giants had come to make war.
Tavis was about halfway down when Gragg’s roving gaze fell on the open door to Cuthbert’s secret passage. The giant thrust his head forward, then suddenly rose to his feet
“Hey, Dekz was right!” he boomed. “Them little fellas gots a secret tunnel! Bhurn, Meorf, come-”
Tavis let his arrow fly.
Gragg’s command changed to a deafening shriek as the shaft drilled deep into his kidney. The giant stumbled forward, at the same time reaching behind his back to pluck the arrow from his body. His effort did not succeed, for Bear Driller was no ordinary bow. Tavis’s mentor had shown him how to double-bend the weapon and reinforce it with dragon bone, so that any arrow fired from it struck with the force of a horse-driven lance. The shaft had passed into Gragg’s kidney, fletching and all, and nothing short of healing magic could remove it now.
The scout nocked another arrow and rushed down the slope. Although he would have liked to ask Gragg a few questions, the firbolg’s intention was not to interrogate the injured giant. Kidney wounds were far too painful to allow questioning. Tavis was simply looking for a clean shot that would put Gragg out of his misery.
“Gragg, what all this screamin’ for?”
Tavis ducked behind a boulder, then glanced up to see Meorf standing on the summit.
“Where that secret tunnel?”
Gragg tried to answer, but all that spilled from his mouth was a long wail of agony. The injured giant spotted Tavis crouching behind the boulder and stumbled away, urgently gesturing at the scout’s hiding place.
“Tunnel there?” Meorf asked.
Gragg shook his head, then collapsed into the gulch and began to thrash about, mad with pain. Meorf screwed his brutish face into an expression of utter puzzlement, then suddenly dropped into a crouch. He glanced over his shoulder. “Bhurn come-”
Tavis stuck his head up and loosed an arrow. He had a poor angle, so the shaft failed to pierce the giant’s heart and simply buried itself in the rib cage. Meorf raised a hand to the wound, then his jaw went slack with surprise as he felt warm blood on his palm. Tavis nocked another arrow and stepped from behind his boulder. He needed a clean shot more than cover.
“Little fella hurt Meorf!” the giant bellowed.
Meorf raised his club and launched himself down the slope. Tavis barely had time to pull his bowstring back, then his foe was upon him, club raised to strike. The scout loosed his arrow.
A red dot appeared on Meorf’s belly, and his eyes went blank. The club flew from his hands and bounced away, then the giant’s immense bulk started to fall. The scout hurled himself aside, barely reaching the safety of his boulder before the impact of the dead body shook the entire slope.
Tavis wasted no time on self-congratulations, for Bhurn would be coming, and the scout preferred not to give his foe the uphill advantage. He nocked another arrow and sprinted toward the summit, his lungs burning from the exertion of the battle.
As the scout approached the top, he felt the ground shuddering beneath Bhurn’s heavy steps. Even if he did reach the crest first, Tavis realized, there would be no time to put his advantage to good use. When his head reached eye-level with the top of the ridge, he stopped and lay on his belly.
The crown of Bhurn’s pointed head appeared an instant later. Unlike Meorf, he approached carefully and quietly, peering over the crest to see what all the yelling was about Tavis jumped up, his arrow aimed directly at the giant’s huge eyeball.
Bhurn froze instantly. “Not little fella!” he gasped. “Stupid firbolg!”
“I am a firbolg,” Tavis answered.
“Oh, no!” Bhurn’s eyes gleamed silver with recognition. “You Tavis Burdun!”
“That’s right.” Tavis was as famous among giants as he was among humans, though the giants considered him more a dark avenger than a savior. “How did Dekz know about the castle’s secret tunnel?”
The emotion drained from the giant’s face. “Bhurn not tell.” He pinched his eyes shut in fear, then started to raise his club. “Bhurn die honorable.”
“If you wish.” Tavis loosed his arrow.
Bhurn fell in silence, and the scout retreated down the slope. He finished Gragg with a merciful arrow, then began the long climb to close Earl Cuthbert’s secret passage.
5
The queen stood at the window of her chamber, on the highest floor of the keep, looking across the lake toward the distant wall of granite and ice that Cuthbert said was Shepherd’s Nightmare. It was almost dusk, and by now Tavis would be among those treacherous peaks, picking his way across boulder fields and snowbanks. At least that was Brianna’s hope, though she had reason to think otherwise.
Shortly after dawn, the queen had spotted a swarm of giants searching the hills near the secret passage exit. Then, later in the day, she had seen them drag three of their fellows to the lakeshore and burn them on a funeral pyre. Clearly, there had been a fight But Brianna had no way to know whether Tavis had survived. That uncertainty had kept her at her window all day.
A knock sounded at her door. Brianna composed herself, then called, “Enter.”
The latch clicked, and the heavy door creaked open. Prince Arlien stepped into the room, still wearing his enchanted armor and borrowed cloak. He paused at the door to take a silver tray from one of Cuthbert’s servants.
“That will be all,” he said.
The young woman bowed and pulled the door shut. The prince walked into the room and placed the tray on the table.
“I thought you might need some sustenance.” Arlien gestured at the tray, which bore a heap of sliced fruit and two steaming mugs of spiced wine. “You’ve been in here a long time.”
Brianna smiled, gathering the strength to be gracious. Arlien was the last person she wanted to see, but she could hardly afford to offend her only potential ally-not with the giant tribes uniting against Hartsvale.
“That’s very considerate,” Brianna said. “But at the moment, I’m not hungry. I’m afraid my stomach feels like a butter churn.”
A sympathetic frown appeared on Arlien’s face. “Worried about your bodyguard?”
At least call him by name, thought Brianna. “I’m afraid so,” she said aloud. “Perhaps tonight we should send out a party to see what happened.”
The prince came and stood beside Brianna at the window. Instead of looking at the distant mountains, however, he fixed his gaze on the lakeshore, where the hill giants were using tree boles and rope to assemble a fleet of primitive rafts.
“I don’t think a spy party would be wise,” Arlien said. “After their losses last night, the hill giants will be doubly alert. Anyone you send is more likely to get killed than to return with news of Tavis.”
Silently, Brianna cursed Arlien for being so logical.
When the queen did not reply, the prince said, “But if it makes you feel better, perhaps it’s worth the chance.”
Brianna shook her head. “I can’t risk the lives of good men to settle my nerves.”
“A wise decision,” Arlien agreed. “But you must keep a clear head. Perhaps you should wear the necklace I gave you. Ice diamonds have a soothing effect on the emotions.”
“At the moment, I have no wish to be soothed.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but your wishes are not of paramount importance.” There was a definite edge to Arlien’s voice. “I can do the military planning for you, but the people in this castle are your subjects. You must provide the leadership.”
Brianna glared down at Arlien. “Are you saying I’ve let them down?”
The prince met her gaze without flinching. “If you spend the day hiding in your chamber, they’ll think you are
