Valiant

by Sarah McGuire

  Both strode toward me like a slow-moving avalanche. I yelled and stumbled back, heart thudding against my ribs, arms raised against them, as if that could protect me.

  Nothing happened. Instead, both giants dropped to one knee. They peered at me until their cat eyes were almost crossed, ready to see if I could squeeze water from a stone.

  They were close enough to touch.

  No, not touch. Though they bent close, their faces were still far above the ground. I’d have to stand on someone’s shoulders just to reach the young one’s chin. I’d never been so frightened, so awed. It was like having the sun and moon fall out of the sky and hang just above me. Their breath gusted against me, slow and steady.

  The bearded one rested his left hand on the earth, palm down, to steady himself. His arm rose up like a tree, at least twice as wide as my body. I could see the muscle and sinew.

  “Lité?” he asked, and his voice rumbled through my chest. “We await you.”

  I looked up into his face. His brown eyes looked half-focused, as if he were farsighted. The young one’s blue eyes were also half-focused. Could they even see me?

  “Its heart beats fast,” said the young one. The bearded one nodded.

  Sky above. They could hear my heart. I pressed my free hand against my chest. Just keep talking.…

  “Watch!” I commanded, and held the cheese aloft.

  Their heads moved closer, and I began to squeeze. The dust had absorbed all of the cheese’s moisture. For a moment, I didn’t think I could squeeze anything from it. But water gathered underneath it almost as soon as I tightened my hand. A drop fell to the dusty road.

  The giants jerked their heads in surprise.

  “You heard it, didn’t you?” I shouted, wrapping the last of my courage around me. “Now listen for the other two. I am ashamed to take so long.”

  They eyed me warily until two more drops of water plunked into the dust. Then they jumped up, surprised. It was like a small earthquake, with hills rising into mountains and blocking out the sky.

  I hardly flinched this time when the earth shook.

  A glance behind me: Will was moving more slowly now. Still, no one came to help him, though I saw movement along the tops of the city walls.

  I couldn’t leave yet. What if the giants followed me back across the bridge?

  All thought fled as the air shattered around us. I dropped to my knees, hands clapped over my ears. The giants shouted with a sound like thunder. When I looked up, leaves showered down over us. A few stunned birds fluttered to the ground.

  A new crater pocked the road beyond us. A cannon! The city had fired a cannon at the giants while I stood there. Cowards. Idiots!

  Another explosion as a second cannon went off. I hunched over, but the younger giant swept his arm through the air as if swatting at something. It wasn’t until he opened his palm that I understood what I’d seen.

  He’d caught the cannonball.

  He straightened with a growl and lunged toward the bridge, ready to hurl the cannonball at Reggen’s walls, but the bearded one held him back.

  No! Will had to get home first.

  I turned toward the city, waving my arms. “Stop! Stop!”

  I thought I saw movement around other cannons, but I couldn’t look for long. The giants were muttering again, and I swung to face them.

  “Look!” I called to the young one. “One trial of strength proves nothing. Let us have one more.”

  I thought of the birds that had fallen from the tree, of the cannonball in his hand, and I knew what the trial should be.

  “Let us see who can throw a stone the highest.” I motioned at the cannonball. “If you are feeling weak, you may throw that.”

  He dropped it immediately.

  The bearded giant laughed. Without a word, he swept up a boulder and heaved it at the afternoon sun. My eyes burned and filled with tears as I tried to follow its path.

  The young giant muttered encouragement while we waited for the stone to fall. I felt it strike the earth while I wiped the sun tears from my eyes.

  “Is that the best you can do?”

  The giant huffed in surprise, then muttered, “It always shouts.…”

  Of course. I must sound loud if they could hear my heart.

  “Perhaps you should try a smaller stone,” I told the young giant.

  He shook his head and picked up a boulder as big as the one his friend had chosen. He’d tried to stomp me to oblivion moments before, but I felt a twinge of respect that my taunts hadn’t swayed him.

  He slowly drew back his arm. With a terrific grunt, he launched the boulder toward the sky. It took longer to fall to earth. As the giants pounded each other on the back, I looked for Will. Someone was finally carrying him toward the gates.

  Now for myself. I needed enough time for Will to reach the gates. I ran to a small brown bird under the blasted tree, then paused. It wouldn’t work. They’d see the wings.

  They’d hear the wings.

  I looked back at the wall, toward the cannons. I realized I didn’t want the cannons to find the giants: the young one who talked about the awful duke but didn’t mind my taunts; the bearded one who saved my life. I didn’t want them hurt. I just didn’t want them here in Reggen.

  Perhaps I could arrange it so they—and the army that followed them—wouldn’t return.

  “You may return to the duke after I make my throw,” I said. “I will let you live since you spared the boy. But you will know, after I throw this stone, that we can match you strength for strength.”

  I saw frantic activity on the walls; soldiers swarmed around two cannons. I plucked up the bird and almost whispered an apology until I remembered the giants’ hearing. The poor thing quivered in my hands and I stroked its head with my thumb. I willed it courage and safety—and most of all, flight.

  I looked behind me and saw a soldier move to light a cannon.

  “Now,” I shouted, “listen and tell me if this stone ever falls back to earth!”

  I tossed the bird into the air, far enough that it would fly when I threw it, but not hard enough to hurt it. I saw its wings spread, brown and gray against sun-bleached sky, as the cannon roar echoed around us.

  The giants ducked away from the cannon noise but didn’t run.

  “I saw it,” said the young one, pride in his voice. “It should fall soon.”

  But my bird rose higher and higher. After a minute, it still hadn’t returned. The giants muttered to each other in their own language.

  “It hasn’t fallen, has it?” I shouted.

  Another warning shot flew past. The giants grimaced at the cannon’s roar.

  “Go back to your duke,” I shouted. “I’ll tell my people to stop their fire.”

  The young one nodded. “You are a greater warrior than we expected.”

  I laughed, arms wrapped around my belly, as if I’d never heard a finer joke. I needed them to believe me. I needed them to never return. “Warrior? I am no warrior! Tell your duke I am a tailor. You will encounter men far fiercer than me if you attack this city.”

  Chapter 10

  I watched the giants stride away down the road, trembling as the terror I’d ignored roared over me. I could taste the dust from the shattered boulders when I licked my lips.

  But I wouldn’t turn away from the retreating giants. They might return. And I feared I’d forget what I’d seen: giants too graceful to be monsters, with voices like thunder, legs like trees, and hands that could snap a boy’s leg.

  Will.

  I ran unsteadily toward the gate. The day felt slow around me, as if the sunlight were honey thick and I could not push through it. The bridge over the Kriva had never seemed so long.

  Now that the giants were gone, people poured out of the gates and onto the bridge. They rushed toward me, toward the lad who had faced the giants. The lad. I stumbled midstride, trying to make sure I ran like a man and not a frantic girl.

  The wave of people engulfed me well before I
reached the gates. Some of the crowd shook their fists and shouted threats at the horizon, where the giants had disappeared from sight. Others pounded me on the back or cheered.

  “Brave lad!”

  “You did just what I’d have done! Pity I didn’t get here in time to help.…”

  “They know what Reggen is made of now!”

  Where had these people been when Will dragged his shattered foot across the bridge? And where was Will? I elbowed through the crowd, trying to find the end of it.

  I couldn’t.

  The news must have spread quickly. The farther into the crowd I pressed, the more the story of my encounter with the giants changed. I had not traveled ten paces before I heard people clamoring about an actual fight, how a lad faced two giants with his bare hands. A minute later, I had killed seven with one blow.

  A man grabbed my arm. “Well done, lad! That will show them—”

  Several men tried to lift me to their shoulders. I thrashed until they released me, and then ran deeper into the crowd.

  How could Will have moved so far past the gates? The fierce strength I’d felt when facing the giants drained from me. I wanted to cry. And that made me angry, a petty, waspish anger that wanted to sting every person who jostled me.

  “Will!” I called, turning in a circle. “Will!”

  The crowd quieted.

  “Where is the boy?” I asked.

  One man, a blacksmith still wearing his leather apron, heard me. “You’re the champion?”

  I almost told him I hadn’t done anything, but there wasn’t time to explain. I nodded. “Follow me,” he said. Then he shouldered into the crowd, shouting, “Make way for the champion!”

  I followed in the path he created. He pushed people aside, shouting, “Make way for the giant killer!”

  That was too much. I touched his shoulder. “I didn’t—”

  He was too busy picking up a smallish man and moving him to notice. And then it didn’t matter: I saw Will. Part of him, at least, lying by the fountain. He was mostly hidden by a young noble who stood, arms crossed, between Will and the crowd.

  I darted toward Will, but the nobleman blocked my way.

  “Let me pass—!” The demand died in my mouth.

  Fine Coat. I ducked my head, unable to move, hardly able to think.

  “Let him see the boy!” hollered the blacksmith. “He’s the champion!”

  His meaty hand clapped me on the shoulder, and I stumbled forward against Fine Coat. I righted myself, but I didn’t look up.

  “He is the champion?” I heard the disbelief in Fine Coat’s voice and felt the tickle of fear between my shoulder blades. He must be looking at me. “Who are you, lad?”

  Don’t you dare wilt now, I told myself. Will needs you. The last time Fine Coat had truly seen my face, I was Saville, a girl bundled against the cold. He’d been preoccupied with boiled bones, crushed houses, and the young man in the wagon. He wouldn’t guess the truth—unless I gave him reason.

  So I raised my head and met his gaze as if I really had killed seven giants with one blow. “Who are you? And why won’t you let me see the boy?”

  Fine Coat scowled. “I’m the one who brought him here! And I need to know about the giants. How many were there? I saw two, and then—”

  I didn’t have time for his questions. Will hadn’t moved once. I tried again to elbow past, but Fine Coat grabbed my arm.

  I yanked myself free and glared at him. “I have to see Will! He’s hurt.”

  Fine Coat planted himself in front of me. “And I need to know what’s happened. There’s not much time!”

  I opened my mouth, about to tell him I didn’t care. Then I saw the set of his jaw. He wouldn’t let me pass until I answered his questions. I ground out an answer.

  “There were two giants, and now they are gone. Not killed. Gone.” It seemed important that he know the truth about my role as giant killer. “That’s all.”

  Fine Coat narrowed his eyes, as if he suddenly recognized me. “Do I know—?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. I pointed at Will. “He’s hurt! If you have any honor, you’ll let me help the boy.”

  For a moment, the nobleman stood there, studying my face.

  I couldn’t breathe around the fear, but I folded my arms and glared up at him.

  One heartbeat. Two. Then he let me pass.

  “It’s the champion!” Someone lunged forward and tugged at my shirt, yanking me off balance. “Show us your arm, giant killer!”

  I twisted to free myself, but Fine Coat was faster.

  “Stand back! Give them room!”

  I heard the ring of a sword being drawn, and I sensed the crowd pull back as Fine Coat moved to stand between us and the crowd.

  “Will?” I knelt beside him.

  His eyes opened. Focused on me. He swiped at the wetness on his cheeks, his face taut with pain. “It hurts, Sir.”

  I tried to keep the fear from my eyes. His right foot was twisted at a grotesque angle. Small tremors kept rattling his frame, and he was pale—too pale. I wanted to push his dust-filled hair back from his eyes, but didn’t dare indulge in such a feminine gesture.

  “I told you not to go giant hunting,” I whispered.

  “But you got me back and”—Will pointed to Fine Coat—“he carried me the last bit. I couldn’t—”

  I shook my head. “You are the bravest here, Will. Do you hear me? No one was as brave as you.”

  Oh, he was pale. Even his freckles looked faded.

  “Did you kill them?” Will asked, though I could hardly hear his voice over the crowd. “They say you killed the giants.”

  I made a face, almost comforted that he was well enough to long for gore. “Don’t be daft. The giants think I’m stronger than they are, thanks to cheese and a bird and the cannons.”

  He wasn’t interested in such details. “Why didn’t you kill them?”

  “You are daft,” I said. “Did they hurt your head as well?”

  I put my hand on his forehead then—roughly, the way a man might. He was covered with cold sweat, and the dust that covered my hands left a rusty smudge on his face. I needed to get him out of the crowd.

  I stood and yanked on Fine Coat’s sleeve to get his attention. “He needs a doctor! He—”

  A shout rose above the crowd. “Make way! Way for the guard on castle business! We seek the champion!”

  Eight or ten of the castle guard inched toward us, escorting a thin-faced herald. The horses they rode liked the mob as little as I did, shying every now and then, their ears flat against their heads.

  The guard in charge, a bulky man with small eyes, drew his sword and brandished it until the crowd parted. “We have a message for the champion! Make way for the guard and the king’s herald!”

  I’d just faced the giants. What could the court have to say about it?

  Whatever it was would be more than a message. King Eldin would want to see me himself. I imagined being led to a bath, a page telling me I couldn’t see the king looking so filthy.…

  I couldn’t go to the castle. Not as the champion. They’d find me out.

  I tugged on Fine Coat’s sleeve. “Please! I don’t care about the castle. We must go. Can you take us home? I’ll tell you everything that’s happened, anything you want to know.”

  Fine Coat peered down at me, then at the guards. “What—?”

  Stupid, stupid … I’d been too anxious.

  I drew in a deep breath. “Please. I need to find a doctor for Will.”

  Too late. The small-eyed guard dismounted and stood before us, face flushed, sword held before him. He was not pleased to see Fine Coat.

  Fine Coat was not pleased to see him, either. His jaw tensed and he folded his arms.

  The guard wiped his shining forehead with his arm, and spat, just missing Fine Coat’s boots. “Lord Verras.”

  So that was his name. He didn’t flinch away, just nodded. “Pergam.”

  Perga
m squinted up at Verras and spat again. The spittle landed on the boot this time. “Here you are in the middle of things again. It’ll be my pleasure to tell Leymonn.”

  Lord Verras stood straighter. “I’ll tell him myself. It is my job, after all.”

  Pergam peered at me and chuckled, a mean little sound for such a big man. “It’s the small ones that are the fighters, every time.” Then he turned to face the crowd and shouted, “Silence, you! Hear King Eldin’s decree!”

  The herald spoke into the hush Pergam had created. “By decree of King Eldin, descendant of the Great Emperor, king of Reggen and all its territories …”

  I turned to run, but stopped when I saw Will smiling up at me. I couldn’t leave him. There must be a way to carry him back home, to—

  Lord Verras tugged me back to face the herald. “Your name …,” he prompted.

  I blinked up at him. What had I missed?

  “They want to know your name … lad,” said Verras.

  I squared my shoulders and jutted my chin just a little. The herald looked at me expectantly.

  “It’s …” Would Lord Verras notice the similarity between Avi and Saville?

  Pergam waved his sword. “Give us your name!”

  “I’m a tailor!” It was no answer, but I didn’t think Pergam or the herald would notice.

  But I felt Lord Verras’s attention, bright as the sun. He knew something wasn’t right.

  “Wait,” he murmured, almost to himself.

  Pergam and the herald didn’t hear, or didn’t care. The herald turned back to the crowd. “The valiant tailor is welcomed to the castle. He will be made a guest of honor there!”

  “No!” Lord Verras stepped toward the little man, but Pergam shouldered into him. Verras was tall, but Pergam was broad—and all too happy to thwart Verras.

  The announcement rolled on. “He will advise the king of the weaknesses of the giant army. And … according to the king’s proclamation, he will prepare for his wedding to the princess!”

  What was King Eldin doing, giving the princess away to someone he’d never met? Had his fear of the duke and his army made him that stupid?