The scout lifted his arrow slightly, as if he were rising to fire. He heard the snap of an ogre's bowstring, then a single shaft sailed overhead and disappeared into the ravine below. Tavis waited, listening to the soft steps of the approaching enemy. When it seemed they had to be almost on him, he turned the tip of the arrow toward the loudest set of footfalls and released the bowstring.
Because of his awkward firing position, the shot was not particularly powerful, but it had force enough to create a moist thump as it sank into an ogre's abdomen. The target collapsed to the ground with a muffled thud.
The footsteps of the victim's companions faltered. Tavis dropped his bow, then pushed the tip of another arrow above the bank. This time, the action drew the fire of two alarmed ogres. Smiling at their skittish reactions, the scout grabbed his sword and clambered over the bank. He found himself two paces away from the three surviving ogres. One was just drawing his bowstring back to fire, and the others were frantically trying to nock fresh arrows.
Tavis twisted sideways, pushing his sword arm forward and also moving his torso out of the arrow's path. The tip of his blade slipped between the ogre's ribs in the same instant the brute released his bowstring. The poisoned arrow sizzled past the scout's breast. He lunged forward, driving his sword deeper, until foul-smelling blood began to froth from the ogre's mouth.
Tavis stepped back and braced one foot on the warrior's hip, jerking his sword free of the dying brute. He spun around to face the last two survivors-only to discover they had nocked their arrows and were even now drawing their bowstrings to fire. The scout could kill one of them, but the other one would slay him.
"Tavis!" screamed Avner's voice. A small stone came whispering through the air and struck one ogre in the head. The blow did not kill the warrior, but it stunned him enough to prevent the brute from completing the pull of his bowstring. "What are you doing?"
Tavis started to slash at the other ogre, but even as the young thief spoke, a huge boulder arced down upon this brute's head. The stone struck with a crack, then thumped to the ground. The warrior's knees buckled, and he released his arrow into the air. The scout spun, using a backhand stroke to behead the ogre Avner's stone had stunned.
"When I said go on ahead, I didn't mean you should kill all the ogres yourself." Basil dropped a second boulder he had picked up, then walked over with Avner at his side.
"You could've gotten yourself killed," Avner complained.
"I thought J told you to stay at the cliff," Tavis said.
"Lucky for you I don't listen too well," the boy countered.
Realizing he could hardly argue with the statement, Tavis retrieved his bow and quiver, then turned toward the gulch. The sounds of fighting had grown faint and sporadic, suggesting that the battle was almost at an end. Fearing that he knew who was on the losing side, the scout rushed over to the gorge's rim.
The battle had come down to only five figures: Morten, Earl Dobbin, and three ogres. The firbolg was standing directly between two of their foes, swinging a huge, double-headed battle-axe first at one, then the other. The ogres had picked up a pair of fallen earls to use as shields, but were rapidly falling back under the bodyguard's withering attacks.
Earl Dobbin was not faring so well. He had collapsed to one knee and was swinging his pitifully small sword at the last ogre's legs, barely managing to duck the wild swings of his foe's large club. The other earls lay scattered among fallen ogres, either dead or unconscious from the bite of poisoned arrows.
Tavis dispatched the ogre attacking Earl Dobbin first, then quickly killed one of the brutes fighting Morten. The bodyguard finished the other himself, cleaving the warrior's heavy skull with a single, terrible blow of his battle-axe.
The ogre had hardly hit the ground before Morten was glaring up at his savior. "Tavis!" he thundered.
"Come down here!"
The scout shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "Not until you and I come to an agreement."
Morten snorted. "The only thing I'll agree to is splitting your head."
"Really?" Tavis replied. "I should think you'd be more interested in saving Brianna-I am."
This calmed the angry firbolg a little. "Tell me where she is," he demanded. "I'll make your death an easy one."
Earl Dobbin rose, his face red with fury. "You don't have the right to make such an agreement!" he said, grabbing the bodyguard's burly arm. "The king sent us to bring these thieves back to Hartsvale, not to rescue his daughter!"
Morten jerked his arm free. "Brianna was my responsibility. If I can save her by letting a few thieves die an easy death, then so be it." The firbolg continued to glare at Tavis. "Now tell me."
"Right now, the princess is somewhere on the Needle Peak glacier with about a thousand ogres," Tavis explained. As he spoke. Basil and Avner came up to stand at his side. "They're taking her to a place called the Twilight Vale."
Morten scowled. "Where's that?"
"The Twilight Vale lies somewhere in the shadow of the Great Glacier, far north of the Ice Spires," Basil explained. "But if you want to return Brianna to Hartsvale, I'd suggest you free her long before then."
Morten narrowed his eyes. "Why's that?"
"The Twilight Vale's sacred to the giants," Tavis explained. "We don't know why the ogres are taking Brianna there, but if they succeed it'll be impossible to get her back."
Morten considered this for a moment, then asked, "Where'd you learn all this?"
"We happened upon the guide who helped the ogres kidnap Brianna," Tavis explained. "Basil interrogated him."
The scout said nothing about the roles of Runolf and the king in the princess's abduction. As much as Morten wanted to save Brianna, Tavis did not think the bodyguard would defy Camden's wishes to do so.
Morten considered Tavis's information for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Good enough. I'll make your death quick," he said. "Now, will you come down here peacefully, or do I have to hunt you down?"
"I'll let you take me back to Hartsvale or kill me on the spot,"Tavis offered, "but only after we rescue Brianna."
Basil quickly stepped forward. "Please understand that he's speaking only for himself," the verbeeg said. "Avner and I have no intention of letting you kill us at any time."
"Doesn't matter," Morten replied, shaking his head. "I couldn't accept Tavis's deal, even if it included you all."
The scout frowned. "Why not?"
The bodyguard snorted in derision, then waved his hand at the carnage in the gulch. "You let me lead eighteen good men into this, and now you expect me to place my faith in you?"
"Let you!" Tavis exploded. "We tried to stop you. If you had followed the boy, you'd all be alive and well."
Morten frowned in confusion. "What boy?" he asked. "We never saw any boy!"
"You didn't see Avner at the mouth of the gulch? He dropped out of a tree and ran up the ravine!"
Morten shook his head. "We saw nothing but bodies and a blood trail leading up here. We were afraid the ogres had trapped you here. There was no boy."
His head reeling with the implications of what the bodyguard had just told him, Tavis stumbled back from the edge of the gulch. He spun around and found Avner slowly backing away. The boy's face was pale with fear, and tears of shame were welling in his eyes.