Valiant (25 page)

“I haven’t been in the Kriva for years.” He bent and massaged his shin. “Back then I remembered where the boulders were.”

I saw how his shirt clung to him and realized that Lord Verras would never need a tailor’s assistance to make his shoulders look broad. I rolled my eyes at my own foolishness and then realized my own shirt was no less sodden. I picked at it, tugging it away from me, not that it made a great deal of difference. My binding prevented any real immodesty.

He straightened. “Now what?”

“We sit and we wait.”

“He’ll just come? What about the other giants?”

“He said he’d hear me. I think he’s the only one who hears so well.” At least, I hoped he was.

It didn’t take long to find the boulders at the island’s center. Galen had hardly settled beside me when we heard a rhythmic splashing at the far side of the Kriva.

He turned to me, eyes wide. I nodded.

And then Volar stood before us.

“
G
ood evening to
you, Volar,” I said, my voice shaking just a little. “It’s Saville. I’ve brought a friend.”

Volar sat across from us. “Why does your friend not speak?”

“I am Lord Galen Verras. Saville wished me to meet you.”

“And who are you, Galen Verras?”

He grew still beside me, thinking. Finally, he said, “I am cousin to the king. I provide his advisors with information to make the right decisions.”

I grabbed Galen’s arm. What was he doing?

Volar tilted his head, listening. “Tell me more, Galen, cousin to the king.”

Galen’s voice was calm, but his forearm tensed beneath my hand. “Saville thinks you know when we speak the truth.” He paused. “I do not know you, but I believe her. I’ve told you the truth. Now you tell me: was I wise?”

Volar was silent. I was silent. Even the Kriva seemed to still while Galen looked up into the giant’s face.

Volar released a gusty sigh. “You were wise.”

And then I could hear the Kriva murmuring against its banks and the rattle of the wind in the leaves.

The giant looked up at the sky. “The stars are the only things here that remind me of home. Where I live, where we come from, we hear truth in stone. I am a mountain-breaker like my father before me. I have tunneled into mountains since I was as tiny as you, Hillock.” I squeezed Galen’s arm when I saw the question in his eyes. “When you have lived in and under stone, you learn its voice. You know whether it will crumble if you dig farther. You know if the rock is strong enough to support a great hall. You know it—you hear it—every time a hammer or pick rings against the stone.” Volar shook his head. “Stone does not lie if you listen to it. Our people know this.”

He tilted his head toward the Kriva. “Neither does water, though we are used to the sea and not this little trickle you call a river. Water can be as hard as stone, and those who go out in ships say that it speaks truth, as well.”

“You have ships?” asked Galen.

Volar laughed and, once again, I felt it in the stones beneath us. “There is little food to be hunted or farmed in the Belmor Mountains. Our ships go out into the sea to hunt the great whales. Smaller vessels travel to shallow waters to harvest kelp. We would not survive without our ships.”

“Then why are you here?” asked Galen.

“Here,” said Volar, more to himself. “We are here because of the duke. Here where the stone is buried under soft dirt, where the water is so small its voice is a whisper. We are here because of the duke.” Volar stared between his feet. “I will tell you the truth, cousin to the king, because you have told me
the truth. We are here because some grew greedy. We ignored what the stone told us because we wanted greater halls. We dug so deep that the mountains themselves crashed down upon us.

“Two years ago, the duke marched to the foothills of the Belmor. He walked our valleys and told us he could restore our land to us—the cities of the plain our forefathers had built. All he needed was an army, and all we needed was a human leader who could discern human lies and protect us from man’s cunning.”

“Didn’t it ever occur to you that
he
was lying?” I blurted out.

“Peace, Hillock,” murmured Volar. “The duke vowed that he wore truth as a shield. It protected him from harm. He challenged the mightiest warrior to combat. I was not there to see it, for I was deep in the mountains. But I heard the stories.…”

I saw the duke pulling the bolt from his chest. I remembered how the blood flowed freely, but his face never grew pale and his step never weakened.

“Your warrior could not kill him,” said Galen.

Volar shook his head. “The duke stayed the winter with us and then led our armies to the plains. Who would not believe such a sign? Our old stories tell how the high king’s descendant will possess the strength of stone. The duke …” He shrugged.

“But what about your king?” pressed Galen. “Why wouldn’t he be the high king’s descendant?”

Volar’s sigh was low, rolling thunder. “We had a king, though he did not possess Halvor’s gift. None have in my time,
or in remembering.
Uten
kings do not sit on a throne while the rest labor. Our king was a smith who worked iron in the heart of the mountain. He heard truth there, where few of us could venture. A month after the duke entered our valley, our king was found dead, his own sword through his heart.”

“Who killed him?” I asked.

“Some
uten
believed it was his son, Ynnix, hungry for his father’s throne. But it could not be proved. After the king’s death, most believed that Halvor’s gift rested with the duke. Perhaps the
uten
had grown so corrupt that none deserved to bear it.”

Volar sighed again. “I tell you this so you understand why the
uten
would follow a
lité
. We needed a ruler to lead us from the undoing that was our king’s death. But now I do not know. If this was stone, I would not cut farther into it. Perhaps I will go home to the mountains and the sea.”

“You can’t just leave,” I said. “You can’t let the army attack an innocent city!”

“Innocent?” rumbled Volar. “Two of our scouts were killed because of your city. Two good
uten
dead because of the lies of your champion. One was my sister-son.”

Sky above, I’d killed Volar’s nephew. That was why he’d been so determined to protect his friends. I didn’t realize I was gripping Galen’s arm so tightly until his hand settled over mine.

Volar’s voice dropped as he retreated into the past. “I am told he swore he believed the … 
champion
and not the duke.
And then he died. It is an awful thing to doubt the duke’s word, it is …” He waved his hand. “… an act against the king.”

“Treason?” suggested Galen.

“Yes. The duke hears truth. To doubt him is to doubt the high king’s spirit.” Volar shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling like a mountain shifting.

“But two
liten
were killed today,” I whispered.

“The army will not listen to me, even if I had words to speak. I am only a mountain-breaker. The Deathless are the duke’s captains.”

“
Are
they deathless?” asked Galen.

“No.” Volar shook his head. “But they must prove their loyalty. I am told they visit the pens to …”

He did not have to finish the sentence.

“But surely there are other
uten
like you!
Uten
who don’t want this war!”

“
Uten
who will challenge the duke and his Deathless, Hillock? So far from the Belmor? The other
uten
cannot hear anything but words when
liten
speak. I have asked them this. So they will hold to the duke, who bears Halvor’s spirit. They will trust him.”

“Even if he tells them to slaughter the people of Reggen? You didn’t kill me, Volar. And the scouts! They didn’t kill the boy they caught. They let him go back to the city.”

Galen squeezed my hand so tightly I almost cried out. I turned and saw the fear in his eyes.

Sky above, I’d mentioned the scouts.

He tried to fill my horrified silence. “What a man does on his own is different from what he will do when he is part of an army, Saville.”

“What do you know of the scouts, Hillock? Of my sister-son?”

I wanted to run. I wanted to cry. I wanted to give Volar those last precious memories of his nephew—how he’d been a worthy adversary. How he didn’t kill me because of Oma. Volar’s sister.

Then I remembered Volar’s fury when he’d pulled me from the river.

Galen yanked on my hand, his message clear:
Don’t tell him!

“I saw them with the tailor,” I said slowly. “I saw them set the boy down.”

“How did you see this?”

Galen did not give me the chance to answer. “Many watched from the gates.”

“Is this the truth, Hillock?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Volar tilted his head. “I would say that sounds like a lie, if I did not know you.”

I sat blinking back tears.

Finally, Volar sighed. “Your voices are small. Perhaps I do not hear your hearts so well as I thought.”

Galen jumped to his feet, pulling me up beside him. “We must go, Volar. We must be back to Reggen before dawn.”

“Yes,” said the giant. He must hear how my heart raced, how my breath caught in my throat. “It is good to know there are
liten
worthy of trust. You are true as stone.”

I thought the guilt would strangle me.

Galen spoke for us both. “I wish you well, Volar.”

The giant nodded. “It will not be safe for you to return. They will be suspicious if I leave a third night.”

Galen tugged me toward the Kriva, then stopped and looked back at Volar. “I have one more question.”

“What do you wish to know?”

“Do you have stories of a giant … an
uten
with a deathless heart?”

“An
ute
 …,” Volar corrected, then he folded his arms and dropped his head. He reminded me of Galen, deep in thought.

“There are stories, from a different age, of a king. An abomination. He tore his heart from his body and hid it in a safe place. He could not be killed until a warrior found his heart.” Volar shook his head. “It is a child’s tale, one you must put from your mind. How would it be done, king’s cousin? You know it could not be done.”

“Thank you,” said Galen. “Fare you well, Volar.”

“And you,” said the giant.

Galen pulled me into the water and we swam to the far bank. The moment I stood dripping on the cliffside of the Kriva, Galen turned on me.

“What were you thinking, mentioning the scouts like that? Have you lost your
mind
?”

I’d never seen Galen so angry. There was no silence, no stillness in it this time. It was infuriating—and I couldn’t even shout back at him because the giants were just across the Kriva.

“He needed to know other giants might listen to him! He needed to know the lies he hears in the duke’s voice are real. Now he doubts himself even more!”

“He nearly guessed that you were the champion. How could you be so reckless?”

I jabbed a finger at him. “You knew this would be dangerous, Galen Verras!”

He took me by the shoulders. “What would I have done if you’d been hurt?”

My retort died when I saw his face. He wasn’t talking about a tailor for Reggen, about keeping the city content. He was talking about me. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost
me
.

Sky above.

Galen was just as surprised as I was—he blinked as if something bright had flashed before him. We faced each other, still as stone, his hands warm on my shoulders.

That day the duke visited the court, when Galen had pleaded with the king to act, I’d wondered what it would be like to have someone look at me with that much hope, that much confidence. Now I knew. I
knew
, and I could feel myself begin to unravel.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose myself to Galen Verras and never find myself again when he married his falcon bride. So I
pretended that I hadn’t seen a thing, and buried the part of me that had been glad to see it.

“If I’d been hurt?” I echoed. “If something had happened to me, you could put some lad on the palace balcony and have
him
wave to the people!”

It flew out as fast as a bolt from a crossbow. And struck as hard.

Galen dropped his hands and stepped back, scowling at me in the moonlight. Before I could speak, he marched off toward the cave.

I stared after him, not knowing whether I was relieved or miserable to have him move away. Finally, I silently followed him, telling myself the entire league and a half that my legs trembled only from swimming so long.

By the time we neared the foundation stones, the world seemed gray, the cave’s opening back to Reggen, a dark smudge in the predawn.

Galen found our lanterns and handed one to me without meeting my eye.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You never treated me like a pawn. Not once.”

It was a hurried darning—an attempt to stitch the ragged edges of the conversation back together.

He finally looked at me, and I wished he hadn’t. He was so serious, so guarded. “Let’s just get back.” He lit his lantern with a single strike. “Leymonn will send men into the caves at dawn to clear the tunnel to the cliffs.”