The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (36 page)

“Elspeth,” he said. “This is what you wished for!”

Elspeth drew herself away, kicking him and screaming, “No!”

Grady wrestled with her, almost pinning her to the post. “Listen to me, child,” he said. “Would you rather it was me lying there dead? And if that were the case, then I would pray to the gods you were lying there with me, for the thought of what he would do to you…” Grady bowed his head. He spoke softly now. “This is what heroes do. They kill bad men and save their friends. It isn
’t always honourable. It isn’t often worthy of song or even praise. You do it because there is no choice. You must raise yourself up. You must think of what you have saved, both your life and mine… I’m in your debt for the rest of my days.” With that, he kissed her on the forehead. “Come on! Let us find this medicine and be gone from here.”

Elspeth felt better. The sick feeling in her gut was now a cold emotion, though still sickening.
Of course, what else could I do?
she thought. She got to her feet and after a few seconds to steady herself, she joined Grady by the herb shelf.

It didn’t take long to find what they wanted. Elspeth put the jars in her bag and then the two of them crept up the stairs and out the back door. A small fence stood between them and a long patch of bush that led south along the outskirts of Be’olyn. Steadily, they walked, half-crouched, the full length of the town until they reached the hill and had to climb up onto the road. They quickly marched past the dishevelled houses and on up to the top of the ridge. Once over the crest, they relaxed a little, for they were out of sight of the town. They walked another half mile along the track before deciding it would be best to cut across the fields.

“Do you think they’ll come after us?” Elspeth asked.

“I doubt discovering a dead man is at all unusual for those folk. They will probably be arguing over how to split his possessions.”

“I hope you’re right. We really do have enough problems to deal with without adding to it.”

Grady gave a chuckle. “You’re not wrong!” he said.

They took to the path at the base of the ridge and then followed the river leading to the waterfall. The path lay clear and they made good time back to the hollow.

CHAPTER 26

Arfael woke in the middle of a field. The moist dew lay lightly on his face and hair. He opened his eyes and tried to lift his head. The pain was shocking; not an inch of his body was free of its twisting torment. Slowly, he pulled his hand up and felt inside his mouth. His teeth were missing and so were his fingernails. With an effort and more than a little groan, he forced himself to his knees. All around where he lay were the remnants of the beast, long black talons and sharp white fangs, discarded like fruit peelings.

He put a hand to his knee and raised himself to his feet. A short way to his left, one of the fallen Salrians lay in an unnatural position, his arms twisted behind his neck and a foot facing the wrong way. Arfael looked down at the body with shame. He knew plainly that he had to change, had to save his friends. What came after, though… The relentless chase and pitiless killing, that was all the beast. They were running away, in fear for their lives and no more a threat to anyone. He looked down at the body, broken and strewn with blood, eyes still wide with panic. Arfael was certain the Salrian didn’t do a thing to deserve such a fate, and he felt all the worse for knowing it. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer Olam had taught him. Then he wondered for a moment whether it was more for his own benefit.

He took the pouch from the Salrian and emptied its contents beside the body, putting back anything that seemed important into the Salrian’s pockets. He gathered the discarded talons and teeth and put them in the small bag. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he took one last look at the body, promising to come back and bury him properly. He left the sorrowful sight behind and made his way slowly back to the gully.

He was west of it; he knew that much. And at the bottom of the ridge.
How did I get down here?
That Salrian must have climbed down, thinking he would escape. He did well to get this far!

To his south, the river ran along the flats. He recognised it as an area they had passed the day before. To the east, he could see the top of the trees of Crenach, the distinctive angle they made as they turned north across the river. By his reckoning, he was three miles from the falls. Those Salrians must have split up. No chance they would have made it three miles as a single prey.
I wonder if any of them got away.

Slowly, he made his way along the base of the ridge. His mouth was dry, his legs ached, and his fingers were sore—from the talons ripping through his fingernails. He plodded, one foot after the other, disenchanted with his lot and disappointed he had to show his “other side” to his new friends. There would be no more joking and laughing with them. He didn’t blame them at all.

Before long, he arrived at the falls. The water was murky with sediment dragged from up river. The falls whipped the plunge pool like a mixing bowl. Kneeling at the bank, he paused to look at his reflection, all the stronger because of the dirty water. He’d never liked seeing himself; he must have gone the first thirty years without looking at what he’d become. Splashing at his own image, he washed the blood from his hands, face, and chest. After taking a long drink, he put his feet ankle deep into the pool, and there he sat, contemplating the events of the previous evening.

Thought of the others was foremost in his mind. Had they all made it through alive, and if so, what would they think of him now they knew the truth? As far as he knew, very few people had learned of it. He couldn’t remember, yet Olam had told him that maybe three others were aware of his Kin with the beast. And from what he had gathered, none but the wolves accepted it. Why dwell on that, though? It was a problem to face later. He had to find them first.

He picked himself up and moved towards the gully. Before starting the climb, he picked up a bowl, a cup, and a few other bits that had rolled down during the attack. Farther, his pack was lying on the side of the track, right where he’d thrown it, along with Ealian’s and some of Grady’s things. He dressed himself with a clean shirt and then picked up all three packs and began the search for his friends. He hoped they were still his friends.

His best guess, they would have continued up along the tributary, and sure enough, he picked up the trail. It wasn
’t hard to see. Clearly, a group of people had crossed recently, the bank scuffed and the grass churned—as was the east bank. He crossed at the same point and stood searching the horizon.
Where would they go
? Deciding to take the safe and sure option, he made his way to the edge of the ridge and followed it down to the trees. He turned north and followed the line of birch and oak, thinking that Daric and the others would have gone for cover and the forest was the only available.

Arfael was beginning to wonder if his plan had merit when he heard noises coming from up ahead. He immediately recognised the voice of his friend. Relief came to his heart, knowing he at least was safe. Olam’s voice sounded reasoned and low. And he was talking to somebody. Maybe they all made it
. They wouldn’t be so calm if… A flutter of nerves came over him. He almost didn’t want to know; such answers were for brave men, and right now, he was hurt, cold, and ashamed.

Things had changed over the past week. Ever since hearing of his true ancestors, he had dared to hope that his journey would soon be at an end and that maybe he could keep his new friends for more than a few weeks—especially the youngsters and none more than Elspeth, his “little one.”

However, all that was for the future. After a moment of thought, he decided a quick shout to alert them of his presence would be best.

“Hello.” He waited for a response. All went quiet, and then footsteps began to move towards him. He saw his friend Olam emerging over the rim of the hollow.

“My friend, thank the gods you are safe.”

Arfael bowed. “Hello, friend.” Olam’s welcome cheered him. He gave a big toothless grin.

“Let me look at you, Arfael. Are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” Arfael said. “My teeth will grow back by tomorrow.”

Olam walked around him, checking for cuts and bruises. After finding all in good order, he gave his friend a hearty slap on the back. “Come! Come on! You must be hungry.” Olam led him into the camp.

Daric nodded casually to Arfael. Of course, he hadn
’t seen the beast and only had Grady’s rather animated, and possibly exaggerated, description to go by. “Are you all right, my friend?” he said.

“I’m now,” Arfael said. He pointed at Gialyn
, who was still asleep after his sickness.

Daric put his hand up in reassurance. “He will be fine. We had quite a night, too. You should sit, have a rest and some food.” Daric pointed towards a large log at the other side of the fire.

“Yes… soon.” Arfael nodded and grinned kindly at Daric.

Arfael looked around slowly. First, to where Ealian lay. Then he focused an angry eye on the Salrians. Both Si’eth and Bre’ach hitched back farther into the tree’s roots. Neither could look the big man in the eye.

Toban got up from his post and bowed low. “Good to see you back, friend,” he said. “We were all worried for a while.”

Arfael bowed to Toban. “Good to see you, too. But how did you get here?” he asked.

“That’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you’ve had time to rest.”

“Where are the others, Elspeth and Grady?” Arfael looked about the camp and saw no obvious sign. For one horrible moment, he thought they might be dead
.

“They’re off, hunting down medicines for Ealian,” Olam said. He was over by Ealian, trying again with the waterskin. He had little luck other than to wet his lips and keep him cooled.

“It’s the Black, then, is it?” Arfael asked.

“Yes, unfortunately
,” Olam said. “We are all hoping for a miracle, but…” Olam knelt and rinsed Ealian’s face and neck with a clean cloth.

Arfael looked down at the sorrowful sight. “You should have told me, Olam. I could have watched him.”

“I know,” Olam said. “It is unforgivable. I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Probably wouldn’t have mattered
. But no more secrets!”

“Agreed
,” Olam said with his hand on his heart.

Arfael came and sat down by the fire. He took the food that Daric had offered—fish again. He picked up the pouch that he
’d taken from the Salrian—the one with his teeth and talons in—and handed it to Olam, who took a quick peek inside and quickly wrapped the whole bundle in a cloth and placed it inside his own pack.

“What was that?” Daric asked.

Olam did a sideways glance towards the Salrians. “I’ll tell you later,” he said.

*  *  *

The rest of the day passed slowly. Daric and Olam took turns watching the prisoners so the wolves could go to the river and hunt. Lunch came and went, then early afternoon. The spring air lay thick and heavy with the bloom and seed of the forest so close by. There were now plenty to guard the prisoners, and despite their troubled thoughts, most were able to sleep a little.

Olam explained all that had happened since the gully. Arfael would nod and pretend to be interested in it, but mostly he was concerned for Elspeth. The one saving grace to his mind was that Grady went with her. Still, he would have rather he had gone, too. He
’d heard of Be’olyn and honestly thought it no place for his young friend.

It was early evening before the sound of rushing feet came from beyond the lip of the hollow. Then a shout of “We’re back! We have it!” came from the north.

Elspeth and Grady appeared just as the last remnants of dusky light leaked behind the western ridge.

Elspeth immediately ran to Olam, mindless of Arfael’s presence. However, Grady paused a while to weigh up the situation. He looked cautiously at the big man and then to Daric, who gave him a reassuring nod.

Elspeth quickly unpacked the jars. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked, forcing the jars of kharoe and liet into Olam’s hands.

He looked down at the jars and tried not to sigh. He had half-wished that she hadn
’t been able to find any, for now it was down to him to perform some miracle with the herbs that
he
had suggested, knowing well that Ealian was probably past hope.

Elspeth followed Olam over to her brother. He was near the end; there was no doubt of that. She fell to her knees with hands to mouth, gasping for air. Her eyes filled with tears. She buried her face in her hands, for she didn’t want to know the answer to her question. “Are we too late?”

“I won’t lie, my de—” Olam got no further with his reply.

Elspeth fell to the ground in a bawling heap of nerves and fear. “By the gods! No! No! Please no!”

Daric came over to comfort her. She fell side-on to his lap and convulsed with uncontrollable tears.

Daric didn’t know what to say. His heart pounded. His eyes filled. He stroked her head softly. He began to speak, but nothing came
.

Arfael came and sat by her side. He picked up her trembling hand and Ealian’s, too, and put them together. “You must say good-bye, if this is the way of it.”

Elspeth cried all the louder. She moved over to Ealian and lay down by his side. “I’m here, little brother,” she said. “It is all right. You are not alone.” She kissed his forehead and pulled him close.

Olam raised his head from a bow. “I’m still going to try the
kharoe. There’s still some hope.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Daric said. “We have some friends come to visit.”

Olam and Elspeth both turned their heads to Daric. Behind him, on top of the southern rim of the hollow, stood four men. The Woodsmen of Crenach had arrived at last.

Grady stumbled forward, tripping on his own feet. He fumbled around his pack. It wasn
’t there! Quickly, he tossed the pack to the side and looked under it. There it was. He grabbed his knife by the hilt and rose up. With blade in right hand, feet apart, and his left hand ready at guard, he faced the four woodsmen.

The wolves bayed at the sight of him. Toban ran in front. “Stop!” he said. “They mean you no harm.”

Olam moved to Grady and put his hand on his wrist, gently lowering the knife. “Think, Grady! They have bows. We would be ended by now if that were their intent.”

Grady’s heart pounded from the sudden shock. He looked to Olam with a pensive stare, breathing deeply from his mouth. Slowly, he lowered h
is blade and stood straight. His gaze turned to the four woodsmen. They stood motionless, unimpressed by his knife-wielding antics.

Daric moved to the fore. “Put your weapon down, friend. We’ve been hoping they would show.”

Grady turned his head quickly. “What do you mean hoping?”

Daric stood between his friend and the woodsmen and looked Grady straight in the eye. “They may be Ealian’s only hope!” he said.

Grady turned. Angry. He threw his knife to the ground. “You know, a little bit more knowledge, a little bit more information as to what exactly is going on around here would go a long way towards calming my nerves. First, the Black, then Ealian, and now the secret woodsmen. I’m beginning to feel like the spare horse dragged at the back of the wagon.”

Daric put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, things have been happening fast. It was my intent to share news of Ealian’s condition once we
’d reached the forest, so all of us could begin to look for the woodsmen.”