Free The Giant Among Us by Troy Denning Page B

silence, echoed off the stone walls. The counterweight seemed to stick for a moment, then a loud crack sounded from the threshold as the door broke free. The granite slab began to rise, grudgingly, and a low, grinding growl joined the cacophony of rattling chains. A sliver of gray light appeared on the tunnel floor and slowly spread down the passageway.
    Tavis cursed. Although the rays were not bright, he knew what they meant: dawn was coming, and soon. He forced himself to look into the light so his eyes would grow accustomed to it and pulled harder. The door rose another foot.
    A gentle tremor shuddered through the tunnel, then another and another: giants searching for the source of the mysterious sounds. More steps joined the first, but none seemed to be growing any louder. That would change quickly enough, Tavis knew. Soon his foes would overcome their initial confusion and track down the source of the clamor.
    The scout stopped pulling on the chains and heard the gruff, terse grunts of shouting hill giants. Although the voices were too muffled to understand, they sounded much closer than Tavis would have liked. He gave the chain another long pull, then abruptly stopped. A trio of giants began shouting contradictory commands, confused by the sporadic noise.
    Tavis eyed the gap between the door and threshold, finding about three feet of gray light. That was enough space for him to squeeze through, but he feared the granite slab would slide down the instant he released it. The scout pulled again, paused a short time, then gave the chain another tug. The door rose to a height of six feet and now he could hear the giants clearly.
    “Where Gragg hear that sound?”
    “Gone again,” answered another muffled voice. “But gots to be over there somewhere. Be quiet.”
    The tunnel stopped shuddering as the giants moved more carefully. The scout could picture them stalking through the predawn light in the typical posture of hunting hill giants: hunched over almost double, tree trunks resting across their stooped shoulders, their dull eyes fixed on the ground with their thick brows screwed into a crumpled parody of concentration. They were hardly as stealthy as fog giants, but they would move with surprising grace for such ungainly beings, their knees bent and their legs flexed. If the need arose, they could spring over the land in great, bounding strides, the impact of each crashing footfall bouncing their terrified quarry off the ground. Tavis did not look forward to becoming their prey, but the prospect of reporting his failure to Brianna was even less appealing.
    The scout took a deep breath, then snatched Bear Driller and threw himself into the gray light. The door began to descend with a loud, grating rumble.
    The ground failed to appear beneath Tavis. He plummeted headfirst into the gloom and glimpsed the face of a rocky crag slipping past, then the stony dark mass of a hillside emerged before his eyes. He had enough time to cover his head before a wave of stinging numbness coursed through his arms. The scout rolled instantly, and found himself tumbling head-over-heels down a steep bank, ricocheting off boulders and tree trunks and leaving equipment strewn all down the slope. He came to a rest in the bottom of a rocky gulch, dizzy and aching, with the growl of the closing door still rumbling somewhere above.
    “Meorf hear sound!” shouted a giant’s distant voice.
    “Bhurn, too!” answered another. “Come up here, Gragg!”
    A series of muffled thuds echoed through the night. Tavis jumped to his feet and collapsed again, too shocked to stand. Both arms stung horribly, but it was his ribs that caused him the most pain. They hurt so much he could not draw air. The firbolg fought the tide of panic rising inside his chest and forced himself to exhale. The ache in his torso began to subside as his lungs expanded again, he had only knocked the wind out of himself. The scout took a few deep breaths, then flexed his elbows,