The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (33 page)

Grady stood. He no longer thought of Si’eth as an enemy, more of an asset
. However, he had to be sure he spoke the truth. He picked up his sword and walked towards Bre’ach. With the point of it at the son’s neck, he asked again. “Six days, you say?”

Si’eth began to fidget in agitation, his eyes drawn between Grady and the point of his blade. “Yes! Yes! I’m sure!” Grady pushed a little harder into Bre’ach’s neck, the skin creasing under the point of the blade. Grady paid no heed, his eyes fixed wholly on his father. Again, he pushed
. Bre’ach began to moan in pain, his eyes wide and frightened. “For the love of peace, yes, six days!” Si’eth cupped his hands at Grady, pleading with him to stop.

Grady withdrew the sword. Bre’ach sat back up, rubbing his neck. Grady bowed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Si’eth tended to his son, checking his neck for wounds. “That wasn’t needed. I was speaking plain and true.”

“You know well enough what is needed in situations like this, Si’eth.” Grady threw down his sword and sat back by the fire. He brought his knees up and rested his chin upon them. “So we have six days, maybe seven, if they allow a delay, before they realise something is wrong. And we are a long week from Bailryn, and that is if the rest of the journey from the keep is done on horseback.” Grady pondered a while. “The keep must come first. We will wait for our friends and give Ealian fair chance—but two days only!
After then we must make for Cul'taris Pass and the keep at Gieth'eire, regardless of our state.”

*  *  *

Elspeth said little of Grady’s plan. Whatever was said, she had no intentions of leaving Ealian, whether the world caved around her or not. But she did need rest. The past hours had taken toll; the sick feeling of uncertainty left her hollow and in need of comfort. She sat as close to the fire as she could, seeking some solace from its warmth. Yet that helped little more than to increase her weariness. She began to rock back and forth, grasping her knees in front of her. Shock and fear were taking hold. Her face grew pale; her fingers turned as yellow as dead leaves. She was about to fall to her side when Olam came with a blanket. As strong as she was, or thought she was, there and then, she needed her father, someone to hold her and tell her all would be well. Olam was not a father, yet she accepted his kindness readily.

“Look, child, I have readied your bedroll by the fire. Take some water and rest now. I will wake you if needs be.” He guided her the few feet to bed and helped lay her down. She pulled her knees up and placed her hands between them, guarding her gut against the sickness she felt within. Olam covered her with the blanket and kindly stroked the hair away from her eyes. “Rest and sleep, child,” he said softly. Elspeth would have never asked for it, yet her heart yearned for gentleness. A blessed comfort came over her, and she slept.

CHAPTER 24

Tor had spent nearly two hours on the wing and the excitement of flying again had long since passed. His chest ached and burned with fatigue, his mouth was parched, and his back twinged, like daggers in his spine, every time he drove down with his great wings. He glided as much as possible. Since passing over the forest—and out the way of prying eyes—he staggered his journey—five minutes of painful upward spirals followed by fifteen minutes of gliding, while he recovered for the next rise.

The tiredness had reached his mind. His thoughts were all about survival, about keeping airborne. It occurred to him, after the two-hour mark, that he hadn’t paid attention to where he was. Suddenly panicked, he looked for landmarks.
Have I passed the river?
he thought. His breath was wheezing uncontrollably; a curtain of black breached the edge of his vision.
Clearing or not, I’m going to have to land soon.
Then he saw the tree—the lone oak on top of the hill that lay just north of Kirin’thar’s village. He fixed his glide, the slightest twist left, and made for the grand oak.

“Oh no! Too fast! Too fast!” He pulled up his back legs, fanned his wings with all his might, but the tree kept coming. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. A whack in the stomach and the sounds of bows breaking greeted his first full landing for a hundred years. He clawed at the tree’s thick trunk, left over right, frantically trying to steady his fall, but it was no use. He landed flat on his back at the base.

He lay there a moment, feet up in the air and tail wrapped around the oak. He spun his head, pulled in his wings, and rolled onto his right side, then clumsily got back to his feet. He wobbled a few steps before deciding to sit and recover a while. He could already hear a commotion down below.
I hope they bring water.

*  *  *

“Dragon!” the villager cried. The Cren ran from their huts and houses and stared into the northern sky.

“It’s Tor!” Cal said. He turned quickly to the two stood by him. “Go find Kirin’thar and bring torches. We must go up and meet him.”

“I’m here.” Kirin’thar came down the steps of his hut and walked over to Cal, all the while looking to the north. He cringed when he saw Tor crash into the tree. “Ouch… Tor, you really shouldn’t be flying in the dark, my friend,” he muttered. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and grabbed one of the torches the others had brought. “Come, Cal, let’s go see what has our friend so worried that he would risk crashing into a tree.”

Kirin’thar, Cal, and two other Cren made their way to the base of the hill and started to climb the path. By this time, Tor had regained his balance and was coming down to meet them.

“We’ll go over to the clearing,” Kirin said. “Signal our intent. He can meet us there.”

Cal waved his torch in the air and then pointed it towards a small clearing by the southern base of the hill. Tor gave an exaggerated nod and changed his direction accordingly.

Kirin and the others gathered in the clearing. After a few minutes, Tor joined them. “Hello, friend,” he said. “Forgive my untimely arrival. It’s good to see you again and… uh, sorry about the tree.”

Kirin looked behind him, up to the top of the hill. “Never mind the tree, Tor
. It looks in better condition than you.” He laughed. “My friend, it is good to see you, too, but what are you doing here? Is it safe for you to fly?”

Tor saw the snigger on Kirin’s face. He obviously found the whole “crashing into the tree” fiasco rather amusing. “I thought you’d appreciate the effort,” he said with an embarrassed smile. Tor sat on the ground and stretched his neck; the bones clicked loudly as he raised his head back. “We need to talk, old friend.” He growled the words out while twisting and stretching his back.

“Strange that you should say that. I have news of my own. Cal was coming to Braylair at week’s end to tell you of it.”

Tor sank his head, wondering why he had bothered. “Well
, I needed the practice.” He stood up and stretched while looking around the clearing. “Can we go to water while we talk?”

“We can go towards the village. I’ll send someone ahead to fetch buckets.” Kirin gestured to the two others. They ran off in the direction of the village.

“Lots of buckets!” Tor shouted at them as they ran.

Tor, Kirin, and Cal began to walk back. Kirin began telling him what he had discovered.

“It’s not good news, I’m afraid. We had heard rumour of a rising in the northeast, which I’m sure you have, too. Cal travelled downriver and took a ship up the coast. He found the Madden massing on the eastern shore, near to the old Toi’ildrieg landing grounds. He couldn’t land for the risk he might be seen, but he put their number at around seven thousand.” Kirin bowed his head; his tone turned solemn. “And the dragons were there!”

Tor stopped and looked to the heavens “Did you see Sek?”

Cal shook his head. “No. There were maybe seven. None were black.”

“It won’t be long before he’s there, too. He will be with her, if she is alive. Have you heard anything?”

“Not of Vila’slae, but her man, the Kel’madden captain, he was there,” Cal said.

Tor let out a short burst of flame from his nose. “Should have finished with him last time
. We must assume she is leading. The dragons wouldn’t be there without her, unless they have found another to take her place.”

Kirin’thar sighed at the thought. “Be it her or someone new, our aim is still the same. We must learn of their plans and prepare as best we can. The old alliances must be born anew and the borders strengthened. And if we are to do this, we must seek council with Eidred’s heir and bring the armies of Aleras to the fight.”

“And what of the Salrians? They must know of the Madden massing on their flank. Could they be working with them?” Tor asked.

Kirin answered. “I doubt it; they have little love for Eiras or the Madden. As for the east, the land is sparse. The Salrians dwell, almost to a man, around Barath. There are only a few small boarder outposts, thanks to that ridiculous treaty and of course, Cul’taris. They could very well know nothing of it!”

“Then she won’t risk a war on two fronts,” Tor said, “at least not until she has a foothold in the south. And if she can’t go through Taris, then that leaves the Tunnels of Aldregair.”

Kirin laughed. “After what happened to her last time, I doubt she will risk the tunnels. She could come on Taris and pass the Northern Keep before the Salrians can react.” Kirin thought a moment. “Yes! And be on Bailryn even before the Salrians are warned.”

Tor growled. “Argh… we are just guessing. She could be attacking from the sea!”

“No,” Cal said. “They were ferrying the Madden in from
Toi’ildrieg. They have no more than seven ships.”

Tor pondered the situation. “It’s clear someone is going to have to go up and take a look, someone who can get there and back in time enough for us to prepare. Maybe one of the smaller dragons, perhaps Ban or Lyduk?”

Kirin shook his head. “You shouldn’t risk exposing yourselves. I can send a man on a fast horse, two weeks, maybe.”

Tor wasn’t happy, but he had to concede that Kirin’thar was right. “Yes, I suppose if anyone can spy and gather news, then it would be one of the Cren, no doubt there.”

“So that’s settled. Not all the questions answered, but it’s the beginnings of a plan,” Kirin said.

Tor stopped and pulled a contrite expression. “Well, actually…” He hesitated. “There is a little matter that I need your help with.”

At that moment, Tor saw four men running up from the village, each with two buckets of water. “Ah, thank the gods,” he said. He hunched back and sat on his tail. He grabbed the first bucket in his front paws. The contents were gone in three long gulps. He dropped the bucket and reached out for more. The bewildered Cren passed him the other bucket. Tor had three more and then at the sixth, he asked the woman holding it if she would mind throwing it over his back.

“Ah
, that is better! Thank you all.” He got back on all fours and continued walking towards the village.

“What were you saying about a favour?” Kirin asked.

“Oh, yes… Sorry,” Tor said. “The Cinnè’arth is right now camped just outside your forest, to the northeast in what looks like a hollow just north of the river. I’d like you to do what you can to persuade him to come to me.”

Both Kirin and Cal stopped dead in their tracks. “You mean the… Arlyn Gan’ifael! He’s sitting in a hollow on the boarder of our lands?” The two Cren looked at each other with wide-eyed, jaw
-to-the-floor astonishment.

Once Kirin had gathered himself, he continued. “I thought he was dead! Everybody thought he was dead. Now you say he is sat in a field on the borders of Crenach. How could I go a hundred years and not know of this?” He put his hand to his mouth and then scratched his fingers through his thick black hair, shaking his head constantly from side to side. “Well, this changes everything. What of the other Kel’mai? Are they back, too?” He looked with bewilderment up at his friend.

“I don’t know,” Tor said. “I’ve only known a few months myself. Since Brea, our soul guardian, came of age.”

“Really… you have a soul guardian now?” Kirin said with a genuinely pleased tone. “What, like the old, or is she…?”

“She will be an oracle, if she survives the quickening.” Tor looked sad. “The first for five hundred years!”

“Yes, if you do not count that Eiras witch. And look what happened to her.”

Tor angered at the thought of such a thing happening to Brea. “No, she isn’t Eiras. She is pure Gan, linked to my son, Ulrekan, or Rek as she calls him. Which frankly annoys me no end.
Rek,
phaw
, it’s a girl’s name.”

Kirin’thar grinned. “To be fair, Tor, it doesn’t sound like a girl’s name.”

Tor huffed. “Well, it is in dragon tongue.”

“Fair enough,” Kirin’thar said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “So, how am I—what reason should I give? What do I tell him to make him come to you?”

“He can’t come to me!” Tor said. “He must first go to Brea. He has been cursed. The Kin is no longer under his control. For us to meet, Brea must first treat him so the rage of Cinnè’arth will not come to the fore.”

Kirin grumbled a little at the thought of “persuading” a
Cinnè’arth to do anything. “I don’t pretend to understand all of which you speak, friend. However, I will do my part the best I’m able. You can be sure of that!”

“Good!” Tor said. “We will speak some more of happier times. Then, come daylight, I will sleep and fly back tomorrow night, before he comes to you. This effort has been harder than I expected. I won’t make it if I leave now.”

“Of course, that would be good, my friend. It has been a long time since you have visited. Most of our people haven’t seen the like. We shall make food and talk. I doubt many will be sleeping tonight anyway.” Kirin bowed.

The three reached the outskirts of the village. Kirin asked Tor to wait in a small clearing by the well while he had food prepared for him. Tor agreed, immediately resting himself on the edge of the clearing underneath the bows of a line of birch.

He closed his eyes and thought of the night, remembering his journey and what had brought him to this point. A soothing sense of relief came over him, a feeling that he was no longer the lone carrier of this burden. He knew he wasn’t scared, at least not in the sense that he would run from this challenge if he had the chance. Nevertheless, he did hold fear for the future. A fear now eased with the knowledge help was at hand.
Still much to do
, he thought.
At least it has started. No more feeling useless and being at the mercy of others.

*  *  *

Kirin’thar and Cal walked the rest of the way into the village, talking as they went.

“You know there are those in the council that won’t agree with this action, don’t you?” Cal said.

Kirin hardened his gaze. “Yes, and they are fools, fools for thinking we can hide in the trees while the Madden roll over Aleras and Ealdihain. Fools for thinking the witch will stop there and fools for believing that troubles of others are no business of ours!” He shook his head and kicked out at the ground beneath his feet. “They forget the old war and what it was like before. Every man calling himself king of his own backyard. We must stay together. We must join with the Surabhan and even the Salrians. If we do that, we can see an end to this as one people. United!” Kirin slowed to a muted stroll and looked aimlessly in front of him. “Maybe better lessons can be learnt and peace will win once and for all!”

A large group of excited Cren were waiting back at the village for Kirin’thar’s return, all clambering around the edge of the waterfall, waiting to hear what was happening. A small girl broke from her mother’s grip and ran to Kirin.

“Can we go see?” she said.

Kirin laughed. “He’s very tired and you’ll have to behave, but yes. We will all go to the clearing and have some food.”

“Why did he hit the tree?” asked another child, laughing.

Kirin avoided directly answering. “He’s come a long way and was tired.”

“Maybe he should look where he’s going,” the little girl at his feet said.