Siegestone: Book 1 of the Gemstones and Giants Trilogy

by E. S. Maya

  Safi scrunched her nose. “I won’t eat those ones.” The man continued nodding. He looked so convincing that she almost believed him. “You’re not letting me go, are you?”

  The red-haired man gave her a red-faced smile. “Afraid not.”

  Safi folded her arms, pouting. “I really will jump.”

  “Please don’t.” The red-haired man leaned back in his perch and sighed. “Then I’d have to fetch your body, and I’d hate for the rest of us to be late.”

  Frowning, Safi inched towards the edge of the carriage rooftop. So she had traded the belly of her imaginary ship for the deck, but still it sailed toward its destination. She cradled herself somberly as she watched the passing tree line, waiting for the man to offer friendly words. Or any words, really.

  Instead they sat in silence as the road entered a vast plain. Within the blackness of the night were its long hills, a blur of sloped shapes beneath the stretches of starlight.

  Something caught her eye.

  Safi shot up in her seat, gasping cold air. Upon one of the hills slept a man on the flat of his back, only his belly was swollen and high, and his feet struck upwards like two shadowy spires. There on the hilltop, he carved his enormous shape into the starry night sky.

  “Who is that?” she asked, raising a pointing finger.

  “’Tis a shame we approach at night,” said the red-haired man. “In the dark is no way to see your first Siege Titan.”

  Safi clutched the driver’s sleeve. “That is a Titan?”

  “Quiet down,” the man whispered. “Hold this.” He handed Safi the reins to his horses, retrieving from his jacket a stubby wooden pipe. Then he held a piece of tinder into the torch fire.

  Safi stilled herself with the reins in her hands, fearing that the slightest twitch might send the horses flying mad.

  The man in the purple cape raised the pipe to his lips, taking a long drag. “A Siege Titan, indeed. Or what’s left of it. Cronus is his name, and when he died he became Camp Cronus, property of the Blackpoint Mining Company.”

  “Siege Titans don’t die,” Safi said.

  “Sometimes they do. How do you think all the kings and queens get their pretty little jewels? You didn’t think people actually climbed the things, did you?”

  Safi almost told him about her father. How he had climbed one. And she almost mentioned the dozen Titan tales storming in her head. But she stayed her tongue. The man would only laugh at her, as Raven and Stiv had. “I’m no fool,” she told him.

  “I never said you were.” The man took back the reins, puffing away at his pipe.

  “I guess I always imagined a Siege Titan would be bigger.”

  The man placed a hand on Safi’s back. The touch surprised her, but not in a bad way. “It’s larger than you can imagine,” he said. “The night tricks the eyes. We’ve hours of riding ahead of us yet.”

  Safi frowned. It certainly didn’t look large from over here. “I have to mine that?”

  “Titans, no.” The man chuckled softly. “You won’t have to mine a thing. That the boys will handle. After all, the Titan mines are no place for a lady.”

  Good, Safi thought. The Titan mines were the last place she wanted to be. Still, she was excited to see the legendary gemstones of the Titans. “They must find all kinds of Siegestones in there.”

  The man looked surprised. “Didn’t your parents teach you about Titans?”

  Safi made an insulted face. “My father told me all about Titans. I probably know more than you do.” Though she couldn’t remember a tale where the Titan ended up dead.

  The man nodded, grinning slightly. “Then I don’t have to tell you that Siegestones are rare. A whole mountain of rock for only a few tiny jewels.”

  “I already knew that,” Safi lied, staring at the Titan’s silhouette in the distance. Her father had seen the Siegestones, long ago, in the temples of the Southern Kingdoms. There they were objects of worship, not wealth. Her father once told her that no word of tongue nor stroke of pen could describe a Siegestone’s beauty.

  Now she lamented the thought. Pretty or not, no stone was worth her freedom, and certainly not her father’s life.

  “Boys kill themselves for those things, you know.” The man deepened his voice and said, “‘He who finds a Siegestone earns his freedom.’ That’s the first damned thing they tell the poor lads.”

  Freedom. The word put an ache in her chest. She lowered her hands to the perch, fighting the sudden urge to throw herself from the carriage rooftop. Freedom. The word was thunder in her ears and lightning on her tongue. For an instant it became the singular booming thought inside her. Then, as it faded into memory, she came to remember his full set of words instead. He who finds a Siegestone earns his freedom.

  “It’s getting cold,” the man said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Can I trust you to stay inside?”

  Safi nodded. “I won’t try to run away no more, mister.”

  “Good.” The red-haired man slipped his hands underneath Safi’s arms. He lifted her through the air and held her over the side of the carriage. She tucked her legs through the window. Before he let go, he gave her a wink. “Let’s keep this little rendezvous between the two of us.”

  Safi agreed and climbed back inside, hanging from her fingers before dropping to the carriage floor. With haste in mind, she took her empty manacle in both hands, kicked off her shoe, and pulled it over her foot.

  She kept perfectly still, listening for the snores of her fellow recruits.

  And heard them, alongside the grind of the carriage wheels and her own panting breath. She curled up into the corner and held herself in her shivering arms, remembering the words of the red-haired man.

  There was no running away tonight. Or for many nights. But perhaps escaping Blackpoint wasn’t as impossible as she had first thought.

  12

  Harbor

  Safi stirred awake beneath a blanket of warm sunlight. There was the creaking of the carriage wheels. The clopping of horseshoes on stone. The high-pitched whine of her aching tummy.

  Yawning, she peeled her cheek from the carriage floor and set herself upright. Then she nearly jumped, for the others sat awake in the shadows. The four of them were watching.

  “We were wondering when you’d wake up,” Wulf said, showing a slight smile. Despite his playful expression, his eyes were sharp and curious.

  Blushing, Safi ran a fingernail across the grain of the wooden floor. There were about a dozen butterflies in her stomach, and she was determined to keep them from flying out of her mouth. Whether she felt nervous about Wulf or the approaching mining camp, she wasn’t certain. Perhaps both.

  “So, Blondie,” Raven said, interrupting their little moment. “Excited to see what the next twenty-five years looks like?”

  Safi swept back her hair and shrugged. “So long as it doesn’t look like you.”

  Stiv laughed heartily, slapping a hand on his shaking belly. “Safi’s got some spunk this morning.”

  Safi shied away from Raven’s glaring face. She knew the girl was searching for the words to fire back at her. But when Raven opened her mouth so speak, Wulf cut her off.

  “Quiet guys!” He crawled towards Safi, chain rattling, and put his ear to the door. “Listen!”

  Safi scooted beside him while the others cupped their ears to the carriage walls.

  “I can’t hear anything,” Stiv said, lowering his hand and pressing his cheek to the wood.

  “I hear it,” Goggles said, eyeglasses tucked into his tunic collar. Safi wasn’t sure if his squinting meant poor vision or deep concentration. “It sounds almost like—like the city.”

  “Sounds like voices,” Raven said.

  Safi shut her eyes. She heard saws against wood, metal against metal. It had been years since she’d heard those sounds. “Sounds like work.”

  A thumping on the carriage rooftop sent the five of them skittering from the walls.

  “Almost there, kiddos!” called a familiar
voice through the window. Safi smiled. It was the first time the red-haired man had addressed them all at once. Wulf glanced at her in surprise, as if finding the answer to a question he had yet to ask. She nodded meekly in response.

  The sounds outside swelled with laughter, and the laughter chased the carriage, and whoever was out there began slapping its wooden walls. The five of them inched towards the carriage’s center. In the commotion, Safi looked down and saw the touching hands of Stiv and Raven.

  The horses whinnied outside as the carriage jerked to a stop. She heard Bernold shouting away the harassers, whose hollering voices dispersed back into the noise of the camp.

  Safi scooted into her corner, keeping her eyes on the door. There was the familiar click of the padlock, the thump of the door latch, the hinge’s high-pitched squeak.

  Then, daylight.

  The Blackpoint recruiter climbed in.

  “Well then,” Bernold said, hooking his thumbs in his belt. “Looks like our travels have come to an end.” He lowered himself to one knee and began unfastening their restraints. Safi was first. “Can’t say I won’t miss some of you. You all work hard and be good and keep yourselves out of trouble.”

  Bernold finished unscrewing Safi’s manacle and patted her on the ankle. After Raven was free, they heard Strauss calling from outside. “Girls out! Come now, make haste!”

  Raven scrambled out of the carriage, offering no words of parting to the boys. When Safi didn’t budge, Bernold’s eyes fell upon her. “You heard the captain. Better get a move on, girlie.”

  “Yes, sir,” Safi said.

  “Well?” Bernold stared for several seconds. He reached for her wrist and pulled.

  Safi dangled like a wet rag. “My legs,” she said. “They won’t seem to move, sir.”

  “Why, of all the times for foolery!” said Bernold, letting go of her arm.

  Despite her best efforts to stand, Safi flopped tummy-first onto the floor. She pushed herself onto her side, looking up in time to see the Blackpoint recruiter looming over her, palm raised to strike. Before she could think of defending herself, Wulf leapt to his feet. He lunged at the recruiter’s elbow, clinging with both arms. Struggling to hold the large man back.

  Safi watched in horror as Bernold shoved the boy away with ease. He turned towards Wulf with an outstretched arm and delivered a swift backhand to the thirteen-year-old’s face. Wulf hurtled into the wall, into Goggles, then onto the carriage floor. Stiv yelped in surprise, scooting away from the pair with a series of frantic kicks.

  “Never lay your hands on a man of Blackpoint!” Bernold’s chest rose and sank with each deep breath. His cheeks glowed red under all that dark stubble. “That’s one rule that’ll get you far in here, boy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wulf said, crawling into a sitting position. He pressed a hand to his nose and lowered his chin. Safi saw the blood spilling between his fingers. She nearly burst into tears from the sight.

  “Problem in there?” called Strauss from outside.

  “Nah, Captain,” Bernold answered, keeping his eyes on Wulf. “No problem at all.”

  Safi clung to the door frame, knees buckling. This time, she managed to pull herself to her feet. “I think I’m ready to go now.”

  “Then don’t just stand there, girl!” Bernold grabbed her by the neck and spun her towards the doorway. “Out, out!”

  Safi glanced over her shoulder, wondering when she’d see Wulf again. Her mind screamed his name, for she hadn’t the courage to speak it. Instead she mouthed out the words I’m sorry, turned towards the door, and leapt out of the carriage—and into Blackpoint territory.

  13

  The Sleeping Giant

  Safi landed with a crunch.

  The impact sent her stumbling, and it took her moment to catch her footing. The ground was hard and dusty here, a pale shade of orange that soaked in the harsh daylight. She could feel the heat all around her, rising from the ground. Dampening her hair and dizzying her thoughts.

  She wiped the sweat from her face and took a couple of deep breaths. The air was hot and coarse, itching the inside of her chest in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She covered her mouth with her hands, but the itching remained, and she broke into a spat of coughs. She already hated it here. The dust was practically unbearable!

  You’re not going to make it any better by standing around like a fool, she admonished herself. Then, gathering her courage, she slowly raised her head, watching as the ground stretched out into a bustling camp road.

  Safi spotted the culprits: the footsteps of a hundred boys were fogging the air with dust. They were rushing in and out of short square buildings built on both sides of the road, with deeply-stained wooden walls in gradients of brown and orange. She had never seen a place so missing the color green, save a few stray tufts of grass, which clung to the buildings for dear life.

  Higher still, and there were Blackpoint carriages by the dozen, roaring in from every which way behind dust-crunching horses. The beasts clopped wearily as the drivers drew back the reins, bringing carriage after carriage to a shuddering halt.

  She shuddered as the wind swept through the camp like the warmth of a fire, whipping up dust around her. Felt its sting in her eyes and its grit in her teeth. Putting one hand to her skirt, she turned her gaze to the sky. But the dust had reached there too, bleeding into its edges. Tainting the sky like it had Safi’s life.

  She spun around in place, searching for something, anything, not colored by the dust of Blackpoint.

  And found it at the end of the road, where a pair of mountains loomed above a street of square rooftops. She set her forearm against her forehead, for the morning sun was blinding. Squinted up at those mountains, trying to make sense of their strange flat shape, and those ten massive toes…

  Safi’s heart knocked against her chest.

  Those were not mountains.

  “Get a move on,” Strauss said, reaching for Safi’s neck. With some effort, he snatched up Raven’s wrist, too. Safi twisted and looked all the while, certain she was seeing a real Siege Titan for the first time.

  Gathering at the roadside, the working boys watched the girls as they passed, grabbing themselves in strange places and shaking with boisterous laughter. Safi had never eaten a tart before, but according to one older, stout-looking boy, she bore quite the resemblance. Raven stuck out her tongue at a particularly crude boy, even gave him the two fingers.

  Safi looked away. Mother had never approved of the two fingers.

  Further down the road, they came upon a growing cluster of girls. Strauss heaved Safi forward, sending her stumbling into the crowd. Raven came skidding on her heels behind her.

  Together they watched as Strauss went to speak with another red-garbed man. They exchanged paperwork and shook hands. Then the good captain marched away without so much as a word. Raven slouched with relief. That made two of them.

  So Safi looked about the crowd, meeting face after face of strange new girl, each of whom, she assumed, had ridden into the mining camp in a black carriage of her own. Here was a set of frowning pink lips, and there a squinting pair of vibrant walnut eyes, and my, what a tiny set of freckled cheeks.

  As far as she could tell, she was the only Abed.

  Wholly overwhelmed, Safi settled on a familiar sight: the crooked posture of her own tired feet. She watched them take her deeper into the crowd. All around her, the throng of girls continued to grow until she felt like little more than a bobbing head of bright blonde hair. When they numbered in the dozens, a new set of footsteps came crunching down the road. She stood on her toes to look.

  They were adults, without the leather armor of the recruiters, but wearing the same dark red capes. Their polished brown boots glinted with sunlight. Among the twelve of them, she was surprised to find that two were women.

  The girls went silent. She heard someone nearby whisper, “Blackpoint enforcers.”

  The enforcers herded the girls down the road, much to the working bo
ys’ disappointment. Safi found herself in line behind a tall redhead, who kicked up clouds of dust with every dragging footstep.

  Safi covered her mouth and looked away, trying her best not to cough. The Titan Camp was busier than Ashcroft had ever been, even before the iron mines ran dry. Boys scurried in every direction, pushing wooden carts and carrying burlap sacks. She walked closer to the redhead, hoping that if the boys missed her, they’d at least see the tall girl first.

  Safi breathed through her nose as they passed a building that smelled of fresh leather. She yelped as a pair of boys dashed by, cracking at one another with short wooden swords, while a flat-nosed girl, rug beater in hand, chased after. Ducking out of the way, Safi nearly crashed into a boy shouldering two long planks of wood, who showed no qualms in marching through the procession of thirteen-year-old girls.

  It was all so unruly, and aside from the Blackpoint enforcers guiding them, there wasn’t an adult in sight.

  Another building, another activity. Girls scrubbing floors, sewing clothes, and beating rugs. Boys chopping wood, hammering metal, and feeding livestock. Safi jumped when a pair of boys, carrying a crate between them, came within inches of knocking her over. Looking down, she found her hands clinging to the redhead’s woolen dress.

  The redhead stiffened visibly. She glanced over her shoulder, revealing a scowl so fierce that Safi’s hands went jumping away.

  “Sorry about that,” Safi said, folding her fingers across her lap for emphasis.

  “Be quiet, you little Abed!” scolded the redhead. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

  Safi looked past the girl to the front of the line, where a red cape was swinging around. An enforcer, she realized, and coming straight towards them. The man grabbed the girl by her fine red hair. “Eyes forward! Hands at your sides! No talking!”

  When the enforcer let go, the redhead hobbled faster than the legs of a barnyard dancer. She didn’t make any sounds, but Safi felt a pang of guilt when she began wiping her eyes with her fingertips. Safi sure hoped those tears were from the dust in the air. Just in case, she pursed her lips shut and swore to keep her hands to herself.