Troy Denning: The Giant Among Us

“Avner? You’re alive?” The runecaster’s voice was muffled by a heavy door. “Or-or did I finally die?”

“Relax,” Avner replied, following the words through the musty darkness. “We’re both alive.”

“Oh, good!” Basil’s voice was growing increasingly squeaky. “By the light, that’s good!”

Near the center of the room, Avner reached an oaken door fastened by a simple crossbar. As soon as he lifted the beam off its hooks, the door flew open and knocked him across the chamber. A thump resounded through the darkness as some part of Basil’s large body flopped out of the cell.

“Get me out of here!” The runecaster’s chains chinked sharply as he jerked them taut. “Get me out now!”

“Those chains are mortared into the tower foundation. Even a verbeeg can’t pull them loose.” Avner reached for his lockpicks. “Just calm down, and I’ll get you loose.”

“Calm down?” the verbeeg shrieked, still rattling his chains. “I’ve been stuffed in that hole at least a month! What took you so long?”

“It can’t have been a month,” Avner said, growing more concerned. He had expected the verbeeg’s nerves to be worn, but Basil seemed as though he had lost his reason. “I’ve been gone only four days.”

“Liar!” Basil yelled. “Don’t try that-”

“Basil, you’re no good to me like this,” Avner said evenly.

“Good to you?” the verbeeg yelled. “I’m the one who’s been locked up in the dark-”

“We don’t have time for this,” Avner warned. “If you don’t pull yourself together and shut up, I swear I’m going to leave you down here.”

Basil fell instantly silent.

Avner heard the verbeeg take several deep breaths.

“Avner?”

“Yes?”

“I’m feeling much better now,” he said. “You don’t have to leave me down here.”

“That’s good, Basil.” Avner stepped to the verbeeg’s side and located his manacled wrists. “Now hold still. Picking locks in the dark is difficult enough.”

The verbeeg remained as still as stone.

“Basil, we’ve got a big problem.” Avner spoke as he worked. “Tavis is hurt, and Brianna’s lost her healing powers. I think it has something to do with Prince Arlien.”

“Of course it does,” Basil answered.

“Then you know what’s happening?” The wrist manacles came open, and Avner worked his way down to the verbeeg’s ankles. “Can you do something about it?”

“If you can get me my runebrush and a chalice,” the verbeeg replied. “Reversing the love spell is easy enough. But getting rid of Arlien-that’s going to be a challenge.”

Avner found the runecaster’s shackles and set to work opening them. “It is?” he asked. “How come?”

“Because he’s the ettin.”

“An ettin?” Avner gasped. For a moment, he couldn’t understand how this was possible. Then he remembered how effective Basil’s runemask had been in transforming Tavis into a stone giant. “In disguise?”

“His enchanted armor,” Basil confirmed. “That’s why he never takes it off.”

Avner popped the lock open. “We can still get rid of him if you really can cure Brianna,” the youth said. “After she’s back to normal, all she has to do is heal Tavis. I’ll bet he’s killed plenty of ettins.”

Basil grabbed Avner by the shoulder. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “Arlien isn’t just any ettin.”

“What are you talking about?”

“His name-rather, their names-were in the last folio I took from Cuthbert’s library: Arno and Julien. Together, Arlien.”

“So what?”

“That book tells of Twilight’s creation-thousands of years ago,” Basil said. “Arno and Julien are mentioned in it. They aren’t an ettin, they’re the ettin-the first one.”

Sweet wintergreen.

Tavis smelled wintergreen. It was a familiar fragrance, and one he could not imagine sensing in the depths of an avalanche. He would not be able to smell anything, except perhaps his own singed body, and then only until he suffocated. So he could not imagine why his nose was full of that most pleasant of all odors.

“Brianna?” He barely croaked her name, and the effort sent stinging waves of pain through his charred face. “Brianna?”

And there was a pounding, not in his head, but somewhere outside. Rocks crashing against rocks. And men yelling, twanging ballista skeins, banging catapults.

“Where… am… I?” Tavis opened his eyes. Lances of bright light shot through his head. His face felt cracked and leathery, his throat so parched that he could have emptied a horse trough. But still he smelled the wintergreen. The queen’s perfume. “Brianna?”

“Merciful Hiatea!” A blurry face surrounded by a golden halo appeared over Tavis’s head. Someone sat on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” Tavis groaned. “How’d I get here? Avner?”

The queen nodded.

“Then he must be all right.” Tavis pushed himself into a seated position, then nearly blacked out from the throbbing in his head.

The rumble of collapsing stonework echoed through the window. Brianna cast a nervous glance toward the sound.

“What’s happening?” Tavis asked.

“The giants are attacking,” the queen said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I assume you didn’t get through to Earl Wendel.”

“I sent a message,” Tavis answered. His vision was beginning to clear. There were two purple blotches where the queen’s eyes were supposed to be, and he could see the scintillating blue lights of a necklace hanging around her throat Ice diamonds. Avner had told him they were enchanted. “The army isn’t here?”

“You were supposed to bring it,” Brianna scolded.

“The giants ambushed me in Shepherd’s Nightmare. They had a spy in the castle,” Tavis explained. “It seemed more urgent to warn you about the traitor.”

Brianna raised her brow. “A spy,” she said. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s Prince Arlien,” the scout reported. “Has he returned? I injured him, but I don’t know if I stopped him.”

“Arlien?” Brianna gasped. Her voice sounded at once bewildered and frightened. “How can… you can’t be sure!”

“I saw him speaking with the frost giant chieftain,” Tavis replied. “Now you must tell me-has he returned to the castle?”

Brianna looked away, and in a distant voice she said, “You must… be mistaken.”

Tavis squinted at her, trying to clear his vision. He could not see well enough to judge her expression, but he guessed her eyes would seem vacant or glassy. Her voice certainly sounded unsure and stilted, almost as though the words were spilling from her mouth on their own.

“I’m not mistaken.” The scout waved his hand over his singed body. “Arlien’s the one who did this to me.”

Brianna rose. “You… why are you lying?”

“Listen to yourself, Brianna.” Although he had to speak loudly to make himself heard over the battle din outside, Tavis kept his voice calm and reasonable. “I’m a firbolg-you’d hear it if I were lying.”

The queen backed away, trembling and staring at the floor, shaking her head and mumbling to herself.

“It’s Arlien. His magic is confusing you.” The scout motioned for her to come over to him. “I can help you.”

“N-No. I need no… I don’t need your help.” Brianna turned toward the door. “I have to go.”

“To where? Arlien?”

As he spoke, Tavis swung his legs around and stood. He took three steps, then he realized he was trying to run on mushy lumps of flesh. He glanced down and saw black, swollen masses of toes and insteps where his feet should have been. Two searing waves of agony shot up his legs.