Secret of the Giants' Staircase

by Amy Lynn Green

  Well, let them try, he said. Rae and her mighty sword will attack them and drive them back. It was a funny thought, picturing Rae in a suit of armor doing battle with weeds. He laughed out loud.

  And he ran into Silas, who had stopped without warning. “What?” Jesse demanded, trying to peer over Silas’ shoulder. “Did you find a giant?”

  “I don’t know what it is,” Silas said. They gathered around Silas’ discovery. There, half-hidden in the weeds, was a glint of metal.

  Parvel pushed away the plants to reveal a thin piece of metal that gleamed a dull gold. The scrolls and engraved designs outlined a perfect triangle.

  “It’s a weapon,” Rae said.

  “Rae, to you, anything shiny is a weapon,” Jesse said, grinning.

  She picked it up and shoved it toward Jesse. “See that point? It’s as sharp as a blade.”

  “Which is exactly why you should set it back down,” Parvel said, guiding Rae’s arm away from Jesse’s face. Jesse shot him a look of gratitude.

  “It’s perfectly even,” Silas said. “The blacksmith who made it must have been a master.” He ran a finger along the base. “It looks like it was once connected to something.”

  “That’s because it’s a weapon,” Rae insisted.

  But that didn’t seem right to Jesse. The triangle was too wide. Weapons like knives and arrows came to a narrow point. This was more like the blade of a miniature plow than anything else. But that wouldn’t explain the ornate design.

  “It’s a sundial,” Jesse finally said, “the point of one, anyway.”

  “I think you might have something there,” Silas said. “It does look like it was broken off of a base.”

  “No,” Parvel said, taking it from Rae. “No, it can’t be. The angle is wrong. Very wrong.”

  “He knows the angle of the sun,” Rae muttered. “Of course he does.”

  “For it to accurately measure time, the top would have to be here,” Parvel said, indicating the angle with his hand.

  But Rae had already wandered off. “If it’s not a weapon, I’m not interested.”

  “Maybe whoever left this here misjudged the angle,” Silas suggested.

  “If it were a crude, handmade dial, perhaps, but this is a work of art,” Parvel said. He studied it some more, turning it over in his hands. “No, this does not measure the height of the sun.”

  Jesse thought about all the things that could be measured—rainfall, temperature, crop growth—none of them seemed to fit.

  “Look at those designs,” Parvel said, shaking his head in wonder. “They’re so detailed. How was it done?”

  “They probably poured it into a mold,” Jesse guessed. That, he knew, was the easiest way to create a detailed design.

  Silas shook his head, running a finger over the flat surface of the dial. “You can feel the hammer marks. This was cut out of a sheet of metal. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Jesse tested it himself. Sure enough, he could feel tiny grooves and indentations in the surface of the triangular dial.

  “Before I joined the Guard, I was apprenticed to a blacksmith,” Silas explained. “A very poor one, in fact, but it was a trade. He didn’t want to let me break my indenture contract to join the Guard, but the Patrol soon changed his mind on that.”

  Jesse looked at the dial again. “What is this doing here anyway, in the middle of the swamp?”

  “I think I could answer that,” Rae’s voice called from a distance away. Jesse could see a smirk on her face. “While you men were busy examining your chunk of metal, I found the rest of the city.”

  Even Parvel jerked his head up at that. “The—” His voiced trailed off. “No, it can’t be. It was destroyed so long ago….” He took the dial with him as they went to investigate.

  “It’s not a functioning city,” Rae said. “At least, not unless the citizens like their buildings in ruins.”

  Past the thick trees was a clearing that gently sloped up a hill. On top of the hill were the broken walls of an ancient city. “The ruins of Lidia,” Parvel breathed. “It does exist!”

  Jutting out from the ruins, in what looked like the center of the city was a huge tree, the largest Jesse had ever seen. Even at a distance, it was impressive. You can probably see its crown from the outskirts of the swamp.

  Rae was the first to run forward, but Silas remained planted where he was. “I say we leave it be,” he said. “We have to find the other squad. It’s our mission.”

  Parvel looked almost pained, like someone had destroyed his most valuable possession in front of him.

  “Maybe the other squad is living in the ruins,” Jesse suggested, although he didn’t think it was likely. “Maybe that’s how they escaped the Patrol for so long.”

  It wasn’t a very reasonable answer, but Silas didn’t protest any more. He wants to explore just as much as we do, Jesse guessed.

  There was something mysterious about the ruins, something that drew Jesse toward them. Even the air around them felt old, somehow.

  That feeling only grew once they climbed the hill and entered the city. There was no need to find a gate. Hardly any section of the wall came above Jesse’s head, though, from the amount of crumbled stone on the ground, the wall had once been very impressive.

  Once over the walls, Jesse could hardly decide where to look. Even though much of the city was damaged, he could tell that Lidia had once been a marvel of architecture.

  “Parvel,” Silas called from underneath a partially crumbled archway, “before you go off hunting antiques, I think there’s something you should see.”

  Although perfectly calm, as usual, Silas’ voice was serious enough that Jesse hurried over. Past the archway and down three steps was a sunken courtyard, vines and moss covering the stones.

  What was more interesting, though, was the camp that was set up in the corner: a firepit and a mat, kept from blowing away by a sword and a leather pack that lay on it.

  Someone else is here.

  They stared at the camp for a few seconds. Then Jesse headed for the steps. “That’s it. We’re leaving.”

  “Wait,” Rae said, moving closer. “This might belong to the other Youth Guard squad. No need to assume it’s an enemy.”

  “One person? Alone?” Jesse challenged her. “Silas, weren’t all of the members of this squad alive and together?”

  Silas closed his eyes, as he always did when recalling an entry from the Forbidden Book. “Yes. The last report, though, was given nearly ten days ago now. Anything could have happened since then.”

  Jesse thought about that. What would it be like to be the only one of your squad left, alone and abandoned in a ruined city with a trained killer after you?

  Rae picked up the sword on the mat, drawing it out of its sheath. It was a long broadsword, and her small arm strained to lift it. “Why did he leave behind a weapon?”

  Jesse gave the first answer he could think of. “Because he vanished. Just like all the legends say.”

  “That’s not possible,” Silas scoffed.

  “Perhaps not,” Parvel said, “but something is wrong here.” He bent down and began looking through the leather pack.

  “Regardless, I agree with Jesse’s first reaction,” Silas said. “We should leave here immediately. This person could come back at any time, and we don’t know if we would face a friend or an enemy.”

  “Wait,” Parvel said, raising a hand. “I doubt our mysterious figure will return any time soon. There hasn’t been anyone here for a long time. Look at the fire. No ash, just a few charred sticks. Everything else has been blown away.”

  “The rain last night could have washed that away. He could still be back tonight.” Silas glanced up. “And the sun will go down soon.”

  “It’s not just that. The sword has rust on the blade,” Parvel said, nodding toward
it. He held up a cloth bundle that, when unwrapped, revealed biscuits, green with mold. “Even the hardtack spoiled. That takes days, even weeks.”

  Jesse saw something glinting underneath the mat. He knelt down and picked it up.

  It was a golden medallion, heavy in Jesse’s hand, the symbol of Amarias stamped in the center. He held it closer. Around the edge of the medallion, forming a circle, was a serpent-like dragon. Quickly, he dropped it. It was the same style of dragon as the one he had seen in Chancellor Doran’s parlor, the one with eyes that seemed to stare at him.

  “This wasn’t a Youth Guard camp,” Jesse said firmly. He pointed to the medallion.

  Silas picked it up and examined the front. It didn’t seem to alarm him at all. Then he turned it over. “There’s an inscription,” he said. “Guard Rider. That’s what the Forbidden Book calls the king’s assassins.”

  “This camp was abandoned,” Parvel said solemnly. “Whoever slept here left and never came back.”

  “No,” Rae said. “The sword and pack would be gone if that were the case, and the mat rolled up. It looks to me like someone was here when they disappeared. Sleeping, maybe.”

  “But there’s no blood,” Silas said, “no signs of struggle. It isn’t possible.”

  Rae shrugged. “I’m just telling you what it looks like.”

  “What do you suggest we do next?” Silas asked, looking to Parvel, their captain.

  “Search the city,” Parvel said. “Look for a source of food—there’s a reason this Guard Rider camped here—and check for signs of danger. We must be sure we are safe before the sun sets.”

  Rae disappeared almost immediately, climbing up a pile of rubble that made Jesse dizzy to even look at. Probably looking for the armory, Jesse decided. He soon lost sight of Silas too.

  Parvel, on the other hand, barely got three steps away from the camp before he stopped, taking in the ruins around him. “It’s smaller than I expected,” he muttered. “Hardly more than four hundred could have lived here.” He looked a bit like a madman, hurrying from place to place, still clutching the golden dial and exclaiming to himself.

  Jesse had seen ruins before, of the underground city of Urad. But those had been simple huts and mining shafts. This was something entirely different. Every building seemed like a palace. Outside the small courtyard was a larger one, with stone steps leading up to a porch, the roof still intact. Everywhere Jesse turned, he saw scrolling designs on bits of brick, intricate metal gates and broken pillars that must have stretched up to four stories when they were still intact.

  Jesse even found a kind of vineyard with small fruit, tangled around trellises, even though the Lidian harvesters were long gone. The sickly yellow shade of the plants made them look poisonous, but clearly the plants had once been cultivated for food. Jesse picked one and took a small bite of it.

  It had a stringy texture, but tasted mildly sweet. Jesse decided that he liked it. Besides, that morning they had run out of the small spice cakes Margo had given them, and he was hungry.

  The vineyard led to a large, pillared platform, where Parvel was pacing around, saying something about imported jade and circumferences.

  “Find anything?” Jesse asked.

  Parvel looked up. “It’s dead,” he said, looking very solemn.

  Jesse stared at him. “What’s dead?”

  He pointed to the tree in the center of the city, just a short distance from the courtyard. This close, Jesse was struck by its impressive height, but sure enough, the bare branches were a sickly gray.

  “I don’t know how it happened,” Parvel said, shaking his head. “A tree that large couldn’t dry up. Its roots must go very deep, and the swamp seems to make every living thing thrive.”

  “Maybe it’s a disease, a blight,” Jesse suggested. For some reason, the pale tree made him nervous, like it was a ghostly guard towering over the ruins of Lidia. He looked away.

  A flash of color caught Jesse’s eye. He walked to the center of the courtyard, where blue-green tiles formed a pattern that seemed to illustrate the phases of the moon. “What a strange design,” Jesse said. Then he realized he was starting to act like Parvel, talking to himself.

  Lidia had been a proud city, Jesse decided. A marvel of architecture, the most advanced of its day, most likely. But now it’s in ruins, like any other ancient, conquered city.

  “Why did they build here?” he asked Parvel. It took Parvel a minute to realize that Jesse was talking to him and another few second to pull his eyes away from the ruins.

  “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.

  Chapter 7

  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 ad
ded 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.”