Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection

by Meg Cowley

  “We’ll stop there for now,” Aedon said, though he was only breathing slightly more heavy than normal.

  “I can continue,” insisted Harper. The magic made her feel alive, exhilarated, and buoyed her strength and agility.

  “It’s best that we do not push you too much, too soon. Not with what is at stake.”

  “What happens if you do?” Harper asked as she lowered her blade and let the magic fade away. Glowing blue flame along the dagger faded into nothing.

  Aedon lowered his own long, slim blade. “The magic will suck the very life from you and you die.”

  Chills flooded Harper. Before her, she did not see Aedon anymore, but Ilrune crumpling to the ground.

  It wasn’t the dragon that killed her. She used everything she had...to save me.

  “Harper?”

  “Ah, yes. Sure,” she said. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

  “Harper, wait up,” said Brand as he parried Erika’s strike. They disengaged and he ambled over, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His chest heaved with each breath. “Aedon and Erika, you spar. I’m going to go with Harper. I need a drink.”

  Aedon shrugged and turned to Erika, who frowned at Brand, then quickly parried Aedon’s strike.

  Brand walked beside Harper in silence to the all-day feast in the königshalle. The hall was busy, but not overly so. Many still trained at the various arenas around Keldheim.

  They each grabbed a bowl of stew and a wooden beaker of ale, then perched at the end of one of the long trestle tables.

  Harper tucked in with gusto, savouring the rich meat and tangy spices, but Brand ate slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.

  “So...” he eventually prompted. “Will you tell me more?”

  Harper met his gaze for a moment – serious and kind, as always – before looking away. “Only if you promise to hear me out and not change how you view me. I’m still the same person, just not sure how to make sense of any of this.”

  “I swear it. I will not judge you.” Brand returned to his food.

  The words tumbled out. Harper told him every detail of her vision. Somehow, she remembered it with clarity, as if it had been permanently etched upon her mind.

  When she finished, Brand’s food sat forgotten as he gaped at her. She squirmed under his scrutiny and folded her arms.

  “Well?” she asked, having no idea what she wanted him to say.

  He only shook his head, blowing out a loud gush of air. “In truth, I do not know what to say. I would not have believed it, but I know you would not lie about such a thing. How would you even know to?”

  He shook his head and ran a large hand through his messy locks, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “So, you are Harper, daughter of Ilrune, granddaughter of Arven, great-granddaughter of...Saradon?”

  She nodded.

  “Wait... Who was the dragon rider you mentioned?”

  Harper thought a moment. “Raedon, I think she said.”

  Brand’s dark skin paled. “Are you certain?” he asked, a little too quickly to be casual.

  “Yes. Why?” Her eyes narrowed.

  Brand stared at her for a second, impassive. “We must tell the others.”

  “Why?” Her voice rose an octave. “I’m not ready. I don’t even know how. Aedon will hate me, and Erika... Erika will worse than hate me!”

  “I will see that she doesn’t,” he growled. “And as for Aedon, you shouldn’t care.”

  “I’m not ready to tell them,” she insisted.

  “You must.”

  “I shan’t unless you tell me why.” She refused to lower her gaze this time.

  His eyes darted around. Their disagreement had begun to earn attention. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Raedon is the general of the Winged Kingsguard. He is also Aedon’s eldest brother.”

  Harper gaped. “What?” she breathed.

  “It’s true. You are... What? Twenty or so summers old? Raedon has been the general of the Winged Kingsguard since before you were born. It makes sense. He would have been tasked to exterminate the line of Ravakian, if no one except for Toroth and his predecessors knew it had endured.”

  “Aedon’s brother...killed my mother?” It could not be.

  Brand nodded, his face grave. “And that is why we must tell him.”

  Harper sat back, her own food forgotten, feeling sick to her stomach as the roaring of dragonfire consumed her once more. Yet again, she saw Ilrune’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

  Twenty-Eight

  Erika was on her feet before the vision ended, pointing at Harper with a shaking finger. “You are his kin?” she snarled.

  Brand rose to stand between them as Harper and Aedon scrambled to their feet. She ignored Aedon, pretended not to see the frown he cast her way.

  “Erika,” Brand said in a warning voice. “Do not be blinded. It was not her sin.”

  Erika swore in a harsh tongue Harper did not understand. “I have been travelling with him – with his blood – all this time.” She was pale, her body shaking with suppressed rage.

  “It is not her sin, just as it was not your sin,” Brand said through gritted teeth.

  Erika’s hand flattened the roughly cut fringe over her forehead.

  “All I know is my mother died to protect me,” Harper said in a low voice. “I don’t know anything about her other than her name.”

  Aedon stilled beside her.

  “Saradon...” Brand trailed off. Erika flinched at the name. “In the beginning, he was a revolutionary. He fought for the greater good, for the people, against an oppressive and greedy elven king. Toroth’s father. Somewhere along the line, his intentions grew less noble. He did not care who he harmed. For his sins, his entire family was executed. No one knew that he had any surviving children.”

  “Except the king,” Harper said.

  “Yes,” Brand allowed. “Who knows how he found out, then Toroth once he ascended the throne. But from piecing together what little we know, Toroth and his father continued the purge. They hunted Saradon’s House...your House...to extinction, for fear it would happen again.”

  “My mother couldn’t help who she was,” Harper said softly. “Was she guilty of no other crime?”

  Brand shrugged. “We have no way of knowing.”

  “But Raedon killed her anyway,” Harper said, her voice flat.

  “When you are of the Winged Kingsguard, you follow any and every order,” Aedon spoke softly, but with steel in his voice.

  Harper stared at him. He defends his brother?

  “As the general, even more so. You are the king’s will.”

  Harper finally began to piece it all together. Why he hated the king so much. Why he was an outlaw. Aedon had once filled that role, as well.

  She fleetingly wondered how many orders Aedon had been forced to fulfil that he otherwise would have refused. She wondered how many he had killed on the king’s orders, against the will of his own heart. She did not ask. She did not want to know.

  For a moment, she looked at him in a new light. Aedon, the general of the Winged Kingsguard. Stern. Unflinching. Emotionless. She didn’t know if she’d be able to see him as simply Aedon, the cheerful and charming outlaw, anymore. Simple, friendly, open Aedon.

  Fleetingly, Harper felt grateful it had not been he upon the dragon’s back. She had no doubt the outcome would have been the same. His brother was bad enough, but for it to be him... Her heart would truly break.

  If that were the case, my time with them would be over.

  Even so, she knew she could never pursue him. She looked at him with fresh eyes as he stared back impassively, wondering how she had ever been attracted to him. Wondering how she had not seen the dark side, the shadowed past, that all his merriment concealed. Her attention slid to Brand. As he calmly watched her, she knew he understood what was in her heart.

  “I do not judge you for your blood,” Brand said to her, then turned to Aedon. “Just as I do not judge you for your
blood...or your past actions.”

  “Neither do I yours,” Aedon murmured with a half-hearted smile that did not reach his eyes. His gaze dropped to the floor.

  Brand turned to Erika, his eyebrow raised.

  She pursed her lips, as if trying to keep the words in, then blew out a breath. “I will not judge you by your blood,” she growled and shoved past Brand to storm from their quarters.

  Harper watched her go. The door slammed after her, shaking dust from the ceiling.

  “She will be back,” Brand promised. “You know she is quick to anger and needs to burn off that energy before she can see clearly again.” He usually went with her, but now he lingered, as if unwilling to leave Harper and Aedon alone. Grateful, she drifted toward him.

  “I think I’ll call it a night,” she said. “I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to train anymore today.”

  Brand laid a hand upon Harper’s shoulder. “As you wish, friend.” The word sent warmth through her, and she smiled up at the great warrior gratefully. “I, too, have had enough of the day, but I had best go see that she is all right.” He jerked a thumb at the door.

  She did not acknowledge Aedon as she made her way to her room and barred the door. She heard Brand retreat, too, leaving Aedon alone.

  Harper quickly washed herself in ice-cold water and dressed again to sit cross-legged upon the bed, the scratchy but warm bedspread around her shoulders. Placing a candle upon a plate in front of her, she watched the fire slowly consume the tallow as her mind slipped to another time and place.

  She had so many questions, but one nagged at her repeatedly.

  Who am I?

  Twenty-Nine

  “I want you to understand why you’re not dead.” Erika’s voice loomed behind Harper in the dark corridor. She jumped and whirled around. Erika lurked nearby, a black figure shrouded by shadows.

  “W-What?” Harper stammered, conscious that she did not even have her knife upon her, the others beyond shouting distance. She backed into the wall, fingering the rough texture of the stone behind her.

  “If they had not been there to defend you, you would already be gone,” Erika said. Harper could hear the scowl in her voice.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.” Harper straightened, refusing to cower, even though she was no match for the nomad woman.

  “I know. And that’s why I’m sorry.”

  Harper gaped.

  “It makes me so...so...furious!” Erika seemed to struggle to find the words to say just how much.

  Harper did not reply, stunned into silence.

  “Anything of...him is a reminder. Saradon.” Erika stepped into the faint light, her hand lifting the fringe she always kept flattened over her forehead.

  Harper gasped.

  For the first time, she could see the scar marring it. Saradon’s Mark, branded into Erika’s forehead.

  “How? Why?” she breathed.

  “This is why I hate him so,” Erika answered in a low voice. She swept her fringe down again, her attention fixed upon the floor, in another time and place. “I am one of the Indis, the warrior nomad tribes. Five hundred years ago, most of my people bound themselves to Saradon’s cause.”

  Erika bared her teeth. “When he was defeated, our people were hunted and exterminated like vermin, almost to extinction. To this day, some support his ways. Fools. So our persecution never ended. One day, they came for us.”

  Harper stayed silent, transfixed.

  “They killed any who were not useful. The matriarchs, the men, ones who would not bow to them or change their ways. Submission is not in our nature. The Indis either win or we die trying. They branded the rest of us and sold us into slavery. My mother was killed. My father. My brothers. In his name. I was nine.”

  Harper sank against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”

  Erika let out a harsh bark of laughter. “It’s not your fault. I eventually got my revenge. In a way, you are just like me. We have our ancestors’ bad blood, but we are not them.”

  Harper dithered, unsure what to say or do.

  Erika looked at her, her hard eyes glinting. “You are one of us. I will fight with you, defend you. But if you ever betray us, if you ever take up his cause, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  Harper narrowed her eyes. For some reason, she felt relieved, not scared. She understood that Erika now trusted her, truly, for the first time.

  “I do.”

  Now I know where I stand with her, understand her. Why she is how she is.

  Erika turned and strode away without another word. When she had gone, Harper let out a deep breath.

  I did not see that coming.

  THEIR DEPARTURE WAS upon them in no time. A company of dwarves led by König Korrin’s own command, as well as Jarl Halvar’s group, assembled in the halls of Keldheim, ready to depart through the Thirl Door. Harper fell in with Brand, Aedon, and Erika amongst Korrin’s dwarves.

  Korrin stood before them all, resplendent in his full armour of many-hued plated metals, embellished with enamel inlays of wolves, dragons, and gods across his body.

  “We travel silently. We strike hard and fast. We return with our kin.” König Korrin’s voice rang through the silent hall. The entire room saluted him at once, fists to chests.

  Harper wished she could have spent more time training. She could wield her slim blade with better skill than before, and her magic had come on in leaps and bounds, but she had seen what awaited them beneath Afnirheim and was under no false illusions that her skills would see her through. She was glad for her companions now more than ever, knowing what they journeyed toward.

  It took hours of tramping through dimly lit caves and up a steep incline before they reached Keldheim’s Thirl Door. At the king’s touch – Harper could not see much, trying to crane her neck over those standing in front of her – the Thirl Door opened, light and fresh air tumbling in.

  The breeze was so cold, a welcome change from the moist, warm, stale air of the caves, that Harper pulled her cloak tighter, grateful for the thick wool. After walking through the Thirl Door, they followed the könig’s men down into the thickly wooded valley, where the sky was lost to the green canopy above and, once more, the confining darkness under the evergreens consumed them.

  AT MIDDAY TWO DAYS later, with little rest, they approached Afnirheim. The mountain stood as silent as any other, but the könig took no chances. His scouts melted between the trees, weapons out, in a wide, sweeping line before them.

  Up they climbed to where Afnirheim’s Thirl Door nestled right at the top of the tree line, tucked into the cliff and shrouded by the towering pines. The narrow stairs, cleverly hidden amongst clefts in the sheer faces, forced the dwarves to ascend in single file. The host dithered impatiently at their foot, waiting to climb.

  Just as Harper had seen it in her vision, it was an innocuous cliff with no hint of a door, but Korrin knew where to look. At his touch, light flared briefly, illuminating the outline of the door. When he placed his palms upon it and pushed, it clicked open.

  “I’ll need your help with the könig’s plan.”

  Harper jumped in surprise at the sound of Aedon’s voice in her mind, earning a scornful glance from Erika. She had not become entirely at ease with being able to speak into another’s mind, though Aedon had her practise until she could manage it. It reminded her far too much of Dimitrius. And it still felt far too intimate for her liking. She still could not bear to go near Aedon, knowing what she now knew of her mother and his brother.

  “Yes?” she answered dutifully, waiting for her turn to file through the open door into the darkness of Afnirheim.

  “Goblins thrive in the dark. They almost have night vision, like an owl. Dwarves, on the other hand, need light to see, which goblins abhor. So we, dear Harper, are going to make sure our friends can see. You’ll just have to follow my lead. All right?”

  She could hear his grim glee as he looked toward the mountain with anticipation.

  She, in c
ontrast, felt sick to her stomach. “Sure.” She focused on trying not to vomit.

  It was their turn. The way was wide enough for three to pass abreast, so she filed in with Aedon and Erika, whilst Brand took up the rear, his wings taking a row by themselves. In silence, they tramped inside, led down the smooth way by Aedon’s dim faelights.

  The farther they descended, the more the stench grew with the heat, until Harper felt nauseous with that, as well. She was glad for an empty stomach for a change. She had barely been able to eat that morning through worry about what they were to encounter – and what they might find.

  She concentrated on Ragnar, seeing him in her mind.

  Unexpectedly, Korrin halted, summoning Aedon and Harper. They pushed through the ranks of silent dwarves to find the way in front of them branching off into six different passages.

  “We are nearly upon Afnirheim’s lower levels,” Korrin murmured. “I need you to sense ahead, tell me precisely where the goblins are, as well as Ragnar and the dwarves.”

  Aedon shook his head. “I’m afraid it is not so easy, König. We have nothing of the dwarves or the elves to trace them by.”

  “Wait...,” said Harper, struck by inspiration. “I have something of Ragnar’s.” She looked at Aedon. “You can trace him using it, yes?” she asked, then spoke into his mind. “Just like you traced me using my knife.”

  He nodded. “Yes. What is it?”

  She unshouldered her pack and rummaged through it, to the sound of the könig’s impatient tsking. “Here.” She passed Aedon the one thing she had of Ragnar’s – the tiny chatura piece he had given to her.

  He smiled sadly, nodding. “This will be perfect. König, we can find precisely where Ragnar, and your kin, are. With them, I suspect we will find the goblins.” Aedon passed it back to Harper, much to her surprise. “You’ve done this before, with the Dragonheart. You know how.”

  She swallowed. Did she? It had been different with the Dragonheart. Instinctive. Ragnar was another matter. Everyone looked at her, silent and expectant. She swallowed and closed her eyes.