Even Jesse, with his poor sense of direction, could find what Castor called the Lidia Tree. Visible from any point in the city, it was an impressive sight, especially when a streak of lightning seemed to carve its dark silhouette into the sky.
Castor pointed to the swamp beyond the city walls. “Smoke,” he said.
“Clouds,” Jesse corrected. He could see why Castor would confuse the two words. These clouds were as dark as any thick smoke. But no one—not even Captain Demetri and his party—could make a fire in this weather.
Jesse kept his hand on the key in his pocket, afraid it would somehow slip out and fall into the ancient sewer grates. The Westlunders searched the whole city—every obscure hiding place—for the treasure, and it was in the most obvious location of all. Right above them.
Standing underneath the tree, Jesse felt as he had expected to feel when seeing one of the Westlund giants: small, powerless and insignificant.
The tree looked older than the ruins, older even than the swamp spreading out around it. It had seen generations come and go and kingdoms rise and fall. Even with the few scars and burn marks on its outer layers, the tree had hardly been touched by the destruction of Lidia. Bare branches stretched out over the ruins, like a mourner dressed in black. The tree had been dead for many years, though its deep roots kept it standing firm.
If Jesse were right, the reason the mighty tree had died was not from disease or disaster. Not a natural disaster, anyway. It had been hollowed out to hide the legendary treasure of Lidia.
“But there’s nothing here,” Owen said. He had run all the way around the trunk as soon as they reached it. “No way to get inside.”
“I doubt they would place a large lock right at the base where all could see it,” Jesse said, trying to sound confident. If I’m wrong…. “It must be up higher.”
Now he realized why the Westlunders hadn’t found the hiding place in the tree. The branches started just above Jesse’s head, but the tree was so wide and solid it would take many days of labor to fell it.
We don’t have many days, he realized. Somehow, he doubted that the giants, especially the Head Watcher, would be impressed by a vague idea about treasure inside a tree. He looked up at it until rain drenched his face. There were no signs of a lock, a door or anything unnatural.
“We must climb,” Castor shouted, over a sudden rumble of thunder.
“I knew I liked you!” Owen cheered.
Just looking up at the tree made Jesse feel sick. With the wind and the rain, it couldn’t be safe. Then again, he doubted a ritual sacrifice would be very safe either. “Castor…” he began.
“Owen first, then Jesse,” Castor said. He held up his key. It looked very small in his large hand. “Three keys. Three sons must climb Lidia Tree.”
Jesse was about to protest that he wasn’t even one of the sons in the poem when Castor picked Owen up with a grunt of effort, placing him on the lowest branch. “Here I go,” Owen said, scrambling to the next.
“Be careful,” Jesse warned. But that looked simple enough. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see the Lidian treasure for himself. Besides, Owen isn’t a very thorough searcher.
Jesse remembered the words of the poem: “Those who dare to pay the cost will shout this from the sky….” Do I dare to pay the cost?
Yes. For Silas, Rae and Parvel, I will climb.
“Jesse?” Castor asked, waiting.
Jesse took a deep breath and set down his staff. It would be of no use in a tree. “All right.”
It was a strange sensation, being lifted through the rain into the shelter of the dense tree branches. Castor’s grip was firm, but not threatening. Still, Jesse was glad when he was set down on solid wood. Even though the tree had stopped sending nutrients to its branches, they were still thick and strong where they met the trunk.
Owen was moving far too quickly for Jesse’s liking. The boy was already two stories high. “The branches are wet,” Jesse reminded him, speaking loudly to be heard over the rain. “And they’re brittle at the ends.”
“I’m not going to the ends,” Owen said, jumping over to another branch with an ease that made Jesse wince. “That’s not where the lock would be.”
Suddenly, the branch shook wildly, and Jesse grabbed at the trunk. Castor, his powerful arms straining, was pulling himself up.
“You could have warned us,” Jesse grumbled. Already, the ground looked very far away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but his face gave him away. He’s having as much fun as Owen. “Go!” he said, pointing.
To his surprise, Jesse found he was able to pull himself up by his arms, at least to the next branch. A month in the Youth Guard had made him stronger. Still, he let Owen dart around the width of the tree, knocking on the wood and feeling it carefully for any cracks. No sense in taking unnecessary risks.
He almost laughed, realizing how much like Silas he sounded. They were not with him, but they had left their impact: Silas’ caution, Parvel’s love of history, Rae’s spirit. He had missed not having them with him for the past few days, but he had unknowingly picked up some of their traits in their absence.
“Nothing yet,” Owen said. “Higher?”
“Higher,” Castor said, in a tone much more confident than Jesse could have managed.
The higher they went, the more exposed Jesse felt. The thunder seemed to get louder, the lightning closer—like the fury of the heavens was closing in on them. They began to feel the tree sway, as the wind beat against the narrower middle branches. It was as if they were climbing into the storm.
But, although Jesse was surprised at what he could do, using only his arms and his good leg, each branch became harder to get to. Once, he felt his foot slip, and he dangled from his arms until he found another foothold.
He leaned against the trunk, clinging to a branch and tried to slow his heartbeat. The top was still a long distance away. “This is as far as I can go,” he managed. The rain had slowed a little, but he clung to the tree, cold, wet and exhausted.
“We’re not there yet,” Owen protested from a few branches above him.
“We don’t even know where ‘there’ is,” Jesse countered. “There may not be anything up here at all. What’s the sense in getting killed for that?”
“But—”
“Jesse is right,” Castor said. “I and Owen climb—say if we find…what?”
He had a point. They weren’t exactly sure what they were looking for. “A knothole disguising a lock,” Jesse said. “Or a panel of some kind that looks like it’s hiding a lock.”“Or just a lock,” Owen said.
“Well, yes,” Jesse said. “But I doubt it would be that easy.”
“You say this easy?” Castor grunted. Jesse noticed that although Castor had managed to go a few branches higher than Jesse, he was breathing hard. Probably sweating too, although they were all so soaked by the rain it was impossible to tell.
“Well, here it is,” Owen insisted. “A lock with three keyholes.” Jesse tried to look up. It was better than looking down, anyway. Owen had his legs tucked around a high branch, close to the top of the tree. He was eye-to-eye with something that, even in the dark, gleamed silver.
“That’s it?” Jesse asked doubtfully. “I thought it would be hidden better.”
“It’s three stories up in a tree, hidden by branches,” Owen pointed out. “Who’s going to see it here?”
It was a good point. Apparently, the Westlunders hadn’t, even though they had searched the entire city for the treasure.
“My key works!” Owen cried.
Jesse felt like cheering. Maybe this is it. Maybe we’ve really found the lost Lidian treasure. He smiled as he recalled the second line in the underground inscription. ‘Not all that is missing is gone.’ Not gone for good, anyway.
“Now mine,” Jesse said. He struggled to stand, clutching a branch tightly with one hand, and with the other passing his key to Castor, who easily reached up to Owen. There was a pause, and Jesse winced as a roll of thunder shook the ground.
The key turned. “Give me yours, Castor,” Owen called. Castor did, and Owen turned the third key in the lock.
Then Owen pulled on the keys like he would pull on a handle, and a door came away from the tree, a thick slab of wood nearly as tall as Owen. “There’s an opening inside!” he crowed.
But, instead of hurrying in like Jesse thought he would, Owen looked down. “Let’s go,” he said.
Jesse glanced up, measuring the distance. It’s not so far….
Then he looked down. “I’m staying here,” he called up to Owen. “Go in without me.”
Instead, Castor lowered himself until he was on the branch next to Jesse. It shook under his weight, but he didn’t flinch. “Come, Jesse,” he said. “With us.” When Jesse still didn’t answer, he added, “Promise.”
What Jesse wanted to say was, “When I promised not to leave him, I didn’t mean climbing up a tree in a storm.”
But then he remembered what Castor had said about the compass: “Promise means I always will, or I never will.” No matter what.
Besides, think how Rae will mock me if she finds out I came so close to the treasure, but stopped short.
“Help me,” Jesse said, grabbing onto Castor’s hand.
“In Amarian, good to say please,” Castor said, looking down his nose at him.
“Please help me,” Jesse amended. Gideon, whoever he was, had certainly been careful to teach Castor manners.
Castor grinned. “Yes. We go together. The three sons.”
Slowly, carefully, they made their way up, with Castor leading the way and pulling Jesse up after him. A few times, Jesse was afraid a branch wouldn’t hold their weight, but Castor stayed calm, testing the branches to find the strongest, never panicking no matter how close the thunder seemed to get.
“Stay there,” Owen warned, once they were just below the lock. “This branch can’t hold all of us.”
Jesse inspected it. He was right. It seemed like a flimsy thing. And so far off the ground….
He started to look down, but Castor saw and tilted his head up again. “Not down,” he said firmly. “Up.”
“Up” was the door, with Owen standing right in front of it.
“Wait for us,” Jesse said. He pictured Owen stepping off a ledge and falling down the center of the hollow tree.
But Owen had already disappeared into the darkness. Castor jumped up to the door, shaking the branch wildly. He crawled though the opening—it was too low for him to stand—but then turned around and held out his hand for Jesse.
This is it. Jesse took Castor’s hand and pushed off of his branch, grabbing the door as soon as it was within reach and finding a secure place to stand on the branch beneath it.
Before following Castor through the door, Jesse took all three keys out of the lock and put them in his pocket. We don’t want to get locked in when the door blows shut, Silas’ voice in his head told him.
Inside, they were standing on a kind of platform. The compartment in the tree was wide enough for perhaps six men. Or, in our case, a comfortable fit for two Youth Guard members and one giant. It was lit with rings of glowing stone around the top and bottom of the compartment.
But, as far as Jesse could see, there was nothing else there.
“Where’s the treasure?” Owen demanded. He started tapping on the walls, as if the Lidians might have carved another secret compartment closer to the outside of the tree.
“Look!” Castor said. He reached a hand into the darkness. Jesse squinted and could see the vague outline of a shelf carved into the wood. Castor held up a green leather book. The silhouette of a tree was embossed on the cover in gold, and Jesse recognized a simplified version of the tree they had just climbed.
“I don’t believe it,” Owen said, shaking his head. “Another book?”
“May I see it?” Jesse asked. Castor nodded and gave it to him. Jesse sat down to be closer to the glowing stones, then opened the book. The slim volume seemed to be a list of treasures that Jesse assumed had once been stored in the Lidia tree. There were weapons, carvings, jewels and other valuables. But, more important to Jesse, were pages listing the titles of books.
So this was where the library of Lidia was hidden, Jesse thought, remembering that the other squad hadn’t found any books in the city. Immediately, his disappointment became even greater. Someone must have found it before us.
“What does it say?” Owen asked impatiently, trying to read over Jesse’s shoulder.
“Not much,” Jesse said, flipping quickly to the end. Better if he doesn’t know.
On the last page, though, the list ended. Instead, these words were written in the same careful handwriting.
I, Nolan, last son of Hyram, seal these stairs for the last time. Who knows when they will open again? It has been nearly three months since the siege started. Our fortress, which we thought could outlast any attack, has proven to be our undoing. We can last no longer.
The keys are hidden. The city is abandoned. I will join the others soon, f leeing by way of the tunnels. Our destination is unclear. There is no place for us from now on, yet we must leave the Noble Hill.
Our current sovereign, half the man that Jardos was, both in height and in wisdom, has declared that we will return to Lidia after the Westlunders leave, and rebuild the city. He is a fool. The Westlunders will leave nothing behind. All that we have labored to create will be destroyed. Perhaps even this hiding place, so cleverly devised, will be discovered and looted. The sweat and blood of the founding generation-my father,s generation-will be lost forever.
It was our own doing. We thought we would never die. Yet here are our treasures, hidden away in the symbol of our might and power: the Lidian Tree. Perhaps our greatest treasure is this warning to you who read these words, whether you are kin of Lidia or strangers here-beware the blinding pride of success and wealth.
We will not return. I leave Lidia forever.
It was sad, Jesse thought, reading the words. Nolan had been right. The descendants of the Lidians, the Kin, wandered around Amarias, never having a real home.
Wait. Jesse reread the first line again. “I, Nolan, last son of Hyram, seal these stairs….” All the time, he had assumed the Giant’s Staircase was just a figurative term for the tree itself, one that had been transformed by centuries of legend. But what if there is a literal staircase?
“Of course,” he said, flipping again through the pages. “There is far too much listed here to fit just in this small compartment.”
“What?” Owen asked. “What is it?”
Jesse just started feeling the floorboard, searching for a familiar, straight crack. “Move to the right,” he said to Castor, who looked offended. “Please,” Jesse added.
Castor moved, and Jesse pried up the section of floorboard with his fingers. It came out of the floor easily, creaking on ancient hinges. “This was just the entryway,” Jesse said. “The real treasure must be below.”
“They like their trapdoors, don’t they?” Owen observed. Jesse expected him to dive right through the trapdoor, but he didn’t move. “You first,” he said to Jesse’s questioning look. “You found it.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said, but inside, his stomach was churning. Even if there were a staircase, how could he be sure it was safe? It had been built hundreds of years ago.
He knelt down and looked into the hole. Dimly, he could see the first few steps, each lit by a long, thin wedge of glowing stone. They looked stable enough. But so did their city, and now it’s destroyed.
Before his worried mind could come up with more reasons not to, Jesse stood and took his first step downward, gripping the side of the platform, just in case. Nothing happened. His weight held.
Slowly, he started down the stairs, until his head had dropped past the platform level. He looked down again, and realized the stairs wound around each other. He was climbing down a spiral staircase in the center of the Lidian Tree.
And it was no rough scaffolding. The stairs were straight and perfectly fit the polished wooden railings on either side. The stone was the only light, giving the carved-out trunk a dim glow.
Once, when Castor stepped down behind him, Jesse was sure he heard the staircase groan, but Owen insisted it was only thunder. Inside the tree, the sounds of the storm seemed muffled and far away, although Jesse knew only a layer of wood separated them from it. Climbing down the staircase, Jesse felt safe somehow.
Then Jesse really did feel the stairs shift. He whirled around. Several steps above him, Owen was jumping up and down. Even in the dim light, Jesse could see a look of joy on his face. “We’re rich!” he exclaimed, pointing to his left.
There, arranged neatly on shelves attatched to the wood of the tree, were the treasures Jesse had read about in the green leather book. He had been so focused on looking at where he was placing his feet he hadn’t looked to either side.
Jesse reached out to the shelf next to him and picked up twin hunting dogs that looked like they were made of solid gold. “I don’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “We found it.”
Each new discovery brought a shout of excitement from Owen. “Look! I found a ruby the size of my eye!” “It’s a marble sculpture of some ugly man with a beard!” “Who would even wear a bracelet this heavy?”
Of course, Owen ignored the books lined up on some of the shelves, pushing past Jesse when he stopped to look at them. Jesse barely had time to scan the titles. Most were in Amarian—Lidians, though they were a self-sustaining city within the kingdom, seemed to have spoken Amarian since early days. A few were in foreign languages. All are treasures in their own right, Jesse thought, and judging by Castor’s incredulous face, he agreed.
The farther down they got, the wider the shelves were and the more extravagant the treasures seemed to be. Jesse’s favorite was a miniature replica of a ship. Tiny letters on the hull identified it as The Silver Crescent. Not only were all the parts on the ship exact down to the last detail, but there were tiny clay figurines on the deck, each with unique clothing and facial expressions. Jesse turned a wooden cog to raise the sails. The rope tightened and slackened, just like on a real ship. This could be the creation of Vincent himself, he realized.
“I wonder how long it took to make this?” he asked, showing it to Castor. “The detail is—”
“The three sons are on coins,” Owen interrupted, holding up a fistful from a small chest. He crammed them in his pocket. “The real ones, I mean. Not us. The king, the builder and that book person.”
“Scholar,” Jesse corrected, setting the ship down. They had to keep going. He could still see the spiral winding below them. They were only halfway through.
He stopped again only a few steps later. A rack with tiny hooks was embedded in the wall. Hanging from each hook was a delicate chain with tiny objects made of gold. Jesse leaned in closer. One was an owl with large garnets for eyes. Another was a crescent moon studded with diamonds, the third a ship’s wheel that actually turned. There were others, each perfect in every detail.
They must be tokens, Jesse realized. But far more than a simple carved object. Maybe they belonged to the royal family.
“Look!” Castor said. Jesse turned to see him holding up a slim blue volume. “Primary Reader,Year One.” He flipped it open to the first page, an illustrated picture of an anchor with a large A printed underneath it.
“Surrounded by treasure, and he picks up a textbook,” Owen said, shaking his head.
“You’re at least ready for Year Two, Castor,” Jesse said, grinning.
Castor nodded seriously and picked up the entire stack of the blue readers, each one slightly thicker than the one before it.
Suddenly, Jesse realized just how long it would take to haul all of the treasure out of the tree. They would have to rig up some kind of pulley system to lower the treasure to the ground. It certainly wouldn’t work to carry the treasure and climb at the same time. And the books, at least, will have to be transported after the rain has stopped.
As if in agreement, a clap of thunder shook the tree, one louder and harder than Jesse had ever heard. Instinctively, Jesse grabbed the railing of the staircase. He looked at the others. They seemed as afraid as he felt.
“That was close,” Owen said, his wide eyes just a little worried.
“We should leave,” Jesse said, but he didn’t start climbing up the steps. The last thing he wanted to do was climb back down the tree in the storm. Here, at least, he felt safe, protected from the chaos outside.
But Castor was staring up the staircase, frozen. He breathed deeply. “Smoke,” he said, his face empty of any expression.
“But that means—” Jesse began, trailing off when he saw Owen’s terrified expression. But it was too late to protect him.
“It means the tree is on fire,” Owen finished.