Of course, now that the secret was known, keeping the giants in a single location also made it easier to eliminate them. Or so Nedwin hoped.
He felt that the giants currently posed the single greatest threat to Trensicourt. There were more than eighty of the brutes, higher than the early estimates. That many giants backing the imperial guards every night was enough to make even the bravest revolutionary consider keeping his head down.
The imperial desire for secrecy increased the chance for success. There were not many human guards at the warehouse, and they kept out of sight. Most of them also helped drive the wagons. From what Nedwin could tell, no more than ten guards shared the secret, all of them senior conscriptors. The warehouse had only two entrances—a wide set of loading doors for the wagons, and a smaller door that led out the back. The guards protected the doors from the inside, probably to avoid drawing attention to the building.
The large warehouse had high, dirty windows. Reaching them had proven impractical—dangling upside down from the eaves would have left him much too exposed. So for reconnaissance purposes Nedwin had quietly cut holes in the roof.
As the sun elevated above the horizon, Nedwin reflected that this would be the first major blow against the usurpers who had staged the coup. To lose their giants would prove that their occupation was not as secure as it seemed. It would give others who wanted the empire out of Trensicourt reason to hope and reason to take action.
Losing eighty giants would also be a strong blow against Maldor. Of all the races of Zokar, giants were by far the rarest. They had aided Maldor in the past, giving him an undeniable advantage wherever they went. Nedwin felt eager to contribute to their extinction.
Although this would be his first military strike, Nedwin had already performed some minor mischief. Three days ago, toward the end of his search for the giants, Nedwin had accessed a garrison kitchen. For a moment he had been alone with three simmering kettles of stew. He carried multiple types of poison in the vials around his neck. He could have probably killed a fifth of the occupying soldiers.
But poison was a cowardly weapon, and the soldiers were tools, not masterminds. With access to a private bowl being delivered to Copernum, Nedwin would not have hesitated to make it lethal. A different set of rules applied to targeting a specific enemy. Poisoning a large group of soldiers was not only dishonorable, but it could lead to serious repercussions for the people of Trensicourt. Such unfair tactics would lead to unfair retaliation.
So instead Nedwin had seasoned the soup with a substance that would leave all who ingested it violently ill for at least a week. The feverish retching would be blamed on bad meat rather than shameful tactics. Although the enduring consequences would be minimal, over the short term the miserable symptoms would harm morale and reduce the number of guardsmen on patrol.
How would Copernum and his fellow conspirators respond to the death of the giants? They certainly would not want it known that their massive warriors had been wiped out in a single ambush. They would probably pretend to have sent them away. Nedwin suspected that only the most gullible soldiers and citizens would believe it.
Finally, Nedwin heard the first wagon clatter into the warehouse. He stole a couple of quick peeks as the second and third wagons rolled inside. It was a few minutes until the fourth arrived, and another short wait for the fifth and final shipment of miniature giants.
After the loading doors were closed and locked, Nedwin kept waiting. There was no need to rush the attack. He wanted them to have time to feel secure and relaxed. Let them eat. Let them unwind. Most of the giants would bed down, and the guards would settle in for another dull, routine day. Except for spoiled meat in the stew a few days ago, the city had been quiet ever since the night Copernum seized power. There was no reason for anyone to expect that pattern to break today, especially in this covert dormitory.
The sun climbed higher, reeling in the long shadows. Nedwin stretched. Too much inaction had left him feeling a little knotted. He rolled his neck, twisted his waist, extended his arms, and flexed his fingers.
He crept into position. There was no reason to hurry. Total silence was the goal, and he achieved it.
Late last night, while the giants were on patrol and the warehouse was still, Nedwin had constructed a hatch in the roof. Then he had erected a little tent over it. The tent would prevent sunlight from spilling through when the hatch opened. Even if he were spotted immediately, the plan should still work. But it would work better if he caught them completely unaware.
Easing the hatch open, Nedwin climbed down into the rafters. He knew that he might be seen at any moment. Movement tended to draw the eye, and there were many bodies below him. Most of them were slumbering dwarfs, but some were on their backs. All it took was one set of eyes.
He balanced up high in a shadowed corner crisscrossed with struts and beams. He watched those below him as best he could, motionless until he felt sure no gazes were directed his way. Inch by inch he reached the roost he wanted without anyone raising an alarm.
Below him four sentries clustered near the big doors by the wagons. Another pair of guards manned the smaller back door. Three-quarters of the dwarfs were asleep or at least trying. The others mostly conversed. A red-faced pair arm-wrestled across a square table. One dwarf whittled. Another munched on an apple. One read.
Nedwin held an orantium globe in each hand. The first throw was the trickiest. He wanted the globe to disable all four guards while damaging the loading doors enough for attackers to open them. It was a long throw. The pair by the back door was nearer.
After counting down in his head, Nedwin flung a globe toward the loading doors, pivoted, and hurled the other at the guards by the back door. Because the second globe traveled farther, they both exploded simultaneously. The blasts echoed loudly in the large, enclosed space. Nedwin noticed the undersized giants jerking and jumping with surprise.
The next two globes were for the little guys. They had kindly bedded down close to one another, so two spheres would go a long way toward ridding Trensicourt of giants. He threw the globes, watching as they curved downward. He covered his ears against the resounding explosions.
Obscured by smoke, Kerick led a group of fighting men through the back door. Gorson, the best man Nicholas had left behind, led more fighters through the damaged loading doors.
The dwarfs never stood a chance. They were not dressed for battle. Most had no weapons handy. Some tried to fight. Others scattered, trying to hide. Most appeared frightened and confused.
Nedwin held the fifth orantium sphere ready but had no occasion to use it. The uneven battle ended swiftly. Two of his allies had been injured, one killed. Kerick had been the most efficient, slaying at least ten foes. Nedwin wondered if any one man had ever cut down so many giants over such a brief period.
On their way out, the men splashed lantern oil around the room and started fires. That was the signal for Nedwin to return to the roof. His men would split up and disappear along prearranged routes. A few would stay near enough to watch for any emerging stragglers.
Nedwin would slip away quietly as well, using the rooftops as his roads. He needed to get away clean. He had other tasks to perform.
CHAPTER 24
AMBUSH
Nedwin sat on a rooftop watching the sunrise, the morning air cool against his skin. Ever since the coup, regardless of the hour, the city had been markedly quieter. Nobody wanted to be noticed.
Including him.
Nedwin was positioned so that no onlookers could see him from the street below, nor from any of the neighboring rooftops, unless they were directly to his east. The sun peeked over the horizon, throwing long shadows among the forest of spires, domes, belfries, cupolas, gables, turrets, and chimneys.
A satchel containing five orantium globes sat at his side. A separate stash of twelve was hidden inside the castle. Most of the remaining globes had been delivered by a seedman messenger not long after Galloran was crowned. The king of Trensicourt had
left behind all the orantium he could spare. Nedwin had detonated none so far.
Nicholas had gone. The legless lord had several hideaways prepared in the country outside the city. He had left Nedwin with some men, some contacts, a few letters of introduction, and the keys to some secret hideouts and storerooms.
Nollin had gone. Even after treatment it was not certain whether the seedman would survive. The wound to his side had been deep. He would remain with Nicholas until he either died or healed.
Kerick had remained. Nedwin now had a network of almost thirty men who he trusted. Most of them would be involved with the operation today in one capacity or another.
As Nedwin had expected, Copernum had orchestrated the insurrection. He had established himself as regent and claimed Trensicourt on behalf of the emperor. He had also announced the annihilation of Galloran and his army. Nedwin sensed that many doubted the lie, but nobody challenged the new regent vocally. Copernum had welcomed imperial soldiers into the city to help keep the peace during the transitional period. And he had stayed safely behind the castle walls.
The people of Trensicourt were unhappy, some were even angry, but the most capable of them had marched off to war. Intimidating patrols of soldiers and giants prowled the streets. The few open dissenters vanished promptly. Despite the atmosphere of oppression and uncertainty, people were returning to their daily business, conducting most of it indoors.
The majority of the soldiers and all the giants were barred access to the castle. Copernum was being very careful about who entered. Dolan, the grand duke, and certain predictable nobles were among the inner circle granted admittance, along with their personal guards and retainers.
Keeping the giants outside the castle had created an opportunity. Thanks to Aram and Jason, Nedwin knew what happened to giants once the sun came up, as it was doing now: They shrank.
Finding the lair where the giants hid during the day had been no small undertaking. In the days since the coup, most of his effort had focused on that one mystery. In the end the key had been following the food wagons.
He currently sat on the roof of a warehouse used to supply rations for the occupying force within the city. He and others had followed a number of giants during their nightly patrols. Not long before sunrise, the giants had all returned to the five main garrisons around the city.
At first Nedwin had guessed that the giants remained hidden at the various garrisons during the day, but he kept coming up against dead ends as he tried to discover where, specifically, they were housed. Then he had considered the morning food deliveries. The wagons went into the garrisons, remained unseen while food was unloaded, and then came out not long after dawn. All the wagons returned directly to a central warehouse. And that was where the tiny giants were unloaded. Nedwin had witnessed the process with his own eyes. The giants spent the day under one roof, sleeping and feasting, then returned to the garrisons with another food delivery before sunset.
Even in their small form, the giants ate a lot. It made sense to hide them where food was abundant and to limit the number of people who knew their secret by keeping the giants grouped at a central location. The logistics of maintaining five different covert holding areas at five separate garrisons would have been more complicated.
Of course, now that the secret was known, keeping the giants in a single location also made it easier to eliminate them. Or so Nedwin hoped.
He felt that the giants currently posed the single greatest threat to Trensicourt. There were more than eighty of the brutes, higher than the early estimates. That many giants backing the imperial guards every night was enough to make even the bravest revolutionary consider keeping his head down.
The imperial desire for secrecy increased the chance for success. There were not many human guards at the warehouse, and they kept out of sight. Most of them also helped drive the wagons. From what Nedwin could tell, no more than ten guards shared the secret, all of them senior conscriptors. The warehouse had only two entrances—a wide set of loading doors for the wagons, and a smaller door that led out the back. The guards protected the doors from the inside, probably to avoid drawing attention to the building.
The large warehouse had high, dirty windows. Reaching them had proven impractical—dangling upside down from the eaves would have left him much too exposed. So for reconnaissance purposes Nedwin had quietly cut holes in the roof.
As the sun elevated above the horizon, Nedwin reflected that this would be the first major blow against the usurpers who had staged the coup. To lose their giants would prove that their occupation was not as secure as it seemed. It would give others who wanted the empire out of Trensicourt reason to hope and reason to take action.
Losing eighty giants would also be a strong blow against Maldor. Of all the races of Zokar, giants were by far the rarest. They had aided Maldor in the past, giving him an undeniable advantage wherever they went. Nedwin felt eager to contribute to their extinction.
Although this would be his first military strike, Nedwin had already performed some minor mischief. Three days ago, toward the end of his search for the giants, Nedwin had accessed a garrison kitchen. For a moment he had been alone with three simmering kettles of stew. He carried multiple types of poison in the vials around his neck. He could have probably killed a fifth of the occupying soldiers.
But poison was a cowardly weapon, and the soldiers were tools, not masterminds. With access to a private bowl being delivered to Copernum, Nedwin would not have hesitated to make it lethal. A different set of rules applied to targeting a specific enemy. Poisoning a large group of soldiers was not only dishonorable, but it could lead to serious repercussions for the people of Trensicourt. Such unfair tactics would lead to unfair retaliation.
So instead Nedwin had seasoned the soup with a substance that would leave all who ingested it violently ill for at least a week. The feverish retching would be blamed on bad meat rather than shameful tactics. Although the enduring consequences would be minimal, over the short term the miserable symptoms would harm morale and reduce the number of guardsmen on patrol.
How would Copernum and his fellow conspirators respond to the death of the giants? They certainly would not want it known that their massive warriors had been wiped out in a single ambush. They would probably pretend to have sent them away. Nedwin suspected that only the most gullible soldiers and citizens would believe it.
Finally, Nedwin heard the first wagon clatter into the warehouse. He stole a couple of quick peeks as the second and third wagons rolled inside. It was a few minutes until the fourth arrived, and another short wait for the fifth and final shipment of miniature giants.
After the loading doors were closed and locked, Nedwin kept waiting. There was no need to rush the attack. He wanted them to have time to feel secure and relaxed. Let them eat. Let them unwind. Most of the giants would bed down, and the guards would settle in for another dull, routine day. Except for spoiled meat in the stew a few days ago, the city had been quiet ever since the night Copernum seized power. There was no reason for anyone to expect that pattern to break today, especially in this covert dormitory.
The sun climbed higher, reeling in the long shadows. Nedwin stretched. Too much inaction had left him feeling a little knotted. He rolled his neck, twisted his waist, extended his arms, and flexed his fingers.
He crept into position. There was no reason to hurry. Total silence was the goal, and he achieved it.
Late last night, while the giants were on patrol and the warehouse was still, Nedwin had constructed a hatch in the roof. Then he had erected a little tent over it. The tent would prevent sunlight from spilling through when the hatch opened. Even if he were spotted immediately, the plan should still work. But it would work better if he caught them completely unaware.
Easing the hatch open, Nedwin climbed down into the rafters. He knew that he might be seen at any moment. Movement tended to draw the eye, and there were many bodies below him. Most of them were slumbering dwarfs, but some were
on their backs. All it took was one set of eyes.
He balanced up high in a shadowed corner crisscrossed with struts and beams. He watched those below him as best he could, motionless until he felt sure no gazes were directed his way. Inch by inch he reached the roost he wanted without anyone raising an alarm.
Below him four sentries clustered near the big doors by the wagons. Another pair of guards manned the smaller back door. Three-quarters of the dwarfs were asleep or at least trying. The others mostly conversed. A red-faced pair arm-wrestled across a square table. One dwarf whittled. Another munched on an apple. One read.
Nedwin held an orantium globe in each hand. The first throw was the trickiest. He wanted the globe to disable all four guards while damaging the loading doors enough for attackers to open them. It was a long throw. The pair by the back door was nearer.
After counting down in his head, Nedwin flung a globe toward the loading doors, pivoted, and hurled the other at the guards by the back door. Because the second globe traveled farther, they both exploded simultaneously. The blasts echoed loudly in the large, enclosed space. Nedwin noticed the undersized giants jerking and jumping with surprise.
The next two globes were for the little guys. They had kindly bedded down close to one another, so two spheres would go a long way toward ridding Trensicourt of giants. He threw the globes, watching as they curved downward. He covered his ears against the resounding explosions.
Obscured by smoke, Kerick led a group of fighting men through the back door. Gorson, the best man Nicholas had left behind, led more fighters through the damaged loading doors.
The dwarfs never stood a chance. They were not dressed for battle. Most had no weapons handy. Some tried to fight. Others scattered, trying to hide. Most appeared frightened and confused.
Nedwin held the fifth orantium sphere ready but had no occasion to use it. The uneven battle ended swiftly. Two of his allies had been injured, one killed. Kerick had been the most efficient, slaying at least ten foes. Nedwin wondered if any one man had ever cut down so many giants over such a brief period.