Against the Giants

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

Vlandar grabbed Lhors and pulled him back against the wall. “Take them down! Quick!”

  The mage was already working. He fell back next to Vlandar and said, “Quiet—it’s my last, though!”

  Rowan fired an arrow at the dagger-wielder, but it skipped off his scalp, leaving only a slight gash. She swore and tried again. The second went into his shoulder, but not deeply enough. The brute snarled a curse, then yanked it loose and threw it aside. Blood ran down his face, but he ignored it.

  Maera and Malowan dealt with the other brute, who managed a drunken swing at the paladin. His own momentum threw him off-balance, and Maera drove her spear into his ear. He yanked his head around, bellowing in pain, and the ranger was thrown hard against the wall. Malowan came up behind him and thrust his sword into the brutes eye, killing him instantly.

  Khlened and Vlandar were trying to finish off the other giant. Vlandar got behind him finally and slashed at the exposed backs of the monster’s knees. The giant fell, screaming.

  Lhors yelped as both doors to the feast hall were thrust open. Two of the young giants and a very aged one stood there—none armed or armored, though they looked deadly enough to him. They could break me in half, he thought.

  “Back, Lhors!” Vlandar yelled. “Ready your spears! Khlened, finish him! Rest of you, behind me and down the hall, now!”

  But Rowan ignored him and ran to help her dazed sister to her feet. Khlened fell back, his sword ripped out of his hands, as the giant rolled away with the barbarians blade still planted firmly in his leg.

  “Damn all!” the barbarian snarled. He scooped up the club and swung it two-handed, bringing it down on the drunks head. The giant collapsed.

  “Leave the blade!” Vlandar ordered. “We’ve company, you fool!”

  Khlened spun around just as the old male drew back, urgently tugging at the giant-youths.

  “They’re afraid!” the barbarian laughed harshly.

  But as he made another grab for his sword, someone beyond the feast hall roared out an order. Four heavily armed giants came charging across the chamber, clubs out. The floor shook with their advance. Lhors could hear another voice—female and very angry, shouting in Giantish at someone inside the chamber.

  “Hells!” Nemis said flatly. “That’s Nosnra himself I put to sleep, and she’s waking him!”

  “Back!” Vlandar ordered. “The south passage is narrow enough they’ll have to come at us one at a time. Move!”

  Vlandar, Malowan and Khlened covered their backs as the company sprinted for the passageway. Maera turned just before leaving the room and launched a spear. It sailed into the foremost giant, impaling him just below the sternum. Roaring in pain and fury, the giant fell.

  The paladin shook his head as he entered the hallway with his sword raised. “Too many, Vlandar,” he said.

  Rowan edged past him to draw her bow. One of her arrows buried itself to the fletchings in a giant’s throat, and he fell, bleeding heavily. The younger giants looked down at him, at each other, then turned and ran.

  “Nemis,” Vlandar ordered, “do what you can! We can’t fight them all!”

  “Kenesthris!” the mage shouted and waved his hands in a complex gesture. As he spoke, one of the doors swung around on its own and slammed shut. “I can’t control both, and even that may not hold long!”

  Before any of the guards could attack, someone inside the chamber shouted an order and shoved his way into the hall. He was enormous, taller than his guards by a head, and hugely fat. His eyes were bleary, but if he was drunk he didn’t move like it. The brute ducked back into the chamber and shouted another order. One of the club-wielders came out, followed by two more. The fourth was apparently beating on the other door to get it open.

  Rowan shot several arrows in quick order. One of the giants fell, a shaft through his mouth and another in his eye. Another two sidestepped him and came on, clubs upraised.

  Nemis sent a crackling fireball at them. The lead giant could not evade in time and took it head-on. He began screaming and beating his clothes as the deadly flames engulfed him. His own comrades cut him down, probably not so much out of mercy as to get him out of the way. The other giants hesitated at such resistance and backed into the feast hall, brushing sparks from their clothing.

  “Back!” Vlandar shouted and pointed his blade toward the kitchen.

  Nemis turned and ran, stopping just inside to ready another spell. Agya and Lhors went next, followed by Rowan, who was still supporting Maera. The warriors came next, and Vlandar grabbed Nemis’ arm as the mage began another spell.

  “Save it!” he ordered. “There’s no time.”

  “They’ll know which way we went!” Khlened shouted. He swore as a flaming arrow zipped past him. The arrow quivered in the door frame as the giant moved out of sight, but Lhors could hear him in there, shouting orders. The female was screaming something, but he could make no sense of it.

  “Move, all of you!” Vlandar ordered. “The whole Steading’ll be roused against us before much longer. Rowan, grab that torch on the hearth and light it!”

  “Down?” Nemis asked as he backed away.

  “No choice,” the warrior replied steadily, but Lhors didn’t think he looked very happy about it.

  Vlandar picked Maera up and ran with her. Rowan scooped up the torch, plunged it into the fire until it caught, then followed. Everyone else filed in behind her. Malowan brought up the rear, backing around the corner just as loud voices reached them and the bespelled door slammed back into the wall.

  “That cost me a good blade,” Khlened mumbled as he leaned into the pantry door to shut it.

  “Better than your life,” Rowan snapped breathlessly.

  “Silence, all of you!” Vlandar hissed. “Nemis, what can you do with stone?”

  “Enough, I think,” the mage said. He was peering down the stairs. “There is no one anywhere nearby down there, but if there is a way out, I cannot sense it from here.”

  “We’ll find one,” Vlandar said grimly. “We’ve no choice now. Go! All of you! Down! We’ll follow.”

  Maera, finally beginning to shake off her daze, edged past them. “My eyes are better in dark, and I don’t trust anyone but me or Rowan with our only light. I’ll go first.”

  She went down a long, straight flight. Lhors went next, with the barbarian right behind him. Some distance down, the youth thought he saw light ahead beside Maera’s flickering torch, and when they reached the last step, he could clearly see the ranger and the chamber beyond. Two torches were shoved in niches on the far wall—but it wasn’t far enough for Lhors. It looked like a short corridor, but it was closed off at both ends, and there were no doors or openings of any kind that he could see.

  Maera turned in place, staring thoughtfully at the walls while her sister laid her ear against one. “It’s not a trap,” she assured Lhors.

  “How can y’tell?” Khlened asked. He looked very pale in the ruddy light.

  Agya came up behind him, sling in one hand and a stone for it in the other, then set herself to watch the stairs, only relaxing when Malowan came down. Nemis came last, some moments behind Vlandar.

  “It’s still quiet up there,” he said, “but I would move as far from the stairs as you can.”

  “Aye,” Khlened said. “The giants’ll know we’ve come here by now. Won’t be much for ’em to take us, will it?”

  “This is not a trap,” Maera repeated, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. She tugged at Lhors’ sleeve and brought him back from the door that led to the stairs. “The giants have no reason to build a stair down to a dead end. The doors are hidden, but they are here.”

  “The giants will not come down those stairs immediately,” Nemis said, “not after the fight we just gave them. They will take time to regroup and better prepare themselves. But in a moment, those stairs will collapse. I set a device partway down that is dissolving the bonds between the stones.”

  Khlened caught his breath sharply as the little chamber rumb
led and shook. Shards of stone and a puff of dust sifted down from the chamber.

  “I suggest we move away,” Nemis said with forced calm.

  The party quickly shuffled into the rear of the chamber as fast as they could. They had gathered in a tight huddle when the entire staircase fell with an ear-shattering rumble. Everyone spent several moments coughing and sneezing away the dust and grit.

  “There,” the mage said after a while. He looked pleased. “The way is blocked from bottom to top, and Mal used a spell to seal the upper door. It’s as good as any locking spell I have, but I had learned none for today.”

  “Just as well,” Malowan said. “We had more need of your protective spells.”

  “Look,” Maera said. “See? The dust is going. There’s a hole or two in this place.”

  “Holes,” Khlened whispered. The barbarian was sweating, his eyes fixed on the blocked entry. “What if there’s no bigger opening?”

  “There is,” Nemis said firmly, “and I will find it, but I would like a few minutes to rest and catch my breath first.”

  “Huh,” Agya snorted. “If there’s a door from this place, I’ll find it right now.”

  “No,” Malowan said. “Nemis is right. Sit and catch your breath. He and I need to be certain there’s no great danger for us out there.”

  The mage smiled tiredly. “Danger? What? In the dungeons of the Steading?” His lips moved briefly, soundlessly. “There are creatures near, but not very near. They are not coming any closer. We’ll do here, for the moment.”

  “We’d been better above,” Khlened said, possibly to himself.

  Malowan shook his head. “Four giants and a hobgoblin guarding the way out, and at least four giant guards with clubs and their chief in the feast hall. We managed by luck and skill to injure or kill some, but that luck would not have lasted.”

  “It would not,” Nemis said, his eyes closed. “Nosnra was bellowing orders for one of them to loose his cave bear.”

  “Bear?” Agya whispered, her eyes suddenly huge.

  “It cannot come this way,” Malowan reminded her. “Besides all of that, Nosnra’s lady was bellowing for aid. We could never have held out against a dozen or more giants.”

  The barbarian grunted.

  “So, that was Yk’nea?” Rowan asked. “I thought it might be, the way she was shouting orders—especially at the last. Did you hear her? She sounded genuinely afraid.”

  “She was,” Nemis said. “She was shouting at Nosnra—something about ‘they do not accept failure’ or some such.”

  Malowan moved away from the wall where he had been listening. “Nemis, there is more than one stair to the dungeon level, you know.”

  “I know, but there is nothing to be done for it now. We seem to have thrown off pursuit for the time being. I think we are safe for a while at least.”

  “Safe?” Khlened inquired dryly. “How can we be safe when y’ just cut off our only way out?”

  “It was not our only exit,” Nemis replied, “but it will cut off our pursuers for now. Returning to the fortress is no longer an option with the whole place roused against us. We must find another way.”

  Khlened growled something that Lhors couldn’t make out and stomped away.

  “We must take a short while to rest,” Vlandar said, “then move on. We’ll set watches two at a time so no one falls asleep. Nemis, would you rather have another watch than the first?”

  Nemis shrugged. “I’m no more tired than you or anyone else. I’ll take first with Agya. She wants to find doors, and I would like to test what I can of the space around this chamber.”

  Vlandar nodded and moved into the far corner, pulled his hood low over his eyes, and stretched out on the stone floor. Khlened was already down, eyes closed, and as Lhors looked for a place that might somehow be more comfortable, he saw the rangers settle with their backs against the wall and lean into each other to rest sitting up. Rowan’s strung bow lay by her leg, two arrows set close to the string where she could readily lay hands on them. Maera had two spears leaning against the wall near her shoulder.

  Lhors feared that despite what they knew from the scrolls, the giants had other ways to the lower levels. He didn’t want to think about such a thing. He’d be too afraid to sleep, and he desperately needed to rest. He pulled two boar spears from his case and settled down against the wall partway between Vlandar and Rowan. The warrior seemed to be asleep.

  As Lhors settled his small pack under his head and lay down, he caught Rowan looking at him. The ranger glanced at his spears, smiled at him, and nodded approvingly. She then closed her eyes. Lhors sighed very faintly and closed his own.

  Lhors woke some time later, too warm and disoriented from a deep but inadequate sleep. After his share of the watch, he sought his corner again. It was utterly quiet all around them, leaving him to wonder if there was anyone alive on this level except his party. Don’t think that or you won’t sleep, he ordered himself. Oddly, no one seemed to be trying to dig down through the rubble of the broken stairway.

  Lhors soon fell into a doze, vaguely aware of the others and the hard stone beneath his hip. He woke some time later to find Nemis prowling the little chamber, now and again mumbling under his breath or leaning against the wall and listening intently. He held open the large book that Lhors already knew was the mage’s tome of spells. Memorizing spells, Lhors realized. Vlandar had said both mage and paladin needed to learn anew each spell they might want to use each time. Malowan sat nearby, helping Vlandar out of his armor.

  “I do apologize if this hurts,” the paladin said as the warrior hissed in pain, “but the healing touch works faster if I can lay my hands on the wound itself.”

  The warrior grunted. “Just not so quickly, Mal! A man of my years gets mightily stiff after sleeping on hard stone. Ah, better.” He met Lhors’ eyes and smiled.

  “I didn’t know you were hurt up there, sir,” the youth said, and his heart sank.

  Malowan glanced at him. “It’s not so bad, a bit worse than a scratch. Most paladins can heal scratches, and I can heal far worse.”

  Vlandar winced as he raised his arm to look down at his ribs. The skin was very pale except for a massive bruise running from armpit to his hip. “This’ll teach me to be faster on my feet,” he said, forcing a pained smile. “No blood running down my side. Must not hurt me, as my old father used to say.”

  Lhors managed a smile in reply, but he didn’t feel much better. Vlandar is a good man, a friend, a little like Father. Suddenly, Lhors couldn’t bear to think that Vlandar might die here. He looked up to see the warrior’s steady gaze on him. The man often seemed to sense what the village youth was thinking.

  “Fortunately, I’m fast enough on my feet and reasonably skilled with my blades.”

  “And smart enough to back off when the opposition is unbeatable,” Malowan added. He laid his hands lightly on the warrior’s side. Vlandar set his jaw, but a moment later, the warrior smiled and flexed his shoulder.

  Lhors stared in amazement. Where there had been an ugly blue-black bruise, there was now no sign of injury except for a very old scar, much like one of his father’s.

  “And smart enough to bring a paladin with me in case I do get hurt,” Vlandar added and drew his thick blue jerkin down over his head.

  “Khlened,” Malowan said as he rose, “I swear you were cut up there.”

  “Nothing so bad,” the barbarian grumbled.

  Lhors could see a little dried blood on the man’s hand. He was stripping off the few bits of wicker armor he wore on his forearms and tossing them aside. “All the coin I paid that yellow-eyed southerner for this fancy stuff, man’d think it’d take a blow or two.”

  “Your southerner probably never planned on fighting giants,” Malowan said. He got up and resettled next to the barbarian. “I am surprised it worked as well as it did. Here, sit still a moment. Let me.”

  Eyes apprehensive, Khlened edged away as the paladin held out his hands.

 
“You needn’t strip off your shirt for me, man. Or for Rowan and Maera.”

  To Lhors’ surprise, the northerner blushed a furious red.

  “Just tell me where you’re hurt and I can manage.”

  “Two places,” Khlened mumbled, eyes fixed on his hands. His color was still high. “One on th’ left shoulder under all that broken wicker. It’s more a bruise than a cut, I think, but it stings bad. I think a small bone in my right forearm is broke. Something grinds in there when I move it.”

  “Don’t move it then,” the paladin replied, exasperated, “and hold still!”

  He laid hands on the barbarian’s shoulder, and the man flinched away from him with a hiss of pain.

  “Don’t dig into m’ flesh like that, then,” Khlened snarled, but he set his jaw and closed his eyes.

  Malowan ran two fingers lightly over the soft leather under-armor.

  “Bruise and possibly a cut, is it?” he inquired sarcastically.

  “No bruise?” Khlened gritted between his teeth.

  Malowan snorted. “Oh, no. Try one the size of my palm and a cut as long as my fingers! You’re lucky to be alive, friend. Another knuckle’s worth down and you’d have bled to death in moments.” Light suddenly puddled around the paladin’s fingertips. “Lucky for you, I’ve the strength for this now. Another time I might be out cold with my own injuries.”

  Khlened caught his breath, then let it out in a relieved sigh. Malowan now cupped his hands around the forearm, not quite touching it. “Before you ask, the bone is broken but not all the way through. You punched someone up there with your fist or that sword, didn’t you?”

  “P’raps. I don’t remember.” Khlened flexed his fingers cautiously as the paladin sat back.

  “Easiest way for a fighter to break a bone like this is to slam his arm or leg too hard into something even harder. Next time you might have to heal on your own!”

  “As I have from childhood, paladin,” the barbarian replied. “And men from my country don’t pull back from battle for fear o’ bruisin’ themselves.” He glanced at Nemis, who was again prowling the room. “We’ve been here too long. Th’ giants could be sneaking—”