The day after he sent the letter, he got the reply.
Wolfgan locked Geoffrey in his room, three guards assigned not to leave the door. Geoffrey was still screaming at him from the behind the locked doors and the soldiers were stiff, eyes widening at every curse aimed at Wolfgan and his family tree.
It had to be done. He knew Geoffrey would try something stupid otherwise. He left his wolves inside with him, as they would probably calm the druid down, and left orders for the guards to give Geoffrey wherever he wanted, but not to let him leave the castle, and to keep him in his room for as long as they could.
With a heavy heart, knowing Geoffrey might not forgive him, he walked down the stairs of his castle. A meeting was schedule with the giant's chieftain, Alkmog, where Wolfgan and Haomath would know what the next step was. If there was a traitor among the Giant's, their leader would have to hunt the kidnapper down. If they did not find Henry, or the traitor, then Wolfgan and Haomath would have no option but to ban the giants from the mountains of Hull, and he doubted they would leave quietly.
He remembered how it all begun. Two devils, Gulf and Kolin, the two giants he and his father fought to death two years ago.
They were hunting, he, his father and his mamka. It was his birthday, and they were journeying close to the mountains to hunt, and celebrate it. The huge giants came out of nowhere, right when they were about to cross a bridge. Wild and with strange intent in their eyes, they were intercepted close to a frail bridge that crossed a deep canyon.
Henry stood still on the bridge, and as they fought, one frost giant succumbed on the snow, blood painting the ground. The other fled towards him.
"Do not come any closer, my son!" Henry said. "The bridge will not hold us all."
He did it anyway. He ran to his mamka, and it was Haomath who held him down. The giant Gulf, still bloodied and almost dead, walked the bridge towards his Henry. The weight wouldn't hold. Henry tried to cross to the other direction, but when the giant fell to his knees halfway through, the bridge broke.
It broke.
Henry fell, and disappeared in the mist underneath the canyon.
He should have suspected when they didn't find the body, how could he? Now, Henry was alive somewhere, either captured by someone or trapped in the mountains deep labyrinths.
He could already see the city's gates ahead. To get into the mountain was tricky, but both warlords had experience in this part of the land. It was on the borders of Hull, and it was the part the giants claimed. Patrolling around here was mandatory, over the years.
It was colder here than in any other place, but snow did not fall and the air was heavy. Wolfgan glanced at Haomath, whose face was like stone, with only one goal in mind. They would get Henry back, one way or the other. The giants opened the huge metal gates for his party, enough soldiers to offer protection should they have to fight their way out. Giants, males and females, all dressed in pieces of leather and fur, guarded the gates and watched them enter the fortress.
-.-.
It was their chief that invited Wolfgan inside, and a guard of some kind accompanied them. Wolfgan and Haomath walked among the city towards the hut of the chieftain. Wolfgan's shoulders were tense. The females were about his size, and the males taller, but their back curved in strange ways., They were far from what he considered human. Yet, he came from one of them.
He could not feel any connection to these people.
He looked at some females passing through with dead wild pigs on their shoulders, primitive weapons on their hands, and he tried to imagine calling any of them mamka. But it was the image of Henry that fluttered in his mind, and squeezed at his heart. If he didn't know better, he'd say he came from Henry's womb, somehow. His first memories of childhood being in his mamka's lap, grabbing at the jug of hot milk, mamka's laughter and kisses and warmth... He shook his head, and again glanced at his father, who seemed also deep in thought.
"Do you remember who did you mate with, two winters past?" Haomath asked him, as they walked through the city. Kalifar was also by his side, and was listening closely.
Wolfgan was taken by surprise by the question.
"No, I was quite drunk, and they all looked the same to me. But what does it matter? The child died at birth."
Haomath did not answer, only nodded, still not sharing what he was thinking. Wolfgan did not ask.
Finally, they came to a hut that was bigger than others. It was an igloo of sorts, but he had never seen one so big and solid. It was big enough for at least three frost giants to live comfortably in, he thought. A strange bird was perched in one of the posts that held the hut together.
The door was made of leather, flapping in the wind. The giant accompanying him stopped, and made a sign for him to enter. He did, and his father followed, as did Kalifar. The rest of the soldiers that did not stop at the gate, stood outside of the hut.
What greeted him was a giant sitting on a strange chair made of bones. His metal and leather clothes indicated wealth, and strength. In front of him, an ice table held together, maybe even formed, by strange magic that Wolfgan felt vibrating from it. There was also some sort of magic static in the air, and he could tell the chieftain was hiding some kind of supernatural power. Being around Geoffrey for the last months ad made him sharp to tell it.
It was a shaman.
"Greetings to the Warlords of Hull. Please take a sit," he said, gesturing widely to the rest of the interesting chairs around the round ice table, a strange smile on his face, as if trying to mimic what a human would do. The three hullians were well protected against the cold, but as Wolfgan sat, he had the strange thought that if Geoffrey was here, he would be blue, and frozen. He would never let Geoffrey come to this parts of the mountain. His heart pounded stronger in his chest at the thought of Henry somewhere around. Could he really be alive? It was too surreal to believe.
The cold in Hull was natural. This was unnatural. Inhumane. The chairs of bones, the table, the air and the floor beneath his feet. And looking at the giant in front of him, the gray-white skin shining strangely, almost leather-like in places. The huge teeth protruding from his mouth... It was just something else entirely. He felt like destroying it.
As soon as Haomath sat down, he spoke. His voice boomed and it ended any amicable air the chieftain had attempted to create.
"Did you receive our message?" he said, simple and to the point. The chieftain dropped his smile, and a fist came to the table in stupendous strength.
"Yes! Angry I was to read it!" he turned his head to Wolfgan, and then to Haomath again, almost spitting from his mouth. "I am no traitor!"
His language was very close to Hullian but the growls were even more stronger, so strong it was hard to make out the words. Animal-like. But it was, in a way, perfect Hullian.
Haomath did not flinch, only leaned in further. His father was more used to talking to the giants, while Wolfgan had only met them in battle. In a way, it was new to him. He felt nostalgia, of accompanying his father to meetings and being in the background. Haomath was a Warlord once again, fuelled by the hope of Henry's still beating heart.
"Then, who is?" his father asked, voice dark. The chieftain narrowed his eyes, and looked around the table.
"I do not know," he said, but was quick to finish. "If your Dalikath is inside the mountain caves, he will be found! But I do not believe that. Elves wither and die in the cold!"
"And that is why he had me," Haomath growled. "You have seven days. If he is found dead, the contract is broken, the pact unmade and the gods will unleash their punishment on you. Giants, and Hullians will suffer." His voice growing darker and rougher at every word.
Chieftain Alkmog was no fool to trick the gods. The pact was old and the Warlords respected among their people, despite their differences. Before, both Hull and the Mountains surrounding it were uninhabitable, and the giants suffered while trying to find food. Many succumbed to diseases. When the first warlord came to the land, the gods blessed the place, and the Giants were able to come back to their homes. Plenty was the food, the cold appeased their hearts and the land was kind to the spirits.
Losing it would be painful. The pact was old.
In the Frost Giant's head however, reason was pushing hope into a dark corner. How could an elf survive in the mountains?
"Seven days," he said to both Warlords of strange culture. He would call upon the spirits, and no soul would be hidden from him. Dead or alive. "We will seek the traitor."
-.-
Breaking free from the castle was easy. The soldiers were easily swayed by Geoffrey's act, his weeping cries of how much he missed the warlord. Of how he had visions.
I know he's dead! I just know it! Bleeding on the snow, no healer around. Oh, please, guide me to him! Take me to the horse so I can go to him! The wolves will keep me safe.
I do not need company, thank you for your kindness ...
Now look closely into my eyes.
He left them sleeping on the stable, afraid that his magic wouldn't last long. The months spent in the castle only honed his healing skills and his knowledge on herbs, because Wolfgan never failed in returning from hunts and patrols hurt in one way or another, and watching him ignore his wounds was unnerving. Geoffrey had left any other studies behind, focused on this task and caring for the castle much as he did in the temple. He sighed, thinking about the Meladora herb Wolfgan brought. He would probably never had the chance to draw the plants healing salve from the thorns, and Wolfgan would throw them away after a while, not knowing what the rare plant is for.
The wolves whined and nipped at his ankles, standing in front of the horse, as if knowing their master would not approve of his disobedience. Geoffrey appeased their minds with a spell, but failed to make them stay behind. He feared the wolves would be harmed in his trip, and he did not want to make them victims of his mistake, but they would not leave, and Geoffrey did not have much time to spare.
He headed for the mountains, the cold of Hull hardening at each mile, to a point where he had to cast spells of warmth every twenty minutes past. He feared for his body, and irreparable damages, but reminded himself that it didn't matter. Wolfgan's furs draped across his back and enveloped him in a familiar scent, as he galloped through the snow. Once the ground became rocky and hard, he knew he was in the borders, and instead of following the path to the cities, he followed the path of the caves and the congealed rivers on the side of it. He came across a big abyss and some reminiscences of what had been a bridge, and he knew he was close. The wolves became focussed and sniffed everywhere.
As he trotted towards one particular cave he could see in the distance, he felt his heart pound and his blood grew even colder. The ground was almost translucent, and the rock was covered by bluish ice, magic emanating from it.
He heard the screams of past events in his head. The wind painted pictures of faded figures, a giant walking around this place. Henry was beneath this cave, miles from the gates of the giant's city. Geoffrey made his way to the cave that lead to Henry.
The wolves growled at the mouth of the cave. He felt them biting at his cape and his robes and looked down at them from his horse. They were big enough for his hand to reach out and touch their fur. He did that, and the fur was wet and somewhat frozen, but their core was hot. He knew they would survive this horrible cold.
He cast another spell on himself that was not even close to Wolfgan's body enveloping his in bed.
Shivering, he dropped from the horse. Ice and snow covered the rock and dirt and he could only see darkness inside. But he felt it. He felt the energy of life around him and beneath. The wolves whined and bit at his cape trying to take him back, but only managed to trip him.
"Get back!" he screamed at them, voice raw and broken, pointing towards Hull. "Seek your home!"
The wolves whined some more and even barked, but slowly inched away. Geoffrey hoped they were going back to the castle but he knew they were going to look for their owner. He sighed, turning back towards the mouth of the cave, the air hitting his face was humid and cold.
He entered the cave, making sure Wolfgan's cape was tight around him. At first, there was nothing. The cave was deep and he walked until he could see only darkness. His hands were quick to perform a spell, the fire from his hand lightening the cold floor of the cave. He could not see any holes. He would have to search more.
He crouched on the the ground and spread his hands, and he felt the vibration coming from underneath. How would he get there? But there was something else. Footsteps. He trembled, looking up.
There was a giant in the cave, disfigured and missing an arm. He could see badly, the small fire he made quickly fading away. He could not make sense of the information, his mind was in panic and his eyes grew blurry as the white fur and skin and teeth filled his vision. The whole ground trembled and shook, cracking. Before he could even think of a way to defend himself, the giant roared and picked him up, and Geoffrey could not feel his body anymore, and everything disappeared.
-.-
He woke up slowly, his head pounding. It was chilly, but something was warming him up. Beneath him there was softness. He could hear faint whimpers in the distance, childish whimpers, and an adult hand threading through his hair. He could hear a faint humming song too.
"Poor boy... Wake up my sweet, you need to heal," he heard someone say. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew it was Henry.