The Giant Among Us

16

A volley of boulders slammed into the castle’s windward wall. The cobblestones bucked beneath Avner’s feet, hurling him into the air. In the pit of his stomach he felt the shock wave of a boom so loud he did not even hear it. His ears merely started to ring, then he crashed into one of the gate towers that guarded the entrance to the inner ward. He slid to the ground in an aching, breathless heap and found himself looking across the front bailey to the outer gate.

Earl Cuthbert and several of his men lay in the shadowy passage beneath the archway, struggling to stand after the salvo had knocked them off their feet. A few feet beyond them, an armored figure in burnished battle plate kneeled on the threshold of the gate’s open mandoor, his greaves and vambraces flashing like mirrors as he pushed himself to his feet. Although he wore his visor down, the curved horns rising from the temples of his helm left no doubts about the warrior’s identity.

Prince Arlien had returned.

Avner rolled to his knees and found himself staring at the castle’s windward wall. The ramparts were littered with rubble: shattered merlons, demolished ballistae, flailing wounded, motionless corpses. In one place, where a loose torch had fallen into a pool of spilled oil, a group of terrified soldiers were throwing buckets of water at a creeping tide of fire. The massive curtain had cracked in several places, and the youth saw blue lake water glinting through three of the fissures.

Avner cursed, knowing that the giants would breach the walls all too soon. He glanced back at the rampart where he had left Tavis and Brianna less than a minute earlier. The queen was nowhere in sight She was probably descending the stairs in the corner tower and would soon be carrying the scout across the front bailey toward the inner gate. If Arlien saw them, all would be lost The prince would need merely to delay them until the giants breached the outer curtain-a few minutes from now, at best-then the queen would be captured and Tavis killed.

Avner forced his aching body to rise, then rushed around the corner toward the inner gate. He had to move fast if he was going to win the time he needed to find Basil. The youth did not know what would happen after the verbeeg was free, but if anyone could restore Brianna to her senses, it would be the runecaster.

At the other end of the dark archway, the iron portcullis hung less than six feet from the ground. The main gates were already closed fast, though the mandoor at the bottom remained open. Avner slipped through the portal. On the other side he found two sentries in the White Wolf tabards of Selwyn’s company.

“I have an order from the queen!” he lied. The youth saw no use in trying to explain that Prince Arlien was a spy. Even if the guards believed him, which was doubtful, there would be too many questions. He gestured at the shorter of the two guards and commanded, “Tell Prince Arlien to await her majesty on the windward wall of the outer curtain. The queen will join him shortly. She has a special plan to turn the giants back!”

The guards looked at each other doubtfully. “Turn the giants back?” scoffed the short one. He was a squat man with a curly red beard. “Now I know she’s lost her mind!”

“Shall I tell her you said so?” Avner demanded.

The guard ignored the youth and looked to his tall fellow. “What do you think?”

“He is the queen’s favorite page,” answered the soldier. He fixed a suspicious glare on the youth, then added, “But I thought you’d run off-”

“I’ve returned!” Avner snapped. “And my next message is for Captain Selwyn. Shall I tell him you two elected not to obey a direct order from the queen?”

The guard’s eyes widened, but he shook his head and looked to his shorter companion. “You’d better do as he says.”

Avner waited for the messenger to depart, then turned to the tall guard. “Where’s the dungeon?” he asked. “I’m to fetch Basil before I see Selwyn. The queen needs his magic to save us.”

“It’ll take more than a few runes,” the soldier replied.

Despite his pessimistic reply, the man pointed to the tower near the center of the inner curtain. Avner sprinted away. As he crossed the inner ward, another boulder volley struck the castle’s windward wall. The foundations of the inner curtain absorbed much of the impact, but the youth still felt the cobblestones tremble beneath his feet.

At the tower, Avner found another sentry standing in the doorway. This one wore a leather hauberk emblazoned with Cuthbert’s crossed shepherd’s staves. To the youth’s surprise, the guard made no move to bar the door.

“You’re the last of the women and children, I hope.” The soldier motioned Avner into the tower.

The youth shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The guard scowled and muttered a curse, then said, “Well, the tunnel’s in the second sub-basement, hidden behind a swinging shelf.” He pointed down a damp, spiraling stairway a few steps inside the doorway. “Be sure to pull it closed behind you.”

“I’ll be sure,” Avner promised.

Although the passage was well lit by torches, the youth forced himself to descend at a walk. The stairs were as ancient as they were moldy, littered with jagged bits of mortar knocked from the walls and ceiling by the boulders’ barrages. Avner had just reached the first landing when another volley hit the outer curtain, causing the entire corridor to jump and showering him with hunks of crumbling mortar. A loud crash sounded inside the chamber beside him, then the vinegary smell of sour wine filled the corridor.

Avner continued his descent. The assault changed into a steady barrage that left the walls trembling and the air rumbling. The youth stopped at the second sub-basement, then opened the door into a chamber thick with the smell of moldering cereal. A single flickering torch hung in a sconce on the far wall, and by its light he saw that the room contained hundreds of grain sacks. Most of the corners had been chewed open by rats.

The youth weaved his way to the rear of the room, where he found the swinging shelf that the guard had described. It hung partially ajar, revealing the entrance to a narrow, rough-hewn tunnel that ran roughly toward the main keep.

One look into the cramped passage was enough for Avner to know Basil would never enter it. They would have to fight their way past the soldier at the top of the stairs, which would certainly prove more bruising for him than the youth and the verbeeg. Avner pushed the shelf to the wall and made certain that he heard the latch click.

The youth returned to the stairwell and continued his descent The dungeon, he knew from bitter experience, would be in the lowest, dankest chamber of the tower foundations. Although the passage here was unlit, he did not bother to retrieve a torch. After a lifetime of thievery, he was accustomed to moving swiftly through the dark.

Avner descended past one more basement, this one smelling of pine pitch, then the stairwell gave way to a flat, curving corridor. At the end of the hall hung a partially open door, with the dim light of a candle flickering on the other side of the threshold. The youth heard a guard running a whetstone over the blade of a weapon.

Whatever Basil had done to land himself in the dungeon, it must have angered Cuthbert greatly. Once a prisoner was safely chained to the wall and his door barred, few earls would have bothered to keep guards posted in the antechamber-especially during a giant attack.

Avner retreated up the stairs and fitted a chunk of loose mortar into the pocket of his sling. He ran back down the stairs, stomping his feet and whirling his weapon.

“Who’s there?” The guard appeared in the doorway, holding a tallow candle in one hand and a battle axe in the other.

Avner whipped his sling at the guard’s bare head. The mortar struck with an echoing crack, and the soldier’s eyes rolled back in their sockets. His knees buckled, and he collapsed in the doorway. The candle landed on the damp floor and sputtered out, plunging the corridor into darkness as black as obsidian.

Avner felt his way along the dank wall until he reached the doorway, where he paused long enough to find the sentry. He didn’t mind knocking an occasional guard unconscious, but he had yet to kill one. After making certain that the man was still breathing, he stepped over the fellow into the dungeon’s antechamber. “Basil? Where are you?”

“Avner? You’re alive?” The runecaster’s voice was muffled by a heavy door. “Or-or did I finally die?”

“Relax,” Avner replied, following the words through the musty darkness. “We’re both alive.”

“Oh, good!” Basil’s voice was growing increasingly squeaky. “By the light, that’s good!”

Near the center of the room, Avner reached an oaken door fastened by a simple crossbar. As soon as he lifted the beam off its hooks, the door flew open and knocked him across the chamber. A thump resounded through the darkness as some part of Basil’s large body flopped out of the cell.

“Get me out of here!” The runecaster’s chains chinked sharply as he jerked them taut. “Get me out now!”

“Those chains are mortared into the tower foundation. Even a verbeeg can’t pull them loose.” Avner reached for his lockpicks. “Just calm down, and I’ll get you loose.”

“Calm down?” the verbeeg shrieked, still rattling his chains. “I’ve been stuffed in that hole at least a month! What took you so long?”

“It can’t have been a month,” Avner said, growing more concerned. He had expected the verbeeg’s nerves to be worn, but Basil seemed as though he had lost his reason. “I’ve been gone only four days.”

“Liar!” Basil yelled. “Don’t try that-”

“Basil, you’re no good to me like this,” Avner said evenly.

“Good to you?” the verbeeg yelled. “I’m the one who’s been locked up in the dark-”

“We don’t have time for this,” Avner warned. “If you don’t pull yourself together and shut up, I swear I’m going to leave you down here.”

Basil fell instantly silent.

Avner heard the verbeeg take several deep breaths.

“Avner?”

“Yes?”

“I’m feeling much better now,” he said. “You don’t have to leave me down here.”

“That’s good, Basil.” Avner stepped to the verbeeg’s side and located his manacled wrists. “Now hold still. Picking locks in the dark is difficult enough.”

The verbeeg remained as still as stone.

“Basil, we’ve got a big problem.” Avner spoke as he worked. “Tavis is hurt, and Brianna’s lost her healing powers. I think it has something to do with Prince Arlien.”

“Of course it does,” Basil answered.

“Then you know what’s happening?” The wrist manacles came open, and Avner worked his way down to the verbeeg’s ankles. “Can you do something about it?”

“If you can get me my runebrush and a chalice,” the verbeeg replied. “Reversing the love spell is easy enough. But getting rid of Arlien-that’s going to be a challenge.”

Avner found the runecaster’s shackles and set to work opening them. “It is?” he asked. “How come?”

“Because he’s the ettin.”

“An ettin?” Avner gasped. For a moment, he couldn’t understand how this was possible. Then he remembered how effective Basil’s runemask had been in transforming Tavis into a stone giant. “In disguise?”

“His enchanted armor,” Basil confirmed. “That’s why he never takes it off.”

Avner popped the lock open. “We can still get rid of him if you really can cure Brianna,” the youth said. “After she’s back to normal, all she has to do is heal Tavis. I’ll bet he’s killed plenty of ettins.”

Basil grabbed Avner by the shoulder. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “Arlien isn’t just any ettin.”

“What are you talking about?”

“His name-rather, their names-were in the last folio I took from Cuthbert’s library: Arno and Julien. Together, Arlien.”

“So what?”

“That book tells of Twilight’s creation-thousands of years ago,” Basil said. “Arno and Julien are mentioned in it. They aren’t an ettin, they’re the ettin-the first one.”

Sweet wintergreen.

Tavis smelled wintergreen. It was a familiar fragrance, and one he could not imagine sensing in the depths of an avalanche. He would not be able to smell anything, except perhaps his own singed body, and then only until he suffocated. So he could not imagine why his nose was full of that most pleasant of all odors.

“Brianna?” He barely croaked her name, and the effort sent stinging waves of pain through his charred face. “Brianna?”

And there was a pounding, not in his head, but somewhere outside. Rocks crashing against rocks. And men yelling, twanging ballista skeins, banging catapults.

“Where… am… I?” Tavis opened his eyes. Lances of bright light shot through his head. His face felt cracked and leathery, his throat so parched that he could have emptied a horse trough. But still he smelled the wintergreen. The queen’s perfume. “Brianna?”

“Merciful Hiatea!” A blurry face surrounded by a golden halo appeared over Tavis’s head. Someone sat on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” Tavis groaned. “How’d I get here? Avner?”

The queen nodded.

“Then he must be all right.” Tavis pushed himself into a seated position, then nearly blacked out from the throbbing in his head.

The rumble of collapsing stonework echoed through the window. Brianna cast a nervous glance toward the sound.

“What’s happening?” Tavis asked.

“The giants are attacking,” the queen said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I assume you didn’t get through to Earl Wendel.”

“I sent a message,” Tavis answered. His vision was beginning to clear. There were two purple blotches where the queen’s eyes were supposed to be, and he could see the scintillating blue lights of a necklace hanging around her throat Ice diamonds. Avner had told him they were enchanted. “The army isn’t here?”

“You were supposed to bring it,” Brianna scolded.

“The giants ambushed me in Shepherd’s Nightmare. They had a spy in the castle,” Tavis explained. “It seemed more urgent to warn you about the traitor.”

Brianna raised her brow. “A spy,” she said. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s Prince Arlien,” the scout reported. “Has he returned? I injured him, but I don’t know if I stopped him.”

“Arlien?” Brianna gasped. Her voice sounded at once bewildered and frightened. “How can… you can’t be sure!”

“I saw him speaking with the frost giant chieftain,” Tavis replied. “Now you must tell me-has he returned to the castle?”

Brianna looked away, and in a distant voice she said, “You must… be mistaken.”

Tavis squinted at her, trying to clear his vision. He could not see well enough to judge her expression, but he guessed her eyes would seem vacant or glassy. Her voice certainly sounded unsure and stilted, almost as though the words were spilling from her mouth on their own.

“I’m not mistaken.” The scout waved his hand over his singed body. “Arlien’s the one who did this to me.”

Brianna rose. “You… why are you lying?”

“Listen to yourself, Brianna.” Although he had to speak loudly to make himself heard over the battle din outside, Tavis kept his voice calm and reasonable. “I’m a firbolg-you’d hear it if I were lying.”

The queen backed away, trembling and staring at the floor, shaking her head and mumbling to herself.

“It’s Arlien. His magic is confusing you.” The scout motioned for her to come over to him. “I can help you.”

“N-No. I need no… I don’t need your help.” Brianna turned toward the door. “I have to go.”

“To where? Arlien?”

As he spoke, Tavis swung his legs around and stood. He took three steps, then he realized he was trying to run on mushy lumps of flesh. He glanced down and saw black, swollen masses of toes and insteps where his feet should have been. Two searing waves of agony shot up his legs.

“Forgive my rudeness, Majesty.”

Tavis threw himself forward, clasping Brianna’s shoulder with one hand and grabbing the ice diamonds with the other. His fingers instantly blanched to a pallid, frozen white, and searing coldness shot up his arm. The scout did not care. He forced himself to clench the gems more tightly, then yanked the necklace off the queen’s throat.

Brianna whirled around, pulling free of Tavis’s grasp. The mushy-footed scout fell to the floor.

“How dare you!” the queen hissed. Her violet eyes had gone almost black with anger. “What are you doing with my ice diamonds?”

“They’re enchanted,” Tavis explained. He continued to hold the necklace, and the coldness became an icy, stinging numbness. The feeling was similar to the one he had experienced when Bodvar had deadened the pain in his injured toe, save that it was a dozen times more chilling. “Say my name.”

Brianna looked confused. “Your name?” she asked. The anger was fading from her eyes, but any sparkle of wit had yet to creep back into them. “Whatever for?”

“You loved me once,” Tavis said. “Try to remember.”

“Loved you?” she scoffed. “You’re my bodyguard! Now I know where Avner gets his crazy ideas.”

It did not matter to Tavis that Brianna’s forgetfulness had been caused by Arlien’s magic; her words made him feel tired and weak and defeated. If she could not remember the emotions they had shared, then she remained under Arlien’s spell.

The scout shook his head. “It’s just as well that you’ve forgotten,” he said. “Love between us could never be.”

“Now you’re coming to your senses.” Brianna pointed at her ice diamonds. “So you will return my jewelry.”

She reached for the necklace, but Tavis pulled it away. Even if the diamonds were not the source of the queen’s enchantment, the fact that she was wearing them now suggested that the necklace supplemented Arlien’s hold on her mind. The queen was hardly the type of woman to wear such gaudy jewelry into battle.

“I’m sorry, I can’t return your necklace,” Tavis said. The hand holding the ice diamonds had gone so numb that he doubted he could release his hold if he wanted to. “That would be a violation of my duty to you.”

“I’m your queen!” Brianna spat. “I name your duty!”

“When your mind is clear, yes,” he replied. “But not when your thoughts are chained by a spy’s magic.”

A dull flash appeared somewhere deep behind Brianna’s eyes, then the anger slowly faded from her face. She gaped at Tavis with an expression that seemed as lost as it did suspicious. The scout locked gazes with her. They stared at each other for a long time, until a set of heavy footsteps came pounding up the corridor. Someone rapped on the door, and the queen looked away from Tavis.

“Enter,” she called.

The door swung open. In the corridor outside stood a squat soldier with a curly red beard. His tabard was so besmirched by soot that Tavis could barely make out the White Wolf badge of his company.

“Majesty! What are you doing here?” In his excitement, the soldier forgot to bow. “The frost giants have frozen the channel, and even now they’re coming across with a battering ram. The main gate will fall soon. Now is the time for your special plan-”

“Special plan?” Brianna interrupted. “What special plan?”

“The plan that Avner said-” The soldier stopped as soon as he spoke the youth’s name. He closed his eyes in exasperation, then shook his head violently. “Damn that boy! Why would he lie about such a thing?”

“Tell us what he said,” Tavis commanded.

The soldier glanced down at the scout, but if he was surprised to see the queen’s bodyguard sitting helpless on the floor, his face did not show it. “The swine told us that Queen Brianna had a special plan to turn the giants back,” the man explained. “He sent me to Prince Arlien-”

“Then Arlien’s here?” Tavis demanded. He braced his hands on a chair seat and pulled himself to his feet. “Arlien is in the castle?”

The man nodded. “He’s with Earl Cuthbert, on the windward wall-at least until it collapses,” he confirmed. “That’s where Avner said to send…”

The soldier let his sentence trail off, for Brianna’s face had gone pale. She was slowly backing across the room, her gaze fixed on the empty air.

“Milady?” Tavis asked. He started to stumble toward her, but stopped when her expression changed to one of fear. “What is it?”

Brianna shook her head, freeing herself of whatever it was that had gripped her mind. “It’s the prince,” she admitted. “There’s something about him.”

Tavis nodded. “There is indeed,” he said. “But I’ll protect you. That’s my duty.”

The queen blinked several times, then ran a doubtful gaze over Tavis’s battered body. “You’re hardly in condition to perform that duty-or any other.”

“But I can-if you’ll lend me your ice diamonds,” Tavis said, tightly gripping the necklace. “They’ll numb my pain.”

“But they were a gift-”

“From a man you fear,” Tavis said. When Brianna frowned and started to object, the scout quickly interrupted. “Don’t deny it. I can see in your eyes that he frightens you. How can you value any gift of his?”

A confused expression came over Brianna’s face. She looked away and forced herself to shake her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t,” she said. “You may borrow the diamonds.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” Tavis sighed. “Now we can defeat the prince.”

The scout sat in a chair and rubbed the cold stones over his anguished feet. As the icy numbness began to replace the searing agony in his feet, he motioned the red-bearded soldier over.

“I want you to take a message to Captain Selwyn.”

Basil painted the last line of his rune, then raised the silver chalice to admire his work. “A true work of art, if I say so myself,” he said. “My thanks for providing such excellent material, Avner.”

The youth gave a casual shrug. “I used to find stuff like that all the time.”

They were in the small chamber where Basil had originally been confined. Avner sat in the windowsill, keeping an eye on the battle outside. Although he could not see over the inner curtain, the youth could tell by the number of refugees streaming through the inner gate that the giants had broken through the outer curtain.

“I don’t understand why you needed a cup,” Avner said, continuing to watch the inner gate. “What are you going to do, crush the ice diamonds and make Brianna drink them?”

“Oh, dear me, no!” the verbeeg replied. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

“You said you were going to reverse the love magic,” Avner said. “And the magic’s in her necklace.”

Basil shook his head. “That’s what you’re supposed to think.”

“ Supposed to think?” Avner asked. “Says who?”

“Says the Twilight Spirit,” Basil explained. “His real name is Lanaxis, by the way.”

A deafening boom sounded in the front bailey, then Avner saw the head of a frost giant’s axe rise briefly above the inner curtain.

“What are you talking about, Basil?” the youth demanded. “Who’s this Lanaxis?”

“I wish I had the proper folio-but I’m sure the earl has returned it to his library by now,” Basil said. “I’d read it to you. You might find it quite interesting.”

“I’ll settle for the short version.”

Basil nodded. “I thought you might.” The verbeeg cast an annoyed glance toward the battle outside, then raised his voice like an orator speaking over the din of a storm. “It seems that many millennia ago, before the first human kingdoms arose, this part of the world was ruled by an empire of giants known as Ostoria. The kings of this realm were the firstborn of each race of giants, immortal sons born directly of Annam the All Father and Othea the Mother Queen.

“Unfortunately for these kings, a marital dispute between their parents resulted in the creation of the Endless Ice Sea, which promptly began to swallow their lands. Needless to say, this upset the giant kings, so they decided to destroy the glacier. But their mother, Othea, heard about the plan and forbade her sons from carrying it out

“So Lanaxis, the first titan, and Julien and Arno, the first ettin, poisoned her. Unfortunately, they inadvertently poisoned most of their brothers as well.”

“Most?” Avner asked. Somewhere outside, a chorus of screams announced the destruction of a catapult crew.

“All except one, and he’s of no consequence to us,” Basil clarified. “What is of import is this: before Othea died, she sentenced Lanaxis and the ettin to live in the twilight of her shadow for as long as they wished to remain immortal-and so they have.”

“That’s where the Twilight Vale is,” Avner surmised.

Basil nodded. “But now, the ettin has sacrificed his immortality to kidnap Brianna.”

Avner frowned. “What about Tavis?” he demanded. “Doesn’t he know about the golden arrow-?”

“The ettin knows,” Basil interrupted. “That’s why he isolated us in this remote castle, where only a great scout stood any chance of summoning help. Then, once Tavis was out of the way, the ettin made his attempt.” The verbeeg smiled very proudly at this point. “I stopped him.”

“Good for you,” Avner said. At another time, he might have asked Basil to elaborate. “I still don’t see what that has to do with the ice diamonds.”

“You’ve never played Wyverns and Wyrms, have you, my boy?” Before Avner could answer, the runecaster continued, “You see, to win, you must guess the opponent’s plans. So a good player, knowing that the other player will try to figure out his plans, always plants false clues.”

“And that’s what Arlien did to us.”

“Exactly,” Basil said. “Lanaxis has had a very long time to learn the game of Wyverns and Wyrms — thousands and thousands of years. The ice diamonds were a decoy. The necklace seems to have a certain deadening effect on Brianna’s emotions, but the real magic is in the potion that Arlien’s been feeding her. We were lucky to find him out when we did.”

Avner nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But I still don’t get what they want with Brianna. Giving up your immortality is an awfully high price to pay for a woman-even a queen.”

“But not for someone who can bear a king that will restore your lost empire,” Basil said.

“The giants think Brianna can do that?” Avner gasped. He was still watching the inner gate.

Basil nodded. “And they may be right. You see, when Othea died, she was still carrying Annam’s last unborn son…”

Avner did not hear the rest of the explanation, for his attention had been captured by a pair of armored figures climbing through the mandoor of the inner gate. One of them was wearing a distinctive horned helm.

“We’re out of time,” the youth reported. “Arlien’s coming, and Cuthbert’s with him!”

As the youth spoke, an extremely long wooden arrow arced away from the keep, apparently fired from a window one floor below. The shaft hissed across the ward in the blink of an eye, then bounced off Arlien’s magical armor without causing any harm.

“Tavis is awake!” Avner yelled.

Basil rose to his knees and stuck his massive head into the window, nearly crushing the youth against the sill. Another wooden arrow hissed away from the keep, but the prince and everyone around him were already scrambling for cover. The shaft missed its target cleanly and lodged itself in the gate.

“But Brianna couldn’t possibly heal him until her mind is clear!” Basil objected. “He can’t be in any condition to fight!”

“As long as he can crawl, Tavis can fight,” Avner replied. “I just don’t know if he can win.”

A third arrow arced across the ward, this time glancing off one of Arlien’s pauldrons. The prince watched the shaft clatter to the cobblestones, then rushed through the entrance to the nearest gate tower and disappeared from sight. Through the tower, Prince Arlien would have access to the ramparts of the inner curtain and, eventually, to the keep itself.

Earl Cuthbert reacted more slowly, simply bracing himself against the wall of the gate tower and staring toward the keep as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. When no more arrows came arcing across the ward, he finally seemed to recover from his shock. He waved a dozen soldiers over and tried to follow Arlien into the gate tower, but the door did not open. The earl spun around, leading his small company across the ward toward the dungeon tower.

“Basil, there’s a secret tunnel in that tower.” Avner pointed toward the earl’s destination. “I think it leads to the keep. Arlien and Cuthbert will trap Tavis between them!”

Basil furrowed his brow. “We can’t know what Cuthbert intends, but I suppose we must assume the worst” The verbeeg pulled his massive head back into the chamber, then thrust the silver chalice into Avner’s hand. “Take this to Arlien’s room. Somewhere, you’ll find a vial or flagon filled with a magic potion. Pour that into this goblet and have Brianna drink it. Then tell her to await Tavis in the temple.”

“And what are you going to do?” Avner asked.

“Catch Tavis and send him to the temple, of course.”

Tavis rushed across the narrow drawbridge toward a small tower on the rear wall of the inner curtain. Each breath brought with it the sickening stench of battle: the coppery fetor of spilled blood, the acrid reek of flaming oil, the charred rankness of burning flesh. The scout seemed to stumble every third step, for he felt as though he were walking on someone else’s mangled feet. Although he was wearing Brianna’s ice diamonds around his neck, the cold stones merely replaced his agony with icy numbness. They did nothing to heal the firbolg.

Tavis worried that the necklace’s enchantment would leave him as befuddled as Brianna, but he suspected the spell worked its magic gradually so as not to be noticed. So far, he seemed to be right, for he hadn’t noticed any ill effects. Besides, the scout had little choice except to wear the jewelry. Without the relief of the frigid gems, his battered body simply would not function well enough for battle.

The scout reached the far end of the bridge and stepped into the fortified tower. He traveled down a short corridor lined by murder holes, then opened a heavy oaken door into the tower’s main room. In the center of the chamber stood two of Selwyn’s Winter Wolves, busily reloading their tripod-mounted crossbows.

A hill giant thrust his enormous fingers through one of the arrow loops that overlooked the castle’s rear bailey. The entire tower trembled as the brute hammered at the exterior wall. One of the Winter Wolves locked his bowstring into place, then slipped a long iron quarrel into his weapon’s firing groove. He dragged the heavy crossbow forward and fired through the arrow loop containing the giant’s hand. The brute bellowed, then the pounding stopped and the enormous fingers vanished from sight.

Tavis slipped his bow, taken from the keep armory, over his shoulder. He replaced it with a shield and battle axe that he borrowed from one of the Winter Wolves. Having watched his arrows bounce harmlessly off Arlien’s armor, the scout now realized the only way to stop the prince was in close-quarters combat.

Fortunately, that would be easy to arrange. The single avenue into the keep was across the drawbridge that Tavis had just crossed. The one path to the bridge was through this bridge tower, and the only route into the tower was along the top of the inner curtain. The scout intended to meet Arlien as far down the ramparts as possible, then fight him every step of the way.

Tavis left the tower and limped along the rear wall toward one of the great corner towers of the inner curtain. The battle din grew more distinct than it had been in the keep, with boulder after boulder pounding the walls, ballista skeins crackling like lightning, and the dirge of dying warriors echoing over the ward.

The scout hardly noticed the clamor. His attention was locked on the inner curtain’s western rampart, where he expected to see Arlien at any moment. Picking out the prince’s armored form would not be easy. A pall of black smoke covered much of the rampart’s length, and the rubble of shattered merlons choked the few visible sections of wall. Bleeding and dazed men were everywhere, lying half-buried under debris, wandering aimlessly along the walkways, sitting in pools of oil that had not yet caught fire.

As Tavis approached the corner tower, he caught a glimpse of Selwyn. The captain was about halfway down the rampart, sprinting alongside a dozen of his Winter Wolves. With tabards singed, helmets missing, and breastplates torn half off, they all looked terribly battered. That did not stop them from hefting their axes and charging into the smoke with a chilling battle howl. The scout caught a glimpse of the red-bearded soldier he had sent to warn Selwyn about Arlien’s identity, then the entire group vanished from sight.

Tavis rushed through the corner tower, which was a larger version of the bridge tower, and threw open the door leading to the western rampart. In the smoke ahead, he heard the harsh clang of steel on steel. Selwyn’s voice cried out in pain.

Tavis limped toward the howl as fast as he could. The scout had lurched forward no more than five steps when he spied the captain and two soldiers backing out of the smoke. All three Winter Wolves were soaked with blood. Arlien followed close behind, his armor and weapons smeared with crimson-none of it from his own wounds. The prince fixed his gaze on Selwyn, then shrieked wildly and charged. The three Winter Wolves spread across the rampart, lifting their own weapons to meet the attack.

Arlien tore into them like a whirlwind, crushing the outside man’s breastplate with a hammer strike so powerful that it flung his disjointed body into a merlon. The prince took the second Winter Wolf on the back swing. The blow easily overpowered the fellow’s guard and smashed his head in the same stroke.

Selwyn countered with a vicious strike to the midsection, but the battle axe merely chimed off Arlien’s enchanted armor. The prince smashed the heft of his hammer into the captain’s head. The steel helmet split in two, Selwyn collapsed at the prince’s feet, and the battle was done in the time it had taken Tavis to travel four steps.

Arlien kicked Selwyn’s body aside, then looked down the rampart toward the firbolg. “Tavis Burdun,” he said. “I thought it would take more than an avalanche to kill you.”

“It will.” Tavis hefted his battle axe. “Much more.”