Against the Giants (9 page)

Still, they made a long day of it to make up for the lack of
speed. Most of the afternoon had been a subtle climb—enough to prove a
discomfort to a man riding who wasn’t a horseman, Lhors decided wearily. He was
ready to fall from the saddle when they finally stopped for the night just after
sundown.

The few oak trees around their camp were heavily festooned
with vining leather-leaf, a parasitic plant that only grew at higher elevations,
and the evening air was cooler than it had been in the city.

Pferic set the boy Zyb to gathering firewood while he hobbled
the horses for the night. The lord’s soldiers had set guard around the camp
already and apportioned watches. Lhors helped Pferic, giving a handful of grain
to each animal before he accompanied Zyb to help collect kindling.

The next day was much like the previous, but just after
midday, they rode into Flen. The boat turned out to be two flat-bottomed boats,
each surprisingly small with a long rudder oar and two poles per side. There was
a small cabin midships and a sturdy mast just before that. Lhors, who had never
set foot on a boat in his life, stared wide-eyed at the arrangement and was
slightly disappointed when Khlened and Nemis showed them how the sails were
furled. It was a very simple operation, one even
he
could manage to help
with.

Vlandar bid farewell to their escort and divided up the party
right away. “I have given some thought to this, so if you dislike my choice, I
suggest you try to live with it, since we all must function as a team from now
on. Once you know which boat is yours, get your things aboard as quickly as
possible and come back out to the dock. There’s a captain coming from the
company that patrols the rivers. We’ll all need to know what he can tell us, and
he’ll be sending four or so of his men with us to bring the boats back.”

Vlandar then sent Lhors and the rangers to the lead boat
where he would be, leaving the second to Malowan, Agya, Khlened and Nemis. Lhors
looked around in the brief silence that followed the announcement. He couldn’t
decide if anyone was displeased or not, but he was grateful not to be in close
quarters with Agya.

“What of the horses?” Rowan asked.

Vlandar spread his hands. “What I said back in Cryllor still
holds. Unless this Captain Holken tells us otherwise, I’ll want someone besides
Pferic on horse to keep an eye on the lands along both banks, possibly someone
afoot as well if the terrain calls for it. Last I heard, the middle reaches of
the river are not well patrolled, and there are villains of every kind who prey
on travelers. We won’t need all of the horses, however. Likely we’ll leave Zyb
here with most of them.”

“Sounds as if we won’t be coming back the same way we go,”
Khlened mumbled.

“No, remember what I told you in the barracks,” the warrior
said. “Maybe we’ll return as we went in—and in a hurry. If so, we’ll need the
boats and the horses. But if we must go on to another place, Mal and Nemis are
working on a way to let our outside party know to turn around and return here.”

“Since we don’t know what we’ll face or find,” Malowan added,
“we are trying to provide for several possibilities.”

“Mmmm.” The barbarian nodded and went to unload the packs
from his horse.

* * *

The sun was still well above the western hills when a
gray-bearded bear of a man with a captain’s patch on his hardened leather armor
strode up to the two boats with four men behind him.

“Vlandar, isn’t it?” he asked. “I’m Holken, and these are the
men I’m sending with you. They’re experienced in the—ah—
trade
along the
river between here and Istivin.” He grinned. “So’m I, but worse luck, I’m needed
here and up the Javan to the north.”

Vlandar met his hand halfway and led them onto the deck of
the first boat.

“Be that secret-like, or do we all listen in?” Agya asked.

Malowan shrugged. “We’ve still some loading and settling to
do. Vlandar will let us know what we need to know.”

“P’raps,” the girl replied. She gazed back the way they’d
come. “Wonder where that fool of a rich lad’s got ’isself to?”

“He’s waiting,” Khlened growled. “I can almost sense him
m’self, waiting for us to be on the move and out of this walled town so’s he can
follow once more.”

Malowan sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, Khlened, I
fear you are probably right.”

Just then, Vlandar reemerged and called the company together
while the local men were storing their own weapons and supplies. When everyone
had gathered, he explained, “These men patrol the river between here and
Istivin, and they know the dangers. For an old landsman like myself, they’ll
prove good instructors at poling a boat and reading the river. We’ve only a few
hours of daylight left, but the farther we get upriver tonight means one less
hour tomorrow and the day after.”

Malowan looked at each of them in turn then nodded. “It’s a
good plan. Let’s be off.”

* * *

Several hours later they stopped for the night against the
northern bank of the Davish River where it was undercut by high spring flow.
Here, they could not be seen from the south, were partly protected by rock face
to east and west, and reasonably comfortable on a pebble-strewn shoreline. Even
without a fire—the Flen guards had advised against one—they were fairly warm.
With a nearly full moon, they could see each other well even in the shadow of
the overhang.

Rowan and Maera spent an hour or so scouting the area. Upon
their return, Rowan announced that their tagalong was still tagging along.

“The lad’s impatient. He may yet give up,” was all Vlandar
would say.

“Well, better he’s out there than here,” Maera grumbled.

Lhors smiled but said nothing. Maera had already proven to be
much sharper tongued than her sister. Rowan actually smiled and spoke to him on
occasion.

Khlened mumbled something under his breath.

Rowan smiled at Lhors now, but her eyes were wicked. “Maera,
I don’t believe the barbarian likes us. I wonder why.”

“Yes,” Maera said flatly. “Which is it, barbarian, that we’re
rangers, female, or half-elf? Or is it just that we’re not Fist barbarian
women?”

A tense silence followed. Lhors saw Malowan stand to
arbitrate, but before he could speak, Khlened looked startled and possibly even
embarrassed at being called on his rudeness. He finally mumbled, “All that,
praps. Don’t know any elves—”

“Maera and I aren’t elves,” Rowan said mildly enough. “Our
father is human, a warrior like yourself, northerner.”

“Oh.” The barbarian glanced at them. “Don’t know any
half-elves or any rangers either. Just that… they’re odd, live in the woods,
talk to the bears.”

“Bears make more sense than people sometimes,” Maera said,
and for once she sounded almost friendly. “To us, you’re the odd one. Who’d want
to live in snow and ice country?”

“Because the north is Fist country,” Khlened replied
promptly. “Fist barbarians are born and reared there. Besides, better than to
melt in the south.”

“We don’t like heat much ourselves,” Rowan said. Silence
followed again, but it wasn’t quite as stiff a silence as it had been. Khlened
settled back and rummaged through his pack for a stick of jerky as Vlandar
apportioned the watches.

It clouded over and rained during the late hours, but only
briefly. Vlandar took the last watch. At sunrise, he had them on their way once
again, both boats moving slowly but steadily upstream while Rowan and Maera
scouted along the south shore and the Flennish guards took the north.

Lhors felt useless. He could pole, but he wasn’t strong enough to keep up
with Vlandar or Khlened. Vlandar put him to working the tiller because he could
follow orders, but he couldn’t begin to understand how to read the river.

Vlandar seemed to have picked up river travel quickly. When
the wind drove east to west for part of the afternoon and they were able to use
the sails, the warrior brought Lhors up to the bow and began pointing out how to
recognize shallow water, hidden rocks, swift currents, swirling currents, and
other dangers. Shortly after, the winds died and Lhors went back to the
tiller—still unable to work out their way by himself but easier with his role in
steering the boat.

“There are hill giants prowling about,” Rowan reported at
sunset when they picked her up along the southern shore, “but there is nowhere
for them to cross. We’ll be safe enough along the northern shore.”

“That’s good to know,” Vlandar replied, “but we’ll still set
a double guard tonight and light no fires. No use in tempting fate.”

* * *

Two more long days of hard work brought them to the Sterich
capital of Istivin. Lhors thought it a distinct step down from Cryllor. The
market was smaller, and there were few goods for sale except food and weaponry.
The periphery walls were utilitarian, and everything close to them stank of the
cauldrons of pitch kept over low-burning fires in case of sudden attack from
bandits, pirates, giants from the Steading, or other enemies. Apparently Istivin
had many of them.

Vlandar kept them in the city only long enough to check with
the captain of the city guard for any information about the Steading and other
perils in the vicinity. While he was gone, Lhors helped Pferic and Mal replenish
the company’s supply of bread, jerked meat, and other things that could be eaten
without the need for fires.

Past Istivin, the Davish took an abrupt turn to the south and
became narrower and more shallow. The current was slower, but sandbars and
submerged rocks were more prevalent, so they could proceed no faster.

Two days beyond Istivin, they beached the boats on the
innermost edge of a bend in the river and began distributing goods, extra maps,
water bottles and various supplies in case anyone was separated from the group.
The Flennish men turned the boats, then beached them again and brought out
dun-colored nets to drape over nearby trees for cover. In the same way, they
blocked the main opening of a cavern that could hold all the horses. Pferic and
Zyb had the beasts inside and tethered to a line near a tiny stream that wound
through the cave. Several paces upstream, there was a hole broken through the
roof. Where sunlight came through the hole, grass grew next to the water. It
wouldn’t serve the horses for long, but Pferic had brought grain enough to last
a while, and the Flennish guards knew places nearby where they could be grazed
in relative safety.

Malowan spent some time reminding Pferic how to check the
charm he and Nemis had concocted. With the tiny amulet, Pferic would know if he
and Zyb should take the boats and horses and head back to Flen or if they should
wait for the company to return.

Vlandar allowed the company one full day to rest up from the
rigors of upriver travel, then set off with his band, afoot, going south across
a narrow band of flat country that soon went into hills and then into
mountainous country. The Steading, according to his maps, was three days away,
no more.

It took all three days, partly because they needed to go to
ground for some time the first day to avoid a large company of bandits, and
again the next when three giants stopped to graze a flock of sheep—stolen, Lhors
thought.

Just after midday on the third day, Vlandar stopped the company in a thick
copse of trees and pointed south. “See the two-pronged peak that’s covered in
snow? The Steading is this side of it, just beyond that ridge.”

“Can we see it from the ridge?” Lhors asked. His feet ached
despite all his years of hunting with his father afoot, and he was cold, tired,
and scared.

“No. The ridge is too high. I’m told there are caves nearby.
With luck, we’ll be able to store our provisions and rest the night.”

“Caves,” Maera growled. “This near the Steading, the giants
will know them, too.”

“Yes,” Vlandar said, “but if the reports are true, there are
many that are more human-sized. Young giants might play in such caves if the
Steading were not a fortress, but babes from that fort are not allowed to play
outside.”

Khlened shook his head. “We’ve caves in the north. I dislike
’em. Bears and worse make them their home.”

“Bears?” Agya said and shuddered.

“We’ll make sure any cave we use has a small entry and no
back door,” Malowan assured her.

Rowan, who was peering out of the concealing branches to the
north, suddenly interrupted their conversation. “Vlandar, come have a look.”

Vlandar and the others came to where she crouched and saw
what had caught her attention. A lone figure was approaching them. Squinting to
try to make out the details, Vlandar finally said, “It’s Plowys.”

Agya spat. “Hoped maybe a bear’d eaten
him
.”

“No such luck,” Maera replied flatly.

Vlandar sighed. “We may as well wait here. We can’t evade
him, and we can’t send him back. He’ll simply refuse to go, and we can’t tie him
up and leave him, tempting as it is. Evade him, and he might ride up to the
Steading gates and demand to join his company.” He gave the barbarian a hard
look. “And no, it’s no answer to let him do just that. He’d give us away as soon
as he opened his mouth—or they’d torture him and learn of us anyway. I prefer to
keep our presence secret for a while. We might learn more that way. Besides,
this way we may be able to keep control of him.”

Khlened grumbled. “Hah. Well, if we’re waiting, I’ll wait on
my backside.” He settled on a nearby rock, and Nemis sat down next to him.

Minutes passed as Plowys came on. Apparently, he didn’t know
where their company had gone, but he was making his way to the very copse of
trees where they lay hid.

“Let me handle this,” Vlandar said as he stepped out of the
trees, waved to the young man, and then resumed his hiding place.