Against the Giants (38 page)

He thought Rowan and Maera were also checking their weaponry.
Malowan and Nemis sat close together, talking very quietly. The two men were
probably going over some magic they would use together. Whatever grievance the
paladin might still have toward Nemis, he had set it aside for now.

Lhors sighed and took another sip of tepid water.
Drink
small amounts, but often when you’ve little to see you through,
his father
had always told him. The bottle might get him through one full day, but not two.
Water in this place…

I’d never trust it, Lhors told himself. Malowan or Nemis
could find water and possibly even cleanse it if there was time. If we dared to
go looking for water.
Nemis was right,
the voice in the back of his mind
whispered.
This is no place for any of us. We’re all going to die here in the
dark.

Lhors pushed the gloomy voice away and wondered how much
longer before they would move on and how much longer before they would battle
these drow. They sound very dangerous. Perhaps, he thought, we really will all
die in here—or all of us except Nemis. Suddenly, Lhors could understand why
Khlened and some of the others didn’t fully trust the mage, especially since
Nemis didn’t often explain himself unless Vlandar insisted.

He gazed into the dimly lit hallway that ran south to north
and across it to the stairway they’d come down. It was blessedly quiet up there.
He couldn’t imagine that would last for long. Even if that horrid fat giant king
can’t free himself from the place he hid, he mused. Some guard will come looking
for him. They’ll see Gerikh’s bar across the way in and then…

Lhors drew back as two brutish trolls suddenly stomped down
the hall, hesitating at the staircase. His heart sank, and he feared discovery
when the two turned to look his way. But Nemis’ protective spells were as good
as the mage claimed. The two monsters tromped on south, hesitated a moment at
the bend in the passage, then trod back north, their footsteps echoing and
growing fainter until they ceased entirely.

Vlandar sat next to him, back propped against the stone wall
and legs stretched in front of him. He seemed fairly relaxed, content to let
Malowan and Nemis work out their plans while he rested. Lhors reminded himself
that so far, Vlandar and the others had kept them safe.

And you’ve helped. You’ve killed giants. Father’d be proud,
had he lived to see that.
Lhors Giant Killer
Agya had called him. He
smiled to himself. True, others had helped in the killing, but twice now, Lhors
had dealt the killing blow—once in pure rage and once in sheer panic, but both
creatures were equally dead.

Seems ya might not be so useless after all.
The words
echoed in his head.

Lhors settled his shoulders next to Vlandar’s. He was still
afraid, but that was sensible in a place like this. Fear would help to keep him
alive. He’d manage.

Some moments later, Vlandar stirred. “Everyone caught their
breath? Legs rested? Weapons checked?” There were a few quiet murmurs of assent.
“Good. Nemis, how much farther and what can we expect when we get there besides
a brutal fight?”

Nemis slid over next to Vlandar. “Not much farther—as long as
we can go straight up this hall and then east. Once we’re there, things will get
interesting. Complicated. There is one main entry blocked by a dreadful trap—a
tentacle wall. It looks like an ordinary part of the wall until you get close,
then the tentacles grab you. I have some spells to use against it, but I doubt
they will entirely neutralize it. And if only the tentacles are destroyed, there
are other things on the wall—beaks to bite you.”

“What about my arrows from the Steading trove?” Rowan asked.

“They might harm it, but if you touch the wall, it warns
those inside. An arrow—or any weapon for that matter—might have the same
effect. The only other way in is through a secret door inside the cells. I
suggest we not go that way.”

“Why fight ’em at all?” Agya demanded softly. “Why don’t you
and Mal go close by, make a spell t’learn who’s in there, then get away, or put
sleep on ’em and search in there?”

“I think it unlikely a sleep spell would work on every drow
in there. I am certain it will not work on Eclavdra. But we must get in. If only
servants or clerics are there, we can kill or disable them and then search for
further proof against Eclavdra—other allies she has, perhaps even more maps. If
she returns here to find her sanctuary violated, it won’t stop her, but it may
make her wary for a while. If she
is
here…” He drew a deep breath
and expelled it in a rush. “Then we must kill her.”

“If we can.” Vlandar nodded. “We must go before someone finds
our handiwork above.”

“Remember,” Nemis told them as he got to his feet, “the drow
do not expect open attack here. The rooms are guest chambers and placed in the
very midst of this palace. King Snurre’s guards patrol frequently, but the drow
take normal precautions only. Also,” he added with an almost cheerful grin, “it
is daylight out there. Drow live deep in the ground, but even so, many of them
choose to sleep when the sun lights the lands above them and wake when the sky
is black. If there is a chance for us to surprise them, this is the hour.”

“Besides,” Malowan put in, “the scroll is in there, and we
need it. I don’t relish the idea of walking all the way back to Keoland.”

Vlandar nodded with a smile, then eased over to peer into the
hall. He drew back suddenly.

“Guards,” he rasped, “three of ’em at the far end of the
hall. They’re standing there talking. Sure your spell’s holding, Nemis? Mal?”

Both men nodded.

“We won’t go yet, then. Nemis, tell us what to expect
inside.”

Lhors doubted the warrior had forgotten anything. He was
keeping them all from worrying about things or getting restless—and making sure
everyone else remembered.

Nemis shrugged.

“If nothing has changed since I was here years ago, it’s
about twice the size of the cave we were in last night. It is divided into two
rooms by a curtain. The far chamber is her bedchamber. It is all dimly lit. One
or two clerics have the outer chamber, and that’s where we will come in. They’ll
be competent magicians, but Mal or I will do what we can to neutralize them so
that you fighters can take them on. If any of the drow has a thing like a lash
with several snaky ends, don’t let it touch you. It will sap your strength.
Eclavdra—if she’s here—Mal and I will take her. Agya, Lhors, Gerikh, and
Florimund, you can serve us best by staying out of the way and guarding our
backs. Rowan, Maera, whatever arrows and spears you have left from the Steading
trove, save them for her.” He thought a moment. “Ah, I nearly forgot. She and
any of her drow who come here use a spell scroll. There is another such scroll
here to take them back. If any drow tries to get to it, do all you can to stop
him.”

“Why?” Agya asked warily.

“So we don’t all get transported underground,” Nemis said
evenly. “And the king’s wizards may be able to use it. Vlandar, are your guards
still up there?”

“Still there,” the warrior reported, “but wait. One’s gone on
north. The other two are heading this way.”

He eased back against the wall, and the party fell silent.
Some moments later, two trolls strode past and went down the hall and around the
bend. Rowan edged around Vlandar and pressed against the south wall of their
hiding place, listening intently.

She finally nodded. “Truly gone.”

“Good. Let us go then,” the mage said and stepped into the
open.

Lhors sighed faintly as he moved back into the hall. Look
upon me, Father. Help me be brave.

* * *

Nemis drew them to a halt just short of a smithy. The din
here was strong and echoed into the hallway. Dark ruddy light from several fires
lay across the stones. The mage nodded and led them up the hall.

Another few paces brought them to another broad hallway, this
one heading east. It was gloomy that way despite a few torches stuck into the
wall. Most of those burned fitfully, and all but one was at the far end of the
passage. To the north, Lhors thought he could hear voices, echoing eerily as if
the speakers stood in a huge chamber.

Nemis gestured for them to follow him and moved swiftly into
the east passage. Some paces on, he stopped and drew everyone close against the
north wall. Lhors was aware of a wide passage that dropped down just past where
they stood and a vast, drafty space that way. Nemis pointed the other direction
at a rough section of the wall across the passage from them.

The mage gestured for complete silence, then stepped back to
let Malowan take his place. The paladin gazed at the wall for some moments.
Then, with a glance at his companions, he pressed his palms together. His lips
moved for some moments. He eyed Nemis, nodded, and walked steadily across the
hall.

To Lhors’ astonishment, the paladins hands seemed to go into the wall as if
it were water. Malowan withdrew one hand and beckoned for the others to join
him. Khlened and Bleryn exchanged wary looks but moved out, the rangers right
behind them. All four had weapons at the ready as they went into the wall and
out of sight. Florimund stayed quietly where he was until Agya took hold of his
arm and drew him across the passage. The half-elf willingly went with her.

He’s given up, Lhors thought. He went next, followed by
Gerikh and Vlandar. Nemis brought up the rear. The wall felt flaccid against his
skin and seemed to cling to him, but he was through it and next to Agya in an
instant.

The chamber was hung with purple and black drapes and was
thickly carpeted. A black candle burned in a deep holder on a table partway
across the room, another deep in a wall-niche.

Khlened and Bleryn were already partway across the room,
advancing on a couch near the west wall and the black-skinned fellow who blinked
at them sleepily.

He’s so small! Lhors thought.

Lhors’ eyes shifted briefly as Vlandar stepped away from him
and threw one of his daggers. A second drow had come from behind one of the
drapes, his lips moving in a spell. The dark elf ducked the dagger, and Vlandar
reached for another. Rowan’s arrow sang past Lhors’ ear and caught the drow
between shoulder and throat. The fellow’s eyes went wide with pain but his lips
were still moving. Maera ran him through with her spear.

“Well done! Get back now!” That was Nemis.

Maera freed her spear, but Rowan only had time to grab one of
her arrows before the mage pulled her back.

On the other side of the chamber, Lhors could see Khlened
towering over his adversary. The barbarian grinned fiercely and brought up his
sword, but the drow rolled from the couch and under it, emerging on the other
side as the barbarian brought the weapon down in a slashing blow that cut deeply
into finely carved wood. Before he could free it, the drow snatched up a long
rod from the floor and lashed out. Writhing tentacles smacked into Khlened’s
arm. The barbarian sagged against the wall, gasping for air. Even with two
hands, he couldn’t seem to lift his sword.

The drow chuckled and raised the weapon for another blow.

Bleryn jumped back just in time, then brought his javelin
down savagely across the clerics slender wrist.

Lhors winced as he heard the unmistakable crack of bone.
Bleryn shoved the fallen weapon aside with the tip of his spear and took a step
forward. The drow reeled back a pace, his lips moving. Bleryn froze, weapon
upraised. Khlened wasn’t moving either.

“Spell,” Nemis hissed. “Mal, watch the drape!”

The mage took a pace into the open, catching the drow’s
attention. The fellow cradled his broken arm against his breast, but his lips
continued to move. Nemis murmured something, then held up his hands as the
cleric bared his teeth. The drow stayed that way, as if suddenly turned to
stone.

“Sent the magic back at him,” the mage explained. “Leave
them, Vlandar,” he added softly as the warrior started toward Khlened. “There is
nothing you can do now except fight to protect them until we are done.”

The mage moved across the room, stopping several paces from
the brightly colored drape that covered most of the east wall.

Lhors tightened his grip on the daggers he’d drawn and
swallowed past a dry throat. Why hadn’t this Eclavdra attacked them yet? Were
they alone? He suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath since he’d first
seen movement on that couch. The entire attack against the two drow had taken no
time at all.

Nemis, Malowan, and Vlandar stood in the middle of the room
facing the drape. Rowan had taken up a position near the corner and knelt to fit
an arrow to the string. Maera was so near Lhors, the youth could have taken a
step and touched her.

She looked at him, thought for a moment, then finally spoke.
“Keep Florimund safe for me.”

He didn’t quite know what to say.

“We’ll keep ’im,” said Agya from behind Lhors.

Nemis moved to the very center of the room, gesturing for his
two companions to move away from him, then he took a deep breath.

“I know you are there, Eclavdra,” he said, making no attempt
at silence. “Come forth or we will set fire to the chamber.”

Silence answered them.

“We control the palace of the fire giants, Priestess. This is
no longer a haven for you.”

“You do not.”

Lhors started as a resonant, low female voice wafted through
the room. He hadn’t seen any movement of the drape, but she was suddenly
there.

The clerics had seemed small to the youth, but Eclavdra—if
this was truly she—was smaller than Agya. Unlike the little thief, the drow was
almost fragile-looking. She wore a flowing black robe barely touched with
silver. Sheer fabric slid smoothly over high breasts and a flat belly. Long
silver hair rippled from beneath a cap the color of her skin. Tendrils of her
hair slipped across her wrists and shoulders as she shook her locks back from
sharp ears.