The scout let his first shaft fly, then began firing as fast as he could nock arrows. First the lead warrior fell, then the second and third. Suddenly the ogres at the front of the line were scrambling for cover. As they scurried off Tavis's trail, they began to drop into crevasses in groups of three and four, leaving nothing behind but the empty air where they had been standing only a moment earlier.
Tavis shifted his aim farther down the trail, to where the ogres were not yet scattering. He began to pepper the entire line, sometimes putting a single arrow through the bodies of two warriors. The brutes stampeded away from the attacks, scattering in every direction. They vanished into the crevasses a dozen at a time, as often as not forced over the edge by the press of their panicked fellows. Many of those who did not perish simply threw themselves to the ground and cowered in the snow. The scout aimed a few more arrows at these targets, and soon they were up again, rushing about with the rest of their peers.
Goboka's angry voice echoed up the ice fall, yelling commands at his warriors in their own guttural language. A few of the brutes heeded his words and began trying to calm their comrades. Tavis concentrated his fire on these would-be leaders and prevented the ogres from regrouping. The survivors began to take shelter in shallow depressions and behind blocks of ice, but showed no inclination to resume the journey up the dangerous icefall-at least not while Bear Driller was showering them with arrows.
When it became apparent that the scout had stopped the ogre warriors, Goboka spoke a few words to his archers. They arranged themselves in a three-abreast column. The shaman stepped into the middle of the group and ducked down to prevent himself from becoming an easy target. The entire line started up the trail Tavis had blazed, those in front using their bows to probe for crevasses along the edges of the path.
The scout did not bother firing at the column. He did not have enough arrows left to kill even half of them, and he would only empty his quiver in vain if he tried to frighten them off the path as he had the first group.
"This makes no sense," Morten growled. "Why doesn't the shaman use his archers, or cast a spell at us?"
"Because of Brianna. He won't risk killing her by accident," Tavis explained. "He wants her alive as much as we do."
"Then let's count ourselves lucky and run for it," the bodyguard urged.
Tavis shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "If we run now, the others will regain their courage and prevent us from climbing off the glacier."
"They're doing that now," Brianna said. She cast an angry glance at the ice cliff behind them. "Or hadn't you noticed?"
"You're looking the wrong way," Tavis said. He pointed along the base of the icy cliff, to where a jagged rib of granite rose from beneath the glacier to ascend the canyon wall. "All we need is time enough to get up that ridge."
"That's no simple climb," Morten said. The ogres will catch up and pull us off before we're ten feet up."
"Not without their shaman, they won't," Tavis said.
The scout motioned for his two companions to follow, then dodged a short distance down the steep slope to a huge serac. The block was tipped almost horizontally across the slope, directly above the route Tavis had blazed up the crevasse-field. Morten instantly understood the plan. Without being asked, he braced his hands against the side and began to push.
Goboka also realized the scout's intentions. As Tavis laid his hands on the ice, the shaman shouted a harsh command. Dozens of bowstrings snapped. A volley of arrows sailed up the hill to clatter harmlessly off the spire's far side.
Tavis pushed. A loud crack sounded from the serac's base.
A deep, rumbling voice echoed through the night air: the shaman casting a spell. The scout pushed harder, drawing an involuntary scream of exertion from his lungs. Another crack sounded from the bottom of the tower-then Tavis heard Brianna utter a spell. A sharp sizzle filled the night air as the princess called Hiatea's name and a bolt of red flame shot down the slope toward Goboka's head.
The shaman's voice fell silent in the middle of a word and he kicked at the snow. A white spray erupted from beneath his feet, coalescing into an icy shield just as Brianna's spell streaked down from above. The fiery bolt crashed into the frosty circle with a deafening blast, then both spells sizzled away in a cloud of steam.
"Now, push!" Morten yelled.
Tavis braced his boots against the snowy slope and, placing his shoulder against the serac, drove forward with all the strength in his legs. With a thunderous boom, the icy tower broke free. As it tumbled away, both firbolgs pitched forward and slid down the glacier on their faces.
