Troy Denning - The Titan of Twilight

The wind stopped as suddenly as it had started. A pearly white cloud separated from the gray mass above and slowly descended, still pounding the field with a torrent of graupel. The dark forest appeared through the storm, its skyline jagged and irregular with broken trees. The village lay off to the left, the leeward sides of the demolished manor and several huts now stripped of snow. Hundreds of birds large and small were streaming over the ruins into the field, filling the air with a cacophony of screeches and squawks and blood-chilling shrieks. The storm giants would arrive soon; according to the legends, the birds were their harbingers.

From behind Brianna came the muffled crunch of compacting snow. She felt the powdery stuff settling around her hips, then suddenly found herself standing in Lanaxis’s hand. As he lifted her into the air, the queen had to grab his thumb to keep from sliding off his slick palm. The titan twisted his wrist around so that she found herself staring up his sloping nose into his single good eye.

“Insolent child!” The words flew from his cavernous mouth on a dank, warm wind. “You would risk my nephew’s life in a thunder-snow?”

The pearly white cloud descending from above settled over their heads, filling the air with a cold fog so thick Brianna could barely see her captor’s face. The birds arrived in the same instant, their screeching silhouettes streaking through the thick mist like black ghosts. There were many different species-eagles, owls, warblers, even a condor-all cackling or hooting or chirping in melancholy voices.

Brianna watched the display for a moment, then remembered herself and tore her gaze away. She glanced over the edge of Lanaxis’s hand and slid toward the brink as though she intended to jump.

The titan’s fingers tightened around her legs. “I cannot believe you would be so stupid.”

A cold knot formed in Brianna’s stomach, and she wondered if she had overplayed her ploy. “Better to die for freedom than live in captivity.”

“Kaedlaw is free!” The titan’s bellow would have blasted Brianna from his palm had she not been holding his thumb. “He is emperor of Ostoria. No one can be more free.”

“If that were so, you would let us go,” Brianna said. “Let me raise him in his own home.” “So the filthy giant-kin can slay him?” The white cloud was lifting, and Brianna could see the titan’s desiccated lips curled in derision. “Or do you think your puny citadel can stand against their hordes until he reaches manhood?”

“Why not?” she demanded. “So far, we have held your giants at bay easily enough.”

Lanaxis shook his head. “The gods have decreed Twilight his new home. They have chosen me to raise him, to mold him into a wise and powerful emperor.”

“They gave him to me first,” Brianna countered. “I am his mother, or have you forgotten?”

“You?” Lanaxis’s breath had turned as sharp and caustic as brimstone. “You are no more to him than a nursemaid. Once he is weaned, he will be done with you.”

A searing anger swelled inside Brianna. She suddenly felt her dagger hilt in her hand and saw no reason to restrain herself.

If Lanaxis felt the blade slash his thumb, he showed no sign. He merely turned toward the queen’s tower, where six pale figures stood waiting, barely visible through the thinning fog. They were large even by the standards of giants-taller than her battered tower-but they seemed mere children compared to the immense titan. Brianna judged that even the biggest would rise no higher than her captor’s chest, and it would have taken all of their number to match his bulk.

As Lanaxis neared the tower, Brianna’s view of the giants improved. All were clean-shaven, with unkempt, blue-black hair cascading over their shoulders. They had solemn, handsomely chiseled faces with gloomy silver eyes, and wan violet skin so pale it was nearly gray. Their simple tunics were belted at their waists, clean but rumpled. Each warrior wore a king’s ransom in silver jewelry, all of it black with tarnish.

The birds were swarming the giants, circling their heads or roosting on their shoulders, sometimes perching on their belts or the pommels of their huge two-handed swords. Save for the constant flutter of wings, the entire flock had fallen as silent as a snowfall. Their eyes were fixed on Brianna and her captor, giving the queen the uneasy feeling that while there was a bird overhead, she would never be out of a storm giant’s sight.

When the titan reached the tower, the six newcomers knelt in the snow and bowed their heads. The air smelled musty and old, and Brianna’s joints began to throb with a cold, damp ache.

“You have called, aged uncle, and we six have answered,” said one giant. He did not look up, and his voice sounded as dismal and languid as a dying man’s. “How may we serve?”

Lanaxis regarded the giants with a cold eye. “You may start by standing, Anastes,” the titan rumbled. “I have summoned you here to amend the wrong committed by your ancient paramount.”

The storm giants turned the color of snow and looked up with uncomprehending eyes. The birds left their shoulders, filling the air with a melancholy din of chirping and trilling. Peals of the thunder rumbled down from the sky, and the graupel sounded like a drum chorus as it hammered the exposed planks of the tower’s third-story floor.

“Stand I say!” Lanaxis ordered. “I did not call you here to brood.”

The giants obeyed, but the wind picked up, and the graupel fell harder than ever.

“Forgive our feelings, ancient uncle. Your news comes as a great shock-as much as we welcome it.” Anastes’s voice sounded anything but happy. “At a time like this, it is difficult for us to control our emotions.”

“Vilmos had no trouble.” Lanaxis cast an impatient glance skyward, then lowered his hand to display Brianna. “Beneath her cloak, this queen carries the new emperor of Ostoria. You will guard her while I sleep-and if you allow anything to become of him-or her-I shall give you reason to storm for centuries.”

Lanaxis stooped down and thrust Brianna into the second-story foyer. When she retreated through the door, she found the room filled with flitting birds. From the chimney flue came a faint scratching sound, which she at first attributed to the birds, but quickly realized was more likely Avner scratching at the mortar in the fireplace below.

Brianna went to a corner and chased a bevy of siskins off the floor, then sat down and opened her cloak to check on Kaedlaw. His face remained round and ugly, but his skin was pink, and the sparkle had returned to his brown eyes. He raised one of his chubby hands toward the queen’s breast. She lifted him to suckle. Nothing came out, and he growled.

Brianna cringed at his gravelly voice, then switched him to the other side. “You’re a hungry one, aren’t you?”

From across the chamber came Anastes’s melancholy voice. “A baby giant does need plenty of milk.”

Brianna’s heart jumped into her throat. The noises in the chimney suddenly sounded dangerously loud, and she had to struggle to keep her gaze from straying toward the fireplace. She looked instead toward the shattered arrow loop, where Anastes’s sad eyes were staring into the room. It seemed unlikely he would hear the faint scratching of Avner’s knife, especially over the hissing wind and the fluttering birds. Still, the queen did not know how keen the giant’s ears were, or what he might learn from his pets within the chamber.

Brianna pulled up her cloak to shield Kaedlaw and her partially exposed breast. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m nursing.”

“I’m truly sorry for the intrusion.” Anastes made no move to look away. “And if you’ll forgive me for expressing my concerns, I must say a tiny thing like you will never keep a baby giant fed.”