Free The Titan of Twilight by Troy Denning Page A

fifteen if we go kill the one in front.”
    “You stay here,” Avner ordered. “What about the canyon rim? Is there any sign of our patrol?”
    It was a moment before Gryffitt replied. “I see something, just a few silhouettes.” He paused, then added, “But they’re too big to be humans, and they’re all— Stronmaus save us! I think they’re fomorians!”
    “Look across the canyon,” added Thatcher. “Verbeeg!”
    Avner felt his body go weak, and his muscles began to tremble. Fomorians and verbeegs were giant-kin, like firbolgs, and he knew it was no coincidence that they had appeared instead of the border scouts he was expecting. The entire giant-kin brood had united against the birth of Brianna’s child.
    “Av… ner!”
    Avner looked back to the queen, who had managed to prop herself on one elbow. Her other hand was rummaging for something inside the satchel where she kept her spell components.
    “Yes, Majesty?”
    “Do you… still have… Simon’s healing…”
    The queen did not have to finish her question. Avner took one hand away from her belly and reached into his cloak. He withdrew the small purple flask and offered it to her.
    Brianna shook her head. “Not yet.” She pulled her dagger from her satchel and turned the hilt toward Avner. “Baby might… need it.”
    The young scout stared at the weapon, uncomprehending.
    ‘You can see… the baby,” Brianna said. “It’s the only… way.”
    Avner was too terrified to reply. He could only shake his head and stare at the knife’s gleaming blade.
    ‘Take it!” Brianna thrust the weapon toward him, then collapsed onto her back. “Cut my child free… I command it!”
     
    Since dawn has my eagle battled the cold boreal wind, that I might witness the debacle below. Through his eyes have I watched the Sons of Masud fall like trees to the axes of men, and through his nostrils have I smelled their acrid blood heavy in the air. I have heard dying fire giants call my name, adjuring me to guide their spirits safely to Surtr’s fiery palace, and I have seen their warm corpses sinking into the ice. I have tasted the sour savor of defeat, and it has filled my throat with the burning bile of despair.
    My plan, of course, was not perfect—I am no god— but it was sound. The fire giants were too slow to implement it; too slow, and too faint of heart.
    Cowards? Perhaps. They faltered. They faltered, and so the firbolgs will carry the day.
    I am watching them now, the firbolgs clambering toward Brianna’s dank hiding place. In grim silence they climb, thirty warriors no larger than bears, weary of gait and pale with their barbarous intent. Their compassion makes softlings of them all; worse, it makes them liars. What honest warrior would shirk at murder to save his people? Not I; I killed, and willingly.
    My eagle beats its wings, rising high above their heads and flying straight on toward the tunnel where Brianna hides. By the flickering torchlight inside, I see the queen’s guards pinning her to the floor, one with a knife poised above her womb. Foolish woman. If she had come to me, I would have removed the infant with my magic. Now, she must trust the child’s life to an unwieldy dagger and a trembling boy.
    My pet reaches the tunnel mouth and wheels along the mountainside. He dives deep into the canyon, down half the length of the slope, and swoops low over the first firbolg. Talons as sharp as needles rake his quarry’s face. The warrior screams and falls, his hands reaching for an empty eye socket. My eagle banks away, a volley of shouts chasing him over the dusky gorge.
    This small reprieve is all I have to offer the unborn emperor. It is little enough, I know, but Annam’s children have fallen farther than I thought. In Ostoria’s absence, the giants have grown as weak and stupid as all the races of Toril.
    “…and we know who did that, Charles.”
    “…now you must leave, my darling…”
    “Don’t be afraid. One foot after the