Read Online Against the Giants by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel, Undead) - Free Book Online Page A

habit
of attacking young men with bad manners.”
    “It’s not fair,” the would-be swashbuckler whimpered.
    “Life is not fair,” Malowan said evenly. “Most youths your
age have learned it by now. Your mother cannot buy you a place in this company,
and she would be appalled to learn you came here. Go home. We are looking for
those who can work as a team—something you may learn one day. You would not like
the world beyond Cryllor. Giants, goblins, and other evil creatures do not know
your mother and would not spare you because of her rank and wealth.”
    “You’re afraid,” Plowys said, “afraid I’m better than you.”
    “No,” Malowan replied simply.
    Vlandar shook his head firmly. “You cannot pick your fights
out there. Challenge the wrong foe, and you’re dead without even a chance to
draw your blades.”
    “You’ll be sorry,” Plowys snarled, but Lhors didn’t think his
heart was in it anymore. The pouting young man resheathed the dagger and
stalked off.
    Malowan watched him leave then sighed after a moment. “I will
spend my next two nights kneeling on a cold stone floor to implore the gods’
forgiveness for my treatment of that poor child. Heironeous sees into my heart
and knows I still can feel such anger.”
    “Phuff!” Vlandar spoke sharply, silencing him. “I wonder the
‘poor child’ is still alive after insulting so many.”
    “He’s still alive,” Malowan replied, “because he only chooses
fights against poor or drunk men. I wonder why the guard has not arrested him
before now.”
    “Because, as you say, his mother protects him, and because
he’s only just finished his course of swordplay with Master Eggidos. He hasn’t
been on Cryllor’s streets that long.” Vlandar still sounded angry. “Make your
amends if you will, Malowan. If your god is the least fair, he’ll understand.”
    “No.” Malowan smiled faintly. “In my anger and pride, I
challenged the boy’s manhood, his sword skills, and ill-spoke his mother. He is
untutored and ignorant, but I am not.” He rose to his feet. “I will return,
Vlandar. If Agya comes this afternoon, remind her that I want to hear her recite
the Acts of Clean Living tomorrow morning. I also want her to resume honing her
skills at sniffing out things. It might prove itself useful on this journey.”
    Vlandar clasped his friend’s arm. “I will. Mind you, don’t
hold vigil the entire night. I have need of you tomorrow.”
    Malowan smiled faintly. “I know. I will be here.”
    He left, and Lhors watched him go.
    Vlandar cleared his throat. “Any questions, lad?”
    The youth rubbed his still-patchy beard. Arkon’s—Plowys’—had been both thick and neatly trimmed. I could envy him just the beard, let
alone those blades, thought Lhors. He sighed and said, “I think I understand.
Father said a man who fights only those he can beat is a bully. But out there
against giants he couldn’t choose his fights.”
    “Exactly. Now—” Vlandar broke off as a huge red-haired man
came into the barracks and began looking around. The man was impressively built
and armed. Tall and massive with broad shoulders, the man’s hands were huge and
capable-looking. Lhors tried not to stare as the fellow stopped mid-room, but it
was nearly impossible not to. A thick, braided sash held up heavy woolen
trousers. A second sash held both an enormous warhammer and a spiked ball and
chain. His armor was all padded and quilted, reinforced here and there with
black hardened leather that was shiny with age. He was very pale-skinned, his
hair pale golden-red and braided back with two narrow beaded strands hanging in
front of his ears. His eyes were light winter-sky blue and intense.
    “Who is that?” Lhors whispered.
    “I’ve seen him round the city once or twice in the past few
days. He’s Fist clan, I think.”
    “Fist?”
    “They inhabit the lands around the Grendep Bay in the far
northeast, cold lands. He’s a barbarian, anyway.