The Giant Among Us (18 page)

Hartkiller went last to the eyrie of the storm giants, and they offered him crowns of silver and gold and diamond. Their paramount called him King of Giants, and said all giants would bow down before him if he turned his back on the humans. But Hartkiller would have none of that, for Annam had made him to be a good and loyal king, and now his subjects were men.

So the paramount and the king fought. Their fury boomed over the valley like thunder, spears flashed across the sky like black lightning, and the land shuddered beneath the might of their blows. For a hundred days they battled, never eating nor drinking nor sleeping. The ceaseless clanging of their weapons deafened all who heard it, until the Clearwhirl ran red with the blood of their wounds and their cries filled the air like the keening of spirits. Then did they drop their shields and sink to their knees, and they each struck one last blow before falling dead in each other’s embrace.

And Hartkiller’s son Brun went to the storm giants with all his father’s warriors. He said that henceforth humans would live in the valleys and giants would live in the mountains, and they would all abide in peace. But the storm giants had no fear of Brun, and they told him the humans would live as slaves, or live not at all.

Brun returned to his people and commanded them to prepare for a terrible war, and the storm giants summoned the hill giants from the mountains. They summoned the fire giants from the caves, and together they readied their hosts to march against the humans.

But then it was that a mighty keening rose from a hidden vale. So loud was the wailing that the clouds shattered and fell from the sky, and so terrible was it that all the beasts of the north-all the foxes and all the bears, and the wyverns and all the dragons, too-all turned more pale than snow. A cold mist as purple as twilight seeped from the valley, and the armies of the giants fell to coughing and trembling, and every warrior heard in his own ears the hissing voice of a great spirit, and the Twilight Spirit spoke thus:

“Annam gave you a king, a king destined to bring all giants together and remake the lost empire of your fathers. But you would not have Hartkiller for your king. You laughed at him and you set a crown of cinders upon his head, and you sent him into the arms of the humans. In this, you have defied the will of the All Father, and it is fitting that Hartkiller has driven you from your valley and stolen all your lands.”

“But your punishment need not be eternal. There is destined to come a woman of Hartkiller’s line who rules your stolen lands. She is your hope, for Annam’s blood is strong and it will run thick in her veins. She will bear you a new king, one with the power to undo what you have done and revive the empire of Ostoria. Be patient. Let the humans live in peace, for only through them can you lift the veil of twilight that shrouds the lost glory of your ancestors.”

Basil lifted his finger, and the glowing symbols faded. It had taken him only one reading to realize that Brianna was the woman-or should he say, giantess-to which the text referred, and he had certainly discovered nothing to contradict that conclusion. The runecaster found it difficult to believe they would risk her life by storming the castle. They could not be certain the queen would survive the chaos of battle, or that she would not take her own life when the fight went against her.

That meant the hill giants’ assault could be only a diversion. They intended to get Brianna out of the castle some other way, while everyone was too busy fighting to notice her disappearance. To do that, they would need help inside the castle, and Basil could guess who that would be.

The verbeeg went to a corner and traced the name Gilthwit in the dust. Below that he rearranged the same eight letters to write the name TWILIGHT. Prince Arlien of TWILIGHT. Basil did not know whether Arlien was one of the actual “faithless ones” who had poisoned Othea so long ago or simply an agent, but he felt sure that the prince had come from the Twilight Vale.

Would eight letters be enough to convince Brianna of Arlien’s identity? Basil did not think so. The prince could claim the anagram was a matter of coincidence, and the queen might well give him the benefit of the doubt. The runecaster would need more evidence to establish that Gilthwit and Twilight were one.

Fortunately, Basil knew where to search. Stone giants were scrupulous historians, and the volume preceding the one on his floor was sure to reveal the identity of those who had poisoned Othea. If the runecaster could find some link between the prince’s name and the “faithless ones” imprisoned in the Twilight Vale, the link would be irrefutable.

Basil grabbed his satchel and removed a runequill, then crawled to the door and laid his large frame down in front of the latch. The verbeeg propped an elbow on the floor and touched his quill to the lock. A glowing green mark appeared beneath the tip, and he began to trace the delicate rune that would open the door.

*****

Brianna’s legs had gone numb from the calves down, and a cold ache had crept from the chilly floor deep into her knee joints. The queen had no idea how long she had been there, kneeling on the cool floor of Cuthbert’s temple, but it had been quite some time. She had placed a burning spear on the altar, and it had long ago burned itself out. All that remained now were warm cinders and the soot-covered head, and still she had discovered no sign of Hiatea. Her mind was too foggy to find the way to her goddess.

But at least the mist was beginning to thin. A couple of times now, Brianna had held a thought for several moments, carefully navigating it from one hazy point to the next. Encouraged by this small progress, she intended to keep kneeling on the cold stone until she found Hiatea.

The temple door creaked open, and a sliver of flickering torchlight crept over the altar. The queen did not rise, or even look over her shoulder.

“Leave me alone,” she commanded. “I left orders that I am not to be disturbed.”

“But it’s getting late,” replied Arlien’s voice. “You’ve been in here all afternoon, and most of the evening as well.”

The prince started across the room, heels clicking and steel plate jangling. Brianna found it strange that he was still wearing his armor. Earlier in the day, she had noticed that both his wound and his breastplate now seemed completely mended. Still, she knew appearances could be deceiving. Arlien or his armor might well need another day to return to full strength.

The prince stopped at Brianna’s side. She kept her eyes focused on the spear and tried to ignore his presence.

“You should be sitting on the bench, Milady,” Arlien said. “Kneeling on this cold floor will do your health no good.”

Realizing it would take more than a subtle hint to rid herself of the prince, Brianna asked, “Do you not prefer that your subjects humble themselves when they come before you?”

“Of course,” Arlien replied. “But-“

“Then how do you think Hiatea will receive my entreaties if I make them from the comfort of a bench?”

“A stone slab is hardly comfortable,” Arlien countered. “And I’m sure Hiatea would understand if you made use of it. After all, you’re hardly well.”

“I’m beginning to feel better,” Brianna replied.

Arlien was silent for a moment, then stepped between her and the altar. In his hands he held a flagon and pewter mug. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “And I’m sure that after you drink your restorative, you’ll feel marvelous.”

“You may set it on the bench,” Brianna said, gesturing behind her. “I’ll have it later.”

The prince began to pour his concoction into the mug, and a warm, fruity smell pervaded the room. Brianna tasted the spicy libation on the tip of her tongue, her mouth already watering in anticipation of the sweet nectar. A wave of fierce craving rose from deep within her body, not simple thirst, or even gluttony, but a hunger as feral as lust, every bit as powerful and insidious.

“Not now, Arlien.” Brianna could not take her eyes off the golden drought flowing into her cup. “I’m trying to pray.”

The prince’s eyes flashed, and he continued to pour. “It’s been too long since you drank-and there’s not a drop of wine in it, just as you asked.” The prince’s voice was as sweet as the libation flowing from his flagon, almost cloying. “And your prayers will go much better once you have restored yourself.”

Brianna straightened her stiff legs and lurched to her feet, then took both the mug and the flagon from the prince’s hands. “I said later.” She put them on the bench and pointed toward the temple door. “Now will you leave me?”

Arlien’s lip started to curl, but he managed to keep it from twisting into a full snarl. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” he said. “There’s something we must discuss.”

“After I’m finished.”

“When will that be? Tomorrow, dawn? Noon, perhaps? Or when the giants drag you out of here screaming?” Arlien demanded. “By then, it’ll be too late. Duty calls now, Your Highness.”

Brianna sighed, then walked over to the window and peered into the dusk light. The temple was high enough in the keep for her to see the purple mountains looming in the distance, but the castle walls mercifully shielded both the lake and the giants from her sight.

“Very well, but I hope this isn’t another argument between you and Cuthbert,” she said.

“Not a disagreement,” he replied. “Rather a precaution.”

“And what would that be?”

“Cuthbert is frightened,” the prince said. “When he sees the giants coming, he may try to strike a bargain-“

“We have discussed this before,” Brianna said, still staring out the window. “And I have taken the safeguards I consider appropriate.”

“But your own bodyguard said-“

“I am aware of what he said, but I won’t give a foreign prince command of Cuthbert’s castle,” Brianna replied. She noticed Selwyn walking along the rampart of the inner curtain, stopping to speak with his sentries and check their weapons. “But I could turn the castle’s defense over to Selwyn, and relieve you both of your responsibilities.”

“You are feeling better,” Arlien commented. He did not sound enthusiastic. “But I’m afraid that Cuthbert is only part of what I came to discuss.”

The prince came and stood behind Brianna. She did not turn around. “Go on.”

Arlien grunted his irritation. “The truth is, you should leave-tonight. I’ll take you out by the secret passage.”

Brianna braced her hands on the windowsill. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you must survive,” he said. “You owe it to Hartsvale, and this castle can’t hold-no matter who’s in command.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Brianna whirled around. “Why do you think I’m here praying to Hiatea?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” Arlien replied calmly. “As I recall, she’s a deity of the giants-the goddess of nature and family, I believe. Hiatea certainly isn’t going to help us.”

Brianna felt a wave of cold nausea rising from her stomach. The queen looked past the prince to the temple’s altar, where the cinders of her offering to the goddess lay cold and ignored.

“Hiatea is my goddess, too.” Brianna spoke with more conviction than she felt. “And she also watches over firbolgs and giant-kin as well.”

“But she is the daughter of Annam,” countered Arlien.

“That makes her a goddess of giants first, all others second.”

“Daughters do not always honor their father’s wishes,” Brianna said. “Hiatea watched over me when Goboka and his ogres kidnapped me.”

“But she’s not helping you now, is she?” demanded Arlien. “Now she favors the giants.”

“You know this?” Brianna demanded. “And so we are destined to loose?”

Arlien stepped closer. “Yes,” he said. “It would take a god’s intervention to save us now. Even if your bodyguard got through-“

“He did. Ta-Tav-” Brianna could almost bring the name to mind. ‘Tav-“

Arlien raised one brow. “Tavis?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the queen answered, and the name vanished as quickly as she heard it. “My bodyguard is the finest scout in Hartsvale-in all the Ice Spires. If anyone can get through, he will.”

“My point exactly,” replied Arlien. “We don’t know if anyone can get through. And even if he does, he won’t return in time. The giants will attack when the wind shifts tomorrow.”

“If the wind shifts tomorrow.”

“Stop fooling yourself!” the prince snapped. “Hiatea has been watching over you on behalf of the giants. Why else do you think she favored such a young girl?”

The queen narrowed her eyes. “How do you know when the goddess came to me?”

Hiatea had granted her favor to the princess of Hartsvale at the age of five-but only Brianna, her father, and Castle Hartwick’s high priest knew that.

Arlien seemed lost, then he looked at the floor and admitted, “My spy told me.”

“The High Priest!” Brianna gasped, more shocked than angered. “Simon was like an uncle to me!”

Arlien grimaced. “You mustn’t go too hard on him,” he said. “He was doing only what was best for both countries.”

“I’m certain that’s what you told him, but I’m not so foolish,” she said sharply. “And now you may leave.”

The prince furrowed his dark brow. “Surely you don’t intend to stay,” he said. “You must see-“

“What I see is a coward.” She glared down at Arlien.

The prince’s jaw pumped up and down in stunned silence, then finally caught hold of his thoughts. “I’ll forgive that unfortunate choice of words. You didn’t realize what you were saying. You’re still weak and confused from your illness.” Arlien went over to the bench and picked up the mug, then returned and handed it to Brianna. “Drink your restorative. I’m sure you’ll come to your senses.”

“I’m feeling fine-much better, in fact, than I have in days,” Brianna replied. She clamped her jaw down against the temptation to drink, then turned and dumped the libation out the window. “And I have no intention of marrying a coward, or of allying Hartsvale with a country that sends one to court me. So, dear prince, it seems you’re under no obligation to stay and fight. Feel free to leave any time you wish.”

Arlien’s face grew as dark as a thunderhead. “You may have misunderstood me, Queen Brianna,” he hissed. “When the fighting starts, no one will be closer to your side than me.”