Siegestone: Book 1 of the Gemstones and Giants Trilogy

by E. S. Maya

  The men of the village were strong and brave. They beat their horses until they galloped alongside the Titan’s earthshaking footsteps. Yacoub’s stallion needed no spurring to race fearlessly beside them.

  Then the men began jumping from their horses, clinging to the Titan’s spiked surface. Several went tumbling to the grass below. Yacoub stood atop his saddle and leapt for the Titan’s foot. He discovered that his indigo-dyed boots were, in fact, climbing boots. And while the spikes on Helius’ body made it difficult for the men to use their climbing picks, it was easy for Yacoub’s strong hands.

  The villagers began their ascent. When they reached the Titan’s knee, Yacoub looked about and gasped, for half of the climbers were gone.

  When they reached the Titan’s hips, Yacoub craned his neck. Helius began reaching his great stone arm and brushing off men like fleas. In that first broad sweep, half of the remaining climbers perished.

  Then the Titan was still for a moment. Its long arm arced into the sky and came slapping down on the climbers. The Titan’s steep surface shook like an earthquake. Yacoub climbed to the lower back before chancing a look. Only the few strongest climbers remained.

  Yacoub kept climbing while the Titan’s hands descended upon him. By some miracle, they missed every time. Halfway up the Titan’s back, he mustered the courage to look once more.

  Yacoub found himself alone.

  Then the sky darkened, and the clouds spilled many tears. Yacoub wiped away tears of his own. He pulled his blue cape tight, drew up his hood, and continued skyward. Then his body grew tired, for the Titan was tall and its surface slippery. Strong as Yacoub was, he was finally reaching his limit.

  Yacoub wiped his face and squinted his eyes.

  That was when he saw it.

  “The Siegestone?” interrupts Stiv excitedly.

  “Shh!” says Raven and Wulf.

  Safiyas gives Stiv a harsh look, then clears her throat and continues.

  It was a Siegestone. Beautiful and shimmering violet. The most beautiful thing Yacoub had seen in his entire life. He dug in his fingers and scratched with his nails, but the Siegestone wouldn’t budge. Soon his hands grew weak, for the climb had been long and tiring. Then he remembered the dagger at his belt.

  Yacoub drew his dagger, wrapped both fists around the hilt encrusted with azurite, agate, and aquamarine, and began striking desperately at the Titan’s back…

  Later in the village, the townsfolk gathered to hold a vigil for the fallen men and their failed Titan climb. Only half had returned, and not all of them alive. The mayor shed tears for his fallen brothers, but he cried the most for Yacoub, the thirteen-year-old boy he had sent to his death.

  When their wails grew loudest, one of the town girls spotted a boy coming up the road. He was leading a red and white stallion towards the village. He waved his hand at the villagers, and in it shone a brilliant violent that captured the afternoon sunlight.

  The old mayor and old woman ran to Yacoub at once, smothering him in hugs and kisses. Now they cried not tears of sorrow, but happiness. Many congratulations were had. The villagers filled Yacoub’s belly with delicious kebab meat, and later served him his first mug of ale. That night, all the girls in the village watched Yacoub, and all of them fell in love.

  He could have stayed. Could have spent the rest of his years living in a big house, eating hearty meals cooked by a strong wife, and raising many brave children. Instead, he left most of his fortune to his mother and her new husband, the old mayor. The rest he left to the villagers.

  At last it was time to leave. He readied his boots, cape, and dagger, and some foodstuffs, before bidding the villagers farewell. They were sad to see him go, but were happy with their new horses.

  All in all, Yacoub climbed nine Titans and went on many adventures. Word spread across the land. Before long, the children began to sing:

  Helius of thorn and spike

  Thallus tall and narrow,

  Scylax short and quick of arm

  Krall the river barrow.

  Ashwal black as moonless night

  Pyrus born of gold,

  Kamis of the forest steppe

  Zotaen wise and old.

  Safiyas pauses to breathe. She had sung the rhyme many times, back in Ashcroft with her friends.

  “What about the ninth Titan?” asks Stiv.

  “That,” Safiyas says, “is a different story.”

  10

  Secrets

  On their sixth night from Notre, Safi lay on the carriage floor, fighting the urge to sleep.

  That wasn’t to say slumber came easily. Over the past few evenings, something strange had been happening to her body. Whenever she closed her eyes, she found her hands trembling, her heart racing, her chest tight and short of breath. Here was a new sort of weariness, she realized—not from the road, but from the constant presence of others.

  So Safi cherished the night, these moments alone while the others slept when she could truly feel like herself. She spread out her arms and crossed her legs and made funny faces in the dark. She looked out of the window and made out the shapes of the clouds drifting beneath the pale moonlight. She ran her shivering hands over every inch of her body, rubbing warmth into her skin.

  It was on that cold sixth night when Safi, working her fingers down her ankle, accidentally slipped the icy manacle past the heel of her foot.

  She gasped as the cuff landed rattling on the carriage floor. She pounced on top of it, pressing her chest to the iron, and did not move for several minutes. Then she cursed her shortsightedness. Thoughts of escape had crossed her mind more times than she could count, but she had never actually tried to take off the manacle before.

  Sitting up carefully, she looked around the carriage to make certain the others were still asleep. Then, how a princess might put on her shoe, she held the iron manacle in two trembling hands and slipped it back over her foot.

  Finally, she breathed with relief. Her secret was safe.

  She lay down on the carriage floor, shivering from the cold sweat. She held herself tight, shut her eyes, and began to count backwards from one-hundred. There, rocked gently by the carriage, she pictured herself within the belly of a mighty ship, and the long roads, these endless roads, her channels of voyage. Her imagination guided her thoughts into dreams.

  Dreams of escape.

  On their twelfth night from Notre, Safi lay awake in the carriage with her eyes squeezed shut.

  When the sound of breathing purred against the grind of the carriage wheels, she knew it was time to go. She sat up slowly and opened her eyes—and recoiled away from Wulf. “You’re awake,” she whispered. Being at opposite ends of the chain, there was a distance between them.

  “I am,” Wulf whispered back.

  Safi folded her arms herself and shivered. “I’m cold.” The boy was silent, so she continued, “I’m always cold though.” She slipped two fingers beneath her manacle, rubbing warmth into her skin. “But why are you awake?”

  “We’re almost there.” Wulf looked at the window. “We arrive tomorrow.”

  Safi paused her hand. “How do you know?”

  “Overheard Strauss during supper,” Wulf said with a frown, bringing his eyes back to Safi. “Hard to sleep after hearing something like that.”

  Safi wiped the sweat-damp hair from her forehead. So her secret was safe. But if their voyage was nearing its end, it would make little difference.

  “We’ve been riding harder than usual,” Wulf explained. “Andera is days behind us. We’ve arrived in the Kingdom of Saerkonia, where the mining camp awaits.”

  Safi frowned. Mining, just like home. That made sense. They were, after all, the Blackpoint Mining Company. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered.

  “Me neither,” said Wulf.

  Safi held one trembling hand in the other. She took turns looking at Raven, at Stiv, at Goggles. Listening to their snoring and watching their rising chests. “Will you help me escape?”

 
; “Are you mad?” Wulf whispered. A little louder than intended, for Stiv rolled onto his side at the sound, mumbling incoherently in the language of dreams.

  The two of them spent the next minute in perfect silence. Then Safi met Wulf’s hazel eyes. It was hard not to look away. The boy possessed a certain confidence, a controlled manner of doing things that she envied deeply. She needed some of that now. Not just from him, but herself.

  Carefully, Wulf asked her, “What’s your plan?”

  “Here, look.” Safi removed her torn leather shoe, then took the manacle in both hands. She pressed it against her heel until the entirety of her foot slipped free. Smiling, she set the iron cuff gently on the floor. When Wulf began to speak, she silenced him by putting a finger to her lips. “No one else knows.” She looked up at the window, where tree branches were scratching by.

  Wulf glanced at the stars, then back at Safi. A big smile came across his face. “I’m impressed. The little Abedi girl isn’t so helpless after all. But where would you even you go?”

  Safi felt her cheeks go flush. “If we’re in Saerkonia now…” She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember her father’s old stories. Then it came to her, and she ran a fingernail down the floor. “I could head south, cross the Middling Kingdoms, and make it to the lands of the Abed. No Blackpoint allowed there.”

  Wulf’s smile sunk. “That’s a long journey for a little girl.”

  “I’m thirteen years old,” she said with the point of a finger. “That’s marrying age. The same age as you.”

  “What of your mother?” asked Wulf. “Has she the money to return Blackpoint’s purse?”

  “I think—” Safi paused, searching herself for the truth. “I think she must’ve signed me up for a very long time.” She tugged on her shoe and crawled beneath the window. “Listen, the others won’t help me. Will you?”

  Wulf dipped his chin and sighed. “This is foolish. You might not even make it, and the rest of us will be beaten in the morning.”

  “Wulf,” Safi whispered. “Please.”

  Wulf met her gaze through the hair over his eyes and smiled. “I’ll do it.”

  Safi smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. Wulf rose to his feet and began inching towards her, dragging the chain against the wood of the floor. Safi stood too, and when the boy came close, she craned her neck to meet him.

  “And your father?” Wulf whispered. “You mentioned he was coming for you.”

  “He’s long gone,” Safi said. “That was kids’ stuff. Make-believe nonsense.” She looked down at her shoes. Old and beaten and torn, with many miles ahead of them.

  “Then I suppose this is goodbye.”

  “I suppose so.” Safi nearly hugged him. Nearly threw her skinny arms around his healthy body to hold him for as long and hard as she could, but thought better of it. The sooner she put all of this behind her, the better.

  “Here.” Wulf knelt beneath the window and folded his hands, palms up. “I’ll lift you.”

  “Okay.” Safi stepped clumsily onto his hands, propping her forearms on the carriage door for support.

  “Good luck,” Wulf whispered. “Follow the roads, but stay off them when you can.”

  “Thanks,” Safi said, leaning against the door for balance. Wulf lifted slowly, and, with his full height beneath her, the window came within reach. She pulled herself through with her fingers, her hands, her forearms, then paused, looking down at the boy one last time. “If you do see my father, promise you’ll tell him what happened to me. And that I love him.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Wulf said. “I promise.”

  “Goodbye, Wulf.”

  “Goodbye, Safiyas,”

  Wulf gave her one last push, and Safi pulled herself through the window. Her shoulders barely fit, and the wood snagged her hair and her clothes, but she was out. She was free, as the window gave way to the starry spring night.

  11

  Shadows and Starlight

  It occurred to Safi, as she dangled by her feet from the carriage window, that she had forgotten the most important part of her plan.

  The part where she fell down.

  Her skirt flipped over her tummy, exposing her legs to the cold. She looked up at the ground and, oh, there were the carriage’s enormous wheels, thundering against the road as the world flew past her. She strained in an attempt to right herself, but hadn’t the strength, nor the leverage, to climb back up to the window.

  The carriage skirted a line of trees, and the branches tore at her hair. Shrieking, she threw her arms over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Then, in that desperate moment, she muttered a quick prayer let her legs slip from the window. Her life was in God’s—and the Titans’—hands now.

  She held her breath and braced for impact.

  The ground never came.

  The back of her blouse—snagged! She kicked and twisted in place, thrashing uselessly in the air. She opened her eyes slowly, and the ground was still there. It wasn’t coming any closer.

  “Easy,” said a voice from above.

  She wasn’t caught on anything.

  Someone had caught her.

  Safi dangled helplessly as the stranger lifted her through the air. A single torch sent her shadow dancing across the carriage rooftop. Holding her by her blouse was the driver of the carriage, the man in the purple cape. He set her gently in the driver’s perch, and her eyes widened with delight, for two large horses trotted before them.

  “Pleasant night we’re having,” the man said. His smile showed the gap in his teeth and his red hair was tied in a high knot.

  Safi shoved his arm away and stood, straightening her skirt furiously. “Touch me again and I’ll jump,” she threatened.

  “Weren’t you going to do that anyway?” said the man in the purple cape. “In any case, I wouldn’t recommend jumping from here. It’s a long and troublesome way down, even for a brave one such as yourself. And isn’t riding far more comfortable?”

  Reluctantly, Safi sat back down. The man had some good points. That wasn’t to say she trusted him. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t trying to escape, or anything.”

  “I understand,’ said the man. “It must get stuffy, the fivesome of you in this wooden box that Blackpoint calls a carriage. A gentleman such as myself can’t blame a lady for wanting some fresh air.”

  “We ladies do need our fresh air,” Safi said. “It’s good for the breathing and, uh, the complexion.”

  The man cocked a fuzzy red eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Of course,” Safi lied. “You mustn’t know much about girls, then. I mean ladies.”

  The man looked a little hurt from the remark, and she felt embarrassed for saying it. “I wholeheartedly confess,” he said, “that I haven’t had the time for womenfolk, spending my years on the road as I do. Wouldn’t I love to escape to greener pastures!” He began to chuckle softly, but it faded into a sigh. “Sometimes, the harder you push in one direction, the harder life pushes back at you.”

  “I wouldn’t know a thing about that,” Safi said.

  The man looked surprised. “You mean to tell me, after all these weeks, you’ve never thought of running away?”

  “I suppose I’ve imagined such things,” she said hesitantly, “if just out of boredom, and on rare and peculiar occasions.”

  “Say,” the man said eagerly, turning sideways in his seat to face her, “if you were to run away, where would you escape to?”

  “The Southern Kingdoms, obviously,” she blurted out without thinking, letting the excitement get the better of her. “I happen to be half-Abed.”

  “So you are,” the man said. “You know, in the dark, you could almost pass for a Sovereign Coaster.”

  “I look nothing of the sort,” Safi said indignantly. She hadn’t seen any folks from the Sovereign Coast before, but she wasn’t about to be mistaken for one of them.

  The man in the purple cape laughed. “And these Southern Kingdoms you speak of, you’d travel to them all alone?”<
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  “With only the stars for company,” Safi said. It was one of the final lines from a Titan tale she adored, and she felt a little clever for remembering it.

  “You’ll find more sand than stars between here and the south,” the man said. “How do you plan on crossing the great desert, all by yourself?”

  She glanced at the night sky and shrugged. “There’s plenty of ways. I’m not going to sit here and explain all of them to you.” She eyed the man inquisitively. “How do you think I ought to cross it?”

  “Riding a camel seems to be the popular choice,” the man suggested, and Safi’s face brightened at the idea. “But those cost quite a sum of money. You’d need supplies, too. Preserved foods and plenty of water.”

  “If it’s too expensive,” Safi countered, “I’ll find some Abedi merchants to take me with them. We’re not like you northerners; we never turn our backs on our own kind.” In truth, the only other Abed she had met was her father. But the man in the purple cape didn’t know that.

  “A fine plan,” the man agreed, “though you won’t find many Abed around here. In the Middle Kingdoms, perhaps. But how do you plan on crossing the Saerkonan border? Quite expensive these days, the toll is.”

  Safi scratched her head, trying to recall the heroes of her father’s storybook tales. “I’ll follow the roads to the ocean. Stow away on a merchant ship in an empty barrel of ale. Then, once we’re at sea, I’ll burst out and surprise them all. They’d have no choice but to take me.”

  “A plausible plan,” the man said, stroking the red hairs of his chin. “For that you must reach a port city, which means you’re due west. No towns or settlements in that direction for more than a hundred miles.”

  “I’ll survive in the forest,” Safi said, planting her hands on her hips. “I’ll sleep in the nooks of trees and forage for berries and nuts.”

  “Like a squirrel, makes sense,” said the man, bobbing his head in agreement. “And if the berries are poisonous?”