“Don’t tarry,” Tavis warned, following the runecaster’s instructions. “Arlien’s as efficient a killer as he is ruthless.”
“He’s certainly had long enough to learn the art,” Basil replied, clearing the dirt away from a small section of stone.
A loud thump reverberated from the door Basil had sealed. “By the titan!” came Arlien’s muffled voice. “I’ll feed your heart to one of my ettins, Tavis Burdun!”
The threat was followed by the pounding of the prince’s hammer against the other side of the door. Instead of splitting, the oaken planks merely bowed and flexed back into their original position. Basil smiled and touched his brush to the walkway.
The runecaster found his task more difficult than anticipated. The rampart shuddered constantly, making it impossible to draw a straight line. He found it necessary to retrace each stroke several times, and even then the rune had the thick, squiggly appearance of an amateur. It would hardly be one of his most powerful spells, but with a little luck, it would delay the ettin long enough for Brianna to heal Tavis.
A tremendous clatter arose from the corner tower. Basil looked up and saw the door he had sealed disintegrating beneath the impact of Arlien’s hammer. Judging that he had time for one last stroke, the verbeeg laid his brush on its side and began to drag it lightly over the rune. Wherever the stem touched, the glowing symbol vanished from sight.
Before Basil had finished, an ominous rumble reverberated from deep within the curtain. The entire rampart began to shudder violently. A long series of pops and crackles echoed up from the sides of the wall, followed by the clatter of falling stone. The verbeeg jumped up, leaving his final stroke half finished. If the wall was collapsing, it was because of the frost giants’ hammering, not his rune.
The door to the corner tower crashed down, and Arlien stepped out onto the rampart His visor instantly tipped toward the half-concealed rune at Basil’s feet.
“No!” Arlien yelled, apparently mistaking the verbeeg’s sigil for the cause of the collapse. The prince hurled his hammer and rushed forward.
Basil spun away and threw himself down. He heard the hammer whoop by over his head, then saw the walkway crumbling. He heard Arlien scream, but the ear-splitting roar of the wall’s collapse quickly drowned out the prince’s angry cry. A boiling cloud of dust billowed up beneath him, filling his mouth with the bitter taste of rock and mortar.
Brianna kneeled before the altar. Somewhere outside, the frost giants were already pounding at the keep’s thick foundations, but the queen did not notice the floor trembling beneath her knees, or hear the mighty booms reverberating through the stone walls. She knew only the burning spear before her. She saw only its dancing light, smelled only its sweet smoke, harkened only the crackle of its orange flame. She had returned to Hiatea, and now she felt only the heat of her goddess’s power, coursing like fire through her veins.
“Your Majesty?” The voice came from a long way off, but it was a familiar one-and a welcome one. “Milady?”
Brianna returned instantly to the battle-torn world of Cuthbert Castle. “Tavis!” She leaped to her feet and spun around, repeating his name just to prove she could: “Tavis Burdun!”
“It’s good to see you’re feeling better, Milady.”
Tavis was propped between two Winter Wolves. Apparently they had more or less carried him into the temple, for both men had one arm around his waist and were panting heavily. Despite their fatigue, they had also dragged their heavy crossbows and quivers up the stairs. Clearly, they did not think any place in the keep was safe-at least not for long.
Tavis looked awful. One dislocated shoulder sagged from its socket at an impossible angle, while the glaze in his eyes suggested he might collapse from sheer exhaustion at any moment. He had fresh cuts across old ones, bruises atop lumps, and burn blisters rising from scorched flesh. His feet looked even more hideous than the rest of him, with black, swollen flesh bulging over his boot ankles.
Brianna went straight over to him. She wrapped him in her arms and kissed him squarely on his cracked lips, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his two escorts.
Tavis pulled away.
“Please, Milady!” the scout said. He cocked an ear toward the battle clamor roaring through the window. “We must hurry. The frost giants will break through at any moment. And I doubt we’ve seen the last of Prince Arlien.”
A cold, frightening ache filled Brianna’s chest-and not because the scout had mentioned Arlien. She remembered what had happened that awful night he had come to her in this temple, at least until he had overpowered her and poured his vile potion down her throat, and the next time she saw the prince it would be he who regretted the meeting. What scared the queen now was Tavis, or more accurately, the aloofness she sensed in his voice.
Brianna stepped back. “I don’t care about the giants or Arlien,” she said. “If I’ve lost you, I’d rather they take me.”
Tavis frowned, considering. Finally, he said, “You haven’t lost me. I’m still your bodyguard.”
Brianna shook her head. “You’re much more than that to me-and to the kingdom,” she said. “I owe you an apology.”
The scout shook his head. “What happened with Arlien wasn’t your fault,” he said. “The magic-”
“I’m talking about what happened before I drank the potion,” Brianna said. “I was wrong to insist that we keep our love secret.”
“No, you were right,” Tavis said. “We have to think of Hartsvale.”
“I am thinking of Hartsvale,” Brianna said. “If I’m afraid to act on my true feelings, then I’m not strong enough to rule this kingdom or any other. There will always be someone like Prince Arlien, shrewd enough and unscrupulous enough to pry at the seam between appearances and reality.”
The keep shuddered under some terrific blow, like a man about to fall unconscious. A booming clatter echoed up the stairway. The floor joists creaked plaintively, and an entire corner of the room suddenly sank.
Avner stepped away from the altar, where he had been waiting, and came to Brianna’s side. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else.”
The queen shook her head. “No. My spells will be more powerful here.”
“Then let’s get to the healing.” The boy eyed the sagging corner, then grabbed Tavis’s wrist and started forward. “I’m kind of in a hurry to get out of here.”
Tavis raised an eyebrow. “And go where?”
“The secret tunnels,” the youth said. “There are more beneath this castle than Cuthbert has admitted. Basil and I saw him running for one in the dungeon tower. I think it-”
“You’re getting ahead of us, Avner,” Brianna interrupted, following the boy to the front of the room. “Before we worry about our escape, we have to mend Tavis.”
Brianna slipped the bow and quiver off Tavis’s dislocated shoulder, noting that the golden arrow still remained in its special pocket. Next, as Avner tugged the boots off the firbolg’s swollen feet, she removed his cloak and what remained of the singed clothes underneath. Finally, she unclasped the necklace of ice diamonds hanging around his neck and pitched them through the window into the maelstrom outside.
“I don’t ever want to see an ice diamond again.” Brianna gently pushed the scout onto his back. “I’m sure Hiatea’s magic will work much better without them near.”
Brianna and Avner had already made all the necessary preparations. She picked up the bucket they had placed beside the altar earlier, then poured the contents over the firbolg’s body. His spirit had been cleansed earlier in the day, so the water frothed and bubbled for only a moment before she was ready to begin the actual healing.
A fierce bang resounded in the stairwell outside the room, followed by the rattle of stones tumbling down steps. The youngest Winter Wolf stuck his head out the door to see what was happening. When he turned back to Brianna, there were beads of sweat on his upper lip.
“Milady, we’d better go.”