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Authors: Amy Lynn Green

Tags: #Religion, #Christianity, #fantasy, #Amy Green, #Amarias, #Warner Press

Secret of the Giants' Staircase (9 page)

BOOK: Secret of the Giants' Staircase
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Chapter 10

Several hours later, Jesse and Owen had found only an abandoned tinker's cart, a melon patch and a huge, hairy spider that Owen let crawl over his arm before Jesse made him kill it.

Finally, they stopped for a break under the dead tree at the center of the city. Jesse sat down underneath its towering branches, wishing the answer would just fall from the sky.

Why can't we find them?
He sighed loudly.
Maybe we should wait here until nightfall, then shout and wave our arms around so we'll get taken too
.

“I'm thirsty,” Owen moaned, plopping down beside him. It was the latest in a long string of complaints, which also included hunger, boredom, soreness and an allergy to old, crumbling buildings.

“We can go down the hill and drink some swamp water,” Jesse suggested wearily, closing his eyes.

“No,” Owen said, shaking his head. “There's a well in the courtyard. We refilled our canteens there before.” He sprang up and Jesse limped after him, wondering at how Owen never seemed to run out of energy, no matter how much he complained about being tired.

Once inside the walls, Jesse realized he had been in the courtyard before. It was the one with the phases-of-the-moon design in the center.

Owen was already at the well in the corner, yanking on a rope like he was a sailor hauling up a load of cargo.

“Don't fall in,” Jesse warned him. That was all he needed to deal with: fishing an eleven-year-old out of a well.

Jesse took his time joining him.
Strange
. The rope appeared to be in better shape than the rest of the city. It was still taut and strong, without any sign of wear.

Owen dropped the bucket twice before he managed to haul it up, half full, but Jesse wasn't about to criticize.

Jesse had to admit he was thirsty. Except for the fruit they had eaten for breakfast, he hadn't had anything to drink since the day before. He took the bucket after Owen and drank from it.

His stomach growled, reminding him how much walking they had done in one morning. “I suppose it's more fruit for our afternoon meal.”

But Owen was already running around the courtyard, exploring. “I guess I'll bring it to you,” Jesse called, rolling his eyes.

“Thanks!” Owen said, scrambling over a fallen pillar.

“Just don't leave the courtyard,” Jesse said, using his sternest tone. He surveyed the courtyard, trying to remember how to get to the vineyard.

There. Down the steps
.

Sure enough, the vineyard with the yellow fruit lay at the bottom of the steps. The dark vines, tangled around the stone walls, were exactly the same as Jesse remembered them. But there was something wrong.

Jesse returned empty-handed. “Where's the food?” Owen demanded. Now he was up in a tree by the courtyard wall.

“There wasn't any fruit,” Jesse said, shaking his head. “No ripe fruit, anyway.”

“So this patch is a little slow,” Owen said, shrugging. “Let's go back to the orchard where we got breakfast. Or, I guess there's that melon patch a few houses over.”

“No, you don't understand,” Jesse said. “I was just here yesterday, and those vines were sagging with ripe fruit.”

“You sure you have the right place? I mean, there's not much that's special about a bunch of vines.”

“Maybe…” Jesse said, trying to think back. But the scene from the day before played out in his mind exactly the same way every time: he ate a fruit from the vineyard, then came up the steps and saw Parvel in the courtyard with the phases of the moon.

“Jesse,” Owen said, and his tone of voice made Jesse snap his head up instantly. “There are people coming.”

“Get down from there,” Jesse hissed, scanning the courtyard for a hiding place. The well was too short, the tree not wide enough. Up the porch steps and inside the building? Not enough time.

Owen didn't bother to climb down using the branches. He just dropped from the tree, landing hard, but on his feet. Jesse hoped whoever was in the city hadn't heard the sound.

They both ran for the same place: the pile of crumbled pillars across the courtyard near the building. Owen scrambled over the top of one while Jesse went around. He crouched down and tried to make himself as small as possible.

He could hear voices approaching now as well as footsteps. Two people, both men.

“…wouldn't hope to find them here, in these ruins,” one was saying. Jesse didn't recognize the voice, and he didn't dare bring his face up over the pillar. “Even if they chanced to be here, there is too much ground to cover. I say we return to the camp with Lillen.”

“I don't like this city,” another voice said.

This one Jesse recognized, and the sound made him sink even farther down behind the crumbled stone. Captain Demetri. Somehow, he had traveled across the country and found them again.

And this time, Captain Demetri isn't alone
.

“Most prefer to avoid the ruins,” the other man said. “It has become more legend than reality. Haunted by Lidians, some say, the home of the Westlund giants, according to others, and a wandering place for the spirits of vanished Amarian travelers, others insist.”

Oddly, the second man's voice had a kind of lilting quality to it, like an actor in a theatre troupe. Somehow, it made Jesse want to lean in and listen.

“Do you fear the city, Captain?” he asked.

Captain Demetri made a derisive sound. “I do not hold to those weak superstitions. I don't like this city because there are too many places to hide.”

He paused, and Jesse's heart beat faster. He could almost feel Captain Demetri's eyes on the pillars.

“At least we know why we haven't received reports from the Rider assigned to the swamp,” the other man said. “The state of the camp was peculiar, to say the least. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?”

“No,” Captain Demetri said firmly. “He was ambushed, probably by the very squad he sought to kill.”

“And what of the boy—Barnaby, wasn't it? The squad captain and the girl said he entered the ruins and never came out.”

“Nero and Talia?” Owen mouthed, a question written in his eyes.

Jesse nodded. It had to be.

“There must be a logical explanation,” Captain Demetri said. “I refuse to believe otherwise.”

Jesse almost admired his confidence. He was nearly beginning to waver in that belief. The strange history of the city, the eeriness of the ruins at night, the way everyone who entered mysteriously disappeared…it didn't seem natural.

“Perhaps,” the second man said. “Should I give Lillen the order to kill the two we found?”

Owen whimpered, but Jesse kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and his hand firmly on Owen's shoulder to keep him from doing anything foolish.

“No,” Captain Demetri said. “Keep them alive. The Four are looking for the other squad. If we hold our two captives prisoner, they will come to us.”

“You really believe that?” the second man asked, a note of skepticism in his voice. “They would risk their lives to save two strangers? It doesn't seem likely.”

“You haven't met these four, Ward,” Captain Demetri said bitterly. “Nothing they do is ‘likely'.”

Jesse felt a surge of pride. He was one of the four that Captain Demetri spoke of, even though he did not belong to the Youth Guard.
And I am a key reason we're still alive
, he thought, remembering the times he saved his squad members' lives.

“If they're alive, they will come,” Captain Demetri said. His voice began to fade as he walked away from them. “If they're not alive…well, then our work is done.”

“No, Captain,” Ward said, giving a faint chuckle. “We are Riders. Our work is never done. There are always others.”

In that moment, Jesse knew that these men would kill them without the slightest twinge of guilt. They would destroy the Youth Guard by eliminating its members, one by one. This was no game.

Owen started to move forward, but Jesse held him down. He couldn't take the chance that Captain Demetri and Ward were still there, waiting and watching for them.

“What do we do?” Owen whispered. He was fiddling nervously with something, and Jesse knew the overheard conversation had made him realize the seriousness of what was happening.

Jesse shifted to take the pressure off of his throbbing knees. The stone of the courtyard was not a comfortable surface to crouch on. “I don't know,” he said, feeling helpless. Now, they didn't dare continue their search of the city. There was no telling when Captain Demetri and Ward would leave, and Jesse, for one, did not want to take any chances.

Owen dropped the object he was holding, and it clattered to the ground. “Sorry,” Owen said, wincing and glancing over his shoulder.

Jesse looked at the object for the first time. It was the golden dial, the one Silas had found in the swamp outside of the city. “Where did you get that?”

He clutched it protectively, as if afraid that Jesse would try to take it from him. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because the last person to hold that was Parvel,” Jesse said.

“But it's mine now,” Owen insisted. “I found it.”

“Owen, I'm not trying to steal your new toy,” Jesse said, frustration creeping in. “Now, think carefully. Was the dial tipped over on its side like someone had dropped it, or was it standing up?”

Owen paused, turning the dial around in his hands. “Standing up.”

If I were Parvel and someone was taking me away, what would I do?

The answer was obvious.
Leave a sign
.

“Owen, this is very important,” Jesse said. “Where was the dial, and where was its tip pointing?”

“It was by the steps,” Owen said, standing and nodding at the steps to the porch of the building facing the courtyard. “Pointing inside.”

“Then that's where we're going.”

As Jesse climbed the steps, he pictured Parvel pausing to set down the dial, perhaps faking a stumble. At night, in the dark, who would notice?

“They have to be here,” he said, more confidently than he felt, “somewhere.”

And they have to be alive
.

The building was more ornate than the tower they had spent the night in. Its high ceilings were held up by scrolled pillars, and the furniture, chopped into firewood-sized pieces, showed detailed carvings that even Kayne would have admired.

“This place was totally destroyed,” Owen said, almost in a tone of admiration.

He was right. Almost nothing but the walls and floors were left intact. Windowsills had deep gouges in them. Torch holders lay fallen on the ground. Even the thick carpets had been torn in places, and lay half-rolled up in the center of the room.

“This must have been the sovereign's palace,” Jesse said. “The Westlunders probably thought the treasure would be here and ransacked the building looking for it.”

“So it's probably not here, eh?” Owen asked glumly.

“We're not looking for treasure anyway,” Jesse reminded him. “Search the rooms, carefully. Don't bother with the upstairs chambers. We're looking for an entrance to an underground tunnel. Understand?”

When there was no answer, Jesse turned to see Owen glaring while stroking an imaginary beard, imitating the stern posture of a man in a painting on the wall. “What?” he demanded, in response to Jesse's look.

“Get to work,” Jesse said, “unless you want to spend another night in Lidia.”

With a loud sigh, Owen darted over to the long hallway. Jesse could hear his voice echoing from one of the rooms. “There's a suit of armor in here! It's huge, and I think it has real blood on it!”

Jesse hobbled over to an adjoining room. He suddenly knew why the Patrol let an eleven-year-old join the Youth Guard. Owen had spent a month living in the swamps with very little food, and he was still as full of energy as if he had just been released from the village school for the harvest season.

The room next to the main entrance seemed to be a small dining hall. The table had been hacked to pieces. Jesse found one of its legs and let out a low whistle. It came up to his neck.
The regent must have wanted large furniture,
he thought.
Perhaps to look more impressive
.

Nothing looked impressive any more. The cabinet nearby was empty of any contents, doors hanging open on bent hinges. A deck of cards, printed with emblems representing the four seasons, were scattered around the room.

Jesse walked across a sleek black bearskin rug that seemed to growl at the mess in front of him. He didn't see anything he recognized, nothing from Parvel's pack that he might have left behind.

He searched the kitchen, connected to the dining hall by a small servant's door, and then the main dining hall and a ballroom. Nothing.

“Owen?” Jesse called into the hallway. He hadn't heard anything being dropped in a while.

Owen popped out from the doorway across the hall. “Last room. This place
feels
more haunted. We should sleep here tonight.”

“That's a terrible reason to want to sleep here.”

“No, it's not!”

“But you didn't find anything?” Jesse asked, just to make sure.

“Just a plant that eats insects,” Owen said. “That's what the carving on the pot said, anyway.” He looked down the hallway. “Have you seen any flies?”

Doubt started to creep into Jesse's mind. What if Parvel had dropped the dial on accident? Or what if there was more than one broken dial in the ruins?

No. Rae, at least, would tell him to keep trying—to never give up, no matter how bad things looked.

“You're talking to yourself again,” Owen said, and Jesse realized he had been muttering his thoughts out loud.

“There has to be something here,” Jesse said. “Something strange or out of place.”

BOOK: Secret of the Giants' Staircase
8.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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