Against the Giants

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  Lhors caught a glimpse of two of the little lizardlike creatures—kobolds, he remembered—who were facing an enormous fireplace in the west wall, stacking greasy bowls and platters on a table. Someone else in the room was screaming at them, but Lhors didn’t take the time to investigate.

  Vlandar drew them farther up the hall and whispered, “They didn’t see us. One of their elders was cursing them for interrupting his sleep, and they were arguing with him. Let’s go.”

  Just then, a bald hill giant came out of the kitchen, yawning and stretching. His eye lit on the party, and he ducked back the way he’d come, yelling a warning. Khlened and Malowan ran after him, the rest following. Vlandar tapped Lhors on the shoulder as they ran. “Stay with me. Rowan, you and Maera keep an eye on the way we just came!”

  The smells in the kitchen were dreadful. Three spits hung empty over a fading fire in the back wall. The two kobolds stared at the bald giant fearfully as he snagged one of the spits and brandished it like a sword. They backed against the near wall, obviously afraid that the giant was about to strike them. Then they saw the armed humans and fled, scurrying past the giant and around the corner. The giant ignored them. With a grin that bared rotting teeth, he bellowed in Giantish. Half a dozen tall, gangly brutes poured into the chamber from the north, bearing kitchen knives and a few long pikes for weapons.

  “Ogres,” Vlandar told Lhors. “They’re stupid but dangerous, and they eat people. Stay close!”

  Rowan came up beside them, arrow drawn. “Mal, stay back!”

  The paladin nodded to indicate he’d heard, but there was no time. The ogres were upon them. Malowan slashed at the first that came near him, then ran past the brute, leaving him for someone else to finish.

  Lhors launched one of his spears at the lead ogre. It quivered in the creature’s gut for an instant before Maera’s own spear brought him down. Rowan killed two more while Khlened fought another.

  The ogres must be stupid, Lhors thought. They seemed to have no plan other than to rush in and kill. When the last one fell with Vlandar’s spear in its belly, Khlened brought his sword down two-handed across the back of its neck. Malowan threw himself at the giant, who stood dumbfounded that the party had dealt with the slaves so quickly.

  The fat giant never had a chance, even with his longer reach. Malowan gave him first thrust, leaped aside, and then swung his blade with both hands. It sliced through the creatures pants, cutting deeply into his leg just below the knee. Malowan came back around, this time stabbing deeply into the side of the brutes leg and severing at least one tendon. The giant went down heavily on his side, the spit clattering free. Before the giant could react, Malowan drove his blade deep into the brute’s eye, killing him.

  In the momentary silence, Rowan hissed a warning. “Someone coming!”

  A leather and sheep-skin-clad giant came wandering into sight from the south passage, yawning cavernously. He blinked, enormous hands kneading the small of his back as he turned toward the kitchen.

  Vlandar gestured urgently for his people to retreat past the fireplace, but it was too late. The monster blinked at the dead ogres, bristling with spears and long-shafted arrows, then at the fallen giant. He looked uncomprehendingly straight at Lhors, then his eyes flashed and he drew a single-edged axe.

  “Deke n’thull?” he demanded. It sounded to Lhors more like spitting than words.

  Malowan stepped forward, blades at the ready, and countered, “Emrischgu’vrugnikh, zhegna!”

  Lhors stared as the two slowly paced toward each other. “What did they say?” he asked Vlandar, but Vlandar was already moving to Malowan’s side and gesturing for Khlened to get behind the creature.

  Agya growled. “Means, ‘Your fate, dead and damned one!’”

  The youth gave her a look of disbelief.

  She shrugged. “’Tis the only Giantish I know, and that ’cause I asked what he’d say if he went against any of ’em.” She sighed heavily. “Get ’imself killed, saying bits like that.”

  Nemis stood nearby, speaking to himself, and the doorway briefly glowed a faint blue. “Good,” the mage said. “There won’t be anyone else to hear this. Maybe.”

  The giant threw himself at Vlandar. Malowan stabbed at the back of the creature’s knee, but the blade hit something—armor, Lhors assumed—and the paladin nearly fell. Agya took a step forward then stopped.

  “Get ’im killed, girl, you go to help,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Malowan recovered his balance and tried again, lower this time, and Vlandar slashed up at the same time. Both blows connected, spraying blood over the combatants. The giant abandoned his axe and pulled a dagger nearly the size of the paladin’s sword. Malowan parried as Khlened got behind the massive brute and cut low. The armor didn’t reach his ankles. The barbarian’s sword cut deep through the tendon, the giant went down. Giving him no chance to recover, Vlandar stabbed him through the throat.

  Lhors grabbed Agya’s arm and hauled her back nearly to the entry as blood sprayed everywhere, coating the stack of platters and hissing into the fire. Malowan, who’d managed to avoid the arc of blood by some fast footwork, leaned against the fireplace stones, gasping for air. Agya pulled free and ran to Malowan.

  “Not hurt, are you?” she demanded.

  He shook his head, too winded to speak.

  She glared up at him. “Lucky you’re not dead,” she snapped, turning on her heel, and stalking back over to Lhors.

  “All right,” Vlandar announced quietly. “Mal, catch your breath. Rowan, can you see anyone else out there? What happened to those young ones who spied us? Khlened, you and Maera go where those kobolds went and the ogres came from. See what’s there.”

  “Quietly,” Maera warned the barbarian.

  “Huh,” he growled as he wiped his sword and hands on the dead giant’s sheepskin vest. “Like we were just now?”

  “I’ve blocked the sound,” Nemis said impatiently.

  Khlened cast up his eyes but followed Maera. The two were back in a matter of moments.

  “There’s a bigger room—empty now—and an alcove, two doors. One smells like it might be a pantry. The other doesn’t close tight. It comes out on that hallway. No one’s in sight, including those kobolds.”

  “If they went for help—” Khlened began.

  “They’d be back by now,” Malowan said flatly. He still sounded short of breath and was shaking his hands out.

  “Can we go before more come?” Agya asked.

  Vlandar got everyone into the large room north of the kitchen. It was empty except for a cold fireplace and a large table. He and Khlened shifted the one door, and Vlandar went in. He returned at once. “As I thought. There is a pantry, but the second set of stairs is just beyond the cabbages.”

  The other door was ajar enough for Rowan or Maera to slip through, but Vlandar looked at Nemis, then Malowan.

  “It’s dark out there and quiet for the moment. According to the map that Mal found, we aren’t far from the back way out. We’ll need to go through the barracks to reach it, though. That means more wolves.”

  “We can manage wolves,” Rowan said steadily, “but not a company of ogres or hobgoblins.”

  “We have the map and the scroll Mal found,” Vlandar said. “We should go now before the guards in the entry decide to come looking for us.”

  “I will not leave,” Khlened said flatly. “We have found little treasure, and this is a giants’ holding. There must be something to make the journey thus far worthwhile.”

  “You,” Vlandar said, “will follow orders. I will not remind you again who is captain, Khlened. You would not last long in this place alone!”

  The barbarian glared at him. After a moment, he nodded. “Sorry, sir,” he said, though he didn’t sound it. “Forgot myself. I swore an oath to you, I won’t shame my kind by breaking it.”

  “Fair enough,” Vlandar said. “Let us go.”

  He and Malowan dragged at the door, making enough room for the larg
er of them to get through, but he was back at once. He and the paladin leaned into the heavy slab of wood, forcing it shut. “Those wretched youths have one of the doors to the great hall wide and they are still arguing about where we went. They’ll see us if we move out, but they’ll likely discover the mess in the kitchen any moment.”

  Nemis took the warrior’s place against the door, a sleek stone in his hand. “Market charm,” he murmured. “I haven’t many more reveal spells memorized. This should work almost as well, though. There’s something else—a party of creatures, I think—coming this way from the south. They’re moving fast.”

  Malowan spoke under his breath, and his eyes went wide. “Norkers—a pack of them. I fear the search is on, Vlandar.”

  “We cannot battle a hoard of norkers,” Rowan said.

  “Aye,” Malowan agreed. “We leave—now or never.”

  Vlandar backed away from the hall door and grabbed hold of the other. “Down,” he ordered.

  “No, not yet,” Malowan said. “Only if they come looking for us here. Get that door partway open now. Nemis, be ready with that beneath notice spell of yours. We can wait here, let them think we went on up the hall seeking a way out. Once they’ve passed, we’ll have a chance at the entry.”

  “Better than cutting ourselves off,” Khlened agreed softly.

  “Shhh,” Maera hissed, then went silent herself as they heard someone shouting nearby. The voices of several giants came from the hallway, and they were growing louder. They were speaking a heavily accented Common as they approached, but Lhors could pick out a few words here and there.

  “Quick!” Vlandar hissed. “In the pantry!”

  Everyone edged into the smelly pantry, and Vlandar eased the door shut, leaving it open just enough to see out. Lhors, standing just behind Vlandar, could see over the warrior’s shoulder.

  Several heavy-footed brutes stormed into the large room. All of them were armed and looked determined to shed blood. The giants looked around, but none seemed to see anything.

  Lhors clamped his jaw tight and refused to breathe.

  “Door to the hall is open!” the lead giant bellowed. “You, you, you”—he pointed as he spoke—“go after! Check pens and warn keeper to guard door! You”—he motioned to the last giant—“come with me!”

  “They’re searching the room,” Vlandar hissed. “Nemis, quick! Use your beneath notice spell.”

  Lhors heard the mage whisper a brief incantation. With all of the noise they were making, surely they hadn’t heard Vlandar. Please, Lhors prayed, please don’t let them have heard him! Everyone in the party was tired. Even fresh, there was no way they could defeat so many giants. Trapped in the pantry as they were, they would have the advantage of surprise for only an instant before the slaughter would begin.

  Three of the giants ambled off as their chief shook the door latch. “Locked. Guard killers not be this way. You and you, go into slave pens and look for outsiders hiding! You and you, go search sword rooms! Rest come with me!”

  The giants stormed out. Soon, the sound of their footsteps faded.

  “It worked,” Vlandar sighed. “They overlooked the pantry. Praise all the gods at once.”

  “What next?” Malowan asked. “I can’t tolerate this stench much longer.”

  “The large room is empty,” Nemis offered.

  “Move out, then,” Vlandar said. “Rowan, you lead. Nemis stay close to her. Into the hall and start for the entry. Most of that party went the other way, so we should be safe for the moment. The door through the barracks is barred against us. It’s the main way or none.”

  They made it safely past the doors, but partway into the south passage, Rowan backed against the wall, dragging Nemis over with her.

  “Guards coming!” Rowan hissed.

  Vlandar pulled Lhors close. He touched Malowan’s arm then and drew a hand across his throat.

  The paladin nodded and tightened his grip on his sword.

  The party made it back into the hall before the guards could see them. Everyone fanned out around the door, which the paladin shut, leaving just enough of a crack to see through.

  The hallway was broad enough for the two giants to come on side by side—barely. One of them was grumbling under his breath, and Lhors caught the word “orders” but nothing else. The two stopped where they were, effectively blocking the passage.

  “Blast Ukruz and his orders!” the first giant snarled loudly.

  The other mumbled something in response. He sounded more bored than upset.

  “You saw ’em out there, Jinag! Old Furks and his brutes and stupid little Hookin. Ask me, Hookin was drunk and said the wrong words to Furks. Furks hated ’im anyway.”

  “Furks hated everyone but his wolves,” Jinag said. “Ukruz’ll skin us or feed us them nasty norkers if we don’t get back to—” He turned to look down the passage. “What’s that?”

  The other giant peered into the gloom of the passage behind them. Rowan eased down onto one knee and drew her bowstring back, but before she could fire, the two went back the way they’d come and disappeared down the hallway to the right.

  “They won’t stay there long,” Nemis said. “I made a voice spell down there, but it’s only good for a few words.”

  “We don’t dare alert the guards searching for us,” Malowan said, “and there are norkers in the entry.”

  “Not anymore, there aren’t,” Rowan hissed. “Look!”

  Lhors couldn’t make out much in the gloom, but he could clearly make out the sound of scuffling feet and the occasional clink of armor.

  Vlandar gripped Lhors’ shoulder and pushed him toward the pantry. “Back, everyone! Back into the pantry! Quickly! We’ll let them pass and try for the entry again.”

  “If they pass,” Maera muttered, but she was on her way, stopping just short of the kitchen to be certain it was empty before easing out of sight.

  Lhors followed, but as he reached the kitchen he glanced over his shoulder, caught his boot on a raised stone and nearly went headlong. Malowan hauled him up, but Agya glared at him.

  “Pick up y’r feet, y’ oaf,” she hissed.

  The youth bit back a retort and followed her into the next room, his thoughts furious. Agya was still mumbling to herself until both Malowan and Maera gestured sharply for her to be still. The little thief glared at Lhors, as if the reprimand was his fault. He glared back defiantly. He thought, my father would never have put me on a quest with such an arrogant, full of herself, spoiled rotten, lousy little flat-chested wretch of a thief!

  It wasn’t necessarily all true, but the outburst—even in his own head—made him feel a little better.

  Malowan had the pantry door open as everyone filed in, pulled it shut behind them, then laid his hands against the easternmost wall. After several long, unnerving moments, he nodded. “They’ve passed,” he murmured softly, “small, foul creatures and at least two giants or ogre guards. They went through a door, I think. My sense of them diminished all at once, and I am certain I just heard a door shut.”

  “What about th’ others?” Khlened asked softly.

  Nemis touched a finger to the barbarian’s lips. “They’re near. Shhh.”

  Silence. Lhors could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart.

  “Do you sense something?” Vlandar asked the mage quietly.

  Nemis replied, “I cannot be certain it was the same two guards we just saw, but someone came from down south and went toward the feast hall.”

  “Well then,” Vlandar said, “the feast hall seems to be becoming too popular for our purpose. We’ll head down the hall and into the armory. They’ve searched that, and it’s open at both ends, if I read the map right.”

  “Let’s be at it then,” Malowan said as he pulled the door toward him. He stepped out first, sword at the ready, but the room was deathly quiet.

  “Fast and quiet, lad,” Vlandar said as Lhors edged through the opening. “We’ll get out safe.”

  The youth mer
ely nodded. He wasn’t certain he could trust his voice, and he really disliked that musty little chamber with the steps leading down into utter darkness.

  The kitchen was deserted except for the bodies. Lhors wondered why no one had removed them, then realized they hadn’t been dead that long—and the only ones who knew about the bodies were the guards who were busy searching for the killers. He swallowed.

  It was quiet across the way as well. The doors into the feast hall were closed. Vlandar nodded then drew Lhors into the hall. They stayed hard against the right-hand wall as the others came out, and Vlandar began to edge south away from the light.

  Lhors fought a sudden urge to run. Vlandar would keep him safe, he reminded himself, if Vlandar wasn’t killed. Most of the creatures in this place were at least half again the warrior’s height, and the smaller ones—those norkers—must make up for lack of size in fierceness.

  Nemis edged past them. “No one down there,” he whispered.

  Vlandar nodded.

  Suddenly Rowan, who brought up the rear, hissed a warning. The latch on the feast hall door moved, and the door slammed open. Two obviously drunken giants staggered into the corridor and fetched up hard against the opposite wall. One swung a massive fist at the other. The blow connected, but only slightly. The second giant fell back a pace and grabbed for his blade. The first drew himself up straight with a sottish arrogance and slapped the second open-handed, sending him reeling to the floor. The brute shook his head to clear it and fought his way onto hands and knees. Halfway up, he flailed for balance, sat hard, and his massive, red-rimmed eyes glared straight at Lhors.

  Lhors froze.

  The giant froze for an instant as comprehension slowly dawned in his eyes, then he bellowed a warning in Giantish. His companion turned, drawing a long-bladed dagger from his belt. The other staggered to his feet and reeled back across the hall as he fumbled for his weapon. He hauled a club from his belt, but the heavy weapon cost him his balance and he fell again. The dagger-wielding brute snarled at him, then squared his shoulders and lurched at Lhors, blade raised to skewer him.