Secret of the Giants' Staircase (6 page)

“Lidia was a center for agriculture in this region,” Parvel said. “No crops can be grown near the mountains, for obvious reasons. These lowlands, though, were perfect for growing rice. That was what gave the city its wealth from the dawn of the kingdom and even before.”

Then he hurried off, probably to explore a fascinating ancient carving.

“Rice,” Jesse said thoughtfully. “I wonder if it's still growing somewhere.” He shook his head. “Stop it. There's no one to talk to here.”

If I were a rice field, where would I be?
Parvel had called them the lowlands. Jesse wandered over to the west side of the ruins and climbed outside the city wall. When it came to physical strength, Jesse fell behind his squad members, but he knew how to use his mind.
I can find food for us
, he thought.
I always do
.

The grade on this side was steeper, and he almost fell down headfirst. Only a quick stab at the ground with his staff saved him.

Jesse studied the ground beneath him. Actually, he wasn't sure what rice plants looked like. He'd only seen rice once before, when a merchant staying at the inn had showed him a sack. It was a rare delicacy. “Can only be grown in a few places in the kingdom,” the merchant had said.

Suddenly, Jesse jerked his head up, scanning the thick growth of trees in front of him. He had seen something move. He was sure of it. Something big.

Now, though, everything was still. A few frogs croaked, and somewhere, a bird crowed.
That's what I saw
, Jesse told himself.
Just a bird. A…very large bird
.

Still, he kept his eyes up, glancing down only occasionally to look for a rice field. The ruins had done strange things to his nerves.
The idea that a man could disappear from his camp without warning, without leaving a trace of explanation behind….

It took Jesse a second to realize that he was falling. The dirt had crumbled under his feet, and he slid down into a pit.

He was still getting his balance from the fall when he realized something else. He hadn't landed on solid ground – he was sinking. The swamp was pulling him under.

“Help!” he sputtered, trying to pull his legs out of…mud? No, it was thicker and darker than mud, nearly up to his waist.
Tar
.

Jesse thrashed around, trying to work himself over to the bank. He only managed to twist himself in the other direction. Now that it had him, the tar wasn't about to let go.

Even pushing down with his staff didn't help. The bottom of the pit either didn't exist, or it was made out of sand and mud, not solid enough to push off of. The tar held Jesse fast, and soon he gave up, exhausted, and faced the ruins on the hill. “Silas! Rae! Parvel!”

There was no answer.

How humiliating
, Jesse thought, staring at the ruins. He had shouted until he was hoarse.
Silas, Rae, and Parvel must have heard. They'll be here soon
.

He knew exactly what would happen when they arrived. Parvel would laugh first, tossing out a few of his good-natured insults. Rae would smirk the whole time they rescued him. Silas would scan the area, come up with a plan and then tell him not to go off on his own again. And all of them would tease him about it until the day he died.

Well, it can't be helped
, Jesse thought, sighing loudly.
There's no way out of here on my own
.

He resolved to wait. He couldn't even lean against his staff; when he tried, the added weight only made it sink deeper into the pit. All he could do was stand there. The tar, warmed by hours in the sun, had started to feel like a comfortable blanket. It wasn't an uncomfortable wait.

But no one came. There was no call from inside the city, no movement on the battlements, no figure running down the hill toward the swamps. Now Jesse began to worry.
What if they made camp on the other side of the city? My voice can't carry that far. But they'll come looking for me when they realize I'm missing…won't they?

The fear of being left in the swamp all night made Jesse struggle against the tar pit again, stopping his thrashing and kicking to shout for help every now and then.

I should never have left,
he repeated over and over
. Should never have gone off on my own. Why do I always try to be the hero?

“Hello down there,” a cheerful voice behind him called. It wasn't Silas, Parvel or Rae. Jesse was sure of it. He craned his head around, which was easier than trying to move his whole body.

The person on the bank was little more than a boy, with flaming red hair that looked like someone had set it on fire. He knelt on the ground, reaching his arm toward Jesse. “You're just out of reach,” he said. “That's too bad. I was hoping this would be easy.”

“Who are you?” Jesse demanded. He doubted someone so young would be an enemy, but he had learned from Silas that it never hurt to be cautious.

“My name's Owen,” the boy said.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jesse knew that name sounded familiar.
The Book. He's one of the members of the missing squad! But where are the others?

As exciting as the realization was, there was a more important question to ask. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Don't know,” Owen said, cocking his head slightly. “But I can sure try.” He frowned, reaching down and sticking his finger in the tar. “Your clothes are going to be ruined, though.”

“My mother always told me not to play in the swamp tar pits in my good clothes,” Jesse said dryly.

Owen laughed out loud. “You're funny.”

At the moment, Jesse didn't feel funny—more like hot, tired, and sticky—but he didn't argue.

“Now, if I can just find a rope or a stick…” Owen said, looking around.

“I have a stick!” Jesse said. It took a mighty yank, but he managed to pull his staff out of the tar and wave it in the air.

Owen paused. “That's nice. You practically rescue yourself.” He lay down on the ground near the pit. “So you don't pull
me
in,” he explained. “That would be a little messy. All right, I'm going to pull you over to the bank, then up and out.”

Jesse made sure to hold the end with the knob, to give himself a better grip. Owen took the other end and gave it a good yank. For such a small fellow, he had a strong pull. Still, Jesse barely moved forward. The tar didn't want to give up its prisoner.

“Awful sticky, this stuff,” Owen said, almost apologetically. “The muck of doom, I call it.” He gave the staff another yank. This time Jesse barely managed to hang on to his staff, and still he was too far away from the edge.

“Owen!” a distant voice called. A girl's voice.

Owen closed his eyes and muttered something to himself. “They're coming,” he said to Jesse, a look of dread on his face.

“I'm in a tar pit,” Jesse pointed out. “How much worse could it be?” Even his voice sounded squeezed and forced after the exertion of fighting the tar.

“You haven't met Nero and Talia,” Owen said in a low tone. “Sure you don't want to duck under that tar for a bit?”

Jesse shook his head, one part of his body he could still move easily.

Owen shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He raised his voice. “Nero! Talia! Give me a hand, will you?”

Jesse had a suspicion that he was going to meet the other missing squad members.
But there are only three. Don't all squads have four members?

Two sets of footsteps, soft against the moss. The newcomers came from behind Jesse, so he couldn't see them. He knew it would be too much work to turn. “Owen, what—” a girl's voice started.

Jesse realized he was not making a good first impression. “Let me explain,” he said, trying to focus his tired mind enough to come up with an explanation. “I—”

“Who are you?” a strong male voice demanded, interrupting him.

Jesse decided to attract their attention right away. “Jesse. I've come to rescue you.”

Silence. “Are you sure you have that right?” Owen asked. “Because we're just fine. You're the one in trouble.”

Jesse just closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain.
If only he knew
.

“I don't trust him. How do you know he won't kill us once we get him out?” the girl – Talia? – pointed out. “Or lead someone to us? He knows where we are now.”

Jesse fought a growing frustration. “We're here to rescue you, not kill you!”

“Explain yourself,” Nero ordered. It seemed like everything he said was an order. “Quickly.”

Jesse tried to think. This was not how he pictured their meeting with the missing squad. Besides, his head felt like it was full of the tar around him. “Parvel got sick, so I went into the desert…and we were almost executed…a Patrol captain is chasing us…and we went into the mountains with the dwarves…before escaping the Rebellion…and finding the Forbidden Book….”

He trailed off.
I must sound like a madman
. “It's a long story,” he finished weakly. “Several long stories, actually.”

“Parvel,” Talia muttered. “Silas and Rae are in his squad, aren't they?”

Something about the way Talia said their names made Jesse want to deny it. “Yes?”

“Excellent,” Owen muttered, still flopped on the ground, almost at eye level with Jesse. “You had to bring
them
up, didn't you?”

“I should have known,” Talia said. “They always taunted us during training. Said that we'd fail in our quest. Rae especially. You say the others are nearby?”

“Yes,” Jesse said, “in the ruins.” Something caught his eye, over in the sand of the tar pit bank.
Odd
.
Was that…?

No. Your imagination. That's all
. But Jesse wasn't sure that it was. For a moment, he thought he had seen something moving in the sand of the bank.

“Then let them find you.” Talia's voice got more distant.
She's walking away
. “I say we—”

The movement again, this time sending a trickle of sand down into the tar in front of Jesse. “There's something in the bank,” Jesse said, trying not to panic.

“Don't interrupt,” Talia said coolly.

“No, there's something alive,” Jesse said, trying to back away from…whatever it was. He didn't care if it would make him sink deeper into the tar. “In the bank.”

Owen winced. “Not good, not good.” He looked up. “You two, get back over here and help me haul him up.” No movement. “Now!”

Apparently Owen, unlike Nero, didn't give orders very often, because Talia and Nero came over and grabbed on to the end of the staff. The force of the pull nearly tore Jesse's arms out, but he held on.

He let go with one hand and grabbed at the edge of the bank, tearing away mossy plants. “Stop it,” Owen shouted. He threw Jesse's staff on the ground. “Let us pull you.”

The sound of more sand falling, then something like a hiss. “Pull fast!” he yelled back.

Two pairs of arms grabbed him and the tar pit surrendered. Nero and Owen helped Jesse away from the edge.

“Watch yourselves.” Talia's voice. When Jesse looked up, he saw a girl aiming an arrow…right at him.

He gasped and rolled to the side. Talia let go…and shot into the pit. “I think I got it,” she said, leaning over to look.

Jesse peered back into the tar pit. There, floating on the surface was what looked like a long, flat lizard, with strange webbed feet splayed in either direction.

Owen reached in for it, lying down on the bank's edge again.

“Get your hand out of there,” Nero commanded.

“It's dead, Captain,” Owen said sarcastically. “What's it going to do, slime me to death?”

He pulled the creature out of the pit, holding onto the arrow. “A tar-strider,” he said, displaying the stabbed creature like a trophy. “That's what Barnaby called it, anyway. They're kind of poisonous.”

“Kind of?” Jesse asked.

Owen shrugged. “Well, one bit Nero a few weeks ago, but after Barnaby sucked the poison out, he only just swelled up for a few days. And got a rash. And had a fever.”

“Well, if that's all, why don't we find one and keep it for a pet?” Jesse asked, rolling his eyes.

Owen's face lit up. “That's what
I
said.” He turned to Nero. “See? You said I was the only one stupid enough to suggest something like that.” He looked down at the tar-strider. “Hey, do you think we could eat these?”

But Talia, at least, wasn't watching Owen and the tar-strider. She was staring right at Jesse, like he might bolt into the swamp or draw a sword and stab her.

Jesse stood, his sticky clothes peeling apart slowly, and stared at his three rescuers, trying to match them to the pictures in the Forbidden Book.

Talia wore a full-length dress, longer than the tunics that Rae often wore, and her blonde hair fell down her back in a thick braid. But her hawk-like eyes and stern glare refused to let Jesse think of her as a girl content to sit around and embroider pillows.

Nero was even more intimidating, with close-cut brown hair, heavy eyebrows and broad shoulders. The oldest, probably. Certainly the strongest.

It was strange, recognizing their faces when he had never seen them in person before. The court artists who had sketched them for the Book had done a remarkable job, recreating every feature to the smallest detail.

But there were only three, and Jesse knew who was missing. “Where's Barnaby?” he asked.

Immediately, Nero's eyes narrowed. “How did you know about Barnaby?” he demanded.

“Maybe he's a spy,” Talia said, “sent by the Rebellion to kill the kings' Youth Guard.”

Jesse started to protest, but Nero interrupted him. “This is no member of the Rebellion,” he said, sounding disgusted. “Look at him! He can barely walk.”

“I need to talk to you,” Jesse insisted. “You're in great danger.”

“We saved your life,” Nero said, turning away. “Now, leave us be, or it will be the worse for you.”

He and Talia began to walk into the swamp.

“We're leaving him?” Owen protested. He ran to catch up, waving the tar-strider in their direction. For a moment, Jesse was afraid it was going to go sailing off the arrow and hit Talia in the head. Thankfully for Owen, the arrow held.

They don't believe me
, Jesse realized.
They think I'm crazy. Or lying
.

He also knew he couldn't give up. This was a matter of life or death.

Jesse struggled to his feet and grabbed the tar-encrusted staff. “You don't understand,” he shouted after them. This time, he was careful to watch for pits. “The king is trying to kill you!”

At that, Talia hesitated, but Nero kept walking. “That's impossible. Don't listen to him. He's trying to get us to abandon our mission.”

“No,” Jesse insisted. “I saw your names in a book. I saw the assassin's camp in the ruins.”

“I don't see any book,” Nero said. “I've never seen any assassin, and we've been in these parts for weeks now.”

“You know what I think,” Talia said, green eyes squinting at Jesse in hatred. “Rae and Silas aren't here at all. They sent him here. To follow us.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” Jesse blurted.

Wrong thing to say. Talia stiffened. “They should have at least come up with a better story. The king determined to kill us! Why, even telling such a lie is treason.”

Jesse gritted his teeth and tried to remember that he had thought much the same when he'd first heard the truth about the Youth Guard.
But at least I was willing to listen to reason
.

“Go back to those who sent you,” Nero said, and his voice sounded like a final judgment. He glanced down at Jesse's crippled leg. “You don't belong here.”

Jesse felt his face grow hot under the layers of tar. In Nero's voice, he heard the taunts of every schoolyard bully, every leering beggar who had reminded him of his crippled leg.

He
did
belong here. He had survived a sandstorm, assassins, a cave-in and a fall into a rushing river. He had kept going when others would have turned back, risked his life for his squad members when others would have let them go.
I am a Youth Guard member as much as any of them, and probably a better one too.

Jesse opened his mouth to tell Nero all this, but nothing came out. Anger had taken his voice away.

“Come on, Owen,” Nero commanded.