The Titan of Twilight

3

Brianna lay doubled over in an icy rut-for minutes, it seemed-her ears ringing with the screams of the Royal Snow Bear Company. She felt the road shuddering beneath her body, the wind rasping across her cheek, even her own voice burning like bile as her screams boiled up from her womb. But she heard nothing-nothing save the cries of her loyal soldiers, perishing beneath the thundering torrent of granite.

The seeping mists of despair filled the queen’s mind, and through this darkening haze swarmed a bevy of somber thoughts. The giants had won, and more than the battle. They had captured the gorge, and with it the silver that kept Hartsvale’s armies strong; they had felled her husband, and with him the pillar of her strength; soon, they would take Brianna herself, and with her the infant so desperately fighting to reach a bloody and uncertain future.

Brianna did not know what to do when-if-her enemies captured her. They would present her to their mysterious guardian, the Twilight Spirit, so he could use his magic to get a giant king on her. To prevent that, the queen had vowed to die before allowing any giant to take her alive-but she had made that pledge before her pregnancy. Now, she worried that she lacked the strength, perhaps even the right, to make the same choice for her child.

Brianna opened her eyes and exhaled long and hard, then rolled to her knees.

A pair of hands grasped her beneath the arms. “Wait a minute,” said Avner. “I’ll help you up.”

Avner pulled backward, rocking Brianna into a kneeling position-and filling her belly with fiery pain.

“Avner!” she barked. “What are you doing?”

“We’ve got to go.”

The young scout pointed up the canyon to where the abandoned sleighs of the courtiers sat beside the road. A single fire giant was already walking by the tangle, casually kicking to death panicked draft horses as he passed. The brute was little more than a hundred yards away, close enough to see his flashing bronze eyes and foul green teeth.

Brianna clenched the young scout’s arm. “Avner, I can’t run,” she gasped. “Not now!”

Avner reached into his cloak and withdrew a purple flask sealed with a cork. Inside was one of the thick, frothy healing potions that Brianna’s high priest had given to Avner and Tavis. “Maybe if you drink this.”

Brianna pushed the vial away. “I’m not wounded; I’m giving birth,” she said. “Simon’s elixirs won’t help me. I need Gerda.”

The young scout paled. “Radborne hasn’t returned.” He studied her with a growing expression of horror. Brianna was a foot and a half taller than him, and weighed a hundred and fifty pounds more. There was no question of his carrying her. “Maybe the Beast-”

The queen shook her head. “Even if Blizzard could climb the landslide, I can’t ride.” The mere thought of sitting on a horse filled her with an unbelievable ache. “You go for help.”

Avner cast a nervous glance up the canyon, and Brianna followed his gaze. The leading fire giant was passing the last of the courtiers’ sleighs. Fifty yards behind him, several of his companions were slowly coming up the road, stopping now and then to grind what remained of the Royal Snow Bear Company into the ground.

Avner unsheathed his sword. “I can’t leave your side,” he said. “I promised Tavis.”

“You will do as I order! It’s our only chance.” Brianna grabbed his arm and pulled herself up. Although her pain was receding, she clenched her teeth at the effort. “And hand me my spell satchel before you leave.”

The young scout started to argue, but abruptly stopped when a loud clatter erupted from the landslide behind them. Brianna turned around to see Radborne Wynn and six front riders escorting a pair of twelve-foot strangers down the jumbled boulder heap. Long pelts of ice-crusted beard hung from the jaws of both newcomers. They wore their brown-furred parkas drawn tight against the howling wind, so that they resembled the fabled bear-men reputed to inhabit certain remote valleys of the Ice Spires.

“Firbolgs!” Avner slipped his sword back into its scabbard. “We’re saved!”

“I wish we were,” Brianna muttered. Like everyone else in court, Avner had apparently heard of the firbolgs’ recent alliance offer-but not the price they asked in exchange. “They’re no friends of ours.”

Avner scowled and started to draw his sword again, but Brianna motioned for him to leave the weapon sheathed.

“I don’t know what to expect,” she whispered. Perhaps the firbolgs had decided to offer their help without demanding the life of her unborn child. “Just follow my lead.”

From behind Brianna came the fire giant’s booming voice, bellowing for his companions to hurry. The firbolgs lumbered down the slide at their best pace, easily outdistancing their human escorts. One was as brawny and broad shouldered as a bull moose, with pale eyes the color of blue tourmaline. The other was spindly enough to be a verbeeg; his eyes were more like alabaster, white and milky and deep: Galgadayle.

Blizzard neighed spitefully at the newcomers. She stepped in front of Brianna, positioning her white-flecked torso between the queen and the hairy strangers. The firbolgs stepped off the landslide and stopped a single pace away. Though the mare was as large as any charger in the kingdom, her shoulders rose barely as high as their waists.

“I am Raeyadfourne, ur Meadowhome,” the burly one stated. He bowed, then gestured at the gaunt seer. “I’m sure you remember Galgadayle, oin Meadowhome.”

Brianna understood just enough of the firbolg tongue to recognize the appellations as titles, rather than names. Galgadayle translated roughly as “The One who Dreams for Us,” while Raeyadfourne was “Broad Shoulders that Bear Our Burdens.” “Oin” simply meant “lies in,” identifying Galgadayle as a resident of Meadowhome, while “ur” meant “watches over,” identifying Raeyadfourne as its chief.

“What are you doing here?” Brianna demanded.

Galgadayle glanced down the canyon, where the crashing footsteps of a sprinting fire giant echoed off the cliffs. “I should think you’d be happy to see us,” he said. “We came to save you.”

The seer pushed Blizzard aside as though she were a house pet. The big mare stumbled into Avner and knocked him to the ground, then Galgadayle scooped Brianna up in a single arm. This drew a scowl from Raeyadfourne, for snatching strangers up without permission bordered on lawlessness, but the chieftain did not voice any objections. He merely pulled a six-foot battle-axe from its sheath and stepped toward the fire giant

“I’ll hew the orange beard,” Raeyadfourne said. “Galgadayle will carry you to safety, Queen.”

“Safety?” Brianna scoffed. “This is abduction!”

“The elders have discussed your reluctance to heed Galgadayle.” Raeyadfourne did not look at Brianna as he spoke. “The first law is to defend the clan, so they have decided to take you under protection until the twins are born.”

With that, the chieftain turned to meet the fire giant. Galgadayle started up the landslide, cradling Brianna in one arm. Avner snatched the queen’s satchel off the ground and followed, lagging behind as he clambered over boulders that the seer stepped across in a single stride. Blizzard did not even try to follow. She cast a wary look at the jumble of huge rocks, then bounded up the mountainside toward one of the precarious mining trails.

A sonorous battle cry rang off the canyon walls, followed by the thunderous clang of a huge axe striking thick steel. Brianna looked past Galgadayle’s shoulder and saw Raeyadfourne duck as the fire giant’s sword swept over his back. The chieftain drew himself to his full height-which put his head at his foe’s midriff-and swung his axe. The giant twisted away and counterattacked, and the two warriors fell into a vicious, clamorous dance of death.

Avner scrambled to the seer’s side, then caught Brianna’s eye and cocked an eyebrow.

“There’s no need for violence, young man,” warned Galgadayle. “I mean no harm to either your queen or Tavis’s son. It’s the other twin, the one fathered by the ettin, I want”

Avner tripped in astonishment and fell to his knees. Brianna hardly noticed, for she felt as though the seer had punched her in the stomach. The ettin was the magical imposter whom the Twilight Spirit had sent to court her. His powerful love potion had befuddled her for days at a time. She did not remember being seduced by the spy, and she could not recall much of what had happened during the dreamlike haze.

Brianna twisted in her captor’s arms and saw Avner slowly rising to his feet. His expression was more hurt than suspicious, for he knew as well as anyone that the firbolg seer could not lie about this matter-or any other.

“Avner, Galgadayle’s mistaken!” Brianna cried. The queen wanted the young scout to know the truth, and not only because he was her best hope of escape. Avner was like a son to her and Tavis; to lose the youth’s trust would be to lose all that remained of her family. “You were there when Simon divined my womb! I’m carrying only one child!”

Galgadayle nearly dropped Brianna onto the sharp rocks. “That can’t be!” He tipped his head to look down at her. Brianna could barely see his white eyes above the ice-crusted curtain of his long beard. “Who is this Simon?”

“A high priest of Stronmaus,” Brianna explained. “He said you were wrong.”

Galgadayle considered Brianna’s words for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re lying. My dreams are never wrong.”

Brianna glanced back and saw that Avner had started up the landslide again. His expression was thoughtful and enigmatic, but his eyes would not meet the queen’s.

On the road beyond Avner, Raeyadfourne was slowly giving ground to the fire giant. One side of the giant’s steel apron hung bloody and askew, while half a dozen glancing blows had left the firbolg’s parka seared and smoking. The rest of the fire giants were only thirty paces from the battle, and one was already climbing the hillside to flank Raeyadfourne.

Brianna’s six front riders came scrambling down the slide, the frozen links in their mail coats rattling like bones. They carried their lances at port arms across their chests and did not slow as they approached the queen, obviously intending to help Raeyadfourne with the fire giants. Earl Wynn was ten steps behind the men, clambering over the boulders as best he could in his plate armor.

“Wait!” Brianna ordered. “I need you men here.”

The front riders clattered to a stop several paces from Galgadayle, politely leaving space for the firbolg to continue up the slide. Brianna and her captor were now so close to the summit that she could see the next bend in the gorge.

“Stop this firbolg!” Brianna commanded. “He’s abducting me!”

Most of the front riders merely scowled in confusion, but two men instinctively obeyed the queen’s command. The seer did not stop until the tips of their weapons were pressed against his belly. Then, as the other front riders moved to surround him, Galgadayle tightened his lips and let out a whistle as loud and piercing as the cry of an eagle.

Brianna expected some strange spell to render her men unconscious or helpless, but that is not what happened.

Instead, Earl Radborne demanded, “Majesty, what are you doing?” He had stopped behind the front riders and was pointing down the slide, to where Raeyadfourne was diving over the riverbank to avoid being trampled by fire giants. “There are more giants coming!”

“Let them!” Brianna snarled. She let her eyes drift toward the crest of the landslide, then asked, “Where’s Gerda? I need my midwife.”

“We have taken her into our troop’s protection,” Galgadayle answered. “We have done the same for all your courtiers.”

Brianna felt her abdomen tighten, though she could not tell whether it was another labor pain or a sign of her growing apprehension. She looked at Galgadayle’s face.

“Put me down, or I’ll order my men to attack.”

The seer squeezed her tightly in the cradlelike crook of his elbow. “That will do you no good. I have already summoned our warriors,” he said. “Even if you kill me, you have no hope of escaping.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Brianna replied. When the firbolg made no move to put her down, she looked to her front riders. “Kill-”

Galgadayle flexed the biceps of his enormous arm, forcing the air from her lungs and preventing her from finishing her command. The front riders braced themselves, but Brianna could see by their eyes they were reluctant to attack for fear of causing her death.

Radborne pushed his way forward to Galgadayle. “You heard the queen! Release Her Majesty.” He raised his arms over his head and still could not reach Brianna. “Hand her down!”

Galgadayle shook his head. “That I cannot-arrghhHH!”

The seer’s muscles went limp. Brianna plummeted into Radborne’s arms, and they crashed to the ground in a clamorous heap of steel armor and fur coat. A dull, throbbing ache blossomed deep within her belly. Suddenly, she seemed to smell every vile and sour thing in the gorge: the brimstone stench of fire giant swords, the coppery blood and steaming entrails covering the road below, even the sour frozen sweat beneath the armor of her own front riders. Her gorge rose, and a dry, rasping sound came from her throat. She saw Galgadayle’s feet stomping in a circle beside her.

From somewhere above came Avner’s scream, “Save the queen! Take her and run!”

Brianna looked up to see Avner dangling from his sword, which was planted to half the depth of the blade in Galgadayle’s back. The young scout was trying to brace his feet on his victim’s hip so he could widen the wound, but the anguished seer was shaking and twisting so violently Avner could not get a foothold.

Two front riders grasped Brianna beneath her armpits and pulled her off Radborne. Her belly filled with pain, and she screamed aloud. Her rescuers paid the cries no heed and dragged her up a hut-sized boulder, safely away from Galgadayle’s writhing figure. She saw Radborne try to rise, then one of the seer’s heavy feet came down squarely on the earl’s breastplate. The steel buckled like tin, and the noble’s death rattle left his lips with the sound of a trembling tambourine.

Brianna tried to rise, but made it only as far as her knees before she doubled over, howling in pain. Her womb had tightened again, and she felt something inside as hot and fiery as lava. She glanced down the slope and saw the leading fire giant already climbing toward her. From other side of the landslide came the muffled clatter of the firbolg troop.

The queen clutched at the arms of her rescuers. “I can’t run!” she gasped. “Get me out of here!”

The front riders pulled her cloak off her arms and tied the empty sleeves across her chest, then rolled the lapels to make a makeshift stretcher. By the time they finished, their fellows had scrambled up the boulder to help. Together, the six men hoisted the queen into the air and started up the landslide, each using his free hand to brace his spear butt on the treacherous ground.

Brianna was facing downslope, where Avner still clung to Galgadayle’s thrashing form. Finally, the young scout managed to plant his feet squarely on his victim’s hip. He jerked on his sword, and the blade snapped with a loud ping. Avner sailed backward through the air and vanished between two boulders. The firbolg collapsed to his knees, growling like a beast and twisting an arm around to claw at the steel sliver in his back.

Brianna glanced down the landslide and saw that the leading fire giant had already climbed halfway up the slope. Another pair followed close behind, while the last two in line were spreading out to prevent the queen’s party from doubling back toward the road.

From between the boulders where Avner had fallen came the young scout’s voice, “ythgimsilisaB!”

The familiar crack of a rune spell echoed up the slide. A black streak flashed into existence, pointing at the fire giants below. A piercing clang echoed off the leader’s armor. The brute’s arms flew up, and he sailed backward through the air as though a catapult boulder had caught him in the chest. He slammed into the warrior behind him. They both crashed to the ground in a clamorous heap of black armor, then the leader’s body went limp and his bronze eyes turned the color of dried blood.

Avner climbed out of his hiding place. In one hand, he held a simple leather sling, in the other a shiny steel ball. The missile, Brianna knew, was one of three her runecaster had given the young scout.

“Avner, no!” Brianna called. It hurt to yell, but if Avner stayed to fight, he would be trapped between two enemies when the firbolgs crested the hill. “Come here!”

Avner shook his head and fit the steel ball into his sling. “The giants-”

“Young man… to my side!” Brianna forced the words out, trying to assume the tone of an angry mother. She had not used that voice with him in more than two years, since before he had sworn the oaths of the Border Scouts and taken his place in the war against the giants. “Now!”

Avner scowled and cast an anxious glance at the fire giants, then reluctantly put his weapon away and bounded up the slide. The giants began to climb again, and Brianna breathed a sigh of relief. She had taken control of events, and that fact alone gave her hope.

Brianna craned her head up the hill and saw that her litter bearers had almost reached the canyon wall. They were angling toward the edge of the landslide, where Blizzard waited to meet them at the broken end of a mining trail. The slide itself became a narrow plume of dirt and rock as it ascended the mountainside toward the mile-long furrow from which it had spilled.

“Not… the… trail,” Brianna gasped. Despite her increasing optimism, her pain had grown so severe that she found it difficult to speak. Her womb was contracting rapidly and severely now, and she felt a growing hollowness in her lower abdomen, as though a great, empty bubble were forming inside. “Up… the slide.”

The front riders stopped in their tracks. Brianna could hear the tremendous clatter of the fire giants climbing after them, and she could smell the sharp fumes of their flaming swords. On the other side of the landslide, the firbolgs were so close that she could hear their deep voices booming commands to each other.

“Majesty?” asked one of the front riders. “The trail is our only chance of outrunning-”

“Do as the queen says.” It was Avner’s voice. In spite of the loose ground, the young scout had approached them as quietly as always. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Avner laid Brianna’s satchel next to her, then stepped to the front of the litter and grabbed hold. The party had barely gone fifteen yards before three fire giants reached the bottom of the plume, their coppery eyes sparkling with bloodlust and their swarthy lips twisted into green-toothed snarls. Each time the brutes exhaled, wisps of yellow vapor poured from their nostrils, and Brianna smelled the bitter stench of brimstone.

The leader leveled his sword at the queen’s litter-bearers and opened his mouth to speak-then a roaring clamor rose at his back. A wall of hairy firbolgs poured over the crest of the slide, their long beards streaming in the wind and their huge axes whirling above their heads. The eyes of the giants turned as yellow as their flaming swords, and they spun around to find a tide of fur-clad warriors swirling about their hips.

The battle did not begin so much as erupt. The fire giants lashed out wildly with their swords, slicing off burly arms and slashing into thick chests, filling the air with the charnel-house stench of spilled entrails and scorched flesh. The firbolgs countered with a flurry of axes, and soon the knelling of their weapons against the giants’ black armor overwhelmed even the thunderous bellows of the wounded and the dying.

Avner led the queen’s party to the edge of the slide, then released his hold on her litter and pulled his sling from inside his cloak. Brianna did not have to ask what he was doing, for a single fire giant had escaped the battle and was angling up the canyon wall to cut them off. Nevertheless, she caught the young scout’s sleeve before he could go.

“Avner…”

Brianna could barely hear her own voice above the battle clamor, but she did not have the strength to speak louder. She was shaking uncontrollably-from the pain, not the cold-and her body felt entirely too weak and achy for the strenuous business of delivering a baby. She pulled Avner close to her mouth.

“Avner… thank you, for believing me… not Galgadayle.”

Avner gently pulled his sleeve from her grasp. “I’m just keeping my promise to Tavis,” he said. “I’m not really sure what to believe.”

As Avner spoke, the baby shifted and slowly began to drop toward Brianna’s pelvis. The horrible pain in her stomach subsided almost instantly, and everything below her waist suddenly felt loose and open.

“You’d better go kill that giant,” the queen said. “And find someplace for us to hide-we’ll know soon enough who to believe.”