Valiant

by Sarah McGuire

  The duke did not care that Galen held it. That scared me more than anything. I pressed Will closer to me.

  “I carry Halvor’s spirit and his strength,” announced the duke. “I can extend that strength wherever I wish. Even to a box.” He laughed as Galen clutched it to him. “Ironwood and blood, boy. My blood. You won’t break that. It’s too strong. I’m too strong.”

  “I thought all we had to do was find it, Sir,” whimpered Will. “It was under, just like important things always are …”

  “Shhhhh,” I whispered against his hair, my mind humming to make sense of it.

  Ironwood and blood. I didn’t remember anything like that in the story of the deathless knight. The merchant had only written that a young man had found the box and destroyed it.

  The duke stalked toward Galen. “No one is stronger than the high king, boy.”

  I set Will down, and motioned him to stay near Volar as I crept closer.

  “I’m not a boy,” said Galen, stepping back. “And you’re not the high king.”

  “Does it matter? I am the mightiest one here. Now give me what is mine!”

  Galen shook his head.

  No one is stronger than the high king. No one—

  I looked up at Volar, at the high king.

  Sometimes the stories are true. I knew it in my marrow. “Throw it to Volar, Galen!”

  “To me, king’s cousin!” shouted Volar.

  The duke’s smile faltered. “I’ll have that now, Regent, or you will not live the day!”

  It was Galen’s turn to smile. “I never expected to.”

  Galen lowered the box toward the ground and flung it up to Volar.

  “No!” screamed the duke.

  He wasn’t fast enough to seize the box, but he was still able to reach Galen. I saw it all as I ran to him: the flash of the duke’s dagger, the surprise on Galen’s face.

  The duke raised the dagger again, but the second blow never fell. He reared up, back arched, screaming like the wolves I’d heard on our journey to Reggen.

  I dropped to my knees, my hands fluttering over the crimson stain spreading across Galen’s tunic.

  “No,” I whispered. “It’s not supposed to end this way … not like this.”

  The duke shrieked something up at Volar, who had closed his fist around the box.

  The duke was too close. He might strike again. I turned back to Galen. He looked up at me, eyes wider, each breath shuddering though him.

  I put a hand to his cheek. “I’m going to move you, and it’s going to hurt.”

  He gripped my wrist, insistent, and I leaned closer.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  It was a lightning strike: white fire and thunder and heartbreak. I knew, suddenly, how Will had felt earlier.

  “Don’t you dare try to tell me good-bye, Galen Verras. Don’t you dare!” I hooked my hands under his arms and pulled back with all my strength, dragging him away to safety. Then I knelt beside him again, pressing a handful of my skirt against his side. My hands shook so badly I could hardly manage the simple task.

  “Will!” I called. “Come here!”

  Will thumped over just as the duke screamed again.

  One of the Deathless lunged toward Volar, but Ober met him and wrestled him aside. Volar was absorbed with his task, his hand tightening around the box, his knuckles white.

  “He’s not strong enough,” sang the duke in a childish voice. “No one is strong enough. I’m safe. I’m safe.”

  Two more Deathless attacked Volar and, once again, they were driven back. Volar’s entire being seemed focused on the box. His arm began to tremble, but his face remained calm. After a moment, he cocked his head and smiled as if he’d heard something lovely. The sunlight grew stronger and lit his face.

  He looked like the Guardians.

  He looked like the high king.

  His hand gripped tighter one last time. The box shattered.

  The duke didn’t have time to scream. He fell forward, the life gone from his limbs before he hit the ground.

  A gasp rose from the giants, followed by a roar from the Deathless. Volar raised his fist. “To me, true uten. To me!” He turned to Iden, who stood beside him. “The liten—”

  The remaining Deathless threw themselves at Volar and the giants flanking him. It was like sitting on a forest floor while the trees pulled their roots from the ground. I tugged Will close and flung myself over Galen.

  A shadow fell over us, and I was plucked into the sky. I flailed against the hand holding me until I heard Iden’s voice. “Peace, Hillock.”

  Iden handed me to another giant, then stooped to pick up Galen and Will. A third giant swept up the king and princess. Then Iden led the giants carrying us away from the fray.

  “Will he be safe?” I asked the giant carrying me.

  “Volar crushed ironwood with his hand. I have never seen the like in all my years. Worry for the others, not him.”

  The giant carrying the king and princess agreed. “Few uten were devoted to the duke. Only the Deathless and those who wished to join the Deathless. The battle will be short.”

  The giants took us close to the Kriva, not far from the island, and set us down.

  Princess Lissa found a soft stretch of ground for the king.

  Iden had carried Galen like he was an infant, cradled in the crook of his arm. He set him down, then nodded to me. “I am too big to help him, Hillock.”

  “His chains,” I said. “Can you break them?”

  Iden nodded and, with his fingertips, snapped the chain between Galen’s manacles.

  I bent over Galen. His gaze was strong, his breath steadier than it had been.

  Will hopped beside me, his crutches lost in the chaos.

  “Sit!” I told him. “I won’t have you hurting your foot again.” Then I turned back to Galen. “I have to look …”

  He nodded.

  I pushed his coat back. His shirt was soaked. “I can’t see—”

  I quickly removed Galen’s cravat and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. I pulled it back and gasped. The cut began at the collarbone and traveled across his ribs.

  “You must have twisted at the last minute. I don’t think it’s touched the lung.”

  I rested my hand on Galen’s chest, felt the rise and fall. He was breathing around the pain, to be sure, but still, he was breathing.

  “He didn’t hit anything vital, Saville. We just need to stop the blood.”

  I looked down at my skirt. “I don’t—there isn’t much you haven’t bled on already.”

  “Here, Sir.” Will handed me his coat.

  I folded it so that it was the length of Galen’s wound. “Ready?” I asked him.

  He nodded, and I laid the coat over his wound, then pressed down, using both hands.

  “Your eyes are closed,” said Galen.

  I opened them, checking to see if I’d misplaced Will’s coat.

  “It’s fine,” said Galen. “I just think it’s funny that you closed your eyes.”

  I shook my head. “You have the oddest sense of humor.”

  His hand came up to cover mine. “We won. I should be happy.”

  And he smiled up at me as if I were the sun coming up over the horizon, as if he already knew my face by memory, by heart. I let him look his fill, and I looked right back and thought how I would hold this moment to me, even when his falcon bride came to Reggen. I had earned that much.

  His fingertips brushed my left cheek. “He hit you hard.”

  “I thought it would balance out the bandage on the other side.”

  Galen laughed, a quick jump of breath that made him wince. But his fingers traced ever so lightly the side of my face.

  “The champion of Reggen,” he whispered. “The valiant tailor …”

  I thought he was going to say that he loved me again. And I hoped I’d have the courage to say it back. Instead, I watched the words fall back inside him like a leaf sinking beneath water. He’d told
me he loved me because he thought we were going to die. There’d been a terrible safety in that.

  We’d lived, and I knew he wouldn’t say it again.

  I kept my hands pressed against his bandage, and smiled at him as if every fiber of me hadn’t ached to hear him say those words, as if these past few days had been enough.

  We used one of Princess Lissa’s petticoats to bind Will’s coat to Galen’s side. I’d just finished knotting the bandage when Volar strode up to our ragged group. “It is done.”

  He knelt next to me. “Will they live, the king and his cousin?”

  “Yes. But we must take them to the castle.”

  Volar nodded. “We will carry you.”

  “Lord Cinnan will be anxious to know we’re safe. He’ll be waiting at the gates,” said Galen.

  Volar saluted King Eldin, making a fist and holding it over his heart. “We have caused your city much pain, but we will seek to make amends.”

  King Eldin held his ruined hands in front of him, but his voice was steady. “I owe you a great debt. You have saved us.”

  Volar shook his head. “You defied the duke, while many of the uten gave way to him. You are a brave lité. Strong of heart.”

  King Eldin flushed and his eyes filled. “I don’t think so.”

  “I know it. I hear it in your voice,” Volar said. “Come, we will take you to your city.”

  Chapter 40

  Volar led the giants carrying us to the bridge, skirting the camp and the aftermath of the battle. I should have felt triumphant as Iden bore Will and me along, but I’d look down at my bloody skirt and every good feeling would fly from me: Galen was wounded; Will’s father was still missing.

  And what would I do? I couldn’t go back to the garret room or be Lissa’s errand girl.

  War with the giants had been averted. Life in Reggen had been set to rights. But I did not know if there was a place for me in it.

  “Sir!” yipped Will. “You’re squeezing me too tight!”

  I loosened my grip and began to hum “Brightwater,” the song from Mama’s music box. As we neared the bridge, Iden began to hum the tune, and it was like the earth singing it back to me.

  “I like that song,” murmured Will.

  When the giants reached the bridge, Volar hailed the city. Galen had told him who he should ask for—and that he should declare his position among his people.

  Volar flushed, then announced, “I am Volar, king of the uten, the giants. I ask to speak to Lord Cinnan.”

  I saw a flurry of activity behind the gates. The small door opened and Lord Cinnan stepped out and around the willow still lying across the bridge.

  “Lord Cinnan, I have your king and his kin, and I ask safe passage so that my uten may bring them into your city.”

  “I greet you Volar, king of the gi—uten, in the name of Reggen.” He spoke boldly, but I imagined him trying to see if a giant really was holding the king—and if he was safe.

  “Cinnan!” King Eldin called. “We must reach the castle quickly. Galen is hurt.”

  The advisor still seemed uncertain.

  “I will only send as many uten as are needed to carry your king and his people to the castle,” said Volar. “I ask that my people be allowed to return to camp afterward.”

  I bit back a laugh. As if anything in Reggen could keep a giant who did not wish to be held.

  “I thank you,” said Lord Cinnan. “Please, bring them.”

  Volar motioned his friends toward the bridge. “Only one ute at a time,” he said. “I do not think the bridge will bear more than one.”

  Ober carried King Eldin and Lissa across the bridge first. Nearing the gate, he kicked the willow aside, rolling it into the Kriva. He waited before the gates a moment until the two great doors swung out. They reached only Ober’s chest.

  “What would you have him do?” called Volar. “Your king is wounded and my ute can bring him to your castle quickly. Though if you wish it, we will let you take him.”

  Lord Cinnan peered up at Ober and must have seen a signal from the king. “I would be honored if your ute would take them.”

  Ober nodded, then bent double and shuffled through the gates. When he stood again, I could see the top of his head rising above the wall. Then Hylag, cradling Galen like an infant, carefully ducked under Reggen’s gates. His head bobbed after Ober’s until it was lost beyond the buildings.

  When it was our turn to cross, Volar stopped Iden with a hand on his shoulder.

  “I will not come into your city today, Hillock. Your king and his cousin must be cared for, and I must see to the uten. There is much to be done now that the duke is dead.”

  I couldn’t speak for a moment. “It’s good to hear you call me Hillock,” I said finally. “I didn’t think you would ever again—and I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

  “Ah.” Volar tilted his head and gusted a great sigh. “I do not know what to tell you, except that it was right to meet you. It was established, I think.”

  “There would have been war if you hadn’t helped us.”

  He lowered his head. “I know what would have happened to the uten if the duke still lived. It would have been a rot in the heart of every one of us.” He looked up and smiled. “You spoke the truth, but you were cunning also. Perhaps Hillock is not the right name for you. You are closer to a mountain, I think.”

  Before I could answer, he motioned Iden forward. Will and I were carried across the bridge, and then we were in the city. The crowd filling the streets gaped as the giants strode by. Some shouted and threw stones, but when the giants didn’t respond, they fell into silence.

  “Sir.” Will tugged my arm. “I want to get down.”

  “Why? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  He looked up at Iden. “Are they letting the people out of the pens?”

  Iden stood up on his toes and looked over the wall. “They are, little one.”

  Will nodded, satisfied. “Then please put me down here.”

  I looked down … and saw the fountain.

  “I wasn’t able to go by the pens, Sir. They wouldn’t let me. But I have to know. Pa might be there. I’ll get to the castle. Don’t you worry.…”

  I looked down at Will’s dirty face, pinched with worry and hope, and smiled as if my heart hadn’t been hollowed out. Will was mine, at least for a little while longer.

  “Please put us down at the fountain. Will is looking for someone.”

  Iden’s face crinkled. “Volar said I should take you to the castle.”

  “And you will. But please set us down first.”

  Iden nodded. “As you wish.”

  He knelt and I slipped off his arm, then caught Will, careful of his foot. I half carried Will to the fountain and had him sit on the edge, his leg stretched out in front of him. One of the castle guard approached, hand on the hilt of his sword, gaze twitching up at Iden.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “We wish to see the captives. Iden will take us to the castle afterward.”

  “Iden, miss?”

  I gestured toward the giant. “Iden.”

  Iden nodded gravely.

  The guard shifted his weight. “And you are?”

  Lord Cinnan, who had been listening, joined us. “She is the tailor. The champion.”

  The soldier saluted, but I looked down, uncomfortable with the title.

  “I must go now, Saville. Come as soon as you can,” Lord Cinnan said. He looked up at Iden. “Do you mind waiting? I can order my men to escort them to the castle.”

  Iden shook his head. “Volar said to take them. I will.”

  Lord Cinnan raised his eyebrows. “Very well, then.”

  Will struggled to his feet as soon as Lord Cinnan turned away.

  I grabbed at him. “Sit down, Will!”

  “They’re coming! How will he see me if I’m sitting?”

  I thought of how I’d looked for Mama after she died; I’d turn a corner and expect her to be there wait
ing.

  I braced myself against one of the fountain’s statues. “Lean against me, then. Don’t put any weight on your foot.”

  Will nodded, his face pale and intent as if the force of his hope could bring his father to him. He nestled into my side, his wiry arm wrapped around my waist, a handful of my skirt gripped in his fist.

  Let his father be here. Please, let his father be here. The captives began to straggle through the gates, casting fearful glances at Iden. Guards, instructed by Lord Cinnan, shepherded them toward wagons waiting to take them to the castle.

  They were filthy and unwashed, faces burnt from exposure to the summer sun. They smelled like animals, like cattle. Bile burned the back of my throat. They’d been nothing more than cattle to the duke and his Deathless. If Volar had not slept outside their pens these last few nights, there would have been even fewer survivors. But how many had been lost before he stood guard? I pulled Will closer to me.

  Most of the captives wandered through the gate with empty stares as if they couldn’t yet believe they’d been released. None looked toward the fountain.

  Except for one man. He stopped, jostling the others around him to get a closer look. When he saw Will, he elbowed his way toward us.

  I felt Will suck in a breath, his entire body rigid. “Papa?”

  The man was in front of us now, his face so dirty I wondered how Will knew him. He looked up at Will with eyes that crinkled around the edges. Concerned eyes.

  “Will?” he asked.

  Will shook his head. “You’re not Papa.”

  The man’s hands hung limp at his side. “No, I’m not. But he told me about you. He wanted me to find you.”

  I wrapped my arm around Will’s shoulders. I wanted to cover his ears and drag him up to the castle, away from this man with the wild hair and kind eyes.

  “Where is he?” asked Will.

  The man just shook his head.

  Will’s legs buckled. I clutched at him to keep him from falling. He curled around himself, head between his knees, just as he had been that day in the street. I pulled him against me. He didn’t notice at first, his sharp, barking sobs driving his shoulders against my ribs.

  Then his arms went around me and I pressed his face into the hollow of my shoulder, whispering into his hair that I was sorry, so very sorry.