Troy Denning - The Giant Among Us

“One week.” Brianna shook her head in disgust. “The winter wasn’t that hard, Earl.”

“I’m sorry, my queen,” Cuthbert said. “But how was I to know? We didn’t have this kind of trouble when Camden was king.”

Brianna’s face turned crimson, but she made no reply.

Tavis turned a thoughtful eye on Cuthbert’s cringing face. Shortly after the giants had razed their third village, the earl had sent a frantic messenger begging the queen for a contingent of her best troops. She had complied immediately, yet now the man blamed her because his castle was about to be sieged. To the scout, such ingratitude spoke volumes about the fellow’s character. The earl would bear watching in the days to come.

“Perhaps you should try to escape tonight, Your Majesty,” suggested Cuthbert. “Before more giants arrive.”

“Are you that much of a coward?” Tavis snapped. “Would you turn your own queen out to fight three tribes of giants?”

The color drained from the earl’s face. He backed away from Tavis, as though he feared the firbolg would hurl him off his own keep. “That’s n-not what I m-meant,” he stammered. “But tonight’s your best chance to escape. By tomorrow, we’ll be s-surrounded.”

“We’re surrounded now,” Tavis growled.

“Almost certainly,” agreed Arlien. He pointed at the giants in Basil’s mirror. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be sitting there. I’d say Tavis’s grasp of the situation is absolute.”

“Then we should shut the gate,” suggested Avner.

“Don’t say such things, boy!” Tavis scolded. “Don’t even think them!”

“Why not?” the youth pressed. “The giants aren’t bothering the serfs. It’s Brianna they want.”

Brianna laid a gentle hand on Avner’s shoulder. “Your idea has merit, but if we lock the serfs out of the castle, the giants will turn Lake Cuthbert red with their blood.”

The queen looked across the dark waters, staring at the mountains in the distance. Their summits marked the southern boundary of Cuthbert Fief, and, save for a single narrow pass, their steep flanks formed an impassable wall of stone and ice.

“Our only hope lies outside the fief, I fear,” Brianna said, turning back to the others. “Tavis, you’ll have to sneak over the mountains and fetch the rest of my army.”

“But I’m your bodyguard!” the scout objected. “I can’t leave without you.”

“Well, you certainly can’t leave with me,” Brianna countered. “I’m not stealthy enough to sneak past all those giants. Besides, our only hope of saving Cuthbert Castle is speed, and you’ll move faster alone.”

“But if the giants storm the castle, you could be captured,” the scout objected. “I wouldn’t be here.”

He didn’t need to say why he needed to be present. They all knew what he was to do if the giants captured the queen.

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.” Brianna stared into the scout’s eyes with a look of utter trust “But you’ll be back long before that comes to pass-and if I’m wrong, I have every confidence that you’ll track me down and put your golden arrow to good use.”

Tavis shook his head. “My place is at your side.”

“Not right now.” Brianna looked up at Basil. “Why don’t you and the others see what’s on the other side of the keep?”

The verbeeg frowned in confusion. “I’m sure we’ll find nothing but more-”

Avner grabbed the hem of the runecaster’s cloak. “Come along, Basil. It won’t hurt to check.”

The youth pulled the verbeeg toward the far wall, with Cuthbert and Arlien following close behind.

Once the others were gone, Tavis said, “You know I can’t leave your side, Brianna.”

“Why not?” A mocking smile crossed the queen’s lips. “Are you afraid to leave me alone with Arlien?”

Tavis knew better than to deny the charge. Like all firbolgs, he found it all but impossible to lie. The strain of uttering false words would cause his voice to crack, he would break out in a cold sweat, and his guilty conscious would not let him sleep for a week.

“My reluctance is due to more than Arlien,” he said. His voice almost cracked. “If the giants capture you, tracking them down may not be as easy as you think. And I’ve never loosed an arrow against someone I love. My aim might not be true.”

Brianna took his hand and squeezed it. “Your aim would be dead-on-I know,” she said. “And you mustn’t worry about Arlien. I have no feelings for him.”

“Does that mean you won’t marry him?”

“What difference would that make?” Brianna asked. “It’s you I love.”

“It would make a difference to me.”

“Well, I’m certainly not making any wedding plans until I’m out of here.” Brianna gave him playful smile.

Tavis would not let her dodge his question. “But you would, if you thought marrying him was best for Hartsvale.”

Brianna’s smile vanished, but she did not look away. “If that’s what I thought, yes.” The queen’s voice grew stern, and she released his hand. “And Tavis, you must also do what I think is best for Hartsvale.”

The scout closed his eyes and nodded. “I know,” he said. “But it isn’t easy, my queen. I’m only a firbolg.”

Brianna held the lantern while Cuthbert fumbled with his tangled loop of keys. The queen and her plump earl stood before the iron-clad door to the keep’s lowest sub-basement, with the rest of their small party waiting behind them. The ceiling here was low, forcing the tall queen to stoop over the lamp. The fumes rising from its glass chimney were rancid and mordant, and she knew her hair would smell of burning lard when the time came to sleep. That was fine. As weary as she was, no odor in the land would keep her awake-her racing thoughts or sick heart, perhaps, but no mere odor.

“I hope this won’t take much longer, Earl.” Brianna glared down at Cuthbert’s stubby fingers, which continued to fumble through his rat’s nest of keys. “The idea is to catch the giants napping, and Tavis has a long swim ahead.”

Cuthbert finally found the right key. He slipped it into the lock, then gave Brianna a reassuring smile. “I promise you, the time is well spent,” he said. “Tavis will reach the shore in the Cold Hours, just as we planned.”

The earl turned the key and led the way through the low doorway. Brianna ducked under the lintel and followed, with Tavis, Avner, and Basil close behind. Arlien was sleeping in his room-at least he was supposed to be. The good prince did not seem to realize that wounded men needed rest, for he had stayed up well past midnight to help prepare the castle’s defenses. The queen certainly admired his stamina and devotion to duty, but his judgment was another matter. If he didn’t get some rest soon, even his enchanted armor would not save him.

As Brianna’s lamp cast its flickering light over the low room, Basil cried, “A library!”

The gloomy chamber seemed a jumbled contrast to Castle Hartwick’s Royal Archives, where Basil kept two thousand volumes neatly ordered by title and content. Here, the books sat on the floor in knee-high stacks, spilled from open trunks, or lay agape on rough-hewn tables. In spite of the disarray, the spines of the tomes were in good condition, no pages were dog-eared, and open volumes were never piled atop each other.

Earl Cuthbert stopped a few steps inside the room. “I must ask you to follow my steps exactly,” he said. “I don’t allow the servants down here, so things are a bit cluttered. It wouldn’t do to have you tripping over my books.”

“Not at all,” agreed Basil. “We wouldn’t want to break a spine or rip a page.”