Massive feet clomped down the wooden steps. The others seemed well hidden. Lhors could see none of them except for Nemis, whose lips moved silently-casting a spell perhaps. A keg near the tower hall briefly glowed adull red as the wizard’s magic set in. Some sort of revealing spell, perhaps?Lhors wondered. The mage moved the other way, clambered over a long bench along the west wall, and dropped out of sight.
Lhors’ attention was drawn away from the passage as he sawmovement in the center of the room. Someone stepped out from behind a stack of kegs. Lhors could scarcely believe his eyes. Before anyone could catch him, Plowys had thrown himself back into the open and begun brushing frantically at his hair. Bugs from the cloak, Lhors thought. They must have a nasty sting.
Vlandar leaped back into sight, grabbed the would-be hero’sarm, and began to try to haul him past the cloak rack. It wasn’t much shelter,and Vlandar was checking to make sure the corridor beyond was empty when Plowys caught his breath.
Light from a torch down the passage shone full on his face. Vlandar clutched at Plowys’ arm to pull him back but missed. The youth ranforward, drawing his sword as the door creaked open and a hill giant stepped into the room. The gigantic wretch was as tall and dirty looking as those who’dattacked Upper Haven, but he was obviously very drunk. The stench of foul ale and cheap wine overpowered even the smell of the chamber. His eyes were bloodshot and teary, and he held his spear in a wobbly, loose grip.
The giant stared at the youth, visibly puzzled as to how the young man had come to be here. Plowys stiffened in shock at the sight of the creature. The giant was more than twice his height and obviously more of a foe than the youth had ever faced. The point of Plowys’ sword wobbled, and he tooka hesitant step back.
The tower guard took two quick steps forward and with one swift motion, skewered Plowys on the end of his spear. Plowys’ sword rattled tothe floor as blood and bile gushed from his mouth and nose. Lhors leaned back against the wall and bit his lip, praying he wouldn’t be sick.
Just then, Nemis spoke-another spell, perhaps. Lhors forcedhimself to move, hands tight around his javelins. Vlandar came up next to him, swords at the ready, but the young giant stared at them blankly. The spear fell from his hands, and Plowys collapsed lifeless to the floor.
“Leave him be,” Nemis said very quietly. “I put a spell offorgetfulness on the guard. He will come out of this shortly, fetch that cask, and go back the way he came. We will avenge our companion at a more opportune time.”
True to the mage’s word, the ensorcelled guard lumbered overto the wine cask, his spear and the corpse completely forgotten. He hefted the barrel, wobbled uncertainly, then proceeded back up the stair.
Malowan came into the open and gazed down at Plowys, his face expressionless. “Thank the gods it was swift and that he didn’t bleed much.” Heglanced at Vlandar. “We cannot leave him here.”
Vlandar was tight-lipped and pale. Grief and rage played across his features. “No,” he rasped. “We’ll go, all of us. We can take the bodyback to the camp and bury him. Khlened, you and the rangers go now to make certain there’s no one outside. We’ll gather Plowys and follow.”
“We’re leaving?” the barbarian asked. “Because of-”
“I don’t want us splitting up, and we can’t leave him here tobe found. We’ll try again tomorrow. Do as I say, Khlened. Now.”
Khlened mumbled under his breath, but he turned and helped the rangers drag the door open. After a brief glance out into the fog, he followed Rowan out.
Malowan gathered up Plowys and gestured for Agya to go. Once the girl was out the door, Vlandar grabbed the spear and pulled. There was a sickening scrape as the haft ran against bone, and another gush of blood splattered onto the floor.
Lhors winced and clamped his jaw shut. I will not be sick! he thought.
Plowys’ dead face, his eyes wide and staring, gazed up atthe ceiling. It had obviously been a painful death, but a quick one. He had not suffered long.
“Gods,” Vlandar gasped. “Curse the young idiot for hisfoolishness! I should have been watching him more closely.”
Malowan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, “Youdid what you could. It’s too late to assign blame to anyone. What’s done isdone.”
Vlandar nodded. His jaw tightened as he turned away from the corpse. He leaned the guard’s spear in the corner and mopped up the worst of theblood with a cloak. After bundling the sodden fabric, the three of them hefted the corpse and left the chamber.
It was nearly light by the time they’d placed the last rockson the grave-a deep, narrow cut in one of the shallower caverns. Vlandar gazedat the down at the rubble. “Fool of a boy. His mother will tear her heart out.She deserved better.”
“She had what she created,” Malowan said quietly. “A pity,all the same. If we return to the king’s city, I’ll give her a tale to make herproud of the boy. It’s the least I can do for my dislike of him.”
Shortly thereafter, the others went back to the cave, but Lhors and Vlandar stayed behind.
“I should feel something,” Lhors said finally. “Even if hewasn’t very nice, he was alive and now he’s dead.”
“It was sudden,” Vlandar said quietly. “Sometimes a mandoesn’t feel much when it happens like that.” He sighed. “I feel angry with theyouth and angry with myself for not having a better grip on him.”
“My father told me that when things like that happen, youcan’t change it, so there’s no point to being angry or upset. I did not likehim, but his mother cared, and he might have changed if he had lived.”
“Your father sounds like he was a wise man.” Vlandar squatteddown to sort through the slain youth’s weapons. He set aside the swords,serviceable daggers, the case of javelins, the bow, and one small dagger-ajeweled belt-toy Plowys probably used to clean his nails. Vlandar slipped the lock of hair he’d cut from the youth’s head into the sheath and put the daggerback. “This I will return to his mother, if I can. As for the rest of these, Ihope your father warned you that a sensible man never leaves behind weapons that might be found and turned against him.” He handed the bundle of javelins toLhors. “You are next to Maera at skill with these, and the daggers may come inuseful.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lhors stuttered. “I’ll try not to let youdown.”
Vlandar got back to his feet, wrapped an arm around the boy’sshoulders, and led him back to their cave. “I am not much worried that you will,Lhors. Maybe though, if there’s a little time today, you and I will gettogether, and I can show you a few tricks with those blades.”
“I’d like that.”
7
The next morning, the party again settled in clutches nearthe fortress door while Nemis used a spell to be certain no guards were immediately inside. Lhors stayed back on the road with Rowan, though he thought it unlikely giants would see them in the dense fog. He doubted that such massive creatures could sneak up on them either-until he remembered they had done justthat at Upper Haven. But there had been music and thunder that night. Dancing. Singing. Joyous faces that he would never see again. Here it was very quiet, and all faces were solemn.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out. Up in the tower Lhors could hear the deep, rumbling voice of at least one guard. He drew his javelins as Malowan leaned against one door, holding it ajar for the others.
There was still very little light. Vlandar headed for the doorway into the banqueting hall while the rangers checked the other door. Both gestured a negative, but Vlandar backed quietly away from the main doors, a finger to his lips.
A good five paces away, Lhors could hear it: a distant noise of laughter, singing, and the loud clash of metal. A battle? he wondered. Vlandar got them all close together and whispered, “They are still feasting inthere. Rowan, what of the right door?”