Secret of the Giants' Staircase (2 page)

“I keep the poison still,” Ward said, lowering it beneath his shirt, “in case the need to use it ever arises.”

Demetri didn't like the way he spoke those words, and he was no man to back down from conflict. “Is that a threat, Ward?”

“Yes, Captain,” Ward said simply. “Those of a noble spirit are most…unpredictable. If I ever sense that you are no longer on our side, I will not hesitate to kill you. Neither would Lillen. Your choice to betray us would be your last.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Demetri standing alone.

He hardly spoke a word to either of his companions as they continued their journey. They visited three groups of Kin that day, all camped near the swamp, and all distantly hostile. In every place, Lillen and Ward surveyed the people to find the “likely ones,” and Lillen spoke to them of the reward. At least, Demetri assumed she spoke about the reward. Ward never let Demetri get close enough to hear what she said.

The Four would die nameless, then. There was no question that they must die. Demetri had pledged himself to the Guard Riders, sworn to destroy the Youth Guard. Aleric, the captain of the Riders, would punish him for another failure. And Ward had made it clear that turning back was no option.

As they left the last Kin encampment, Demetri felt the power of the Rider medallion he wore. He reached up to touch it. It gave him strength, somehow, and reassured him that he would enter the swamps and come out alive.

But the Four, the nameless Four, would not.

When Jesse turned his boots upside down, there were twin holes in the heels. “Silas,” he groaned loudly. “Is the entire surface of your district made of jagged rock?”

Silas, already getting out the fishing line, didn't seem bothered by Jesse's comment. “Your district has grassland and mud. Mine has rock and—”

“More rock,” Rae added, when Silas couldn't think of anything to finish the statement. She tapped her leather boots. “But blame the makers of your shoes, Jesse, not the land we've crossed. Mine are just fine.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “A fine lot of support I get around here. I'll have you know these boots were made for farm work,
not
for climbing over every rocky trail in the kingdom of Amarias.”

“Never fear, Jesse,” Parvel said, clapping him on the back, which nearly knocked him off the boulder he rested on. “District Two also has a very fine swamp—one that I hope we will be approaching very soon.”

He directed this last comment at Silas, who nodded. “Two days journey, perhaps. Maybe less.”

Jesse wasn't sure if this was good news or not. According to the Forbidden Book, the swamps were the last place one of the missing Youth Guard squads had been seen alive. When they reached the edge, they would have to enter and find them, facing unknown dangers along the way. Even Silas, who had grown up in District Two, knew very little about the swamps.
Or, at least, he's telling us very little
.

The thought had crossed Jesse's mind more than a few times that Silas might know more than he said, afraid of frightening them.
But after all we've seen in the last month, what could be worse? Besides, we don't have a choice. If we don't go into the swamp, the other squad will die.

“I can't wait until we get something to eat besides fish,” Rae said, scowling at the stream next to them. Their supplies, borrowed from Prince Corin, had only lasted a few days. For the past week of traveling, they had followed the river, eating fish from the stream for dinner.

“I can fix it a little differently this time,” Parvel offered hopefully.

“No,” they all said at once. The night before, Parvel had garnished the fish with a red sauce. The fish had been halfway to Jesse's mouth when Silas asked him what he had used. It turned out to be bloodberries. Jesse had immediately dropped the fish and threw it into the fire. Even the smoke smelled toxic.

“He could have just poisoned us all and saved the king the trouble of killing us,” Silas had muttered while washing off his plate.

Hearing him say that reminded Jesse exactly how serious their situation was. Sometimes, fishing with Silas in the dusk, he forgot that a Patrol division could march out of the woods and kill them, leaving them in unmarked graves along the road.

They'd have to go a distance to find a road, though
. That was Parvel's idea. “Chancellor Doran must know we're alive by now,” he had said the day they set out from Davior. “He'll send someone after us. We should go the long way to the swamp, avoiding main roads and all towns.”

That was why they were still two full days away from the swamp after a week of travel. Every morning, Jesse would wake up achingly stiff, only to face another long trek over rugged terrain.

But it's worth it if it keeps us alive
.
And, anyway, I'm getting used to the hard travel
, Jesse thought. His skin was darker from hours in the sun, and if he wasn't mistaken, he was developing a bit of muscle. Not on his crippled left leg, of course, but the other was growing twice as strong.

“Come on, Jesse,” Silas said, jerking his head toward the river. “Let's catch dinner.”

Jesse took out the leather cord and makeshift hook that served as his fishing pole. All the poles he had ever owned were handmade, but this one took the prize for the most crude—pieced together from odds and ends they had brought with them from Roddy's tavern and Prince Corin's store of supplies.

Silas was already by the water, perched on a mossy boulder. “What's the score?” he asked Rae.

She sat on the bank a distance from the water, as usual. Jesse knew it was because she was afraid of water, but none of them ever mentioned it.
The first person who does
, Jesse thought,
will probably get punched
.

“Jesse eight, Silas three,” Rae recited.

Don't be smug
, Jesse commanded himself. Still, he couldn't help but grin a bit. It was nice, for once, to be better than Silas at something—anything. Silas, Rae and Parvel were the real Youth Guard members, chosen for their strength, intelligence and bravery. He was just a cripple who had come along on their adventures.

But he was a cripple who knew how to fish.

He ambled over to the river, tying the cord to the end of his staff—a bendbow knot, his father had called it.

Jesse felt a stab of pain at the memory. Sometimes, when they were running for their lives or involved in a mission, he almost forgot about his parents. But not quite. He didn't know where they were or if they were even alive, just that they disappeared a year ago. He hadn't heard from them since.

The Forbidden Book gave them information about the lost, but only lost Youth Guard members. Jesse wished the book were magic and could tell him where to find any person he named. It had been a long time since he and his father had gone fishing together.

With a sigh, Jesse plopped down on the bank, sticking his feet in the river and swirling them around. The cold water felt good on his sore feet.

“You'll scare off the fish,” Silas warned him. When he fished, he always sat in complete silence, hardly moving at all. Sometimes, Jesse thought he was dead, until he saw him blink.

“Apparently, I haven't been scaring them off,” Jesse said, smirking. “Just scaring them right onto my hook.”

Silas shook his head, and Rae scoffed out loud.

“Anyway, I'm not fishing yet,” Jesse continued. “I'm just watching the currents.”

“Watching the currents,” Silas repeated skeptically.

Jesse nodded. “Old trick from District One,” he said. “You've got to know how to time the currents. That's how I catch all my fish.” He shrugged and tapped his staff with its intricately carved designs, a gift from his friend Kayne. “And my staff brings me good luck.”

“I thought you Christians didn't believe in luck,” Silas said. Even though it was a simple comment, Jesse could hear the bitterness in his voice.

He decided it wasn't the time to start yet another argument about God. Those always went the same way. He and Parvel against Silas and Rae, all repeating the same arguments and neither side changing their minds. “I was joking,” Jesse said. “Fishing is pure skill.”

Rae gave a little half-snort at that, and Parvel chuckled warmly. He was setting up a brush pile to start their small cooking fire.

“I think I'll go upstream a bit,” Jesse said, leaning on his staff.

Silas didn't complain. He never did. Jesse had counted on that.
He probably enjoys the peace and quiet
.

Jesse found a shallow part of the river, where the muddy bottom was higher and current slower. He took one glance back to make sure no one had followed him. Then he pulled his net from underneath his shirt.

His father had taught him how to catch fish in a homemade net. It was quicker and easier than waiting for fish to bite on a line, and the materials could be found on nearly every riverbank in Amarias. All Jesse needed was waterflax, a thin reed that grew in patches all along the riverbank.

The long days of walking had given him plenty of time. With his crippled leg, he was always the last one in the group. If the other members of his squad thought it was strange that he braided reeds as he walked, they never said anything.

It had taken him three days to make the net. It was a bit like a basket, only more flexible, with a looser weave. True, it wasn't strong enough to hold much weight.
But small fish can be cleaned, baked, and eaten just as well as large ones
.

He knelt down on the very edge of the bank, making sure his shadow was behind him. Any movement could startle the fish. Then it was a waiting game. Jesse carefully studied the water, waiting to see a fish poke out of the weeds.
Dinner should be here any….

All of a sudden, he was tumbling face-first into the water. He came up, sputtering and wiping the wet hair out of his eyes, grabbing at the bank to pull himself out.

There, shaking her head at him, was Rae. “Pure skill, hmm?” she said, hands on her hips.

Jesse gave her a weak smile. “Yes?”

For one wild, crazy second, he thought about pulling her in with him. Then he checked himself.
Do I want to die?

Since the answer was no, he just floated there, doing his best to look repentant when what he really wanted to do was burst into laughter.

She just shook her head and marched back toward their camp. Jesse quickly stood and sloshed over to her. “It wasn't cheating,” he said. “I made the net myself. I caught the fish myself.”

But she didn't even slow down. “Then you won't mind if the others hear about your stroke of brilliance.”

Actually, Jesse wouldn't mind. He was rather proud of it and was planning to tell Silas eventually. “You made me lose my fish, by the way.”

“I don't care,” Rae said. “Now, move away. You're getting that dirty lake water on me.”

“It's a river, Rae,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes, “not a lake.”

“It's not well water,” Rae fired back, walking faster. “That's all I care about.”

Unlike in District One and Two, where most children learned to swim shortly after they learned to walk, residents of District Three avoided water whenever possible. As to why, all they could get out of Rae was mention of some old superstition. She always ended those conversations as soon as possible.

They had reached the camp. “She's delusional,” Jesse cried in protest, running ahead of Rae. “It's the journey—it's just too much for her. Don't listen to anything she says.”

Parvel and Silas just stared at them. “Anyone feel like explaining?” Parvel asked.

Rae was only too happy to volunteer, going into great detail about Jesse's net.

“So that's how you caught so many,” Silas said, shaking his head. “Is that really fair, Jesse?”

“Yes,” Jesse said. “We were keeping track of how many fish we caught. No one said
how
we had to catch them.”

“True enough,” Parvel said, “however, for acts of deception and general braggery—”

“I don't think that's a word,” Jesse interrupted.

“As squad captain, I officially sentence you to the chore of gathering the rest of the firewood for tonight's meal,” Parvel pronounced solemnly.

Jesse made a face. In the rocky terrain that was a hard task. The trees that grew in the shallow mountain soil were mostly varieties of pine. It was backbreaking work to collect dead branches scattered on the ground.

“Fine,” Jesse said, taking the hook and line off of his staff, “but you realize that leaves Silas in charge of catching our dinner. And we know he doesn't have the best record….”

“I'll do just fine,” Silas said coolly. He had never taken his line out of the creek. “And I'll do it without your fancy net.”

By the time the sun was low in the sky, they had a nice river flateye to share. As usual, Jesse and Parvel prayed over their meal, but Silas and Rae did not.

“Eat quickly,” Silas said, glancing at the sun. “It's almost dark, and we need to put out the fire.”

Jesse knew why. They never lit a fire after sundown. Anyone passing by could see it from a distance, although the rocky terrain worked in their favor. Silas suggested never starting a fire at all, but when the others objected that raw fish were not very appetizing, he settled for making the fire as small as possible.

As soon as they finished eating, Silas poured water on the fire, making the coals hiss and sputter. He started to throw dirt on them to smother them.

“Can't we keep the fire going?” Jesse protested. “I'm still wet!”

“I'm sorry,” Silas said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I value our safety over your comfort.”

“And you deserved that trip into the river anyway,” Rae added bluntly. Jesse just shook his head, sprinkling her with water and earning a look of disgust.

“Well, the good news is, I patched your shoes,” Parvel interrupted, holding them up.

Jesse took them and turned them over. There, stuffed into the holes, were two rocks.

Jesse threw one of the shoes at Parvel's head, but for being so burly, Parvel could move quickly. He ducked, and the shoe plunked into the river.

“Next time, I'm throwing the rock,” Jesse threatened, limping over to the river as quickly as he could to fish the shoe out.

“With your aim, I doubt I should worry.”

“Thanks a lot,” Jesse grumbled, but Parvel's deep, rumbling laughter drowned him out.

He marched back and dropped the shoe, rock and all, next to the dying fire. “Goodnight,” he proclaimed, making a show of shivering as he lay on the ground, covered only by his blanket. They had lost their tents long ago, back in the Rebellion headquarters. “Wake me up for my shift on watch.”

“Oh, I will,” Rae said. He always followed her during the night watch. “Maybe even a little early tonight.” She gave a loud yawn that was clearly fake. “I'm very tired, and I know I can count on you to be a gentleman, Jesse.”

Jesse just moaned and wrapped his blanket tighter against his damp clothes. “Nice to know I'm falling asleep among friends.”

And, though he wouldn't have believed it a month before, it really was true.