Siegestone: Book 1 of the Gemstones and Giants Trilogy

by E. S. Maya

  She grimaced as her cheek pressed against the cold, wooden floorboards. Life was not often accommodating.

  “There you are,” she said sweetly, fingering her boots’ dusty heels. “Thought you’d got away from me, did you?” She chuckled to herself and, boots in hand, crawled out from under her bunk.

  Only to find Raven standing over her, fully dressed and glaring mad. “Safi! Quit talking to your shoes and hurry up.” As Safi climbed to her feet, Raven gave an impatient push, sending the weary girl flopping into bed.

  Another yawn, warming the backs of Safi’s cold, tired fingers. She felt Raven shoving her work boots onto her feet, and smiled. “Would it kill you to be more gentle?”

  Raven tied Safi’s bootlaces sloppy and fast, then smacked her across the thigh. Despite herself, Safi made the sound of a kicked dog. “You owe me, Blondie.”

  She took Raven’s hands and set herself up with a groan. “One shoe-tying, owed from Safi to Raven.”

  “Get your ass out of bed,” Raven said, dragging Safi, aching legs and all, towards the barracks door.

  Lunch in the Foot was a roll of bread, a wedge of yellow and white cheese, and three thick slices of cured meat, fat still attached. A welcome sight after a morning of work, albeit an unusual one. Safi lay the pieces out on her lap, trying to make sense of the strange meal.

  “Guess they didn’t feel like making the whole sandwich,” Stiv said, chuckling around a mouthful of food.

  “It’s not supposed to be a sandwich, you Berridian hick,” said Clayworth, a red-haired boy from another first-year mining team. Like Rebecca, he hailed from the Kingdom of Resmyr, whose citizens carried a thousand-year grudge against Stiv’s countrymen.

  “I’m surprised you can see your food past that massive nose of yours, you Resmyran snob.” Crumbs showered from Stiv’s mouth as he spoke. “Just saying the name of your wretched kingdom makes me want to spit.” He turned his head and spat a half-chewed wad of bread on the drift floor.

  Safi inched away from the mess. From what she knew, Resmyr was a nation of fancy architecture and aged wines, of red-haired folks with refined palettes. It was also the birthplace of the prophet Faerana, stone bless her, founder of the church, the Bringer of Truth and Holy Law.

  The people of Berrider, on the other hand, lived off the stew in their pots and the strength in their arms. They were quick to fight, and quicker to make friends. She was sure there was more to it, but those were the common stereotypes.

  The two boys went back and forth, exploring the many insults invented over centuries of conflict. One was a potato-farming pig thumper, the other a red-haired descendant of a carrot.

  Safi readied an appeal to Wulf, to quench the argument before the boys came to blows. But there was something queer about the way they bickered. Something familiar. Stiv was smiling as he hurled insults down the passageway.

  Safi swallowed a mouthful of meat and cheese. The boys were enjoying this.

  She tore her loaf in half and traded with Goggles beside her, listening as the pair continued their banter. Even Raven wouldn’t take kindly to this level of jest. The girls in Camp Cronus were quick to take offense, and with Hannah lording over them, teasing wasn’t just risky. It was dangerous.

  If only the girls knew what real work was. What a day in the Titan mines was like.

  “Hey, Jabbar,” Safi called across the drift. He looked up from his half-eaten meal, surprised that someone, anyone, was addressing him. Throughout the week, the other miners had let him be, partly due to his skin color, but more to his silent nature.

  “What is it, half-blood?” Jabbar said.

  Safi frowned. Then she reminded herself, this is how boys talk. One deep breath later, she asked, “Do the Abed have many kingdoms too?”

  “Oh yes,” Jabbar said, nodding so fast that his helmet slipped down his forehead. He raised it with one hand, revealing eyes wide and bright. “Many great kingdoms and sultanates. Most northerners think we live in the desert, but most northerners are fools. There are many plains and mountains too, and forests. Even some islands off the coast of Janub al-Moheet, the largest ocean in the world.” Glancing about and finding several boys listening, Jabbar lowered his eyes to the floor. “That’s what my brothers told me, at least.”

  Safi waited for Jabbar’s eyes to return to her. Keeping them, she gave a nod towards Stiv and Clayworth. “Do your people start wars with each other too?”

  Jabbar grinned. His teeth were bright against his dark, dusty skin. “They’re your people too, half-blood. Compared to the wars between our tribes, the history of these fools’ nations is little more than a lovers’ spat.”

  “If you guys are so tough,” said Stiv, pausing to swallow his food, “why haven’t you conquered the Northern Kingdoms? Your basket-wearing warriors are no match for a knight in full-plate armor.” Several other boys sounded in agreement.

  Safi slowed her chewing, preparing for Jabbar to grow loud and furious.

  Instead the boy widened his smile. He held up a single finger. “In the last hundred years, only once have the tribes of the Abed tried to invade the North.” A second finger popped up to join it. “Twice have the Kingdoms of the North invaded us. Twice they failed. Last time, we left your great border kingdom of Saerkonia in pieces. Come along next time, Berrid, and taste Abedi steel firsthand.”

  “Ha!” called Clayworth from down the drift. “How about you taste Resmyran wood in the sword ring, Southerling?”

  Safi scowled. There were few greater insults to an Abed. “Just ignore him,” she told Jabbar. The last thing Team Wulf needed was more sword fights. She looked to their captain for reassurance, but Wulf was deep into his meal.

  “What’s wrong, Abed?” Stiv said, looking at Jabbar, but pointing down the tunnel. “You too scared to fight a Northern man?”

  Safi gawked, dropping a handful of cheese in disbelief. “Weren’t you two sworn enemies a few minutes ago?”

  Breaking into a fit of laughter, Wulf slapped his knee so hard that dust flew into the air. “United against a common enemy. History does repeat itself.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Sister,” Jabbar said. “An Abed never backs down from a fight. It’s in our blood.” He hooked his thumbs beneath the straps of his overalls and shouted down the tunnel. “I accept your challenge!”

  And the drift flooded with chatter, so much so that Safi missed the bells chiming above. The team captains stood, clapped the dust from their hands, and ordered the first-years back to work.

  Swallowing her last mouthful, Safi forced her sore, battered body back on two feet. She set her pickaxe over her shoulder and readied another swing.

  It was going to be a long afternoon.

  Dinner was thinly sliced ham, pan-fried potatoes, and a spoonful of baby artichokes, only slightly brown. A special sort of dinner, Safi figured, commemorating the end of a long workweek. A much-needed one. Meat always put the chow hall in good spirits.

  Safi and Rebecca filled their trays and carried their suppers to the far end of the girls’ table, and together they recited a quick prayer. Hardly a minute into their meals, Raven sauntered out of the kitchen to join them. She shooed Safi aside and set down a steaming plate overflowing with baby artichokes. Working in the kitchen, it seemed, came with privileges.

  Safi forked one away as Raven stepped over the bench, settling into her seat.

  “You’re lucky I like you, Blondie,” Raven said, picking at her meal with bare fingers. “Where I’m from, a kid could lose a pinky or two for thieving food.”

  “Unless you’re stealing bread,” Safi said with a grin, fork poised to strike.

  Raven cradled her supper with both arms. “Go ahead! See if I share with you ever again!”

  Safi sat back and chuckled, then dropped her fork on the tabletop. She doubled over in pain, holding her arms to her tummy.

  Rebecca started in her seat, looking pale with concern. “Are you all right, Safiyas?”

  “I suppose I could be wo
rse.” Safi tightened her hold, which made her arms and shoulders hurt. Titans, there was no escaping it. “It’s been a long workweek.”

  “You should sit up straight,” Raven said, placing a hand on the small of Safi’s back. “Slouching isn’t becoming of a lady.”

  Safi elbowed Raven’s arm away. “Neither is that black mop you call hair.”

  Raven tossed back her head and guffawed. “You know, kitchen work ain’t so bad. Though I wouldn’t make twenty-five years of it.”

  Safi rolled her eyes. “Well when you find a Siegestone at the bottom of a pot of porridge, you let us know.”

  “Oh, you’ll know,” Raven said. “Can’t get to the bottom of a porridge pot without Blondie’s help.”

  Safi felt her cheeks go warm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you work like a boy and you eat like one too.”

  “Says the girl with a whole pile of food on her plate!”

  “Only to share with you all, my dears.” As if to prove her point, Raven tipped her plate sideways and spilled an avalanche of artichokes all over Safi’s ham and potatoes.

  “I know how you feel,” Rebecca said, waving away Raven’s offer, and then setting her palm on the table. She stretched out her long fingers like the legs of a spider. “My hands hurt terribly from work in the tailory. It’s a surprise my nails haven’t fallen off.”

  Safi picked up her fork and forced a smile to her face. Rebecca’s poor fingers, she thought bitterly. Here I have my whole body to worry about.

  Raven tapped her finger thrice on the tabletop. Speaking of the tailory…”

  Rebecca folded her hands in front of her tray. “What about it?”

  “It’s just that I’ve been meaning to ask a favor,” Raven said. “Don’t make that face. Just hear me out for a minute.”

  “I hear lots of things, what’s another?” Raven appeared hopeful, so Rebecca added, “It doesn’t mean I’ll agree to anything though.”

  Raven looked around before speaking. “I need you to procure me a cape.” She plucked an artichoke off her plate and held it up in two fingers, like a jeweler appraising a diamond. “And it must be black.” She threw her eyes back across the table and deepened her voice. “As black as the night!”

  After a good eye roll, Safi paused her chewing to hear Rebecca’s response. The redhead picked up her knife and fork. She took her time cutting a piece of ham into a perfect little square. Aside from her first day, Safi hadn’t seen Rebecca break a single rule.

  “Clothing choices are strictly regimented.” Rebecca slid the fork across her teeth and chewed with her mouth closed. “Ask someone else.”

  Raven’s face twitched. “I don’t got someone else.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t procure things. That’s not part of my job.”

  “For Titan’s sake!” Raven said. “I want you to make me one.” Leaning forward, she propped her elbow on top of the table and rested her chin on her fist. “I ain’t asking you to help me for nothing. I’ve got access to a whole pantry back there. You scratch my feather, I scratch yours.”

  “I don’t think she’s scratching anything,” Safi said.

  Raven pursed her lips. “What’s the big deal if a few scraps of cloth go missing?”

  Safi watched Rebecca’s hands clench her knife and fork, revealing the bony white of her knuckles. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind.”

  Raven perked up. Her scarred cheek rounded into a smile.

  “The answer isn’t no,” Rebecca continued, knifing another square of ham, almost violently this time. “It’s never.”

  Raven closed her mouth and sat back down, folding her arms on her chest. Safi expected some quick-witted banter, but none came. Instead Raven returned to her supper, picking somberly with nimble fingers.

  “What do you need a cape for anyways?” asked Safi.

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Raven said, flicking a baby artichoke into her mouth. “A girl’s gotta look out for herself around here.” She raised her voice slightly. “A girl can’t rely on anyone, ‘specially not any snobby Resmyrans.”

  Safi glanced at Rebecca, who was nibbling at the edge of a potato. Not acknowledging Raven in the slightest.

  A round of cheers came from the opposite end of the hall. Safi turned to look. The fifth-year boys were slapping each other on the backs, and the ones standing up were bumping their shoulders and chests. “How can they have so much energy after six full days of work?”

  “Just one of the mysteries of the world,” Raven mused. “Like Titans and Siegestones and the make-believe prophet.”

  Rebecca raised her chin and glared. Raven snorted down laughter. Safi leaned forward slightly, peering down the long table. Some of the fifth-year boys were making their way over to Hannah and the girls. Noth stepped behind her and slung a mighty forearm over her shoulder. Hannah tossed back her head and received an upturned peck on the lips. The sight made Safi’s nose scrunch.

  They weren’t the only recruits showing affection. Fifth-year boys mingled up and down the table, greeting girls with a hand on their backs, some boldly, others with great care. Safi felt Raven poking her thigh, and together they turned to look. Throughout the room, boys of all ages were challenging their friends to stand up and cross over. To come and chat with the girls.

  “Raven!” Safi whispered. “They’re coming this way.”

  Raven returned to her dwindling plate. “I noticed.”

  Across the table, Rebecca was fiddling her thumbs. She noticed Safi staring and gave her a helpless smile.

  Safi hovered over her tray and began scarfing down her meal. Even the boys of Camp Cronus would have the manners to leave a girl alone in the middle of supper. But the ham and potatoes went quick. When silence fell over the first-year girls, she knew some boys had made their way over to their little section of table.

  Safi peeked over her shoulder. A pair of them, third or fourth-years, was standing behind her and Raven. One of them showed the scant beginnings of a light brown beard. The other had dark brown hair and sharp yellow eyes.

  “Ladies,” the Serk said, nodding at each of them, as if passing around his smile.

  Raven turned halfway around, propping her foot on the bench. She crossed her forearms over her knee. “Funny, you don’t look like first-year girls. You boys forget the way to your table?”

  The first-year girls shook with giggles, Safi included. The boys chuckled self-consciously in response. Finally, the Serk cleared his throat. “There happens to be a bonfire going on this evening, and we’re here to let you know—”

  “That all of you are invited,” interrupted the Berrid, flashing a set of large and crooked teeth.

  The first-year girls began to whisper. Safi folded her arms on her stomach as Rebecca stared at her half-eaten supper, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

  “Bonfire?” Raven said. “Matron gave you permission to throw a party?”

  “Not exactly,” said the Berrid. “Just happens to be something we do, now and then, after a solid workweek.”

  “And when we’ve got the leftover wood” added the Serk.

  “And that,” the Berrid agreed. “Fivers have a little fun, enforcers look the other way. That sort of thing.”

  Safi eyed Rebecca. The redhead had allowed her hair to spill over her face, and wasn’t doing a thing to fix it.

  “Come on by,” the Berrid said, speaking to everyone, but pausing to look at Rebecca. “It’ll be south of camp.”

  “South of Camp Cronus?” Safi thought aloud. “We’re not allowed to go there!”

  The Serk boy narrowed his eyes, but the Berrid was quick to take his arm. Both of them chuckled.

  “Don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” the Serk said, looking over the girls once more. Safi noticed that his eyes lingered on Rebecca, too. “But we’d love to see you there.”

  28

  The Bonfire

  The moon hung in the sky like a coin stuck in toss, light
ing the way south.

  For all it was worth, Safi found little of interest as they treaded the badlands bordering Camp Cronus. There were flat-topped stones and waist-high shrubs, but not a cactus in sight. Nor were there pointy-eared hares, bushy-tailed foxes, or bright-eyed cats.

  She frowned. It was nothing like the Titan tales. At this point, she’d have settled for a simple lizard—until she felt something furry brushing against her leg.

  Safi swallowed a scream and began kicking with her right foot. Finding only the empty dark, she began slapping at her overalls instead. And as she did, a new thought entered her head, one far more frightening than whatever lurked in the night.

  “We have to go back,” she said, halting her step.

  The smaller of two shadows ahead spun around to face her, followed by the swinging shape of a dress. Even Raven had the right mind to put on proper clothes. The Anderan plunged her fingers into her hair and said, “What do you mean, go back?”

  Rebecca’s tall form turned and listened.

  Safi ran her hands up and down her sides. “I’m wearing my work clothes!” She stilled her hands on her hips. “Becca! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Me?” Rebecca said incredulously. “I helped you fix your hair, but a girl ought to know how to dress herself.” Safi flinched at the insult, so Rebecca softened her voice and continued, “I thought that was what you wanted to wear.”

  Safi couldn’t believe herself. She had put on her spare uniform without so much as a second thought. Perhaps the Titan mines truly did drive recruits stone-crazy. A shirt and overalls was no way to dress for a bonfire gathering. Not that she’d ever been to a bonfire gathering, but what would the boys think? No different from what they usually thought, she supposed, but if all the other girls were wearing—

  Raven snatched Safi’s wrist and hurried her along. “Quit making a boulderstone out of a pebble!”

  “Easy for you to say,” Safi protested, but followed her all the same. Rebecca sighed in pursuit.

  They walked for several minutes more before Raven raised a pointing finger. “There!”