Valiant

by Sarah McGuire

  Galen slowly stood. “What is it?”

  The guard swallowed. “It’s the Duke of the Western Steeps. He has King Eldin.”

  Chapter 35

  The sun rose as Galen and I walked along the ramparts to the gates, our shadows thrown to the side as if even they wanted to escape. Over and over, I imagined the duke commanding his giants to wring the necks of the king and princess while I watched, unable to save them.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “I’m going to use what he wants to keep Eldin and Lissa safe.”

  “He wants Reggen,” I snapped. “He wants the crown. He wants Lissa.”

  “No. He wants to be treated as a king. He doesn’t want to be seen as a usurper even if he wrenches the throne away.”

  We took stairs to the lower level of the gatehouse. It was as deep as the wall itself, with two gates: a small one on the city side and a larger one built of timber, which faced the Kriva. Any army that attacked Reggen would have to pass through both gates, and all the defenses used by the soldiers were positioned on the wall above.

  Soldiers slammed their fists against their chests in salute as we passed. As the regent passed. Whatever decisions had to be made, Galen would make them.

  And he would bear the consequences.

  One of the soldiers opened a small door beside the gates, the one I’d run through to reach Will when the giant scouts had hold of him. Galen walked through but stopped me when I tried to follow. He pressed his spyglass into my hands. “Please, Saville. Be my eyes.”

  So I stood in the doorway and watched.

  The willow the Deathless had thrown was still there, its leaves yellowed and dry. Beyond it, on the far end of the bridge, stood the duke. And Lissa, King Eldin, and … Will! I released a ragged sigh. They were safe.

  For now.

  I raised the spyglass to see their faces. The princess and king stood beside the duke, their hands chained. King Eldin had been stripped of his coat. Everyone could see his narrow, sloping shoulders, his pudgy belly.

  Will was balanced on crutches, and as I watched, the duke dropped a hand to ruffle Will’s hair like he was a puppy. Will scowled for a moment, then looked up at the duke, grinning. He was still playing the spy.

  I could only see the back of Galen’s head and one shoulder. He stood so tall, so straight, as if he—like the city’s foundation—were rooted in the stone beneath the Kriva. The duke might push all he wished, but Galen wouldn’t yield.

  “Ah!” shouted the duke. “There you are! The city’s regent come to salvage the ruin that King Eldin abandoned.”

  I fiddled with the spyglass until I could see clearly. King Eldin’s face burned, but he remained quiet. Lissa was pale beside the man who viewed her as part of his prize.

  Galen ignored the insult. “What do you want?”

  “I told you when I arrived with my bride-gift: I expect you to give me Reggen at midnight. I could simply take the city, but it would be so tiresome to rebuild everything.”

  Tiresome. The king had used that word so often. I swung the spyglass to him. Never had a man looked less regal. I quickly scanned the camp for Volar. I thought for a moment that I saw him near the pens, but I couldn’t find him again.

  And still Galen did not reply to the duke’s taunt.

  The duke grew impatient. “Answer me, Regent!”

  “I trust you’ll keep the king and his company safe until then, as any honorable man would? Only a usurper murders his way to the throne.”

  The duke’s face contorted with rage, but he mastered it a moment later, and laughed, an empty, echoing sound that lasted far too long. “Perhaps. The king’s advisor did not survive the trip here, I’m afraid.”

  Then he caught King Eldin by the arm and tugged him forward. “Killing? There’s no talk of killing. The king is quite safe, as you see.”

  Galen looked back, right at me, and I saw the decision in his eyes. He was going to go to the duke now.

  No. Not like this. I didn’t even say good-bye.

  “Tell him, Little King.” The duke gripped Eldin’s shoulder. “Tell your regent to join me this evening. Tell him to open the gates to me tomorrow morning.”

  King Eldin stood silent, hanging his head. Perhaps he was too frightened to speak.

  “Nothing? You are tiresome, Little King! I spent years dreaming of conquering your brother. And all I have is you.”

  King Eldin raised his head and looked at Galen.

  “Tell him!” bellowed the duke.

  The king hunched his shoulders, as if preparing for a blow … and shook his head.

  I nearly dropped the spyglass.

  The duke half smiled. “I can’t hear you, Little King.”

  “No,” said the king, his face set. For once, he appeared deserving of his title.

  I was not the only one who noticed. Surprise washed over the duke, and he struck out, a blur in the morning sunlight. The king stumbled and fell.

  “Eldin!” Galen began running.

  “Regent Verras,” the king shouted from the ground, “I command you to stay!”

  Galen stopped, uncertain.

  The duke yanked King Eldin to his feet. “Command the regent, Little King!”

  King Eldin’s chest heaved and, once more, I saw the narrowed eyes, the braced shoulders.

  “Regent Verras,” he shouted, “I command you to hold the city! You will not surren—”

  The duke struck King Eldin again. Again, the king fell. He raised a hand to his face and panted as he looked up with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  I realized the king was shocked not by the duke’s violence, but by his own courage.

  He smiled. “Remember that summer, Galen? When you and Tor wanted to see the cave?”

  Galen, halfway across the bridge, nodded.

  “I don’t want to see you at midnight!” called the king.

  “Take him away!” screamed the duke. He quickly composed his features. “Yes, stay, Regent!” he called across the bridge. “Stay behind the walls for this last day. I have found something to keep me from growing bored. But remember: if you wish to save this city, you will come to me at midnight.”

  The duke turned, and the giant guards herded the king and Lissa back to the camp. The king moved slowly, but I thought I saw a shadow of a smile on his face.

  Galen’s pounding footfalls brought my attention back to Reggen. As he passed through the gates, he told the captain of the guard, “No one goes through these gates. You will hold them, Captain.”

  “What did he mean about the cave?” I asked as we started back over the ramparts.

  Galen glanced at me. “It was one of those summers I told you about. We were swimming in the Kriva—Eldin, Tor, and I. Tor wanted to explore a cave upstream but Eldin was scared.”

  “What happened?”

  “He said he wouldn’t go and Tor tried to make him. Tor twisted Eldin’s wrist badly, tried to drag him along over the rocks, but Eldin wouldn’t give in. Tor, for all his strength, couldn’t budge him. He said that the only thing Eldin excelled at was being stubborn.”

  I turned the story over in my mind, trying to make sense of it. “That was his message to you? He could be stubborn?”

  Galen stopped, and his shoulders sagged. “I hope so.”

  Then I knew why the king’s expression had reminded me of our first meeting, when he blocked Lord Cinnan’s insistence that he read Galen’s report at every turn. King Eldin had shown that same doggedness on the bridge.

  “I think the king will do it,” I said. “He realized he could, I saw it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Galen didn’t have the spyglass. He hadn’t seen. “Did you hear the frustration in the duke’s voice? King Eldin is stronger than we thought. He’s stronger than he thought. His brother was right: King Eldin is stubborn. And he’s buying us time.”

  Galen took me by the shoulders, “Do you think so, Saville?”

  “I know it.”

 
Chapter 36

  We spent that long day researching the midnight meeting between Reggen’s rulers and the emperor so many years before. Lord Cinnan read that Reggen gifted the emperor with gold and amber found at Gantaras, a great inland sea a week’s ride from Reggen. So Galen took gold and Gantaran amber from the castle’s treasury and placed them in a small ivory chest.

  He grimaced as he locked it. “I hate to give the duke anything.”

  “Perhaps it will please him enough that he doesn’t watch you closely,” said Lord Cinnan. “Let’s hope he stores it with his other treasures and you’ll see where he keeps his heart.”

  The emperor had walked into Reggen shortly after dawn. If the duke copied the emperor, Galen had six hours to find the duke’s heart and destroy it. None of us believed he would keep Galen alive after he claimed the city in the morning.

  Lord Cinnan looked at Galen, and I could see him struggling with all he wanted to tell his protégé. Finally, he put a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at dawn.”

  Galen and I walked along the ramparts in silence, looking out over the giant camp smudged with fires. I thought of how he’d pulled Will to safety, how he’d stood beside me when we told the king my secret. I’d never felt so safe as when he’d pulled me from the mob and tucked me close.

  I wanted to tell him a thousand things—and couldn’t find words for even one.

  We reached the gatehouse just before midnight—a small, cramped room with spears lining one side of the wall and a table tucked into a corner. Galen silently placed the chest on the table. Then we went to the arrow slit and peered out over the Kriva, waiting for the duke to appear.

  Galen stood so close that I could see the stitching of his coat in the candlelight. He was regent, yet he still wore a simple wool coat.

  Fine Coat.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, smoothing the fabric.

  Galen jumped at my touch, and I yanked my hand away, grateful for the dark that hid my blush. But he stepped closer, peering down at me in the gloom. I hardly dared to breathe, but didn’t look away, hoping he’d be able to see everything I couldn’t speak.

  Gently—so gently!—he captured my hand and placed it over his heart, pressing it to him until I could feel his heartbeat against my palm. It was like flying and finding solid ground all at once, the one place I was safe.

  We stood there, his heart racing beneath my hand, and then even that distance was too great. I moved closer, my arms around his waist, and he held me tightly, as if he couldn’t pull me close enough. His hand swept long, slow circles on my back as my breath fell into time with his.

  “Did you know I was jealous of Lynden that day we walked to Reggen?” He sighed and rested his chin on my head. “I’d been thinking about giants all morning, but I did everything I could to eavesdrop on your conversation. That was why I knew I’d seen you the day you saved Will.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself that the sound rising over the Kriva wasn’t the duke approaching. “I thought I was just some girl,” I whispered.

  It was clearer now, the stamp of giants. They were here. But Galen pressed me closer, and I felt him chuckle. “Some girl indeed, waving that ridiculous candlestick like a sword—”

  A trumpet rang out. Galen flinched.

  And then we were standing apart, and all I could think was that I’d left some piece of me with him. I felt hollow and featherlight, like I could blow away at any moment. Galen gathered up the duke’s chest and we walked out onto the gates.

  The duke stood on the other side of the Kriva, his torch throwing a jagged shadow across his face. “I am the Duke of the Western Steeps, Heir to the Ancient Emperor’s Crown, Holder of the Eternal Heart, Bearer of Halvor’s Spirit! I demand an audience with the regent!”

  Galen straightened his shoulders, but I held him back, my hand around his wrist.

  He looked at my hand, then up at me and smiled. “You’re just jealous you weren’t invited.”

  It wasn’t fair, his using my words against me.

  “It’s time, Saville,” he whispered. “Let me go.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  He twisted his wrist, forcing me to loosen my grip. “You can.”

  Then he looked at me in that way I loved. He looked at me like I was velvet. “If I could have that morning over, I’d walk with you.”

  Before I could answer, he walked away, his dark coat fading into the night.

  In stories and songs, something always happened before that awful moment.

  That night, there was no reprieve.

  Stories weren’t always true. Sometimes home was left beyond the horizon and lost there. Sometimes fathers died without speaking their love, without even wanting to.

  Sometimes heroes died.

  “Galen will find a way,” I whispered. I hoped I spoke the truth, the way I’d hoped the giant army would never come to Reggen. But I didn’t believe our plan would defeat the duke.

  I knew it wouldn’t.

  What had we missed? Think. Think! I closed my eyes, mind traveling back to the duke standing by the bridge … Holder of the Eternal Heart, Bearer of Halvor’s Spirit. He’d added another title. Bearer of Halvor’s Spirit.

  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.

  Chapter 37

  The 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.”