Jack, the giant-killer (24 page)

Keep. Oh, yes. It was easy to be brave and make brave noises then. But with the Court gathered below her now… when she knew their strengths, their sheer
numbers
… The voice of her panic was starting up its GoJackyGoJackyGo chant inside her. Get out of here while you can. NowNowNow.

She frowned at herself. Well, she’d go all right. But not back up the tunnel. Not to safety. Not when Kate needed her help down there. Not when the Laird’s daughter was suffering so.

She gathered up the ragged bits of her courage and peeped over the boulders again, this time taking a good long look. She saw the giants—five of them sitting along one wall, with a sixth, that had to be the biggest living creature she’d ever seen, sprawled on a throne roughly-carved from the face of the rock behind him. That one had to be Gyre the Elder.

Fearful of being spotted, but determined to spy out what she could, she studied the huge hall, looking for some trace of Kate or the other Seelie Faerie that had come to Calabogie with them, looking for Lorana, looking for… She saw the Horn then, hanging from the wall behind Gyre the Elder at a height that only a giant could reach. Even in the uncertain lighting she could make out the red dotting on it.

Rowans had red berries, she remembered, so that must be what Bhruic had meant about it being marked by the berries of her name. Except he’d also said it would be hidden. So what did it mean that it was just hanging there on the wall? Either Bhruic had his information wrong—and where would he have gotten it from anyway? she wondered with renewed

suspicion—or there was a trick of some sort going on here.

She wished Kerevan was with her—that he’d stayed to help. He seemed up on all the faerie tricks, if you believed half of what he said. But if he was a trickster, well, he’d called her one too.
From one puck to
another
, he’d said.

I need a trick of my own, she thought. I need to clear this place of the Host so that I can get my hands on the Horn. But she had nothing on her—and there was nothing in the tunnel that she could use. She studied the huge chamber once more, marking how, though it had been naturally formed, it bore the signs of toolwork as well. The throne, the stone benches along its walls, perhaps this very airhole, had been carved from what had originally been merely a naturally-formed cavern. Then she saw something she hadn’t noticed before.

She’d been so busy looking down that she never thought to look about at her own height. There was a cleft running in the stone, at about the height of the top of the tunnel. Under it was a small ridge about five inches wide. She could just reach the cleft from the mouth of the tunnel—she was sure of it. That could take her around above and behind the giant’s throne to where the Horn was—though how she’d hook it up into her hands from the precarious perch she’d be in, she didn’t know. But the ridge also went to another opening about two thirds of the way around the hall. This one looked larger than the one she was hidden in. Perhaps it led down to the main floor. Or to wherever they kept their prisoners.

Jacky bit at her lip as she studied the cleft and the ridge below it. In some places the distance between the two would be a real stretch. She’d be in plain sight of anyone who chanced to look up. And it wasn’t exactly going to be a stroll in the park either. If she fell… But it was that, or give up and go back the way she’d come.

GoBack! her panic told her. GoBackNowGoBack!

She shook her head. Below her, the giants’

argument was getting ugly. There were thundering roars of “SPIKE YOU!” and “STEW YOU,

ARSEBREATH!” and the Court itself was jabbering away, louder than ever. Arguing. Taking sides. It was now or never, Jacky told herself.

She climbed over the boulders and reached for the cleft. The rock was firm at least—not crumbly as she’d feared. Taking a deep breath, she swung herself out, one foot still at the mouth of the tunnel, the other scrabbling for purchase on the ridge. There wasn’t much room on it. But it would do. It would have to do. Closing her mind to the babble of fear that came bubbling up inside her, she swung completely out. Then refusing to look down for all that she was sure that every eye was on her, she began to inch her way along the ridge, making for the other opening she’d spied across the hall.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

« ^ »

The wooden beam that Kate was cutting free was the bottom horizontal one. When it fell, and if they could roll it away, they’d be able to squeeze out through the space that was left. And after that… She closed her mind to what came after that. What she had to concentrate on at the moment was what she was doing now. She had already cut through half the ropes holding the beam in place, working her way slowly from right to left. The great wooden beam was beginning to sag.

“Just a few more,” Arkan said. He was crouched beside her, eyes agleam. “And then we’ll spike some bogans.”

Kate shook her head. Half the time Arkan seemed ready to crawl into a hole and the other half he was ready to take on the world. He was certainly no slouch when it came to a fight—she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d handled himself at the ambush—but she had to wonder at the seesaw aspect of his character.

“Here it goes,” she said as her little penknife cut through the last bit of the rope she was working on. She moved away as the beam tilted, trembled, then its unbalanced weight dropped it to the stone floor with a loud thunk. In their cell, the five prisoners held their breath. When no one came, Kate quickly began to saw through the last couple of ropes so that they could roll the log away from the front of their cell. Thankfully, the floor sloped downward, away from them.

When she got to the last rope, the other four joined her at the front of the cell. As soon as the rope gave away, Arkan and Eilian kicked the beam. It hit the ground with a louder thunk and began to roll away from them.

“Let’s go!” Kate cried.

She grabbed Moddy Gill and pushed her towards the opening, squeezing through after her. Arkan, Eilian and Finn were quick to follow. The beam rolled down.the corridor, setting up a huge racket now. The sound, echoing from the walls and ceiling, rebounded, growing in volume. Bogans appeared down the hall, scrambling for cover as they saw the huge log rolling towards them. One wasn’t quick enough and his shriek as the beam crushed him pierced their ears. On their feet now, the five of them ran after the beam.

“Where do they keep Lorana?” Eilian asked Moddy Gill, running at her side.

A bogan jumped out at them and Kate stabbed him with her little knife. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for the bogan’s reaction. It was though she’d run him through with a sword. He howled, tearing himself free, almost tugging the penknife from her hands. But then, instead of attacking her again, he merely clutched at his stomach and fell to the floor, moaning.

“She won’t be in her cell just yet,” Moddy Gill said.

“They’ll be bringing her in about now.”

“Bringing her in from where?”

“Oh, they hang her out on the cliffs by day—curing her, you know?”

Eilian blanched. They reached Kate where she stood over the bogan. Collecting himself, Eilian tugged at Kate’s arm.

“Well done,” he said. “Now let’s keep moving.”

But they were too late. The corridor in front of them was suddenly filled with swarming creatures. Before anyone else could react, Kate ran forward, brandishing her little Swiss penknife, feeling like a fool. But the creatures directly threatened by its steel blade, tiny though it was, fell back in frantic haste to get away from it. Unfortunately, not all of the Host was so affected by iron. There were bogans and other creatures who had become as much acclimatized to it as the Seelie faerie.

These pushed forward and when Kate stabbed at one of them, he smashed the penknife from her grip with a curse and then used the flat of his big hand to club her to the ground. Gullywudes and spriggans, and a bogan or two, leapt away from where the penknife skittered across the stone floor, throwing up sparks. Then the whole crowd rushed forward to attack. In moments they were subdued once more and

hauled back to face Gyre the Elder. Their captors were none to gentle in their treatment of the prisoners. They were bruised and battered, with Kate almost too dizzy to stand on her own, as they were brought before the giant. His ugly face snarled down at them, a special hatred in his eyes when he saw his own daughter with her pig’s head on her shoulders standing there with them.

“WHERE’S YOUR JACK?” Gyre the Elder

demanded of them. “TELL ME, AND MAYBE I

WON’T MAKE YOU SUFFER LIKE SOME.”

As he said that, the prisoners caught their first glimpse of the Laird of Kinrowan’s daughter. She was being brought back from the cliff and taken to her cell for the night. Two bogans supported her, dragging her roughly between them by her wings. Her head lolled against her chest.

“GIVE ME YOUR JACK AND YOU’LL BE

SPARED THIS.”

Kate could hardly focus her vision. All she saw hanging between the two bogans was a fuzzy shape. But Eilian cried out in anguish, while Finn hid his eyes. Arkan stared, then looked away. Any hope he’d had was burned away at the sight of Lorana’s torment.

“THE JACK, YOU TURD-SUCKING BUGS!”

Gyre the Elder roared. “GIVE HER TO ME!”

Kate tried to face him, but everything just kept spinning around her. The blow on her head had almost made her forget where she was. This was just a nightmare and it didn’t make sense that anything could have a face as big as this thunder-voiced monster did. She tried to speak, but the words stumbled in her throat and wouldn’t come out.

“I’LL PULL YOUR LIMBS OFF, ONE BY ONE,”

the giant swore, “UNTIL ONE OF YOU TELLS ME. I’LL POP YOUR HEADS! I’LL CHEW YOU TO

PIECES!” He reached for Kate.

When Jacky reached the larger opening, she

collapsed in it and lay weakly there, unable to move. She had cramps in her fingers and cramps in her calves and her neck muscles were so knotted from tension that she didn’t think they’d ever loosen up again. It was long minutes later before she could even roll over and peer down once again.

She was very close to Gyre the Elder and his throne now. The floor of the cavern was a good forty foot drop from her hiding place, but the head of the giant on his throne was no more than ten feet or so down, and about five over. The Horn, hanging there from its thong on the wall, was another fifteen feet over. I’ll never reach it, she thought. And she had no tricks.

She slumped back against the wall of this new tunnel, too tired to be curious about where it went. She tried to massage her neck, but it didn’t help. She noticed her gift from Bhruic then and pulled the brooch free from her jacket, turning it over in her hands. A tiny silver rowan staff, crossed by a sprig of berries. Why couldn’t it have been magic? A special kind of magic something or other that would even work in a place fouled by the Unseelie Court. But that, of course, would make everything too easy, and things were never easy. Jacky had discovered that a long time ago.

She heard a rumbling sound, above the cacophony of the crowd below her. It sounded like something rolling down a stone corridor. She looked out across the cavern as a quiet fell across the giants and their Court. Now what was that? And could she use it to some advantage? She was ready for any sort of help. At this point she’d even welcome Bill Murray and his Ghostbusters. At least they’d make her laugh and she needed a laugh right about now. It was that, or cry from frustration.

But then she saw what the disturbance had been caused by as a number of prisoners were dragged in front of Gyre the Elder’s throne. Her heart gave a surprised little jump at the sight of Eilian, but that died quickly.

Oh, Kate, she thought. I never meant to get you into this. Why couldn’t you just have stayed home?

She listened to Gyre the Elder rant, saw the bruises on Kate’s face, saw the pitiable figure of the Laird of Kinrowan’s daughter dragged into the cavern as well, saw that Eilian and the others were all going to die. When Gyre the Elder reached for Kate, something just snapped in Jacky.

She scrambled to her feet. Backing up a few paces, she ran forward and launched herself at the broad, ugly head of Gyre the Elder. The GoJackyGoJackyGo chant was roaring in her ears again, but this time it was fed by adrenaline, not panic. She landed with a jarring thump against the monster’s skull and started to slide down the side of his head, gripping at his greasy hair with one hand to stop her descent while she stabbed at him with the heavy pin of her brooch.

“You want a Jack?” she screamed in his ears as she slid by it to his shoulder. “I’ll give you a Jack!”

Gyre the Elder turned his face around and down towards her and she stabbed him in the eye. He roared and started to stand. One meaty hand flew to his wounded eye. Jacky tumbled from his shoulder. Her hand closed on the thong of the pendant the giant wore around his neck, but it snapped under her weight and she fell with it to his lap. But before she could regain her balance and get away, he was standing and she tumbled from his lap right into the crowd of bogans holding Kate and the others captive.

Gyre the Elder swung his head back, roaring from the pain in his eye, and cracked his head against the stone wall behind him. Stunned, he rose and staggered to one side, away from his throne. One huge leg kicked out, scattering bogans and the like in all directions. His younger brother rushed to help him, but he was too late. Gyre the Elder dropped like a felled oak, arms pinwheeling uselessly for balance.

When he landed, the cavern floor shook and

rumbled. Directly above his head was the entrance of the airhole through which Jacky had entered. The largest of the boulders there tottered, then dropped from the ledge to crack the giant’s head wide open. Blood fountained from the wound. His huge limbs kicked and jumped like a fish floundering in the bottom of a fisherman’s boat. And then he lay still. While all gazes were locked on the dying giant, Jacky rose to her feet only to stare at the Horn that hung uselessly out of reach. Any moment now, she knew, the creatures of the Host were going to come to their senses and grab her. Could she get to the Horn in time? Could she throw something at it and hope to knock the Horn down and catch it before it shattered on the stone floor? Right. Why not ask if a bogan could sit down and have a cup of tea with Kate’s Auntie?