner lowered his dagger, biting his cheeks to keep from crying out in joy. He had never truly believed Tavis was dead—it would take more than a fire giant’s boot to keep the lord high scout from fulfilling his oath to Brianna—and now Avner knew everything would be fine. Tavis had found his way back to the queen, and as long as he was with her, no harm would come to either her or Kaedlaw.

Raeyadfourne crawled out of his drift and turned around to face the messenger, nearly crushing Marwick against the wall. “Found them?” the chieftain demanded. “Where?”

“Down low in the mine. Quillorn and Romney heard a fomorian screaming and followed the sound into a flooded tunnel.” The messenger did not come forward far enough for Avner to see. “They glimpsed a light shining from a side tunnel, and heard a woman’s voice.”

As the messenger reported, Avner saw Horatio’s finger drop to one corner of his sketch-map.

The messenger continued, “They waded down to the passage, but they weren’t fast enough to stop the humans.”

“Stop them?” demanded Raeyadfourne.

“When they looked into the passage, they saw blue light shining up from a big hole in the floor, and there were some of Tavis Burdun’s exploding arrows in the ceiling,” the messenger reported. “They heard his voice call out a magic word, then ducked around the corner. The whole tunnel collapsed on the pit.”

“Karontor’s wolves! They’ve dropped into the fire giant tunnel!” Horatio’s fingers flew back and forth over his map for a moment longer, then he looked up at Raeyadfourne. “We may as well go home and prepare for war! They’re going out the other end!”

Raeyadfourne frowned. “The other end?”

“The fire giants tried to trap the humans between two groups,” Horatio explained. “Their tunnel had two portals.”

“Then let’s go!” Raeyadfourne started into a drift. “We’ll cut them off.”

“Where?” Horatio demanded. “The only thing we know about the second portal is that it’s someplace down the canyon. The fire giant tunnel will run straight to it, while we must wind our way out of this mine and up the gorge—”

“Enough!” Raeyadfourne’s eyes had grown angry as a blizzard. “We can’t give up now. For all we know, the fire giant tunnel could be blocked. I’ll gather my warriors and the fomorians, then start digging. You take the verbeegs and try to find that exit.”

“We’ll never reach it before the humans,” Horatio warned.

“But you will try.” Raeyadfourne motioned to Galgadayle and Munairoe, then started into the drift with the messenger.

“Wait!” barked Jerome, starting after the firbolgs. “Do you take us for fools? If the tunnel is blocked, you’ll capture the queen and we’ll be left outside. I’m going with you.”

Horatio caught the younger verbeeg by the arm. “Jerome, what difference does it make who captures the queen?” His voice was strangely calm. “The important thing is to kill the child, and we can trust the firbolgs to do that.”

Jerome scowled at his fellow. “You want me to go with you?”

“Exactly.” Horatio smiled at Raeyadfourne, then placed a hand on Marwick’s trembling shoulder. “And since we are going outside anyway, we’ll put the captive with the others your tribe is holding.”

Raeyadfourne frowned. “There’s no use torturing him,” the firbolg warned. “He knows nothing that will help us capture the queen.”

Horatio nodded. “On my word, we will not harm him.”

“My thanks, then,” the chieftain replied. “And I shall look in on his condition later.”

Raeyadfourne turned and led his two fellows into the tunnel. Marwick’s fear showed so brightly that his eyes were almost glowing. The front rider stared after the firbolg torches until they had faded into darkness, then darted for the drift next to Avner’s.

Jerome was expecting the maneuver. The verbeeg’s arm shot out quick as lightning and plucked the front rider off his feet. “Now, midget, you will tell us what you know.”

“Of course,” Marwick gasped. “You don’t have to hurt me. I won’t hide anything.”

Avner raised his dagger, but had to hold his throw when Horatio snatched Marwick from the younger verbeeg.

“Jerome, we have no time for that.”

Horatio snapped the front rider’s spine as casually as a man would wring a chicken’s neck, then threw the lifeless body down the black maw of narrow shaft. The corpse bounced down the passage with a series of slowly fading thuds.

Jerome peered down the hole. “Why did you do that?”

Horatio planted a finger on his map. “Because of this pit,” he explained. “Unless I miss my guess, the fire giants cut through it with their tunnel. If we hurry, we’ll be waiting when Queen Brianna goes by.”

Jerome’s harelip twisted into a greedy smile. “And then she’ll be our prisoner,” he said. “We can demand all the ransom we want.”

The tunnel was as smooth and straight as the halls of Castle Hartwick, and so dark that the soot-covered walls swallowed light as a river swallows snowflakes. The queen’s party was moving along at a trot, with Gryffitt running thirty paces ahead, holding the queen’s dagger to illuminate his path. Brianna was holding Mountain Crusher to light the way for Tavis and his fellow litter bearers.

Despite the pain in his ribs, Tavis easily kept pace with the others. There was nothing to see in this passage and little to worry about, other than a few boulders hanging loose in the ceiling and the slick footing of the wet floor. With any luck at all, they would be out of the mountain shortly.

“I think we’re going to be safe, milady,” Tavis reported. “We should reach Wynn Castle by sunrise.”

“You’ve done well, Lord Scout,” Brianna replied. “But I must admit I won’t feel safe even after we return to our own castle. The war with the giants has been bad enough. I don’t know if we can defeat a ‘kin alliance as well.”