The scout took a deep breath, then snatched Bear Driller and threw himself into the gray light. The door began to descend with a loud, grating rumble.
The ground failed to appear beneath Tavis. He plummeted headfirst into the gloom and glimpsed the face of a rocky crag slipping past, then the stony dark mass of a hillside emerged before his eyes. He had enough time to cover his head before a wave of stinging numbness coursed through his arms. The scout rolled instantly, and found himself tumbling head-over-heels down a steep bank, ricocheting off boulders and tree trunks and leaving equipment strewn all down the slope. He came to a rest in the bottom of a rocky gulch, dizzy and aching, with the growl of the closing door still rumbling somewhere above.
“Meorf hear sound!” shouted a giant’s distant voice.
“Bhurn, too!” answered another. “Come up here, Gragg!”
A series of muffled thuds echoed through the night. Tavis jumped to his feet and collapsed again, too shocked to stand. Both arms stung horribly, but it was his ribs that caused him the most pain. They hurt so much he could not draw air. The firbolg fought the tide of panic rising inside his chest and forced himself to exhale. The ache in his torso began to subside as his lungs expanded again; he had only knocked the wind out of himself. The scout took a few deep breaths, then flexed his elbows, wrists, and fingers. All the joints seemed in good working order, so he had not broken any bones. Tavis rose, relieved to have survived his unexpected fall.
The rumble on the hillside above came to a slow, grinding halt. Tavis looked up and saw the small cliff off which he had inadvertently leaped. The secret passage opened near the center, above a narrow ledge that led across the face to a safe route down. The granite door fit so tightly between two natural crevices that the scout would never have noticed it, save that the rusty counterweight chains had gotten stuck, leaving the granite slab hanging three feet above its threshold.
“Surtr’s flame take that earl!” Tavis hissed. He could not leave Cuthbert’s secret door open. Even if the hill giants couldn’t fit into the narrow passage beyond, they could send a pack of their pet wolves through to wreak havoc. Besides, if they happened to have a shaman, there was no telling what use his magic might make of that tunnel. “If Cuthbert’s going to break Brianna’s law, at least he could do it well!”
Tavis started up the slope, gathering his satchel and other gear as he climbed.
“Meorf, hear squealing sound?”
“No, stupid,” Meorf replied. “Gone ’gain. But let’s us look in that ditch over there. That where it was, Bhurn.”
The voices of Meorf and Bhurn were coming over the hilltop. The third giant, Gragg, had not spoken, but the scout heard his heavy footsteps pounding along the lakeshore, about thirty paces away at the gulch mouth.
Tavis grabbed his arrows and thrust them back into his quiver, then angled across the hill to retrieve his bow. Once he had his favorite weapon in hand, he would not be so nervous about getting caught on the ledge above. Bear Driller had felled plenty of giants, many far larger than the trio now stalking him.
The pounding of giant steps suddenly faded. The scout looked up to see a pair of stoop-shouldered figures silhouetted on the summit of the hill. They stood almost directly above the secret passage, peering down into the gully toward Tavis.
“Meorf see somethin’?” It was Gragg’s voice, rolling up the gulch from the lakeshore.
“No,” Meorf replied. “Not Bhurn neither.”
Tavis glanced toward the lake, where he saw the last giant silhouetted against the starlit waters. This one was especially rotund, with a shape resembling that of a pear. The scout dropped flat to crawl to his bow.
“How Meorf know what Bhurn see?” Gragg demanded. “Let Bhurn talk!”
“Bhurn don’t see nothin’,” Meorf insisted. “Right?”
“Right,” Bhurn said. “Nothing but little fella.” The hill giant pointed a long finger at Tavis.
The scout snatched his bow and leaped to his feet, running away from Cuthbert’s tunnel. Trying to reach the passage now would only draw the giants’ attention to it and put him in a difficult defensive position. It would be far wiser to lure his pursuers away, then circle back later to close the door.
“Stop, little fella!” Bhurn yelled.
“What fella?” demanded Gragg.
A loud crash sounded on the slope above, then a small boulder bounced past Tavis’s head. He dodged away, barely eluding a second, better-aimed stone.
“Stop, stupid fella!” Meorf yelled.
“Where fella?” Gragg was still standing on the lakeshore, peering toward his friends on the hill’s summit. “Gragg don’t see nothin’!”
Tavis reached the bottom of the slope and started up the other side of the gulch, intentionally kicking stones down the hill to make it easier for Gragg to find him. If the secret passage was to remain hidden, all three giants had to follow him.
“Wait!” yelled Gragg. “Hill giants friends! Not hurt little fella!”
Two more boulders slammed into the ground behind Tavis. The scout paused and looked back across the gulch.
“Why should I stop? Meorf and Bhurn are too stupid to catch me!” he yelled. “And so is Gragg!”
“Meorf don’t need smarts to catch little man!”
“Bhurn neither!”
All three giants hefted their clubs and started after Tavis in great, bounding steps. The scout turned and scrambled up the slope. He moved swiftly and in near silence, his feet instinctively seeking out the firm, quiet footing of grass tufts and rocky crags. Now that all three giants were on his trail, he no longer needed to make himself an easy target.
Tavis reached the summit a few moments later, without the necessity of dodging any more boulders. Ahead of him lay the gray crests of dozens of hills, interspersed with shadowy black ravines similar to the one behind him. Out of every third gulch rose the yellow glow of a campfire. The scout did a quick count of the amber lights. Assuming that his three pursuers came from a typical campsite, he estimated that more than a hundred hill giants had encircled Cuthbert Castle.
Tavis turned around to see that Meorf and Bhurn had already crossed the gulch and climbed halfway up the slope. Gragg was still picking his way up the rocky gulch, grumbling bitterly about his difficulties. The scout cursed the giant’s stupidity. He had expected the brute to traverse the hillside instead of clambering up the treacherous gully bottom. Slipping around the trio would be much more difficult with one straggling behind.
Tavis went over to a large boulder perched on the summit of the hill. Hoping to slow Meorf and Bhurn enough for Gragg to catch up, the scout pushed the heavy stone down the slope.
“So long, you oafs!”
The scout did not linger to see if his plan worked. He turned and bounded down the other side of the hill, making as much noise as possible. After descending two dozen paces, he stopped and nocked an arrow, then quietly circled back to the summit and hid behind an unruly hedge of juniper bushes.
To his dismay, the scout saw Gragg standing in the gully below, gasping for breath and bracing himself against a tree. Meorf and Bhurn, on the other hand, were standing on the summit less than twenty paces away. Both giants were staring into the next dark gully, their eyes searching in vain for their quarry.
Meorf growled in frustration, then slowly turned around to face Gragg. Tavis aimed his arrow at the giant’s throat If the brute spied the secret tunnel on the opposite ridge, the scout would silence him before he could speak.
Fortunately for Meorf, he was more interested in his rotund fellow than the opposite wall of the canyon. “Stop wastin’ time, Gragg!” he ordered. “Stupid little fella gettin’ ’way.”
“Meorf and Bhurn go on,” Gragg said. “Gragg stay here, ’case little fella come back.”
“Come back?” Bhurn scoffed. “Gragg lazy. Dekz not like.”
“Dekz not here.” Gragg looked away from his companions. “Gragg camp boss. Go catch little fella!”
Bhurn kicked a rock down the slope, then turned to descend the other side of the hill. Meorf stayed long enough to snicker as Gragg jumped up to avoid the stone, then bounded after Bhurn.
Gragg watched the summit for a few moments. When no more stones came bouncing down at him, he found a boulder large enough to support his broad posterior and settled in to wait. Tavis slipped out of his hiding place and crept silently down the hill, keeping his arrow pointed at the giant’s back. He did not like killing in cold blood, but such things were necessary in war-and the ring of campfires encircling Cuthbert Castle left little doubt that the
