The Crown and the Dragon (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aedin hated to speak so callously to Elenn, but showing their captors that he cared for her would only encourage them to use her pain in an attempt to get to him. The best thing he could do to keep her safe was to demonstrate indifference—even hostility.

Still, it was pretty miserable to listen to her sobbing as they were dragged through the woods with bags over their heads. The poor girl had been through so much, and Aedin knew he was responsible for a great deal of that pain.

To take his mind off Elenn’s heartbreaking whimpers, Aedin tried to figure out who they were dealing with. Their abductors had taken their valuables, including the Falarica and the fat gold ring Elenn had given him as collateral. Simple robbers would have slit their throats, though, instead of taking them captive. Slavers would definitely have kept Elenn alive, but probably would have either killed Aedin or tried to recruit him. And one of the Orders would have accused them of something before taking them into captivity.

No, these men must be scouts for a local clan. Some of the original inhabitants of the southern highlands—like the Taftoughin—had survived twenty years hiding under the shadow of the dragon. There were also desperate refugees who had come here to try to scratch out a living—like the Trelawneys. And some clans from outside dragon country were looking to expand—like the Maulduin from around the Lough, the Halsings from the North, or the Deegan from the Riverlands.

As he stumbled along in the dark, Aedin listened to the men speak, and judged them to be from Ghel. This eliminated the Trelawneys, the Halsings, and the Deegan. Maulduin or Taftoughin, then. Inside the sack, Aedin frowned. Neither possibility was good. Leif was a Malduin. If he was with them, Aedin would be killed and Elenn forcibly married. As for the Taftoughin, Aedin had fought both for them and against them—but most recently against. They were likely to hold a grudge.

Whoever they were, the men dragged them along for what seemed like an hour or two, although it was difficult for Aedin to tell. When they stopped, the men bound their hands and feet together and then took off their hoods, one at a time. Aedin got water and a little bread. Then the sack went back on and someone shoved him to the ground and told him to sleep.

Aedin listened to Elenn go through the same thing. As soon as her gag was removed, she began begging, telling the men that she meant them no harm. They told her to shut up or she would get no food or drink. She became quiet, and Aedin thanked the Gods and prayed that she would simply endure in silence.

But as soon as the men were done feeding her, Aedin heard Elenn again pleading—and protesting that she could not sleep bound and gagged, with her head in a sack. This earned her what sounded like several unpleasant cuffs. Aedin forced himself to laugh, which got Elenn crying harder. It was vile, but Aedin told himself that he was saving Elenn’s life.

Elenn cried herself to sleep. She must have been exhausted. Aedin was pretty well beat himself, but he couldn’t really sleep. He was listening for any sign of further harm being done to Elenn. He didn’t know what he could do about it, but the prospect kept him awake much of the night anyway.

In the morning, they got another drink of water and were again dragged through the woods. After three or four hours, Aedin began to hear the sounds of sheep, and of people. Their journey was coming to an end, for good or for ill.

Their captors came to a halt and untied the cords that held the burlap sack on his head. Aedin steeled himself, knowing that he might well be facing execution. A hand pulled off the sack, and Aedin found himself dazzled by the light.

Blinking to clear his vision, he saw that he stood in the ruin of an old stone brough-fort, with sunlight streaming in through holes in a charred roof. Burn marks on the walls and massive damage to the structure told him that this place had fallen prey to the dragon.

Next to him stood Elenn, still gagged. Her eyes, one bruised black, glared cold hatred at him, and Aedin raised his eyebrow at her in disdain and then turned away with a snort.

The scouts who had captured them stood at either side, heads bowed. Atop a makeshift dais of stones fallen from the walls perched a ratty throne, shielded from the midday sun by a goatskin canopy. Slouching on the throne was a great bear of a man with graying hair and the moldy remnants of a Laird’s cape. He grinned cruelly at Aedin.

Clooney Taftoughin.

Aedin smiled back, desperately fighting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had seen that grin before, and knew that it meant nothing good.

One of the scouts carried their weapons and valuables up to Clooney. As he delivered a whispered report, five women of various ages lurked near the throne, their hair modestly covered by shawls or caps. At least three of them he knew to be Clooney’s wives. A score of other ragged-looking folk lined the walls of the hall, watching in silence.

The scout finished and stepped off the dais. Clooney took a deep breath and regarded Aedin and Elenn with a stern gaze, stroking his unshaven chin.

Still smiling, Aedin winked.

Clooney laughed and leaped to his feet. “Aedin Jeoris!”

“Clooney,” Aedin replied, with the most amiable chuckle he could manage. “Been a long time.”

“Too long, too long,” said Clooney, walking forward with his arms outstretched as if to embrace an old friend. But when he got close, he delivered a vicious punch to the stomach that folded Aedin in two and left him crumpled in the dirty stone floor.

“You son of a Vitalion doxy!” shouted Clooney, his face red with rage. Then he laughed and leaned down toward Aedin. “That’s for Dunotten.”

Aedin gasped for breath and could make no reply.

“Mingin’ dobber tried to kill me,” said Clooney. Aedin looked up and saw that Clooney was addressing his remarks to Elenn. “Stuck a sword right through my side.”

Clooney lifted his shirt and showed Elenn a white scar about three inches across. Elenn looked at Aedin. Despite how cruel he had been, despite how hurt she must have been, worry was still apparent in her eyes. Aedin gave her as hateful a sneer as he could manage, and saw her expression change to one of cold fury. Much better.

Clooney returned to his throne and eased himself down into it.

“Clooney,” said Aedin with some difficulty, “you left out… the part where you were… standing on my head. In three feet of water.”

Clooney laughed. “Aye. I did.” He turned to Elenn again. “He was fighting for the enemy,” he said with a helpless shrug.

“The Vitalion?” asked Elenn, the words still compre-hensible through her gag.

“No,” said Clooney, “the Deegans. May they rot in the abyss.” He spat, very nearly hitting one of his wives, who looked askance at the spittle but did not move.

Clooney motioned with one hand at Elenn and one of the men removed her gag.

Before she could speak—and get them both in trouble—Aedin pulled himself into a kneeling position and spoke. “The Deegans did rot in the abyss,” he said, “right after you set fire to their keep.”

Clooney laughed. “Aye,” he said with a contented sigh. “Those were braw times.”

“So the debt is paid,” said Aedin.

“Ach! I’ve missed you, Aedin,” said Clooney, ignoring his question. “But it seems you fare well without me.”

Clooney motioned for one of his wives to come forward. As she did, she pushed back her cloak, revealing herself to be a short, pretty, dark-haired woman. He produced the chain with Elenn’s ring and hung it around her neck, which earned him one smile and four hard stares from the other wives.

He next pulled out the case containing the Falarica. Opening it, he held up the artifact for all to see. The intricate silver filigree caught the light, eliciting excited gasps and whispers from his assembled people.

Elenn shot Aedin a look of panic, but he was in no position to help. In fact, his position had seemed rather desperate from the instant Clooney’s wife had shown her face. He knew her. It was Nywen, his estranged wife.

She called herself Lilith now, or at least she had when Aedin had last seen her. It was the name she had chosen when she had begun to study conjuring, against his wishes. Looking back, he saw that the fight had been less about magic and more about how far they had grown apart. It had not ended well. Aedin gritted his teeth.

As Clooney sat back down on his makeshift throne, Lilith stared daggers at both Aedin and Elenn. Aedin tried a cautious smile. Lilith smiled back poisonously, her eyes full of hatred. Fingering the gold ring, she leaned down and whispered into Clooney’s ear. The clan leader nodded, and then waved her away.

“So, where’d you get this pretty piece?” asked Clooney, looking at Elenn instead of the Falarica that sat in his lap. He winked.

“Not mine,” Aedin said, “but I can explain.”

“None of your silver-tongued explaining,” interrupted Clooney. “It doesn’t belong to you. And that makes you a thief, on a nobleman’s land.”

“Clooney, please,” Aedin began, but a backhanded slap from one of the guards cut him off. Lilith looked as pleased as cat with a mouthful of mouse.

“It sticks in my throat,” said Clooney sadly, “but one must keep to the old ways. String him up, boys!” The assembled people shouted with obvious delight.

“But make it quick,” said Clooney, as the guards pulled Aedin to his feet. “This one and Clooney Taftoughin had some braw times together.”

“You treacherous knave!” Aedin shouted, as the guards began to pull him away and out of the hall.

Then he heard Elenn’s voice, loud and clear, behind him. “Laird Taftoughin, I am Elenn of Adair, sole living heir of House Adair. My father was Ethelward Barethon, son of Syffred Barethon, of clan Wulfling.”

The guards stopped pulling Aedin away, and the people in the hall grew silent. Aedin was shocked himself.

“The object in question,” said Elenn, “belongs to me. Our peoples are kinsmen and I call on you to honor our bond of blood. I am journeying to the Leode of Ghel. This man is my escort and as such you may not harm him.”

Lilith stooped down to whisper again, but Clooney lifted his hand and she stepped back. “Ethelward had issue?” he said.

“He did,” said Elenn. “He and my mother were married in secret at Tantillion castle before the Vitalion invaded.”

Clooney leaned forward in his throne, studying Elenn’s face carefully. Then he stood, arms wide. “Welcome to my hall, daughter of Barethon and Adair.”

As the Taftoughins cheered, Clooney shot an angry look at the guard standing behind Elenn. “Free her, Slackjaw!” The man quickly set to work untying her.

“Ethelward was a great warrior, and I am proud to call him kinsman,” said Clooney. “Cousin, I shall escort you to the Leode myself!”

“Thank you, gracious Cousin,” said Elenn. “Gladly do I welcome your assistance, and long shall the generosity of clan Taftoughin be remembered.”

Clooney beamed with pleasure, and his people cheered him—and Elenn. Aedin couldn’t believe how she had turned them around. Perhaps all that fancy tutoring of hers had been good for something after all. He grinned.

Aedin took a step towards Elenn only to be jerked back by the guards. Outraged, he struggled, but to no avail. He looked up at Clooney, who smiled at him cruelly and nodded at his men. Once again, Aedin found himself being dragged from the hall.

Aedin looked to Elenn, who regarded him coolly. He could not blame her. Nor could he explain himself—not so quickly, not at this distance, not in a hall full of shouting Taftoughins. Aedin’s chin fell to his chest.

Aedin’s mind raced. He was on his own again—at least for now—but this was probably not the end. Elenn had called him her escort, which made Aedin one of the only two things that Elenn had expressed any interest in. So Clooney would probably have his men rough Aedin up, but he was too useful to kill—even as a favor to one of his wives. On the other hand, who knew what a conjuror like Lilith might be capable of?

As Aedin considered the horrific possibilities, the guards stopped. Aedin looked toward the throne, and saw Clooney, with one finger lifted, signaling his men to wait. Elenn was leaning over and speaking into his ear. Lilith watched, red with fury.

Clooney laughed and straightened up. “Bold as a Barethon, to be sure,” he said. Turning to the guards, he said, “Free the lady’s servant.”

The guards released him and began untying his bonds. Aedin bowed himself humbly toward both Clooney and Elenn. He hated being called a servant, but it was better than being executed.

Lifting his head, Aedin tried to catch Elenn’s eye, but she would not meet his gaze. She merely smiled at Clooney and said, “Thank you, Cousin.”

Clooney nodded, grinning. He seemed to enjoy playing the magnanimous lord. “Taftoughins,” said Clooney loudly, “leave me now, but return in the evening. We shall have music, dancing, and a great feast—all in honor of my noble kinswoman, Elenn Barethon, Lady of Adair.”

The Taftoughins cheered and left the hall. Lilith slipped out, without a word to Clooney. As she exited, she looked back and showed Aedin a satisfied smile that worried him more than her previous venom. But there was nothing he could do about that for now.

So Aedin walked up and stood at Elenn’s side, ducking his head as a respectful servant should. She ignored him. Was she just playing her part, too—or was she still angry with him? If they could only get a moment alone!

“Come and sit, Cousin,” said Clooney. “My wives shall entertain you with what little we have.” He got up from his makeshift throne and went to sit on the bare, dirty stone floor in the center of the hall. With one hand, he embraced the trappings of nobility and with the other he rejected them. He was a hard man to figure out—not least because he liked to keep his adversaries guessing.

While Clooney’s back was turned, Elenn quickly turned to Aedin and mouthed the word, “Wives?” Perhaps this did not signal her forgiveness, but at the least she was thinking of him as being on her side again.

Aedin leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Yes, wives. And for the love of all the holy gods, don’t mention the coronation if you want to see that horn again.”