The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (42 page)

CHAPTER 32

The morning came and none was much the wiser. However, the wolves from Illeas’den finally turned up. They had arrived before dawn and lain quiet just south of the hollow until the others woke.

Toban had a meeting with them. He decided to send Aleban and the injured back to Illeas and asked the others to aid the horsemen in tracking Bre’ach, once they had reached them, of course. It would mean a long journey, longer than many had made in their lives, but after Toban explained their predicament, all volunteered willingly. Toban decided that he would go with Daric to the Northern Keep as representative of the Rukin, maybe even to the palace itself, if it came to that. As for Aleban, he would have to say his good-byes, happy to be going home but down and depressed that he couldn’t play any further part. His injury needed tending, as much as it vexed him to admit it.

“I’ll be fit in no time,” he said to Toban.

“I have no doubt, and rest assured, there is much need of your service at home. You could be of more use than I may. I’m not sure how much luck I will have persuading the keep commander of our alliance, never mind the palace. Though, I must go and offer it, whether it be welcomed or not.”

“Yes. The Surabhan can be immensely stupid at times. It seems the more power they get, the more stupid they become.” Aleban laughed.

“Let’s hope not. If things are as Daric described, maybe they will be all too glad of the help. A few thousand wolves won’t hurt their campaign any.”

“A few thousand?”

“Yes, you must go south and ask the Darkin for their help.” Toban stared at Aleban and waited for a response.

“I don’t see how that will help. They have never paid much attention to us. They aren
’t far above feral beasts, never mind all the stories about them ‘changing’ over the past few generations.”

“I know, but they have honour, and they know all too well the price of letting the witch roll over Aleras. It will only be a matter of time before she comes knocking on their door. I’m sure you can handle it
. Take Sarai and five others, and don’t forget the rituals.”

“Forget them? I will have to learn them first!”

“Sarai will help. She knows them all. But be mindful, they will try to take the upper hand. If all else fails, then warn them of the coming trouble and leave. Promise them nothing!”

“Understood!” Aleban said.

*  *  *

It was decided that both Elspeth and Gialyn would travel back with Aleban and the other wolves and then turn to the north pass through the
Am’bieth Marsh. Elspeth wasn’t in the slightest bit pleased by it but admitted that she had a duty and her brother Ealian wasn’t fit to walk that far. He needed to get on a horse, the sooner the better. However, it wasn’t yet decided exactly which direction he would be heading: north to the keep or east to Brae’vis and Kirin’thar. The Cren had left it to him. He had said he would make a decision once they’d reached the horsemen. Horse or not, he still had to get his wound treated properly.

Grady and Daric stood with Olam and Arfael when the three youngsters came to join the party.

“So here we all are,” Grady said, “the seven who started out on this trek, seems like months ago.”

“Indeed it does, my friend,” Olam said. “And I fear it is going to appear longer still before it is finished.”

Daric nodded. “What was that you said? ‘Where would we all be if great men sat idle?’ Or something like that. I don’t remember. Well, this is the time when great men—and women”—Daric looked at Elspeth, who grinned with embarrassment—“must stand up and strive for what is right.”

“There was another part to that,” Olam said. “Most great men are full of fear, their heart toiling bravely against the darkness, never really knowing if they will succeed.” He turned to the youngsters. “It is all right to be scared. Just look to the ones you love, and as Daric said, do what is right
. I’m sure you’ll all be fine, and a year from now, we will have a splendid party back in the Geddy. We can laugh and tell tales of our adventure. All of us together!”

The three youngsters—including
Ealian’tien—nodded gratefully at Olam’s words.

Arfael said nothing. His expression came in the form of a near bone-crushing embrace—all three at once. He had a special word for Elspeth, though. “I’ll take your talisman—the one from your bag—and think of you every day. Maybe I can remember you long enough for us to meet again.” He bowed to her deeply, for she was his princess
, his little one.

There wasn
’t much more to say after that. Daric and Gialyn couldn’t find words, but then none were needed. They had become close. Daric no longer feared for Gialyn’s future, believing now that he would find his own way.

Grady said his own good-byes to the youngsters, tearful as they were for him, too. Once all was set, Elspeth and Gialyn joined Aleban and the other wolves. They made their way towards the gully and then turned west for home.

Daric’s heart sank at the sight yet rejoiced in the knowledge that at least his son would be safe and his beloved Mairi would be cared for. He turned to the others. “Shall we get on with this, then?” he said.

All nodded or answered yes.

They marched north, each with a duty, each with a task to fulfil. The next months would be the most challenging of their lives. Whether for good or ill, one thing was certain: things would never be the same again.

CHAPTER 33

Brea struggled to the mouth of the den, carrying the large silver bowl in front of her.

“Hurry up!” Tor said.

“I’m going as fast as I can. This is heavy and I’m just a girl.”

“You’re more than just a girl!” Tiama said.

“Oh, thank you!” Brea said. “But compliments won’t make me go any faster than I’m already going.”

She shuffled down the steps towards the centre of the den, then walked slowly towards the hearth, holding the Lier’sinn level in front of her so as not to spill any of the contents—for the fluid was difficult to make, not to mention the weeks it took to collect the ingredients. Finally, she reached the edge of the hearth and carefully put it down on the wide, flat edge.

“Let us get started, then… Come on, child!” Tor was insistent. He was desperate to find out if his little jaunt across the Crenach’coi was fruitful or a complete waste of time.

“Have some patience, dear,” Tiama said. “Nothing is going to happen in the next five minutes.”

Rek joined the fun. He bounced up and down like a child—he was still a child, at least for a dragon. He pushed himself between his mother and father.

“Calm down, boy!” Tor said. “You’ll knock the thing over and this will all be for nothing!”

“Aw… my little boy,” Brea said. “Is the big
, mean dragon telling you off?” She kissed Rek on the head and craned her neck to give Tor a stern look.

“Well, I’m only saying!” Tor said.

“I think we can all calm down a bit,” Tiama said. “Have you had any dinner, Brea? You left some bread and cheese here yesterday. I think it is still good, if you are hungry.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you, Tiama. I had a big lunch. Mother has baked all morning. She has made the most wonderful fru—”

“Enough! Please,” Tor said. “I’m sorry, but this is important. Can we just get on and leave the chat. You haven’t even bloodied it yet. You can talk about cakes while it is brewing, can’t you?”

“Oh, listen to him!” Tiama said. “Hard to believe he made it to a thousand years.” She turned to Tor. “Your impatience will be the death of you, my man, take my word for it. You need to calm down. All things in their own time.”

“Yes,” Tor said, “and the time was ten minutes ago!”

Brea laughed and then said, “Ouch!” as she cut her finger, letting the blood drip into the bowl.

“So you were saying about your mother’s cakes?” Tiama asked.

“Yes, she has really outdone herself this time—apple and wild berry sponge with jam and goat’s milk cream filling. I swear, I will be twice this size before I’m twenty-one if she keeps this up.”

The two women laughed. Tor rolled his eyes. Young Rek looked around and wondered what on earth was going on.

Brea and Tiama continued with their domestic chatter while Tor paced about, waiting for the
Lier’sinn to come to the boil, so to speak. Rek sat in front of the hearth, mostly scratching his ear, apart from a minute when he went to get a drink of water. Eventually, after what seemed like and age to Tor yet no time at all to the others, the Lier'sinn began to sing. The bubbles popped, the steam rose, and the bowl shook.

Brea took her cloth that she brought along and placed it over her mouth. Rek blew the steam away, and all peered into the silky surface and waited.

An image of a large crowd of people appeared. Tor was surprised, and so was Brea, if she were honest. Eleven folk and around ten wolves all stood at the top of the gully. They watched as some went south.

“That is the girl. She is leaving with the wolves
,” she said, “in the wrong direction?”

Tor became tense. He peered hard into the bowl. “Ah
, that is Cal there, the taller one in the brown and green. Good, I think maybe all is well.”

“And there is the
Cinnè’arth,” Brea said. “Looks like they are turning north. Are they
all
coming here?”

“Em
, I don’t know. But as long as the Cinnè’arth is, then all is well. And look, Cal is walking with them, excellent!” Tor said, feeling very pleased with himself. His plan had worked. Everyone was in his or her place and things were progressing nicely.

Brea, on the other hand, looked solemn. She slumped on a rock stool and appeared upset. In a way, she
’d hoped he wouldn’t come and that she may be spared her duty. But that was that. In around six days, give or take, he would be here.

“Why are you looking so glum, my dear?” Tiama said. “We’re on
the way now. At last, we have a plan. It must be better than drifting in the wind, surely.”

“I suppose,” Brea said. “I just wish he didn’t have to die.”

End of Part One: The Call of the Crown

GLOSSARY

The Cren’dair,
aka
Cren
(crehn-dair):
A woodsmen race who live in the Kingdom of Crenach’coi.

The Darkin:
A mysterious race of huge wolves. They are thought to live on the southern rim of the Crenach’coi, between the Eurmac Canyon and the woods.

The Eurmacians
(urh-may-she-annes): The residents of Eurmac, the country south of Aleras’moya.

The Gods:

The Three Ventriarch
:

An'Gael
(An-gay-L)
the air Ventriarch.

U'sieg
(Uh-seeg)
the sea Ventriarch.

Ein'laig
(Een-layg)
the land Ventriarch.

Ventriarch are the source of
The Power
on land, sea, and air. They are separate to each other.

The Six Sentriarch
: Each Ventriarch have two opposing Sentriarch—good and bad.

Air,
An'raeg
and
An'rann
.

S
ea,
U'raeg
and
U'rann
.

L
and,
Ein’raeg
and
Ein’rann
.

Collectively known as
An’eyr’rann

They seek to upset the balance of land, sea, and air in their favour. Note: many races believe the ‘gods’ are real entities, not ethereal powers. And that are all controlled by the gods of good and evil.

Aregolas:
God of Good

Diobael:
God of Evil

The Karakin
(karah-kin):
Known as the first Alphas. Nobody knows what happened to the Karakin, though speculation as to their fate is something of a warning to others, not to mess with the gods.

The Kel’madden
(kehl-mahd-uhn):
A race of warriors from the island of Toi’ildrieg.

The Kel’mai
(kehl-may
): A race of scholars and teachers and warriors from the island of Toi’ifael.

The Witches of Eiras
(eahr-rass),
aka
The Moya Witches (
moiy-agh):
A society of witches from the island of Eiras.

The Rukin
(roo-kihn):
Residents of Illeas’den. A society of humans and wolves.

The Salrians
(sahl-re-ans):
Residents of An’aird Barath, the country to the north of Aleras’moya.

The Surabhan
(sur-ra-ban):
Residents of Aleras’moya.

The Gan:
The Southern Gan dragons. Originally from the island of Toi’ifael but have spent the last one hundred twenty years in the Bren’alor Valley.

The Gaw:
The Northern Dragons. From the island of Toi’ildrieg.