The Crown and the Dragon (3 page)

“Yes,” said Elenn. The Vitalion had killed her father when she was nine.

Ethelind hugged her again. “My poor dear.”

“So why didn’t Mother tell me?” Elenn asked.

“After Mathis was slain,” said Ethelind, “Kaiteryn became fearful. She wanted to wait until you were approaching the age of inheritance.”

“That’s three years from now!” Elenn cried. “That’s ridiculous! I am almost eighteen! I am old enough to know who I am and who my parents are!” She balled up her fists to keep her hands from trembling.

“Do not blame them,” said Ethelind, softly. Your grandparents were fine people. Their passing is a loss for all of Deira.”

Elenn looked away and said nothing.

“You and I can mourn them together,” said Ethelind gently. “And your parents as well. We can also honor them by working to free Deira from the Vitalion enemy.”

“How?” asked Elenn. “There are just two of us, and they have whole armies full of men with swords. And the dragon.”

“Men with swords have their uses,” said Ethelind, “but there are foes they cannot defeat, which you and I must face. Keen wits, and patience, will be better arms for us than swords.”

“That’s not an answer,” said Elenn.

Ethelind said nothing, gazing into Elenn’s eyes. Elenn felt like she was a piglet being weighed at the market. She tried not to blink. She kept her chin up and stared right back, as her mother had told her she must do when someone stared at her.

As her grandmother had told her, Elenn corrected herself.

At last, Ethelind grunted, and nodded slightly. Then she picked up the book of prophecy again.

“Our people cling to the edge of the abyss,” said Ethelind, as she turned the pages. “But they have one hope: that a hero will rise up and deliver Deira, as our Elders have said.” Stopping on a page, she passed the book to Elenn, and pointed with her finger to a particular verse.

Elenn took the book and read, “‘Born of light, the Paladin makes war with the abyss; to crown a dragon, to kill a dragon.’”

“Exactly,” said Ethelind. She smiled in grim satisfaction and took back the book.

“That’s still not an answer,” said Elenn.

“It’s all the answer you will get tonight,” said Ethelind. “Return to your chambers. We will speak more tomorrow.”

***

Chapter Two

Aedin Jeoris was third in line to be hung. His head still rang from the sling stone that had knocked him out less than an hour ago. Vitalion justice was nothing if not swift.

The stink of burning hair and searing skin filled the air, because the Vitalion soldiers had branded them all as robbers. All but Aedin and three others. The four of them, with a brand on each arm already, had been slated for the noose.

“Know why they do it one at a time? Why we have to watch each other die?” asked the man behind Aedin, an ugly, bald brute named Leif. Getting no reply, he continued nonetheless. “Just to torture us. The Scales love to see us suffer.”

“No,” Aedin said with a shake of his head, “to break us. Get us to squeal on Garrick and the rebellion.”

“Garrick the Dragon,” spat Leif. “He’s a dragon all right—raining down destruction on friend and foe alike. Him, the Scales, the Orders—they’re all the same.”

Aedin said nothing, distracted by the maddening sting of sweat in his eyes. He wanted desperately to wipe it away, but his wrists were bound behind his back. It wasn’t fair. He had argued against the ambush. And he had bolted at the first glint of scale armor when the fat merchant caravan had turned out to be bait in a trap set by the Vitalion. But cavalry auxiliaries had chased him down and now, here he stood, waiting his turn.

Twenty feet in front of him, a couple of soldiers cinched the noose tight around the neck of a man Aedin knew only as Dawes, who had been set on the back of a palfrey mare. Aedin counted more than fifty Scales milling around, some guarding the prisoners, others just spectators. There was no escape.

“Mercy!” Dawes cried, which elicited laughter from the Vitalion soldiers.

“Mercy,” scoffed Leif. “Stinking Scales don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Too true,” said Aedin.

Dawes begged for his life as the soldiers threw the other end of the rope over the sturdy branch of a Renonian Oak, which grew tall up here by the Tay Barrows. A boy sitting up in the tree looped the rope around the branch a few times, tied it, and cut the slack rope free with his dagger.

Aedin’s grandmother called Renonian Oaks “pixie gallows”, because the long stems on the acorns made them look like little heads dangling from nooses. She had warned him never to close his eyes under their branches, or he would wake up in the world of spirits. Aedin had always heeded her before, but today he would have little choice.

“Almost wish I knew something to tell them,” said Leif.

“Joke’s on them,” said Aedin. “You’re too bloody stupid to be a traitor.”

Leif barked a laugh.

“Shut your flaming mouths,” growled Orren, now the first in line. Like many Northerners, his dark hair and beard were braided in the fashion of the warriors of Minnaeus. “Another few minutes and you’ll be meeting your ancestors. Show some respect.”

A Sithian cavalryman took the reins of the mare. Dawes was now sobbing so hard that his pleas were incomprehensible, his face shining with tears and snot.

“Hope I don’t go like that,” Leif muttered.

The Sithian walked the horse forward slowly. As the mare stepped away from the tree, Dawes tried to grip it with his legs, but to no avail. He slipped off the back of the horse, swinging and spinning on the end of the rope.

“Bloody Vitalion,” said Aedin, turning away. But with his arms bound, he couldn’t stop up his ears, so he had to listen to the cruel jokes of the Scales as they watched Dawes kick and struggle for his last breath.

“Devil take them all,” Leif said.

Dawes stopped kicking, and one of the soldiers—a sergeant, from the emblem on his helm—pointed at the man at the front of the line. Two soldiers grabbed him roughly by the arms and dragged him forward. This left Aedin next in line.

“This is it,” said Aedin. “No way out.”

“What if there was, though?” said Leif. “I mean, what if we knew something.”

“What have I got that they want?” said Aedin. “The location of a few loot caches. Think the Scales’ll let me loose for that?”

“Depends,” Leif said. “How much loot is in them caches?”

The scale-armored Vitalion soldiers knotted another noose, and the boy scurried out to tie the rope to another branch. As they set him on the horse, Orren was singing a patriotic hymn. So they stuffed a gag in his mouth.

“Enough to matter to me,” said Aedin. “Not to them.”

“You don’t know that,” said Leif. “How much?”

“Not enough to win back my wife,” said Aedin.

“That could still be a lot,” said Leif.

The soldiers walked the horse away again, and as they did, Orren pushed himself up and kicked himself off the back of the horse. His neck broke immediately, provoking curses and groans of disappointment from the Scales as his body swayed gently back and forth. They cut another length of rope.

Leif was saying something, but Aedin could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears. No one stood now between him and his own personal pixie gallows. Soon, he would be just another acorn dangling from the branch.

The sergeant pointed his finger at Aedin, and two burly Vitalion soldiers strode forward and took hold of him. Beneath the tree, they were knotting the rope into a noose.

“No,” whispered Aedin. “Not like this!”

The Scales laughed, and dragged him roughly toward the tree. Aedin dug in his heels and struggled to free himself, but it was futile—and from their boisterous jeers, just the kind of entertainment the Vitalion had been hoping for. Even the boy sitting in the branches was smirking.

“Torture us all you like, Scales!” shouted Leif suddenly. “We’ll never tell you how to find Garrick! We’ll die first!”

“I don’t want to die,” said Aedin, his eyes open as wide as he could get them. “Don’t want to wake up in the world of the spirits.”

“Should have thought of that before you joined the rebels,” said one of the soldiers. They lifted Aedin up on the back of the horse, and placed the noose around his neck.

“At the end of a rope, or in the dungeons at Tantillion,” Leif cried, “it’s all the same to the two of us. Let Corvus and his butchers have us for a week. We’re warriors of Deira! Our secrets die with us!”

The sergeant held up his hand, and the soldiers stopped.

“What secrets?” said the sergeant.

“I’ll never tell,” said Aedin, following Leif’s lead.

“We’ll see about that,” said the sergeant. “Cut him down.”

***

Chapter Three

On a warm summer night, Elenn awoke with a start, unable to recall what had torn her from sleep. Reassuring herself that she still had her mother’s ring around her neck, she tugged the ties on her nightgown tight and wrapped herself up in the sole remaining satin sheet in the manor.

A nervous chirp drew Elenn’s attention to the birdcage on the floor by her bed. Perched inside was her melodious parrot finch, Gawaine, his white feathers shining brilliantly in the dim light. Three years ago, when Elenn’s aunt Ethelind had become her guardian, she had bought Gawaine to keep her company. Elenn had loved him instantly.

“It’s all right, my gallant protector,” said Elenn to the bird.

Leaves rustled outside as the breeze blew through the stately mountain elms planted by her grandfather. But, glancing out the second-story window, Elenn saw nothing but the light of the moon reflected on white clouds.

“The dragon sleeps.” said Elenn, relieved that the dragon’s fires were not lighting the night clouds orange and peach in a macabre imitation of sunrise.

Gawaine chirped bravely.

“You should sleep, too, little warrior,” Elenn said. “Who knows what adventures tomorrow will bring?”

As she replaced the cover on his cage, she glanced around. In the cavernous darkness of her empty room, Elenn could not shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Since looting servants had left the chamber virtually devoid of furniture, there was no place to hide–except for the immense rosewood wardrobe, which had proved too heavy to cart off discreetly.

Elenn reached under her bed and gripped the handle of her brass chamber pot, which was thankfully empty. Sliding out from under the covers, she crept up to the wardrobe, avoiding the creaky floorboard. Holding the chamber pot like a mace, Elenn reached for the latch of the wardrobe. She drew a deep breath.

Throwing open the wardrobe door, Elenn very nearly cried “Aha!” But there was no one there, not even a moth. Elenn walked back to her bed, shoved the chamber pot under the bed, and climbed under the covers.

“Idiot,” Elenn remonstrated herself. “There’s no one in this old house but you and Aunt Ethelind.” Over the last few months, the servants had all deserted the manor, taking many of her family’s treasured heirlooms. It was criminal, tragic even. After twenty years of occupation, who would have believed that things could get worse?

Elenn sighed and lay back in her bed, just in time to hear a muffled knock at the front door. Her eyes flew open, and she threw back her sheet and sat up. The knock came again. The arrival of this mysterious visitor must be what had roused her from sleep. And not her only, Elenn realized, as she heard Ethelind’s bedroom door open, followed by footsteps on the stair.

Rising silently from her bed, Elenn approached her chamber door. As she strained to understand the urgent sussuration of conspiratorial whispers coming from the front door, she remembered her aunt’s lessons in what her grandfather had dismissed as “conjuring”.

Elenn spread her fingers out, interlocking the middle two fingers on both hands in a Leodrine gesture of blessing. Then she crossed her arms on her breast and closed her eyes. Clear your thoughts and fix your desire firmly in your mind, Aunt Ethelind said. Bend the world to your will.

“Listen,” Elenn murmured to herself. “Hear.”

At the bottom of the stair, the whispers stopped. Someone with heavy boots entered, and the front door closed. Then, more footsteps, and another door opened and closed. The parlor.

Smiling, Elenn opened her eyes. She turned the knob, slowly opened the door, and inched down toward the parlor. As she neared the doorway, she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Old Rodbert was supposed to have fixed it so it would latch properly, but then he ran off with the charlady three weeks ago and left the job undone—along with many other jobs.

Light, and the sound of tense conversation, spilled from within the parlor as Elenn approached. Her aunt and someone else spoke in hushed tones, but as Elenn drew near she could make out what they were saying.

“—must have the Falarica.” said a rough male voice. “So you must reach Garrick no later than Lammas Eve.” Elenn did not recognize the voice. But the accent was from somewhere near Lough Aislinn, whether in the Riverlands or in Ghel, she did not know. Given Ethelind’s connections to the Leode, Elenn guessed Ghel.

“Then I shall leave at dawn,” came the voice of Elenn’s aunt, sounding resigned. “This is a matter that must be tended to with the utmost haste.”

“I am glad to hear you agree, my lady,” the man said, sounding relieved. “They said you might prove difficult to…” His voice trailed off into uncomfortable silence.

Elenn, who had been on the receiving end of more than a few of Aunt Ethelind’s stony stares, could not help but grin.

The man cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said. “I meant no disrespect. May I have your leave to go and make the necessary preparations for our departure? We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“A long journey, yes,” said Ethelind. “But not for you. I go alone.”

Elenn frowned. Alone? Ethelind had taken her niece with her everywhere since becoming her guardian three years ago. They had visited the castles and estates of the various noble Houses, desperately trying to unify many small acts of rebellion into one great Deiran insurrection. They had been on pilgrimages to priories and abbeys, poring over dusty old books and the murmured words of sleeping Elders, seeking the key to defeating the Vitalion.

“My orders were to accompany you,” said the man. “The roads are not safe for a woman alone.”

“Women alone are more resourceful than men might believe,” said Ethelind.

Elenn’s frown deepened. Had Ethelind planned to leave her all along? Seven months ago, when Elenn had turned twenty, her aunt had declared that Elenn would never marry if she was forced to play traveling secretary to a mendicant Sister. With that, she left the Leodrine Order and the two of them had retired here, to the ancestral estate of Elenn’s adopted parents.

Elenn had believed that Ethelind had given up on delivering Deira from the Vitalion, but she should have known that the fires of vengeance that drove her aunt could never die. Perhaps she had merely been waiting for a message like this one, summoning her to join some scruffy band of rebels.

For seven months, Ethelind had told Elenn that she must learn to take care of herself, since she was near the age of inheritance. Elenn had joked that this was what husbands were for. It seemed less funny now, especially since the servants had all fled the estate. Ethelind could not abandon her now. Could she?

“I know you are resourceful, my lady,” said the man. “But the roads are full of bandits, deserters, and worse. I, myself, was pursued.”

“Bandits should know better than to harass an agent of the Order,” said Ethelind.

“They have become bolder, my lady,” said the man. “But in truth it was a Vitalion patrol that chased me.” He paused. “And if not for the importance of this message, I would have taught them a lesson about the valor of Deira’s sons.”

The man sounded young—close to Elenn’s age. She inched her head closer and risked a glance into the parlor. Through the not-quite-shut door, Elenn saw her aunt in a summer nightgown, her graying hair covered with a silk kerchief. Other women might have been uncomfortable entertaining a strange man so attired, but Ethelind sat straight and tall in a chair, her hands folded patiently in her lap. Even without the robes of the Leodrine Order, she wore authority like a mantle.

“Deira has many valiant sons, but fewer of good judgement,” said Ethelind. “Thank you for your discretion, Ranulf.”

“Duty before all, my lady—even honor,” said the man, Ranulf. With that name, he was definitely from Ghel.

Ranulf stood before Ethelind, carrying a cavalry helmet under his arm. He looked about twenty-five. He wore a leather plait-jack, and a great sword was strapped to his back, along with a plain bull-hide shield. His travel-stained tunic was decorated with the emblem of the Leode—a growing tree inside a chain of interlocked rings. His hair and beard were bedraggled, but he was not bad-looking, in a rough sort of way.

“Still, I’m surprised they bothered you,” said Ethelind. “The Vitalion generally leave the Orders alone.”

“Corvus has spies everywhere,” said Ranulf. “Perhaps he has finally penetrated the Order.”

“No,” said Ethelind dismissively, “there’s something new at work here.” She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Perhaps the new Imperator is moving against us. That would be a troubling development.”

“All the more reason to depart swiftly, my lady,” said Ranulf. “The Vitalion patrol may follow me yet—perhaps at my very heels. Forgive my impertinence, but my instructions were quite clear. Garrick must have the Falarica—”

“By Lammas Eve,” said Ethelind. “Yes, I know.” She stood. “I will leave at dawn. Thank you for conveying your message so diligently.”

Elenn whipped her head back from the crack in the door. She had lingered too long. Not wanting to be caught at the door, Elenn inched toward the stair.

“A pleasure to serve,” Ranulf said.

“Deira needs more sons like you,” said Ethelind. “Sleep well tonight, faithful Ranulf. You have earned it.”

“If my lady can forgive the suggestion,” Ranulf said, “I should like to prepare your horses for you. Tomorrow you will be on the road, alone. If you won’t let me escort you, please let me assist you tonight before you are beyond the reach of my help.”

“You have a generous heart, Ranulf,” said Ethelind, “and I thank you. But I will not be truly alone tomorrow. I will have my niece, Elenn, who is quite capable.”

Halfway to the stair, Elenn stopped and smiled. She was not to be abandoned. Then again, from the way this man talked about the roads … Elenn shivered.

“Elenn and I have traveled to every corner of this land in the last three years,” said Ethelind, “and I am sure the Gods will watch over us on this journey no less than any other.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Ranulf spoke again. “If anything should happen, the Leode has forever been a safe refuge. The Leodrine said you will always be welcome there.”

“That is kind of her,” said Ethelind. “She is well?”

“She is well,” said Ranulf. “She awaits the prophecy.”

“As do we all,” said Ethelind, “in our own ways.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Ranulf. He coughed slightly. “Well,” he said, with a jingling of arms and armor, “morning fast approaches.”

“Time for us all to be abed,” Ethelind agreed. “I will wake you before dawn.”

“Daylight will not find me here, my lady,” said Ranulf.

“Where will you go?” said Ethelind.

“South,” said Ranulf, “in case the patrol still follows me, or Corvus’s spies are watching.” There was the sound of a sword being drawn. “By my life I swear I will lead the Vitalion away from your door.”

“That is… very gallant of you,” said Ethelind. “There is a dun mare named Gerta in our stable. She is no war horse, but she is rested and strong. If taking her would aid you, she is yours.”

“I am sure she will serve me well,” said Ranulf. “May I offer you my own mount in exchange? By dawn he should be rested enough to carry you. Or your niece.” He paused. “Do you have another horse?”

“One is enough,” said Ethelind. “Your steed can pull the two of us, and a few of our possessions, in our little tub-cart. It will not be a speedy journey, but we will attract little attention—just two more refugees fleeing the chaos of the Riverlands. We should reach Garrick well before Lammas Eve.”

“I pray safe travels for you and your niece,” said Ranulf. “The future of Deira and the hope of our people go with you.”

“So let it be,” said Ethelind. “And safe travels for you as well.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Ranulf. Elenn heard the creak of leather and the jingle of metal buckles as Ranulf knelt. “May I have your blessing, before I depart?”

“Of course,” said Ethelind.

As her aunt invoked the blessings of the Gods on Ranulf, Elenn quickly ascended the stair. Opening the door to her chamber, Elenn slipped into bed. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, and the clatter of hooves outside, Elenn pulled the satin sheet up over her head and feigned sleep. Hearing the chamber door open, she ventured a light snore.

“Elenn,” said Ethelind quietly.

Elenn said nothing and continued to snore.

“Elenn,” called Ethelind less quietly. “Rise, child.”

Elenn inhaled deeply as if just waking up. She stirred slowly, and pulled the covers down from over her head. Blinking, she faked a yawn. “Aunt Ethelind?” she asked.

“Dress yourself,” said Ethelind. “Plain. We are leaving.” She turned to leave.

“Where are we going?” Elenn asked, trying to sound groggy.

“I know you were eavesdropping,” said Ethelind, standing at the door, “so you can stop the mummer’s act.”

Elenn stopped in the middle of an exaggerated stretch, feeling foolish. Ethelind walked out the door, and Elenn could hear her entering her own chamber.

“I might have heard a few things,” said Elenn, “but I still don’t understand what this is all about and why we have to leave.”

“I’ll explain later,” came Ethelind’s voice from the adjoining chamber. “But right now I want you up and about.”

“You told that man we would leave at dawn,” called Elenn.

“If we’re to be on the road at dawn, there’s work to do,” said Ethelind, her strong voice carrying through the door. “For a start, someone’s got to go care for
that man
’s horse. He’s been riding it hard, and he didn’t even have time to cool it off, the poor thing. We’ll need it to be ready to walk in the morning.”

“Let the—” Let the groom take care of the horse, Elenn had intended to say. But the groom had left more than a month ago with their two best horses. Elenn sighed and hopped out of bed. Finding her shoes, she picked up the bird cage, still covered.

“What did I tell you, little Gawaine?” Elenn said, carrying his cage down to the stables. “Tomorrow is bringing us an adventure after all.”

***