The Giant Among Us

2

The trapdoor opened with a sharp bang, despoiling the twilight refuge Tavis and Brianna had created for themselves atop Earl Cuthbert’s keep. The pair stepped apart and turned toward the center of the roof, where they saw the horns of Arlien’s helmet slowly rising through the portal.

Tavis grunted in aggravation. Arlien had already spent the entire journey from High Meadow assailing Brianna with stories of his father’s lands. Now here he was again, chasing after the queen less than an hour after their arrival at Cuthbert Castle.

The scout took a deep breath, reminding himself not to be too harsh on the man. Arlien was a brave warrior and a decent enough fellow for royalty, and he had come a long way to court Brianna. Until the queen actually told him she was unavailable, it wasn’t fair to blame the hapless prince for trying.

Swallowing his frustration, Tavis went to the center of the roof and kneeled beside the portal to help Arlien up. The prince’s face had the pasty, ash-colored complexion of someone who had lost too much blood. He had covered his mangled armor with a red cloak, but even in the dusky light, Tavis could see a dark stain were the wound continued to seep.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” The scout could not quite keep the petulance out of his voice.

“How can I rest until your queen has accepted my apology?”

Brianna, who had retreated to the battlements that ringed the roof, turned to face Arlien. “But I have forgiven you, dear prince.” Her voice was as cool as the dusk breeze. “Did I not say so this afternoon?”

“Please don’t take me for a fool, Milady,” the prince replied. “I know the difference between true absolution and a diplomatic courtesy.”

Arlien allowed Tavis to clasp his wrist. The prince pushed off the ladder and together the pair hoisted his metal-cased bulk onto the roof. It was hardly customary for a warrior to wear a full suit of steel plate about the castle, but Arlien had explained that his armor would work its healing magic only while he was in it.

Once the prince had gained his feet, he looked directly at Queen Brianna. “I thought perhaps we could talk alone.”

“We’re as alone as we’re likely to be,” Brianna replied. “Feel free to say whatever you want in front of my bodyguard.”

Arlien glanced at the firbolg and shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “I certainly have nothing to hide from Tavis.”

The prince took a large, flattish box of polished silver from inside his robe, then walked over to stand across from Brianna. Tavis followed close behind, positioning himself where he would see inside the silver case when it was opened. The scout doubted that Arlien intended any harm to the queen, but it was his duty to be cautious.

“As you can imagine, the journey from Gilthwit is a long and difficult one,” Arlien began. He looked through the embrasure, to where the purple light of dusk was creeping across the craggy hills north of Cuthbert Castle. “I had to cross endless miles of frozen wastes, as forlorn and dangerous as the highest peaks among the Ice Spire Mountains. The plains were bitter cold, and full of dragons and giants-and many beasts even more ferocious and terrible.”

“I know what the Icy Plains are like,” Brianna interrupted.

“And so does my father,” Arlien continued. “Yet, when news reached us that you had ascended Hartsvale’s throne, he still asked me to make the perilous journey to your kingdom.”

“Why?” Brianna demanded.

“For a thousand years, the giant tribes have let Hartsvale live in peace, but that has changed with your father’s abdication-as you can see by the great number of marauders converging on this fief alone,” the prince said. “Gilthwit, on the other hand, has always endured the enmity of the giants.”

“And you have come to share your wisdom with Hartsvale.”

“Both our kingdoms would benefit by an alliance,” Arlien replied. “Gilthwit is a rich land that has endured in isolation too long. A trade route between our two countries, patrolled jointly by our armies, would greatly strengthen both kingdoms. Gilthwit would have a market for its jewels and rare metals, while the trade tariffs would swell Hartsvale’s treasury. You would have the gold necessary to bolster your defenses against the giants, and a ready ally to fight at your side.”

“What you propose has merit.” Brianna’s voice softened, and she laid a hand on the sill of the embrasure. “But if Gilthwit really exists, how come you’re the first person I’ve met from there?”

“Because my people rarely leave Gilthwit,” Arlien explained. “The kingdom is surrounded on all sides by frozen wastes as vast as they are deadly. I required a caravan of three hundred men and twice that many yaks to make the journey, and we lost two-thirds of our number even before the frost giants attacked us. Such treks are not undertaken lightly.”

“And you want to open a trade route across such dangerous terrain?” Tavis scoffed.

“The route will never be a safe one,” the prince admitted, continuing to look at Brianna. “But together, our two kingdoms can make it passable-and the rewards will repay our efforts tenfold.”

“If the rewards are so great, why haven’t you sent an envoy sooner?” Brianna asked.

The prince gave her a condescending smile. “At least we sent one, dear queen,” he said. “I don’t recall receiving any of Hartsvale’s princes in my father’s palace.”

“Perhaps you will forgive us if you remember that we’ve always regarded Gilthwit as a legend,” Brianna said.

“I must admit that Hartsvale seemed quite mythical to me, at least until I arrived in High Meadow,” Arlien allowed. “Yet here we stand, two legends speaking to one another.”

A neutral smile crossed Brianna’s lips. “So we are,” she said. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

The prince inclined his head. “So I haven’t,” he said. “As I said earlier, Gilthwit has always been an enemy to giants. I doubt very much that King Camden, or any of your ancestors, would have traded peace with the giants for an alliance with us.”

“And what makes you think I will?” Brianna demanded.

“Because you are not at peace with the giants.”

“Hartsvale has always had marauders,” the queen said. “The troubles in this fief don’t mean we’re at war.”

“Come now, you don’t believe that, and neither do I,” the prince said. “You see, I know all about the circumstances surrounding your rise to power.”

Brianna looked away, assuming a deliberately disinterested expression. “What circumstances would those be, Prince?”

Arlien smirked. “For one thing, your father agreed to sacrifice you to the giants’ guardian idol-I believe they call him the Twilight Spirit-in exchange for supporting his throne. You forced him to abdicate by exposing the plot to his earls.”

Tavis had to bite back an exclamation of surprise. Only a couple dozen earls should have known what the prince just stated. To ensure an orderly transition of power, Brianna had asked everyone present at her father’s abdication to remain silent about the fact that it had been forced.

Showing no sign of surprise, Brianna calmly returned her gaze to the prince. “I’ve heard that rumor as well,” she said. “But it hardly seems prudent to propose an alliance on the basis of gossip.”

Arlien sighed, then pointed to the golden arrow Tavis always carried in a special pocket of his quiver. “If what I say is wrong, why does your bodyguard carry that arrow?”

“As a symbol of office, of course,” Brianna responded.

“Really?” Arlien said. “I thought it was for you.”

“That’s a reasonable assumption,” the queen allowed.

“If it’s only an assumption, why is the shaft inscribed with magic to make your death painless and quick?” Arlien demanded.

The runes in question were hidden deep inside the scout’s quiver, near the tip of the golden arrow, and only a handful of Brianna’s advisors knew about them. Fearing her subjects would regard the magic as rather cowardly, the queen had agreed to have the sigils inscribed only because Tavis swore his aim would not be true unless he knew her death would be painless.

Tavis scowled and stepped even closer to the prince. “How do you know about the runes?” The scout’s hand dropped to his sword as he made the demand. “You must have a spy in Castle Hartwick!”

When Arlien showed no interest in replying to the scout’s accusation, Brianna came to Tavis’s side and gently pulled the firbolg’s hand away from his sword.

“Of course Gilthwit has a spy in my court,” she said. All traces of her earlier suspicion had vanished from the queen’s voice. “We shouldn’t expect the king to send us one of his sons without knowing the situation in Hartsvale, should we?”

“It seemed only prudent,” Arlien acknowledged. “Of course, such measures will no longer be necessary when we are allies.”

In a carefully neutral voice, Brianna asked, “And this alliance is to be sealed by our marriage?”

The prince nodded.

“That seems drastic,” Tavis commented. Brianna shot him a reproving look, but the scout could not restrain himself. “Why not a treaty?”

“Because blood is more binding than ink,” Arlien replied. “Once we open the trade route, our kingdoms will be under many great pressures. To stand together, we must be a family.”

“I’m sure Arlien and his father have considered this matter very carefully, Tavis,” Brianna chided. She turned her gaze back to the prince. “I hope you’ll allow me time to do the same.”

The scout bit his cheek, afraid he would blurt out another objection. He could not believe Brianna would actually consider marrying a man she had met only that morning.

Arlien nodded. “Of course, Milady,” he replied. “And I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of accepting this, as a token of my sincere regrets for my unfortunate reaction this morning.”

The prince opened the box he had been holding. Inside, resting on a bed of white velvet, lay a fabulous necklace of thumb-sized jewels. The gems were shaped like teardrops, and they scintillated with a pale blue light that seemed to arise from deep within their own hearts. They had settings of elegant simplicity, a bell of white gold encircled with a single scribe line, and they hung on a finely woven chain of red gold.

Brianna gasped and plucked the necklace from the box, laying it across her hand. She began to roll the jewels about, smiling in delight as rays of azure light danced over her palm.

“They’re cold and warm at once!”

Arlien smiled. “We call them ice diamonds. Our miners dig them from the heart of the Endless Ice Sea itself,” he reported. “It’s said that as long as you wear these, you’ll never cry.”

Tavis was beginning to wish he had left Arlien in High Meadow. “It’s healthy for humans to cry.”

“Not for queens, Tavis.” Brianna arched her eyebrows at the scout, as if to ask his forbearance, then held the necklace out to Arlien. “You are completely forgiven, dear prince. Won’t you be kind enough to help me put this on?”

Arlien took the necklace. “Ice diamonds are but one of the many treasures Gilthwit has to offer,” he said, undoing the clasp. “My caravan had samples of all our riches, but this was all I could save when the frost giants attacked.”

“Whatever you lost, I’m happy you saved this.”

Brianna lifted her silky hair and spun around, inviting Arlien to slip the necklace around her throat. Because the queen stood so much taller than he did, the prince had to raise his arms above his head. As he reached forward, he suddenly let out a deep groan and stumbled back in pain. A trickle of blood seeped from beneath his cloak and ran down his armored leg. Brianna turned around and took the necklace from the prince’s hands, returning it to its silver case.

“Perhaps we’ll put it on later.” The queen took Arlien’s arm and led him toward the trapdoor. “Now you should rest We’ll speak more of alliances as we ride back to my castle tomorrow.”

Tavis moved to help, happy to be rid of the prince. As the trio approached the trapdoor, the scout heard urgent voices coming from the chamber below. By the time the three reached the opening, Earl Cuthbert’s barrel-chested form was clambering up the ladder. He was a round-faced man of fifty, with a balding head, squinting eyes, and a pair of crossed shepherd’s staves emblazoned on his leather jerkin.

The earl pulled himself onto the roof and gave the queen a perfunctory bow. “Have you seen them, Majesty?”

“Seen whom?” Brianna demanded, still supporting Prince Arlien’s frail form.

“Giants!” the earl reported. “Serfs have been coming in from all corners of the fief, and some claim the brutes have already surrounded us!”

Without waiting for a reply, Cuthbert scurried to the battlements. Brianna followed close behind, with Arlien limping along at her side. Knowing that it was already too dark to see any giants lurking on the distant hills, Tavis stayed behind and peered into the chamber below to see whom the earl had been speaking with earlier.

The scout found his friends Avner and Basil standing at the base of the ladder, a large oval mirror resting on the floor between them.

“What have you there?” the scout asked.

Avner looked up and smiled proudly. He was a sandy-haired youth of sixteen, with the fuzz of his first beard clinging to his chin.

“You’ll see soon enough.” As nimble as a mountain goat, the boy scrambled up the ladder, then immediately swung around and stuck his arms back through the portal. “Go ahead and pass it up.”

“It’s heavy,” Basil warned.

Without waiting for an invitation, the scout lay down next to the boy and stretched his own arms into the hole. Basil pushed the mirror up, then Tavis and Avner lifted the heavy thing through the portal. A pair of hinge pins mounted on the sides suggested it had come off some piece of precious furniture, such as Lady Cuthbert’s dressing table. The looking glass’s wooden frame was thoroughly covered with the familiar carved lines of Basil’s rune magic.

“I hope Cuthbert gave you permission to do this,” Tavis groaned, guessing that such a mirror was worth about a year of his salary.

“The earl knows about it, anyway,” Avner replied. “And when he sees what it can do, he won’t mind.”

The scout carefully laid the mirror aside, then peered down into the hole. He saw Basil climbing the ladder, moving much more carefully than the boy. It was a wise precaution, for the runecaster was a verbeeg, another of the races of giant-kin. He was even larger than Tavis, with gangling arms and bowed legs as thick as aspen boles. His distended belly and hairy, stooped shoulders gave him a gaunt, half-starved look, but anyone who had ever made the mistake of inviting him to a banquet knew that was not the case.

“Basil, what’s all this about being surrounded by giants?” Tavis called.

“I can’t say yet,” the verbeeg replied, looking up. He had eyebrows as gray and coarse as the scrawny beard hanging from his chin. His thick lips gave him an affable-if somewhat sly-smile. That’s why I created the rune mirror. It’ll be much more accurate than relying on the peasants. “They’re terrified, and you know how humans exaggerate when they’re panicked.”

The scout clasped his friend’s wrist and pulled, helping him squeeze through the roof portal. Basil picked up the large mirror and balanced it on one hand as though it were a serving tray. He started toward Brianna and the others, the planks creaking and groaning beneath his great weight Tavis took the precaution of staying a fair distance from the verbeeg. Although the keep roof was supposed to be strong enough to support an entire company of soldiers, the firbolg worried that the combined mass of two giant-kin would be enough to snap one of the weathered planks.

When Tavis reached the battlements, he stopped behind Brianna and peered over her head into the deepening twilight. He could still see the sentries on the outer curtain and the reflection of torchlit windows gleaming off the black waters of Lake Cuthbert, but very little else. If any giants were lurking on the dark lakeshore hills, the purple shroud of evening had already hidden them from sight Even the distant mountains were hardly visible against the murky clouds beyond their summits.

“This is no use,” said Arlien. “The light’s too dim. We’ll have to send out scouts.”

“That would be both dangerous and unnecessary,” said Basil.

Arlien turned to see who had contradicted him. His jaw clenched in rancor. “A verbeeg!”

“You don’t seem very fond of giant-kin,” Tavis observed.

The spite in Arlien’s eyes did not fade. “In my land, verbeegs are not to be trusted.”

“And in our land, people are judged on their merit-”

“Basil is no ordinary verbeeg, I assure you,” Brianna interrupted. She stepped between Tavis and Arlien, then faced the runecaster himself. “What have you prepared for us, my friend?”

Casting a haughty smirk Arlien’s direction, Basil took the mirror in both hands and turned the silvered glass toward the lakeshore hills. The reflection showed the rocky slopes as though the hour were noon instead of dusk. Tavis saw the stoop-shouldered figures of several hill giants scattered among the crooked scrub pines. The brutes sat on boulders or squatted atop rocky outcroppings, calmly watching the lakeshore below as a steady trickle of humans fled toward the castle bridge. Although it would have been a simple thing to toss a few boulders at the haggard serfs, the giants made no move to harass the refugees.

“Wasn’t it fog giants you battled in High Meadow?” asked Avner. “Those look more like hill giants.”

“They are,” agreed Tavis. “No doubt the same ones that have been laying waste to Earl Cuthbert’s hamlets.”

“They’re not ferocious enough.” The earl stepped closer to Basil and squinted into the mirror. “If those were the giants who have been razing my villages, they’d be slaughtering my serfs, not allowing them safe passage.”

Tavis shook his head. “Someone wants those people to reach us,” he said. “The more crowded your castle, the more uncomfortable we’ll be during the siege.”

“Siege?” gasped the earl. “Here? Already?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tavis said. “We know giants from at least three different tribes are converging on Cuthbert Fief-the hill giant marauders, the frost giants who ambushed Prince Arlien’s caravan, and the fog giants in High Meadow. That can’t be coincidence, nor can it be happenstance that the hill giants encircled the castle so quickly after our return.”

“I’ve never seen giant tribes work together like that,” Arlien objected. “They’re too imperious. The chiefs would start a war over who gets to be leader.”

“Not if they were taking their orders from a higher authority,” Tavis countered.

“The Twilight Spirit?” Brianna asked.

Arlien furrowed his brow. “Who is this Twilight Spirit, and what does he want with the queen?” he asked. “My, ah, informant has told me little about him.”

“That’s because we don’t know much,” Brianna replied. If the prince’s mention of his spy irritated her, she did not show it “From what little Basil has learned, the Twilight Spirit is a ghost or phantom haunting someplace called the Twilight Vale. The giant chieftains rely on him for advice and counsel.”

“And what does he want with you?” inquired the prince.

“I don’t know,” Brianna said. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

The queen was being less than forthright, but Tavis understood her reluctance to be entirely candid. Their best guess was that the Twilight Spirit wanted to use his magic to get a giant’s son on her. Such a child would give the giants a claim to the throne of Hartsvale, which was an important trade center for all their tribes.

Tavis felt a guilty hollow forming in the pit of his stomach. “Milady, I’ve led you into a trap,” the scout said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Despite her brave words, the queen could not keep the quaver out of her voice. “I’m the one who wanted to inspect the damage personally. You told me it would be dangerous.”

“But a good leader goes where she is needed,” Arlien said. “You were right not to shy away. It would have set a bad example for your subjects.”

“Yes-um-well, at the moment we’re all at risk.” Earl Cuthbert’s voice had a nervous edge to it. “And I fear my wife and daughters are not as courageous as our queen. The peasants’ reports have already terrified them. What will they think when we start preparing the castle for a siege?”

“They’ll think we are in grave danger, which we are,” Brianna said sharply. “But I suggest you don’t underestimate them, Earl. Women are made of sterner stuff than men realize. Tell them the truth and put them to work. They’ll be fine, and you can see to the defense of your castle, which is what an earl should properly do at a time like this.”

The earl’s eyes flared at the rebuke, but he bowed to the queen. “Yes, of course, Majesty,” he said. “It’s been three hundred years since Cuthbert Castle was assaulted, so the shock of facing a siege so suddenly may have caught me off guard.”

“How off guard?” Brianna demanded. “Cuthbert Castle does have an ample supply of stores, does it not?”

Cuthbert’s face reddened. “The winter was a hard one, Milady,” he muttered. “My serfs were starving-”

“How long?” Brianna demanded, cutting him off.

The earl looked out an embrasure. “We have ample water, of course,” he said. “But food is another matter. There is enough to feed us and our soldiers for perhaps a month. But with all my serfs in the castle, the supply will last no longer than a week.”

“One week.” Brianna shook her head in disgust. “The winter wasn’t that hard, Earl.”

“I’m sorry, my queen,” Cuthbert said. “But how was I to know? We didn’t have this kind of trouble when Camden was king.”

Brianna’s face turned crimson, but she made no reply.

Tavis turned a thoughtful eye on Cuthbert’s cringing face. Shortly after the giants had razed their third village, the earl had sent a frantic messenger begging the queen for a contingent of her best troops. She had complied immediately, yet now the man blamed her because his castle was about to be sieged. To the scout, such ingratitude spoke volumes about the fellow’s character. The earl would bear watching in the days to come.

“Perhaps you should try to escape tonight, Your Majesty,” suggested Cuthbert. “Before more giants arrive.”

“Are you that much of a coward?” Tavis snapped. “Would you turn your own queen out to fight three tribes of giants?”

The color drained from the earl’s face. He backed away from Tavis, as though he feared the firbolg would hurl him off his own keep. “That’s n-not what I m-meant,” he stammered. “But tonight’s your best chance to escape. By tomorrow, we’ll be s-surrounded.”

“We’re surrounded now,” Tavis growled.

“Almost certainly,” agreed Arlien. He pointed at the giants in Basil’s mirror. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be sitting there. I’d say Tavis’s grasp of the situation is absolute.”

“Then we should shut the gate,” suggested Avner.

“Don’t say such things, boy!” Tavis scolded. “Don’t even think them!”

“Why not?” the youth pressed. “The giants aren’t bothering the serfs. It’s Brianna they want.”

Brianna laid a gentle hand on Avner’s shoulder. “Your idea has merit, but if we lock the serfs out of the castle, the giants will turn Lake Cuthbert red with their blood.”

The queen looked across the dark waters, staring at the mountains in the distance. Their summits marked the southern boundary of Cuthbert Fief, and, save for a single narrow pass, their steep flanks formed an impassable wall of stone and ice.

“Our only hope lies outside the fief, I fear,” Brianna said, turning back to the others. “Tavis, you’ll have to sneak over the mountains and fetch the rest of my army.”

“But I’m your bodyguard!” the scout objected. “I can’t leave without you.”

“Well, you certainly can’t leave with me,” Brianna countered. “I’m not stealthy enough to sneak past all those giants. Besides, our only hope of saving Cuthbert Castle is speed, and you’ll move faster alone.”

“But if the giants storm the castle, you could be captured,” the scout objected. “I wouldn’t be here.”

He didn’t need to say why he needed to be present. They all knew what he was to do if the giants captured the queen.

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.” Brianna stared into the scout’s eyes with a look of utter trust “But you’ll be back long before that comes to pass-and if I’m wrong, I have every confidence that you’ll track me down and put your golden arrow to good use.”

Tavis shook his head. “My place is at your side.”

“Not right now.” Brianna looked up at Basil. “Why don’t you and the others see what’s on the other side of the keep?”

The verbeeg frowned in confusion. “I’m sure we’ll find nothing but more-”

Avner grabbed the hem of the runecaster’s cloak. “Come along, Basil. It won’t hurt to check.”

The youth pulled the verbeeg toward the far wall, with Cuthbert and Arlien following close behind.

Once the others were gone, Tavis said, “You know I can’t leave your side, Brianna.”

“Why not?” A mocking smile crossed the queen’s lips. “Are you afraid to leave me alone with Arlien?”

Tavis knew better than to deny the charge. Like all firbolgs, he found it all but impossible to lie. The strain of uttering false words would cause his voice to crack, he would break out in a cold sweat, and his guilty conscious would not let him sleep for a week.

“My reluctance is due to more than Arlien,” he said. His voice almost cracked. “If the giants capture you, tracking them down may not be as easy as you think. And I’ve never loosed an arrow against someone I love. My aim might not be true.”

Brianna took his hand and squeezed it. “Your aim would be dead-on-I know,” she said. “And you mustn’t worry about Arlien. I have no feelings for him.”

“Does that mean you won’t marry him?”

“What difference would that make?” Brianna asked. “It’s you I love.”

“It would make a difference to me.”

“Well, I’m certainly not making any wedding plans until I’m out of here.” Brianna gave him playful smile.

Tavis would not let her dodge his question. “But you would, if you thought marrying him was best for Hartsvale.”

Brianna’s smile vanished, but she did not look away. “If that’s what I thought, yes.” The queen’s voice grew stern, and she released his hand. “And Tavis, you must also do what I think is best for Hartsvale.”

The scout closed his eyes and nodded. “I know,” he said. “But it isn’t easy, my queen. I’m only a firbolg.”