Valiant (24 page)

I kept waiting for the duke to call the giant back. He’d promised us till the fourteenth. I leaned over the edge of the wall, hands gripping the stones, not caring how much it hurt.

At the last moment, the giant turned away from the bridge and ran to the willows that edged the Kriva. He took a handful of the curtainlike branches and ripped them aside. Then he wrapped both hands around the trunk and heaved against it, his great back straining.

I heard the shriek of wood giving way. Then he lifted the willow up with one hand and turned to show his prize. The duke gave a signal. The giant turned back toward the city, willow still raised.

“He’s going to throw it,” I said.

“No,” said Lord Verras. “It couldn’t possibly reach the gates.”

I knew better. I’d seen the scouts throw boulders.

Before I could reply, the giant hurled the tree.

The crowd cried out and the king whimpered as the tree arced into the sky toward us. Leymonn released Will, and dropped to his knees, head covered, to protect himself. The king would have done the same, but Lord Verras gripped his arm and held him upright. The willow was already dropping toward the ground—it wouldn’t strike the wall.

But it struck the gates like a monstrous fist. The ramparts
shuddered and I nearly fell. Wails rose up from the people below.

“Is it breached?” shouted the city steward. “Go below to see if the gates are breached!”

Soldiers ran to the stairways. I couldn’t see the gates, only the chaos of the crowd below. The people nearest the gate had tried to run, but those behind them would not make way.

“They’re going to kill each other!” I shouted. “We have to do something!”

The giant who had thrown the willow stood facing us, laughing. He must be able to hear the shouts let loose behind the gate.

The mob grew louder.

I moved to Lord Verras’s side. “What about the people below?”

He didn’t respond. He remained beside the king, his arm around his cousin’s shoulders. King Eldin was pale, his mouth working as though trying to say something, but failing to find the words.

Lord Verras looked over his shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do. If we send more guards down, they’ll be crushed.”

“People of Reggen!” It was the duke. He’d left his throne and had walked to the tree-throwing giant’s side. “People of Reggen!” he repeated.

I never thought I’d be grateful for the duke, but the crowd seemed to quiet. His voice had a similar effect on King Eldin, who pulled away from Lord Verras and stood taller. Leymonn
recovered and rose, his hand back on Will’s shoulder.

The duke spread his arms wide. Though he barely reached the giant’s knee, he seemed to fill the space around him. In that moment, I understood how he could lead an army of giants.

“You see the strength of my army, Reggen! Why do you refuse to open your gates to me? If you take me as your king, there will be no violence, no pain.”

And then, from the crowd, someone shouted, “The tailor will save us!”

It was more horrifying than seeing the willow flying toward us.

The soldiers kept scanning the ramparts, as if they believed the champion would suddenly appear. People took up the chant. “Tailor! Tailor!”

It drowned out the duke.

I put my hands on the wall and concentrated on the warm stone, its roughness against my palms—anything to distract me from the chanting. The king still stood, but he was trembling like a tree in a gale.

The duke motioned to the giant beside him, who nodded and walked back to the willows. Not again. What would the people do if another tree struck the gate and the tailor did not come to save them?

The king stumbled over to one of the guards and said something. The soldier seemed to hesitate, but the king insisted, so he raised his crossbow and aimed at the duke.

No. There was no telling how the giant army might react if
the duke was killed, but there’d be no stopping it.

I pointed, unable to be heard over the crowd. Lord Verras lunged toward the soldier. Leymonn blocked his way. Verras shoved him aside, but not before the soldier loosed the bolt.

It flew faster than sight, striking the duke with such force that he was thrown back.

A great cheer rose up from the crowd below, shaking the ramparts beneath us. King Eldin looked down at the duke lying on the ground, a blaze of pride in his eyes.

Lord Verras pulled his spyglass from his coat.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

Verras shook his head, as if irritated by such a silly question. “The bolt’s in his heart. There’s blood everywhere.…”

I’d thought the giants would go into a frenzy—shout a battle cry, rush the walls. Instead, the Deathless encircled the duke. They didn’t touch him. They didn’t even look at the city. They just stood, staring at his body. It was more frightening than an attack.

Lord Verras lowered the spyglass. “I don’t know what they’re going to do.”

The captain of the castle guard nodded and motioned to his men. “We leave now.”

The guards had just begun to flank the king and princess when a strangled cry rose up from the street. I looked back across the river and wanted to yell myself.

The duke was pulling the bolt from his chest. He still lay on his back, but in another moment, he pulled the bolt free.

“No.” Lord Verras raised his spyglass for a better look. “No, that isn’t possible!”

The duke stood, still holding the crossbow bolt, and strode toward the city. He didn’t falter, not once.

And the giants didn’t seem surprised. This is what they’d been expecting. This had happened before.

Duke of the Western Steeps, Heir to the Ancient Emperor’s Crown, Holder of the Eternal Heart …

Eternal Heart.

“Is this how you negotiate, King Eldin?” The duke’s voice was as strong as it had ever been. “I expected better from you.”

The king whimpered.

“Don’t let him fall!” Lord Verras commanded the guards. Two rushed forward to support the king.

“You have no answer!” called the duke. “You will be able to hear mine, then.” He spoke unintelligible words to one of the Deathless, who saluted, then chose a companion. Together, they walked back into the camp. Toward the pens.

The giants plucked out two humans and strode back to the shore, holding their captives so their arms were trapped against their sides. As the giants drew nearer, I saw that one carried a man who fought, kicking in the air. The other carried a woman. For a moment, I thought I heard her pleading with her captor.

I looked at Lord Verras. “Can’t we do anything? Shoot the giants?”

He shook his head slowly. “They’d only get more.”

“King Eldin, look what you have done! Your
champion
has not shown himself. You have foolishly fired upon me, a man who only desires peace. Such aggression, however, cannot go unanswered. Come now! Say you will give the rule of this city to a better man! Give it to me.”

The king hung between the two guards, gasping. He could not speak. And I couldn’t look away from the duke’s prisoners.

There was no champion to save them—and there should have been.

The duke threw the crossbow bolt into the Kriva and raised his bloody right hand.

When he tightened it into a fist, the giants wrung the necks of their prisoners.

Even from the wall, I could see the sudden stillness in their limbs, the moment the thrashing stopped. The giants dropped the bodies and they seemed to fall forever. They were—they had been—people.

They fell like discarded rag dolls.

The world exploded with shouts and wails. King Eldin and Princess Lissa were hurried away. Leymonn jogged behind them, keeping the guards between himself and the ramparts.

Lord Verras scooped up Will, who had been deserted, and followed.

I stood at the wall a moment longer, looking out over the giant camp, hearing the screams of the mob. Hundreds of giants stood below me but I strained to find just one.

I
’d already changed
into lads’ clothes when Lord Verras came to his room that evening.

“I’m going out again,” I said. “You can’t stop me.”

“Of course I could stop you. I could have guards hold you in a chair for the entire night.”

I crossed my arms. “I’d never forgive you.”

“I don’t care if you’d forgive me. I’m far more concerned that you don’t
die
.”

“Volar doesn’t trust the duke. He could tell if I was lying.”

“You lied?”

“I didn’t tell him everything when he asked who I was. But he still knew.”

“I don’t care.”

“You say you want to know things, important things that will save Reggen, but you won’t let me help! We have to know about the duke, now more than ever. I need to talk to Volar.”

I expected Lord Verras to argue, but he just stared, weighing what I said, as though looking for something. Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You think
I’m
the idiot. Fine. Go, talk to this giant.”

He took off his coat, draping it over the back of his chair.

“But I’m going with you … Don’t,” he said as I opened my mouth to protest. He half smiled. “You can’t stop me.”

I glared. “Don’t look so smug.”

Shadows danced and flitted around us as Lord Verras followed me down the passage. We’d just squeezed past the first of the rockfalls when he spoke:

“You didn’t tie them,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“The fabric strips.”

It was a miracle he hadn’t mentioned it before. “I all but ran from the castle last night. You’re lucky I even marked the path.”

Lord Verras just kept staring at the strips of fabric. After a few moments, I realized he wasn’t going to scold me.

“So this is what happened to my pants …,” he murmured.

“I can’t say how sorry I am.” I nudged a strip of the dingy homespun aside with the toe of my boot. “I’ve never seen finer fabric.”

He stared at me, one eyebrow raised, until I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“I accept your apology,” he said finally.

My mouth dropped open.
If he thought I really was apologizing …

He smiled slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners, looking far too pleased with himself.

There we were, worming our way through a dark forest of
stone to visit Volar and save the city. I carried the Tailor’s death like a boulder on my back, and Lord Verras? He knew he was Reggen’s best hope, and that must have felt like a mountain.

But, oh, it was lovely to tease him about homespun pants. To have him smile down at me as if he’d never told so fine a joke—as filling as a feast. It was strength to keep going, even after all that had happened.

I almost rose up on tiptoe and kissed him, just for smiling like that.

Before I could bat the thought away, it had grown like an oak inside me, roots into rock, branches into the clouds. I imagined Lord Verras’s arms around me and knew his heartbeat would be slow and steady when I rested my head against his chest.

I was so tired of being strong by myself.

Sky above, how stupid! He’s a nobleman—and betrothed
.

I turned on my heel so quickly that I stumbled and took a sliding step to catch myself. But my foot landed on another homespun strip and I slid a few paces, finally crashing against a stone pillar. My lantern skittered away and snuffed out.

“Saville!” A moment later, Lord Verras stood over me, lantern raised high. “Are you hurt?”

He held out his hand to help me but I ignored it. “I slipped, that’s all.”

Slipped
was too small a word for it.

“You’re sure?” he pressed. “You looked as if you saw something.”

For a moment, I thought he knew. He saw so much.

“It was nothing,” I said at last. “Where’s my lantern?”

“There.” He scooped it up, plucking off a strip of homespun. “I’m not sure how much oil is left, though. Best save it for the trip back.”

“Thank you. I won’t be so clumsy again.”

I turned and followed the trail of strips as quickly as my sore leg would allow. I didn’t give Lord Verras a chance to speak until we stepped out on the Kriva’s bank.

“We walk about half a league, Lord Verras. And then we swim.”

He gazed across the river, before turning to me. “I think you should call me Galen. It doesn’t seem right to go around Lording someone you have to swim with.”

He wasn’t making this easy. But I forced myself to hold his gaze. I even raised an eyebrow. “Lording?”

“It’s an official term, I’m sure.” He smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes, Lord Ver—”

His face fell a little.

“Galen,” I corrected myself. “Let’s go.”

He nodded and followed me. It took us nearly half an hour to pick our way along the bank, moving as quietly as possible. The rocks lining the riverbed were slick, and the rushing water, even in the shallows, made it difficult to find our footing.

When we were close to the island, we waded in deeper. I swam once the water reached my chest, pulling myself along as quickly as I could. More than once, I struck my foot or leg
against the boulders beneath the surface. Judging from the occasional whispered curse, I knew I wouldn’t be the only one with bruises. Not long after, I pulled myself onto the bank, trying to catch my breath. Lord Verras joined me a moment later.