The Crown and the Dragon (16 page)

For years, he had searched for the personal papers of the commander, a Praetorian Legate named Volusus Flavius Ambustus. He had finally obtained some of the Legate’s writings, at great financial cost, but had learned little thus far. The man wrote in Sarinese riddles, full of bizarre metaphors about reproduction. But Corvus still studied his words, determined to understand what had happened that day on the beach.

There was a knock at the door. Corvus frowned. He wasn’t sure what the hour was, but he thought he had heard the watchman cry midnight quite a while ago. Rolling up the scroll, he glanced out the small window, trying to catch a glimpse of the moon.

The knock came again.

“Enter,” Corvus called, placing the scroll in a nearby chest.

A legionary entered, leaving the door open. It was Septor Bruttius, one of the guards Corvus sparred with. In fact, Corvus had broken his nose less than a week ago. Corvus smiled slightly, remembering the bout.

Sadly, the sparring sessions were no more. Strabus said it was conduct unbecoming a Vitalion Magister. The more likely reason was that these sparring sessions forged close bonds between himself and his men, and Strabus was trying to break those bonds.

“Hail, Magister,” said Bruttius, with a salute. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, his brow furrowed.

“It is late, Septor Bruttius,” said Corvus, speaking Vitalae. “Why are you here?”

“I beg pardon for disturbing you, sir,” the guard said, “but Hostus Hostilius and I thought you should speak with this prisoner.”

“You know that I no longer supervise the interrogation of prisoners,” Corvus said. He leaned back in his chair and gave the legionary a stern look. “But let’s not get hung up on protocol. Bring the man in.”

The tension left the guard’s face and he waved a beckoning hand to someone standing outside the door. A prisoner in shackles was pushed into the room by another of the guard, Hostus Hostilius. He had a thin red scar running down one cheek—also a gift from a sparring session.

“Hail, Magister,” said Hostilius, saluting.

“Hail, Hostilius.” Corvus returned the salute.

The prisoner rolled his eyes. He was a great ugly brute, bald as a stone. Despite his chains and the multitude of cuts and bruises that decorated his face and body, he stood proud as a prince.

“Who is he?” Corvus asked.

“Magister,” Bruttius said, “this man was captured three days ago during an attempted robbery and assault. To save himself, he offered up information on the rebels, who he swore were his comrades.” Bruttius paused. “He even asked for money.”

Hostilius spat. “Treacherous dog.”

Leaning back in his chair, Corvus tilted his head and looked the man over. “And what desperate lie did this knave try to sell you? The secret whereabouts of Garrick?” He laughed.

“Among the various outlandish and unbelievable stories he told us,” said Bruttius, “he spoke of an incident in which a Leodrine Sister was slain on the road north of Anondea.”

Corvus sat up.

“We remembered that you had been inquiring into the death of this woman, Magister,” Bruttius said. “And we thought you might like to hear his tale.”

“Well done,” said Corvus to the two guards. “I will remember this.” He smiled. It cheered him greatly to know that some of the men were still his, despite Strabus’s best efforts. Loyalty like this, he reflected, couldn’t be bought with money. Still, he would have to think of some way to reward them for this. “You may wait outside. Thank you.”

The two guards saluted and left the chamber.

Corvus looked the rebel up and down.

“Well, they treat you pretty good for a Deiran,” said the man, impudently. “You must be kissing all the right rings.”

“You put on a brave front,” said Corvus, switching back to his native Deiran. “But courtesy would serve you better than empty bluster. You address Magister Bartram Valerius Pugh, also called Corvus.”

“The old crow himself,” said the brute. “Well, it’s about time they brought me to you. I’ve got information to sell you.”

“What is your name?” said Corvus.

“Call me Leif,” said the big man.

Corvus smiled. “I will not buy your information, Leif,” he said. “But I am a man who knows how to reward those who serve faithfully and well. Do you wish to serve the Empire, and your country?”

Leif shrugged, his chains clanking as he did so. “Sure, let’s play it that way.”

“Good,” said Corvus. “Now, I am told you were recently witness to the death of a Leodrine Sister.”

“It weren’t me,” said Leif. “Aedin did her in, and the Sithians, too.”

“This woman,” Corvus said, idly playing with the dagger on his desk, “was there anyone with her?”

“Aye,” said Leif, “a treacherous minx. Elenn, she called herself. Said she was a lady or some such, but she was just another thieving slattern. She jumped all over me and then ran off with Aedin. He’s the one killed them people. And he’s a rebel.”

“Interesting,” said Corvus. “Can you tell me where they went?”

***

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elenn woke up the next morning feeling like she was going to die. Her head hurt her terribly, her stomach was queasy, and everything seemed very bright and loud. Elenn screwed her eyes shut and wrapped the blanket over her head. Then she smelled the blanket, and nearly retched.

Something prodded her in the backside. A boot, perhaps.

“Go away,” said Elenn crossly.

“Wake up, my Lady of Adair,” said Aedin, his voice nearly a shout.

Elenn moaned. It was just too cruel.

“Let me die,” she said.

Aedin laughed. He reached down and lifted her to a sitting position, despite her protests. Then he let go, and of course she fell. This elicited more laughter, which Elenn thought was a needless insult.

“Come on,” Aedin said, “let’s go.”

He tried to pull the horrible, smelly blanket off her head. Elenn curled up in a ball and resisted him. Eventually Aedin gave up. She heard the noisy slap of his leather boots on the damp stone floor of the cave. Elenn settled down to try to sleep again.

Suddenly, cold water was poured over her head, soaking her through the blanket. Elenn coughed and spluttered, clawing herself free.

“Need to get moving,” Aedin said, without a trace of apology or sympathy. “Long way to go, starting with a climb back up the cliff to get where we were yesterday.”

“I need rest! I nearly drowned yesterday!” she cried.

“Three jugs of wine,” he said. “I remember.”

“No!” she said. “I fell in the Cataracts.” She lay back down with a groan. Even the dim light of the cave seemed to hurt her eyes, so she squeezed them shut.

“Jumped,” said Aedin, “if I recall correctly.”

Opening one eye, Elenn saw that the horrid man had the audacity to grin.

“I really hate you,” she said.

“I hear that a lot,” Aedin said. “Get up.”

Elenn didn’t move, but she was too weak to resist when Aedin pulled her roughly to her feet. The sudden rise made Elenn’s head scream with pain, so she tried to sit. But Aedin jerked her up again, and grabbed her chin with his hand, forcing her to look in his eyes.

“We’re leaving,” Aedin said. “This is dragon country. Stay in one place too long and something bad finds you—bandits, those things from yesterday, maybe even something worse.”

He picked up a leather pack which looked heavy. “I’ll carry all the gear,” Aedin said. “But we can’t wait any longer. We move.”

He grabbed Elenn by the arm and pulled her along behind him. Elenn tried to shut out the terrible blinding daylight with her other hand, but she could no more hide from the sun than she could avoid getting soaked as they passed through the waterfall curtain.

Once outside the cave, Aedin took them to his secret path up the cliff face. Elenn cried and swore that she could not make the climb, but he pulled and pushed her all the way to the top. Then he dragged her through the woods toward Ghel. Every time she fell down, he picked her up again, with an infuriatingly cheery smile.

After a couple of hours, Elenn found herself able to stumble along behind Aedin on her own. The movement and exertion helped a little to clear the fog in her head, although it did nothing for the pain. Sometimes it was all Elenn could do to stay vertical, especially since she needed at least one hand to hold her throbbing head together.

Staggering forward as best she could, she was smacked in the face by a tree branch which sprang at her out of nowhere. The blow dumped her flat on her back, and knocked the wind out of her.

“Aedin!” she cried, holding her aching head with both hands. She did not know what she had done to merit this monstrous injustice.

Without warning, he was on top of her, holding his hand over her mouth. Frantic with the fear of being suffocated or worse, Elenn struggled and tried to scream. She pummeled him with her fists and even bit, but he did not move his hand.

“Dragon,” he whispered, an urgent tension in his voice.

Elenn froze.

Aedin lifted his hand from her mouth and gradually shifted his weight until he was seated besider her.

She heard nothing at first, but then there was a quiet rustling like Cauleyne the chamber maid shaking out the rugs. It was the rhythmic beat of the dragon’s enormous wings, flapping in the distance. As it grew louder, Aedin pulled her under the cover of a nearby mountain ash. Through the leafy branches, she watched, paralyzed with fear.

Above the trees flew the dragon, its red scales glittering in the sun. The giant beast was only three hundred yards away. Elenn buried her face in Aedin’s chest, clutching her head with both hands. Aedin embraced her and stroked her hair, and she clung to him, pathetically.

A minute or so later she regained her composure enough to remember that she was angry with him, and she shoved him away, more rudely than she intended. He stood up, a little stiffly, and didn’t offer her a hand.

Aedin hoisted their gear onto his left shoulder. “From here,” he said, “we’ll be heading east to the Narrows.”

“Will it come back?” Elenn asked.

“Doesn’t often come this far north,” said Aedin. “Usually stays below the cataracts. But I heard him twice yesterday when I was outside the cave. In truth, everything below the Lough is his territory, and we would do well to remember that.”

Elenn nodded, and rose to her feet unsteadily. She felt terrible. Her head was reeling. The dragon, the hangover, the drowning, the crow monsters, Leif’s assault, the death of her aunt—it was all too much. Her stomach heaved.

“Time to move,” Aedin said.

Elenn took one step to follow him, and bent double to vomit.

Aedin recoiled from the splash with a groan of disgust.

“I’m all right,” said Elenn, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Aedin shook his head and walked on without her. “Better be the best bloody farmland in Deira,” she heard him mutter.

That evening, as they crested a ridge in the forest, Elenn could see down into the valley below. A small village in the far distance was in flames. The dragon circled slowly, almost lazily in the air above the buildings, swooping down to breath huge blasts of flame.

“Are there people down there?” Elenn asked.

“Maybe a few,” Aedin said quietly. “This country has been more or less abandoned for years, but sometimes you find people in deserted buildings.”

“What people?” asked Elenn.

“Outlaws, mostly,” said Aedin. “Sometimes desperate refugees.” He shifted his pack. “Not that there’s much difference between the two.”

They watched for several minutes as the fires spread and the dragon darted here and there, sometimes pouncing on prey too small to see from this distance. Elenn wondered if it was people that the dragon was hunting. She hoped that it was sheep or cattle.

This area between the Lough and the Cataracts had once been the object of an intense three-way dispute between the Lairds of the Riverlands, the Leodrine Order, and her own Adair ancestors. Green and fertile, the land was rich in gold and other ores. It ought to be full of farms, villages, mills, castles—people. But the dragon made that impossible. It was a living scourge, as Aunt Ethelind had read to her out of the prophecies of the elders.

“A plague of fire,” said Elenn quietly.

“Aye,” said Aedin. He shook his head and walked on.

They picked their way slowly through the forest, which was thicker in the valleys and thinner at the top of hills and ridges. They kept their eyes on the skies, but they did not see the dragon after the burning village was out of sight.

In fact, they saw few signs of animal life other than birds. The forest was eerily still. Perhaps the dragon had frightened the deer and other animals into laying low. Elenn wanted to whistle the song she had been teaching to Gawaine, just to break the tension, but her sputtering attempts only earned her a glare from Aedin, who told her to be quiet. For a while she was, but the silence was oppressive.

“Where do you think it’s gone?” asked Elenn. “Back to its lair?”

“Maybe so, maybe no,” said Aedin. “Never could figure the confounded thing out. Neither could the Vitalion for that matter. Can’t kill the thing. During the war, we shot it with a ballista… Bolt was steel-tipped, five yards long and as thick as your arm… Just bounced off. Didn’t even slow it down…”

“Only a Paladin can kill a dragon,” said Elenn, trying to remember the prophecies.

“Didn’t have one handy at the time,” said Aedin a little bitterly.

Elenn had no answer to this, so she went back to walking behind Aedin in silence. But this left her alone with her thoughts, which were a tangle of fears, doubts, and confusion. She needed to speak, if only to bring order to her jumbled mind.

“Last night,” Elenn began soberly.

Aedin grimaced, but Elenn forged ahead. “Later last night,” she continued, “did we…” She trailed off, unable to finish.

“You know,” said Elenn, “I always say too much when I drink.” She looked at Aedin’s face, but it was unreadable. Did he know something? Had she revealed her secrets? “But, I didn’t… say anything?”

“Nothing I can think of,” said Aedin.

They walked.

“And we didn’t…” She took a deep breath. “… do anything… improper?”

“No,” said Aedin. “Nothing.”

Elenn sighed with relief.

“I mean, you did dance about in the altogether for a while,” said Aedin with a grin, “but you did it good and proper.”

Elenn stopped in her tracks, hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, you should see your face!” Aedin hooted.

Laughing, he continued through the woods, leaving her behind. He strode confidently through the brush until he was whipped off his feet and yanked up into the air.

Elenn immediately thought of the dragon and threw herself to the ground. But when she heard him cursing, she opened her eyes. Rather than being devoured alive by a hungry dragon, Aedin was dangling upside down in the air, a rope wrapped around one leg. As she watched him twist around, the eagle-headed Sithian sword fell from its sheath. Aedin tried desperately to catch it, but missed.

Elenn walked over to help him.

“No!” cried Aedin.

But it was too late. Elenn felt a rough rope tighten around her ankle, and then she too was wrenched off her feet and hoisted into the air. Her head, which had been feeling a little better, began to throb painfully as all her blood rushed down to her head. She felt like her eyeballs would explode.

“Aedin! Help me!” Elenn called out, holding her head with both hands.

There was a commotion in the woods. Elenn opened her eyes to see two men come running out. From their clothes, they looked like Riverlanders, not men of Ghel.

“Aedin!” cried Elenn. “Aedin, do something!”

Cursing, he spun around uselessly at the end of his rope.

The two men approached Elenn without speaking a word. They cut her down, pulled her roughly to her feet, and put a bag over her head.

“Aedin! I can’t see,” said Elenn. “What’s happening?”

“Criminy,” muttered one of the men. “This one’s talky.”

“You have no idea,” said Aedin.

Elenn could not believe that he would say something so rude and insulting while they were being kidnaped. It was inhuman. “Aedin! Aedin, how could you?”

She tried to think of something else to say—some appropriately cutting rebuke to get him to repent of this monstrous cruelty. A moment later she was surprised by the men pulling off her hood.

“Oh!” Elenn, said, pleased. “Why did you—”

One man shoved a filthy rag in her mouth and tied it in place with another rag, gagging her. He smiled and pulled the hood back over her head.

“Thank you,” said Aedin.

Elenn’s tears flowed freely as she was thrown over the back of a stranger and lugged through the woods like a carpet. Yesterday she had seen hideous things made of crows. Today she had seen a rapacious dragon. But perhaps the worst monsters were people.

***