Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection

by Meg Cowley

  “It would appear so.”

  Annoyance spiked. “You have nothing else to say?”

  Dimitrius shrugged. “What is there to say? It’s a damn hopeless situation.”

  “Then you propose we lie down and die, admit defeat?”

  Dimitrius snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Saradon has all the power he needs now. His curse has run its course. But there is a prophecy that speaks of how he could be cast down with a Dragonheart. I know little more than that. I am trying to find the king’s stash, to no avail. If you have any answers, now would be a good time to share them.”

  “A prophecy?” Raedon’s tone was scathingly dismissive. “That’s what you’re wagering on?”

  “Until I find a better solution, yes.”

  Before Raedon could retort, the door slammed open and Liv strode in. She halted at once. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realise you had company.” But her eyes widened and mouth formed into a snarl as Dimitrius turned and she perceived him. “You! What are you doing here?”

  “Lovely to see you, too, dear Elyvia. It’s been a while. We should catch up sometime.” Dimitrius’s lazy smile irked Raedon, and it had the same effect on Liv.

  “I’d rather eat a dragon turd.”

  “Well, that’s uncalled for,” Dimitrius mumbled in false sorrow.

  Liv scoffed in disgust, then turned to Raedon. “Do you want me to come back later?” Raedon understood her unspoken request. Do you need me to stay?

  “We’re done here actually.” Raedon straightened. “Keep me informed, Dimitrius.”

  “As you wish, General. Elyvia.” Dimitrius smirked and vanished.

  Liv swore, and Raedon clenched his jaw. “Yes, I don’t like him or his secrets, either, Liv. But it seems it’s worse than we thought.”

  He recounted the spymaster’s admissions, until her own face slackened in disbelief, then despair.

  “I do not know who else we can turn to for help.” Raedon slumped against his desk, rubbing his hands down his face. “We can ask the dwarves, of course, but they will be eager to recover, rebuild, fortify. The woodland elves... Well, I am certain She will send no help.” He scowled. “Auraria cares not for anyone outside their own borders, and no realm across the plains or the seas is close enough. I fear we are to face this great enemy truly alone.”

  As his dislike of the spymaster faded, the familiar unease bubbled through him, as well as growing fear, for their prospects were far worse than he could have imagined. Even when the bulk of his forces returned from Valtivar, he would be powerless to restore peace to Pelenor against Saradon and the regime of the cursed Order.

  Thirty Eight

  Her shuddering heart and tremoring fingers betrayed Harper. She clenched her hands into fists and hugged herself, trying to stop them from shaking, then took deep, quiet breaths to try and still her heart.

  Nothing walked the halls. She stood for a second longer, listening, before slipping through the doorway and closing the iron-studded door behind her, slowly lowering the latch to avoid it clanging.

  The central chamber, where she had been initiated, was empty and quiet, but the hairs on the back of her neck tingled unpleasantly with the watchful presence of the place.

  Don’t be silly, she chided herself. You’re just imagining it.

  Without delay, she descended the stairs into the pit on silent, slippered feet. The mirror awaited, but this time, no Grandmaster or peers stood ready. They had taught her to scry, but she wanted to choose what she saw, with no prying eyes to watch her.

  She swallowed and stepped closer, careful not to touch the cold, metal rim or silvered surface that reflected her own uncertainty back at her. With a last darting glance around the empty, yet foreboding chamber, she stepped closer to the mirror, until her breath misted upon the cold surface.

  “Leitha Aedon,” she intoned, wincing as the searing magic burned her throat. Magic was not meant to be spoken by the mouths of elves, beings of intuition. Such words were meant for the tongues of the Eldarkind, those who guided magic with order, but corrupted from the original, pure tongue to serve darker purposes.

  She watched through watering eyes as the mirror swirled before her, and through it, a green and verdant forest came into view. She suppressed a cry of surprise at the beauty of the place, so different from the dark halls of cold stone that was now her life. This was the forest of summer, the vision of freedom that she so missed. Even the taint of mould and damp upon the air fell away for the briefest second as she imagined breathing in the scent of rain and foliage.

  Her vision trickled from the inviting sunshine filtering down through the canopy to the figures at its base. She gasped, seeing Aedon, Brand, and Erika lying at the feet of a dark and terrible elf who unleashed her wrath at their cringing, writhing forms.

  “No!” she cried out, grasping the sides of the mirror, her knuckles turning white, as though she could somehow step through the glass to lend them aid.

  When the door clattered open, she spun around, her eyes wide and face paling.

  Relief welled in her and she wilted at the sight of Dimitri. He swore and slipped in quickly, shutting the door behind him.

  “What on Altarea are you doing in here?” he hissed. “If you’re caught, if you’re found...” He did not need to say it. Rank or not, she would be punished for trespassing.

  “Look! Aedon, Brand, Erika... They’re in trouble!” She gestured to the mirror. “I have to help them!”

  Dimitri rushed down the steps to her side, searching the mirror. He shook his head.

  “You cannot. They are in the woodland realm. Tir-na-Alathea. They must be seeking the assistance of the woodland Queen... It would explain why there have been whispers of her spies about. Yet... It does not seem they are welcome there.”

  “We must help,” she implored.

  “We cannot,” he repeated softly, his hard eyes gentling at her distress. “If they are there, and her spies are here, I can only hope your friends seek to enlist her help. You must trust them. They seek what we seek–the knowledge and power to overthrow...him.” It seemed even Dimitri did not dare to speak Saradon’s, or Valxiron’s, name in the heart of the Order.

  Dimitri glanced around. “You mustn’t be caught here. I’ve been looking for you. The Grandmaster said you had gone to the privy. When you did not return... The Grandmasters come to meet here shortly. Even I cannot protect you if you are found. Come.” With a mutter, he wiped the mirror clear of her vision.

  Dimitri turned, striding up the stairs, but Harper dithered by the mirror...and the image of her friends in pain at the woodland elf’s hands.

  “What are you doing here?” a cold voice rang out.

  Harper whirled around, and her heart stuttered as Khyrion stepped into the chamber.

  “What is she doing here?” He advanced, his dark eyes glinting in the low light.

  Thirty Nine

  “She’s trespassing,” said Dimitri icily, glaring at Harper with cold eyes.

  She stilled, her mouth agape, confused, for he acted like a stranger. “I-I beg your pardon?”

  “A severe infraction,” said Khyrion, stalking closer, each step bringing him unbearably nearer to her.

  “Quite right, Grandmaster. She does not understand the ways of this place ye–”

  “And yet her ignorance does not excuse her. Her rank does not exempt her. You overstep the mark, Initiate.” Khyrion’s eyes glittered with savage pleasure.

  “Of course, First Grandmaster.” Behind Khyrion, Dimitri bowed, and the other Grandmasters now filing into the top of the chamber nodded approvingly at his deferral. “I sincerely apologise that she has trespassed upon your space. I will deal with her accordingly.”

  Khyrion frowned at Dimitri. “I think not. I will deal with this, for it passes within my domain.” His glare cut off Dimitri’s protest, and then his ire turned to Harper. “What business do you have here, princess?”

  She drew herself up. “Nothing.”

  “
Then why are you here?” Khyrion stalked closer, his dark green cloak swirling around his legs.

  “It’s none of your concern.” She blazed defiance at him. It was the wrong choice.

  He strode forward and struck her across the face with a backhanded blow that sent her crashing to the stone. She lay gasping and winded, her vision darkened, as he bent over her. “You do not speak to a Grandmaster thusly, Initiate,” he said coldly.

  Pain blazed through her as he attacked with magic that burned through her body until she convulsed, screaming so loudly she could not hear it anymore. She writhed upon the cold stone, tangled in the folds of her cloak and skirts, the room hazy through eyes that streamed with involuntary tears of pain, fear, and anger.

  Dimitri’s shadow upon the stairs wavered in and out of focus. Why did he not help her? Harper wanted to call out to him, but her voice had run hoarse and all she could do was screech in pain as Khyrion attacked her anew...and watch as Dimitri turned his back upon her and left.

  Forty

  A heartbeat later, they were somewhere else entirely. Aedon and his companions stumbled as the sloping ground beneath them suddenly became a level clearing, but they did not have much time to react, for within a moment, vines snaked around them.

  The greenery constricted, slithering around each of their limbs and pulling tightly until all three of them could not move a muscle. Forced to his knees, Aedon glared up at the Queen with tears of pain glittering in his eyes as he fought for breath, but he did not give Solanaceae the satisfaction of begging for mercy.

  “What...is...that?” She snarled, advancing upon him.

  “This is the truth,” Aedon choked out as he twisted his bare chest to Her. “He has returned, and I bear the scar to show it. If nothing else will convince you, let this.”

  “You’re a fool if you think I will believe any word you utter, thief,” She spat at him, shaking with anger. “You destroyed part of my forest, so you will die here and now.” At the clenching of Her clawed hands, the vines tightened around them, Aedon’s vision darkening.

  “Wait!” he gasped.

  The vines clenched for good measure, then halted. Aedon seized the opening. He was painfully aware of how vulnerable they were. They had survived the first trial on wit, the second by nothing more than luck.

  “We won the trial fair and square. We demand our third trial!”

  Magic tugged at him. Their binding–their agreement. He knew She would feel the same.

  She scowled at him.

  “Fine,” She replied, the word a threat in itself. “Here is your third trial.” Her lip curled, no hint of warmth in Her. “Choose between your companions.” She flicked a finger between them. “One lives. One dies.”

  “What?” Aedon spluttered, as Brand and Erika struggled harder behind him and cried out their own anger at Her.

  “That is my test for you.” Solanaceae grinned cruelly, and Aedon felt the magic subside. The bond had been satisfied. Her word had been given. He closed his eyes for a moment. There was no way out.

  Think, he urged himself.

  “You cannot ask me to sacrifice one of my companions, my Queen,” he said in a low, pained voice. The vines dug into him once more.

  She grinned all the more, taking savage pleasure in his pain. “Who will live...and who will die? It’s that simple.”

  “That is not a trial,” he answered quietly. “That is murder.”

  “Let them die!” She snapped. “Fail them like you failed your dragon, thief.”

  Aedon clenched his jaw at Her taunt. Throughout everything they’d experienced, he had learned that they could only truly succeed together–a lesson learned by Valyria’s death. They had to trust each other, as he should have trusted her. He would not let his companions down.

  “Save her,” Brand said in a low voice.

  “Take him,” Erika said at the same moment, and the two lovers glared at each other.

  Aedon swallowed. “Only two of us may leave the forest...alive?”

  Solanaceae smirked. “Yes.”

  There’s no choice.

  A dawning unfurling in his mind, which rolled a chill down his spine, he realised how the Mother’s vision had come to be, how it would come to pass. He only hoped he would live long enough to see it through. Aedon’s eyes flickered shut momentarily before he straightened as much as his bonds would allow.

  “If only two of us may leave alive, I choose my companions to be free.”

  Solanaceae frowned at him. “That is not permitted.”

  “You said it yourself. Only two may leave the forest alive. One may not. You specified no further. I choose myself to remain at your pleasure, and you will free my companions.”

  “No!” Brand and Erika shouted in unison, before they were cut off by the clenching of the vines that silenced them all, permitting no breath to pass into them.

  “You are already my prisoner. You cannot barter yourself to free them. I already own you.”

  “No, you do not,” he whispered. “But I will give you my word... If you release my friends, I will stay in their stead.”

  His heart thudded in his chest and dizziness assailed him with the foolishness and daring of what he promised to give over to Her–his freedom. Aedon lifted his chin to meet Solanaceae’s unforgiving, amber gaze.

  Forty One

  She glared at Dimitri venomously, loathing brimming inside her. “You’re a selfish bastard,” she spat at him. And I’m a damned fool, she cursed herself. I never should have fallen for him or his rubbish! He’s as dark and selfish as he ever was.

  Her face stung with the thought of every word, the mark from Khyrion’s strike upon her cheek bright and blooming. The assault on her senses was not helped by the acrid stench of vomit and excrement mingled with damp and staleness.

  “You don’t know anything,” he retorted, his eyes narrow slits as he stalked closer, stopping just out of her reach. She strained but could not reach him, swearing again when the chained manacles bit into her wrists.

  Before her, in the dim light, he was a shadow once more, but not a saviour this time. “You threw me to the dogs! How could you?” Her voice broke with anger–at the both of them–for the betrayal. He had deceived her, and she had failed herself.

  “Don’t you see?” He gestured around her squalid surroundings. “I’m trying to protect you from worse! A lesser person would be flogged, and goodness knows what else, right now.

  “You have clean water, food, a bed...of sorts–” he had the good grace to grimace, for the word was too grand for the rough, wooden pallet on the floor, “–and relative safety. If you’d like, I can take you below, where they don’t even have straw on the floor, don’t have a bucket to piss in, and sleep three to a cell.” His eyes glittered dangerously, but she knew it was a false promise.

  “Do it,” she taunted.

  He growled. “You know I wouldn’t. Damn it, I can’t get you out of here. Not yet. You must serve penance, but be grateful it is not a worse one!”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, my apologies, sir. Thank you for this honour,” she hissed with mock contriteness.

  “This is your own fault. You knew you ought not wander alone. And to scry in the Grandmasters’ own mirror? Utter foolishness!” He stalked closer, until their noses were inches apart.

  Harper resisted the urge to headbutt him, the only weapon she had left, for as much as she wished to, she could not hurt him.

  “Remember the bigger picture, Harper,” he hissed under his breath so only she could hear, away from the prying ears of any guards lurking outside. “Don’t be a fool. Remember the mask we both have to wear. Put yours back on. Play your part. And maybe, just maybe, you might survive this. I don’t know why I’ve tried so hard to keep you alive if you’re just going to throw it all away.”

  “Go sard yourself,” she cursed, too angry to consider the accuracy of his words.

  He issued a strangled sound of frustration. “Fine. Have it your way. Rot in
here. You’re welcome.”

  He walked out and the door swung shut, sealing her in darkness. She tugged against her bonds once more, snarling in rage, before sinking onto the low, lumpy cot.

  As her anger ebbed, she could see his logic, even understand it, though she did not agree. Perhaps his swift intervention had saved her from worse.

  This is bad enough, she thought grimly.

  Perhaps he had been right, too. She had squandered their chances just to see her friends. I thought I was being so clever, she thought glumly, a stab of loathing directed inward. I only made things more difficult for us both.

  I must get out. Her hope refused to be defeated. Aedon and his companions would not be coming to rescue her this time. Neither would Dimitri, if his anger held true. That hurt, too, but in a different way to her battered body.

  It would be even harder to pursue their task at hand if she were placed under extra scrutiny. Will they let me out? Worry curled in her. The world had been reduced to darkness and a thin sliver of light around the cracks of the door.

  I could get out using the way of travel Dimitri has been teaching me. I wouldn’t be able to go far, though. I might not be able to do it correctly yet.

  She swallowed. Doubt crumbled any hopes she had of that. For now, she was trapped there...to atone, Khyrion had promised.

  Complete solitary confinement and contemplation, interspersed with confession and atonement for sins through devotion, sacrifice, self-flagellation, and mandated punishment. She shivered at the thought of the unknown.

  The first atonement came in the form of Khyrion, who ordered her to strip off her clothes and put on a simple, rough tunic. She held the scratchy garment, staring aghast at Khyrion, who did not turn away or leave.

  “Please, give me some privacy?” she asked, injecting as much humility into her voice as she could.

  He only curled his lip at her. “You do not deserve such privileges, girl. Disrobe.”