Valiant (29 page)

Halvor
. Where had I heard that name? For a moment, the gates and the bridge faded, even the image of Galen walking away.

Halvor
.

And then I remembered other tales—tales the duke and Volar had told us—and I knew in my bones that those stories held truth. I scrambled up the stairs to the ramparts, looking out over the giant camp for a moment. Then I raced back to the castle, back to the caves.

I had to find Volar.

The duke had used the giants’ tale of Halvor the high king to lead his army into battle. He’d used his immortality and his ability to see through human cunning to convince the
uten
that he was their high king. He’d used my deception to strengthen his hold over the giants. But he wasn’t the only one who could hear truth from lies. Just because the duke had twisted the tales didn’t mean they weren’t true.

I reached Galen’s room, ran to the tapestry, and slipped into the caves.

The
uten
really did have a high king: a mountain-breaker who heard truth in rock—and in human voices. He was everything the duke pretended to be. And he didn’t know.

T
he air was
choked with late-summer damp when I pulled myself onto the island a few hours later. I’d tugged off my petticoats before swimming across the Kriva, but I must have wrung half the river out of my wretched skirt once I stood on the bank. I’d almost changed before the journey, but whatever happened, whatever was required of me, I wanted to do it as myself. As Saville.

“Volar!” I called. “I need to see you!”

There was no answering splash from the far bank. Nothing.

If I walked into the camp, the giants might kill me before I could find Volar. If I waited for him to come to me, Galen might die.

I waded back into the Kriva and swam for the duke’s camp.

The sun had not yet risen and the whole world was painted in gray and black. To the north, I saw the dull flash of lightning buried deep in a tangle of thunderheads.

Yet I still saw the giant approaching, a dark tower against the thin line of gray on the eastern horizon. As he neared, I
saw he didn’t wear the bone collar of the Deathless. Nor did he carry any weapons. Not that he needed to. One stomp would be enough.

I silently held my hands up to show I meant no harm. The duke had taught the giants to fear a human’s voice.

I had taught them to fear a human’s voice.

The giant didn’t slow as he neared me, the ground trembling with each step. I stumbled back and raised my hands higher. Finally, he stopped, looking down at me through the predawn gloom, head cocked.
Could he hear how my heart raced?
His brow furrowed—I was close enough to see that. Perhaps he didn’t like the duke’s order to kill humans on sight, either.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”

His eyes widened as if I’d shouted at him and he raised his foot. I threw myself to the side, arms covering my head.

“Volar!” I shouted as if he were nearby, as if he could save me.

Perhaps he did. Nothing happened.

The sole of the giant’s boot, as wide and long as a banquet table, hovered above me. I scurried out from under it before the giant could change his mind.

“You ask for Volar?”

I backed away and spoke softly, desperate not to frighten him. “I do. Volar, son of Kelnas, the mountain-breaker.”

“How do you know him?”

“I met him earlier.” I didn’t know how much to say. “By the river.”

The giant’s eyes widened. He knelt down, just as Volar’s nephew had. It didn’t frighten me as much, but my breath still caught.

“Please,” I repeated. “Tell Volar that Hillock is looking for him.”

The giant’s face creased in surprise, then he looked over his shoulder—more giants raced toward us. He snatched me into the air and turned to face them. I rested my hands on the edge of the finger that wrapped around me. His eyes flicked to me; he’d felt my hands.

“Thank you,” I said.

He dipped his head in a quick nod as seven or eight giants gathered around us. I strained to see their faces in the predawn light, but none of them was Volar.

“A
lita
!” shouted one, his hand stretching toward me.

I arced through the air as my captor swung me away from the new giant’s reach.

“It knows Volar,” he told the others.

They fell silent and he brought me close so they could see me. I nodded to them, not daring to speak.

The giants looked—and listened—their fill.

“It has such a tiny breath.”

“Can you hear its heart?”

Finally, an older giant with a weather-beaten face straightened. “You will be punished if you do not kill it, Iden.”

“I will not kill something that knows Volar. He is near the other
liten
. Tell him I have Hillock, and to come quickly.”

“Hillock?”
The giant looked at me.

I bobbed up and down as Iden shrugged. “It said that is what Volar calls it.”

“It lies!” said the giant. “They all lie!”

The other giants nodded, and even Iden seemed to hesitate. I needed them to trust me—or at least not fear me.

“Volar said he did not fear my voice,” I murmured. “But I will stay in your hands, under your power, until he comes. Please. Please, tell him Hillock must speak with him.”

The giants looked among themselves.

At last, Iden rumbled, “How would it know to pick such a name, Hylag? No. I will not kill it until Volar comes. I am not the duke’s
kadyr
.”

Kadyr
. What did that mean?
Slave?
Whatever it was, it seemed to sway the group.

“I will go,” said one carrying a massive scythe. He disappeared into the camp.

I sighed in relief. In just a few minutes, I would see Volar. I looked up at Iden as he peered toward the camp. He winced as another giant approached.

It wasn’t Volar.

After a moment, I could see the collar of bones, a pale smudge in the darkness.

“Be careful, Iden,” said Hylag, gripping his spear. “Here is a Deathless.” He looked down at me. “So much trouble for a
lita
. Was it worth our lives?”

Iden’s hand around me tightened.

No. Not this. I looked toward the camp, but I still did not see Volar.

The Deathless had reached us. His long hair was plaited back, and he wore some sort of paint on his face. He pointed to me. “Kill it.”

Iden pulled me back, out of reach.

The Deathless bared his teeth. “Wring its neck, farmer, or I’ll kill you myself and scatter your pieces in the sea.” He tilted his head as if imagining something that pleased him. “I like that: the fish eating what is left of you and
srati
you out on your precious kelp.”

Iden hesitated.

Would he risk his life for a
lita
?

He transferred me to his left hand, and I choked back a shriek. He was going to wring my neck just as the Deathless had commanded. But his hand swung past my head—toward his belt.

Iden pulled a knife from its sheath.

I looked to Hylag, half expecting him to swat me from Iden’s hand.

He and the other giants drew weapons as well.

Hylag brandished something like a spear with a great, hooked head on it. “I’ve hunted whales three times your size, Ynnix.”

“Your whales did not carry swords.” Ynnix drew a huge blade with a forked tip from its scabbard, and raised it above his head.

It was a signal. He must be calling the other Deathless.

We needed more time for Volar to reach us.

I looked at Volar’s friends with their weapons: knives, the spear, a pick. Nothing a soldier would carry. They’d have little chance against the Deathless. I looked up at Iden and saw the worry in his eyes. He was protecting me because of Volar.

Once more, I saw the heads of the scouts in the wagons. Once more, I heard Volar telling me not to hurt his friends.
These
friends, the giants. No more
uten
would die because of me.

It was time to speak.

“The duke will not be pleased that you have deprived him of his prey,” I shouted. Ynnix jumped at the sound. I waited until I had his full attention, until he leaned toward me, eyes narrowed. “I am the champion of Reggen. The duke will want to see me himself.”

Iden’s hand trembled, but he did not squeeze me to death, though he must have wanted to. Tears burned the back of my eyes.

Ynnix laughed. It sounded like something being twisted in on itself, like the willow the Deathless had ripped from the earth at the duke’s command.

“You lie,” said Ynnix, “like all
liten
! The champion of Reggen was not a she.”

“The champion
is
a woman,” I said. “Why do you think Reggen has thrown me out?”

I could tell the lie made sense to him. “Why should I believe you,
lita
? If you do speak truth, why would the duke want you?”

“I’m not asking you to free me. And I did not say the duke
wanted me. Only that he would want to be the one who kills me. Would you deprive him of that opportunity?”

Volar’s friends must have sensed Ynnix’s hesitation.

“It would not be so great a mistake to kill it, Ynnix,” taunted one off to my right. “The duke would only remove you from the Deathless. It would not be so bad to return home and work the forge.”

Ynnix was a blacksmith?

Ynnix snarled, then spun on his heel. “Follow me! I will take our captive to the duke.”

Our
, he said. I covered my mouth with my hand to cover the catch in my breath. He wouldn’t kill me now. At least, not until the duke gave the order.

Iden’s grip on me loosened as we began to walk. In thanks, I patted his hand like a child bringing her palms down against a tabletop. Iden barely nodded. His brows were drawn low over his eyes, his mouth set. Shame, thick as summer heat, smothered what little courage I had. In minutes, Volar would look the same. He’d never call me Hillock again.

Did the
uten
have a word for
traitor
?

Ynnix led us deeper into the camp. It was near sunrise, and I could see more and more in the pale, gray light, despite the clot of dark clouds to the north. Every few strides, we passed Deathless shouting orders to other giants. Giants moved purposefully, stamping out fires, rolling up blankets the size of small lakes, and sky above … readying weapons. They were preparing for war. Even the sounds in the camp were bigger:
the roar of campfires as large as huts, the crash of supplies being collected.

And still, no Volar. We were getting closer and closer to the duke’s crimson tent. How could I explain everything to Volar if the duke was there? He’d kill me first.

I caught a hint of the song I’d heard when I stood on the walls with Galen, the one that made me think of hearth fires. I closed my eyes, trying to remember it, gathering the melody note by note. When the song grew clear, I began to hum. Maybe Volar would hear me.

Iden’s hand jerked when he heard my humming. I patted his hand again. This time, he nodded. A moment later, Hylag began to sing. I’d heard snatches of the giants’ songs on the walls, but this was like wind or water—it washed over and through me. Every tune I’d heard until then was only a husk of sound.

Ynnix turned back to glare at us, but a shout claimed his attention. More giants were jogging toward us: more Deathless. He strode forward to meet them, and they saluted, right fists over their hearts.

“The farmer says he has the champion of Reggen. I take it to the high king.”

The Deathless looked at me and laughed, but I didn’t care. I held Hylag’s song inside me. For a little while, it had pushed the fear aside.

“The dull farmer carries it?”

“Perhaps the champion will speak and kill them, too.”

“If they do not die of lack-wit first!”

A Deathless stepped close to peer at me. “Its voice could not be big enough to kill.”

Ynnix shrugged. “The voice is like a bird’s: thin, no heart. Perhaps it only touches weak minds.”

I remembered what Volar had told Galen and me: how the other giants had not been able to hear anything else in a human voice. He truly was unique among the
uten. I was right, I told myself. He really is
—

The Deathless laughed again. “The farmers are in great danger, then!”

“What is this?” The question rolled out like thunder, stopping their laughter.

“Volar!” My heart rose just to see him.

Iden held me up, though I noticed he was careful to keep me out of the reach of the Deathless. “It said it knew you.”

“I have to talk to you, Volar,” I murmured, hoping I spoke low enough that only he would hear.

He cocked his head. “Hillock?”

“You know this
lita
?” Ynnix snorted. “You have grown soft, mountain-breaker, sleeping next to the pens. We know you guard them.”

“I guard the
uten
,” corrected Volar. “I guard us from the disgrace of acting like animals.”

Ynnix laughed. “You don’t know how good they taste. But you will! The whale flesh is nearly gone.” He captured Iden’s wrist and yanked the hand that held me close. “I may feed you this one. For your first.”