Against the Giants (40 page)

Later, he could remember very little of those following
hours. After a very quick washing and change of clothes, Vlandar addressed the
lord and his council. The entire party accompanied him, but no one else except
Nemis and Malowan spoke. Somewhere in all that, Lhors must have fallen asleep,
because when he opened his eyes, he’d been rolled into a blanket. It took him a
moment to recognize the rough wood wall as Vlandar’s barracks and the prickly
mattress as the one he’d slept on before.

The room was quiet and dark except for a low-burning candle
that had been shuttered next to his bedside. Malowan and Vlandar sat at the
small table talking in hushed tones, but as the youth rolled over and edged onto
his elbow, Vlandar looked at him and smiled. “It’s all right, lad. We’re all
here, and you’re safe.”

“I know,” Lhors said, and lay back down.

Late the next afternoon, Vlandar held a brief meeting in the
barracks courtyard. Excepting the slain Khlened and Bleryn, everyone from their
party was there. Lhors thought Maera looked pale, and her face seemed even
thinner than usual, but otherwise she was none the worse after her near-fatal
wound.

“The Lord Mebree is readying a delegation to go to the king,”
Vlandar told them. “There have been more raids in Keoland since our departure,
and the king will need our information. The chief magician here has a spell that
will transport as many as fifteen to the palace in Niole Dra. The lord asks that
I go, and Nemis and Malowan. The rest of you need not if you would rather remain
here or go your own way, but I think you all have the right.”

“I agree,” Malowan said. “Each of you performed deeds worthy
of a king’s praise.”

“Or a king’s ransom,” Gerikh put in. He smiled, but his eyes
were dark. “Khlened would have said as much, or Bleryn, and I think I may speak
for them.”

“No.” A faint voice broke in. Florimund got to his feet, and
when Maera—a subdued, almost docile Maera—would have protested, he put his
fingers on her lips to silence her, then turned to look Nemis in the eye. “I did
nothing to deserve praise or thanks.”

“Nothing,” Nemis agreed, “but it was the right sort of
nothing.”

Agya scowled questioningly at Malowan, who merely shrugged in
response.

Florimund sighed faintly. “Yes, Nemis. I knew all along that
you mistrusted me.”

“I was aware you were not merely a prisoner taken, tortured,
and left to rot in a cell,” Nemis replied. “I suspected there was more to you,
but who could have known that the drow and their giant allies tried to turn you
into a spy against your own kind? I admit, it seemed likely they would attempt
this, but if they had succeeded with you, you would not have still been in that
cell where we found you.”

“You did not do what they wanted,” Maera offered.

Rowans mouth twisted with distaste.

“He didn’t, Rowan!”

“I know,” Rowan replied softly. “Just as I know he never
meant
to make a wall between us, sister.”

Florimund shook his head. “Not that, ever. Still, when you
made your way into the Rift, I was so afraid that I began to think that… I
thought if I could somehow—”

“Y’meant t’make noise all along th’ way t’get us caught,”
Agya snarled.

Malowan murmured something in her ear and she subsided, but
the half-elf nodded.

“I tried to warn the frost giants, hoping they would… I
don’t know what I hoped. No more pain, of course. You didn’t know how bad fire
giants’ hold was, and when I heard your plans to go there, and the drow… I
…” He swallowed and turned away. “I could not face that.”

“No one who had been to either place could blame you,” Nemis
said quietly. “I know. I
have
been there.”

Florimund eyed the mage warily.

Nemis managed a faint, wry smile. “I say you have as much
right as I to come with us.”

Florimund bowed his head in grateful acquiescence. “Then how
dare I say no? I have long wished to see the king’s city.”

“And I,” Gerikh said. “There may be jobs about for an
engineer like me.”

“I am reminded, speaking of jobs,” Vlandar said. He was
smiling broadly. “We have coin and gems to divide among us. Even a small share
of that will keep you in comfort for some time to come, Gerikh.”

“Little as I did to help you,” the man said.

“You helped,” the warrior replied. “You held your own and
didn’t shrink back when the time came to fight.”

Vlandar went into the barracks and came back with a
cloth-wrapped packet that seemed heavy for its size. “The chest you carried out
of the drow’s quarters. Lord Mebree’s wizards kept the scroll and the box, but
the lord gave me back what else was in there. Look.” He whipped the cover aside
to reveal three bars of black metal. “That’s adamantine, or so they tell me.
Each of them is worth about three thousand gold pieces each, and they’re ours.”

“Not so bad,” the engineer allowed with a grin, though his
eyes were wide. The smile faded. “Too bad Khlened and Bleryn aren’t here to
share. I took to them, you know. I’d like to see the look on that red-bearded
madman’s face when he saw those.” A momentary silence followed, which he broke.
“I’ll come with you, Vlandar. There may be a few things I can tell your king
about what the giants were up to when I was taken.”

“I will go,” Maera said steadily. “I—”she glanced up at her
sister—“I want to be certain they know what the drow are capable of.”

“If Mal’s in, then so’m I,” Agya added.

“You most certainly are,” the paladin told her. “This is no
place for a young woman alone, especially when her only acquaintances are
thieves and the like.”

“No more thievin’ for me, I told y’so!” the girl protested.
“B’lieve I’ll take my share of th’ bounty and use it t’be a fine lady in a
palace.”

“You,” Malowan said evenly, “will give at least a few coins
to the thieves’ god Rudd for answering your prayer back in that lava tube! But
if you choose to stay with me, there will certainly be no palace in
your
future!”

Agya grumbled under her breath, sighed heavily, but finally
grinned up at him. “Knew it,” she said cheerfully. “Knew y’needed me! Well, I
s’pose th’ world needs someone like you t’keep things safe. My luck.”

“Your luck and my fate,” replied the paladin and tugged at
her hair.

It was an odd relationship, Lhors thought. In Upper Haven,
that kind of teasing between boy and girl or woman and man meant there’d be a
marriage soon. But Malowan wouldn’t make such a vow, and certainly not with a
girl less than half his age. Agya would likely be horrified if someone suggested
she wanted Mal that way.

Things seemed to be much more complicated than he’d thought
them when he was growing up in a small hill village. There his life had been
structured by the seasons, by the ways things had always been, patterns as
familiar as the shadow cast by a grain rick across the village square every
midsummer at midday, or the way squashes came ripe when the shadow of a certain
oak lay across the hill where the first vines were planted, even Gran and her
formidable memory for the past—and that had come down from wisewomen before her,
so that even the unexpected could be traced back to a larger pattern.

There hadn’t been a pattern that warned her against the
giants, Lhors thought. But even if there had been, there couldn’t have been one
that would have told her about the drow or saved them from Eclavdra’s years of
scheming.

He blinked and came back to the moment as Rowan smiled and
took one of Nemis’ hands between both of hers. “I will go—if only because you
do.”

Nemis tugged his hand free. “You owe me nothing,” he said
stiffly.

“Owe. That word has no meaning between you and me, mage,”
Rowan replied, as stiffly. She smiled. “You think yourself hardened by your
past, but I know better. We will talk of this later—in private.”

“If you like,” Nemis said, but he brought her hands up and
brushed them with his lips.

“Lhors?”

“Huh?” Lhors looked up to see Vlandar’s eyes on him.

“The king’s city, Lhors. You’ll come with us, of course?”

The question warmed him.
Of course.
Vlandar could
never replace his father, but he was a good man and kind, as well as a skilled
warrior. Lhors knew that Lharis would be pleased to see his son apprenticed to
such a warrior. Still…

Giants had destroyed Upper Haven. High Haven and New Market
were possibly gone as well. The king might not care so much for a few distant
villagers trying to recover from such loss, but Lhors did. More importantly, he
had his father’s hunting skills and he could plant, weed, shear sheep, help
birth calves…

He could keep the people—
his
people fed. Of course, if
the giants came again, he doubted he’d be able to lead them into battle. But
thanks to Vlandar and the others, he could find a way to fight with few against
many. He knew his duty. Still, it was hard to get the words out.

“Sir… Vlandar.” He swallowed hard. “I would like very much to see the
king’s city, but I know Gran must be worried. I should go home, at least to see
if she’s all right.”

Vlandar shook his head. “I knew you would say that. Your
father would be proud. But no, the Lord Mebree has already made certain the
Havens are safe. He has a small company of guards quartered in a new garrison
based in New Market, and there are more guards on the way—with one of my old
lieutenants who knows how to keep proper watch on country like yours. Your Gran
is there in New Market with the children you and she rescued. And she sends word
to you, Lhors.” The warrior paused to recollect the exact words. “‘We manage as
we always do… and will. Carry word for us, boy. Tell the king what you saw
and remember to remind him of the taxes—lose enough villages and you lose more
than a pair of coppers, you lose all.’”

“Pair of coppers…” Lhors echoed. He turned away, a lump
in his throat and his eyes damp. Gran, would it surprise you to know I have more
wealth than our village ever paid the king in taxes, just because Vlandar
thought I’d be a good rear guard? Well, he’d offer a few coins to his father’s
gods, but more to the New Market and Havens villages. Enough to be certain his
father had a proper burial, and that Gran and the two girls they’d saved
wouldn’t want for anything.

Beyond that—he didn’t know. Too many possibilities.

One word caught his ear, all at once.
Safe.
Gran was,
then. The girls were. That was good, he was sure of that.

But safe—it wasn’t what
he
wanted.
Lhors Giant
Killer…
the words echoed in his mind. Hearing that had felt good. It
eased the pain of his slain village, if only just a little.

Vlandar seemed to read his thoughts. “If we are to put a stop
to these raids, the king will need experienced men, especially those who have
fought giants.”

The boy I was, Lhors thought, maybe giants would have killed
him as easily as they had killed Father. He had survived that night more by luck
or the favor of the gods. Nothings sure, but just perhaps, knowing what I know
now, I could have saved him or Headman Yerik, who had his own store of
knowledge, or laughing Bregya, who’d taught him so much…. Once again, the
rage began to smolder within him. He held out both hands. “Sir… Vlandar, I’m
with you. To the end.”

The warrior smiled and gripped Lhors’ shoulders hard.

“I hoped you would.” He raised his voice. “We all go, and
that’s as it should be. All right, people! Let’s get cleaned up. Meet back here
just after sundown! And I warn you, if you think giants are a dire foe, you
haven’t met the king’s court yet!”

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proofing by Flandrel,
additional formatting and
proofing by Undead.