Bellowing, part laugh and part battle cry, the giant strode forward into the square, hefting an enormous spear as he searched for a target. Panicked villagers streamed in every direction-all except for one. Lharis stoodin the midst of the chaos, waving his sword and trying to direct the hysterical crowd. The giant spotted him and hurled its massive spear straight for him. The deadly missile sang through the air and slammed into the warrior.

Lharis choked. He was knocked off his feet a man’s length ormore before he went down. Blood-too much blood-ran down his chin. His handsclawed at the thick wooden haft that swayed above his belly and pinned him firmly to the ground.

“Father!” Lhors’ voice cracked into treble. He threw himselfat the older man. Lharis tried to speak, but no words came. His eyes found Gran. She nodded, caught Lhors by the shirt and dragged him back.

“Don’t!” she shouted. “That’s a killing blow. You can’t helphim. You’ll only cause him more pain, and he knows it! Get all the children youcan and get them to the cellars. Go!”

“I can’t!”

“You can! Go!”

The boy glanced back at his father. Lharis lay still, his hands suddenly limp at his sides and his eyes staring sightlessly up. Lhors shuddered and turned away.

Gran paused to take stock. People were running in all directions, girls screaming shrilly, men bellowing and cursing. A hideous, deep laugh drowned them out. The giant who’d killed Lharis stepped into the square,overturning the empty soup pot as he shouted what must be an order, but she couldn’t understand a word of it. Three more giants-huge-muscled, fur-andhide-clad brutes-immediately came from the trees to stride after the villagersfleeing into the stable. Somewhere beyond them, she could hear her son shouting, “No! Don’t go in the buildings! Get out of the stable! Get to the stream or thecellars!”