Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection

by Meg Cowley

  “I don’t give a dragon’s arse what the wood elves think.” Dimitri scowled.

  He drew closer to Aedon, meeting his stare, willing him to feel the fervour dancing under his skin.

  “I need to know you will help her. I need to know you will swear an oath to me, like I did to you. Promise me that you will keep her safe.”

  Forty Eight

  Harper wandered through the barren palace gardens. Yawning windows overlooked the space, but they were all empty, for none of the court had survived or remained to spy on her.

  After her dinner with Saradon, he had decided her atonement was finished. She would still be under close supervision, with less freedom than before. Yet he had allowed her the boon of fresh air, at least, and the touch of winter’s faint light upon her cheeks.

  Eyes dull, she paused by the bare branches of a tangled plant, which had bloomed heavy with bright blossoms not so long before, and fingered the dry, cracking bark of the stem. That was what she felt like, too. Hollow and withering. She had no idea where Dimitri was, nor her friends. The gardens were silent, not a body moving amongst them, no birds nesting, not a leaf rustling. Isolation crushed her.

  How could she approach him? They had parted on such poor terms. Dimitri had been so mad, they both had, but aside from their tangled emotions, she knew as well as he did that greater things were at stake. She would set her feelings aside and work together for that, if for no other reason.

  Even if he despises me, a dark part of her mind taunted her.

  Saradon had not specified whether she was to return to Dimitri’s care. I will find him, she resolved, even if it is not so. She would try to make him see how much they ought to work together for the common good, even if it dashed the closest thing to affection she ever had before.

  RELIEF BLOOMED AS HE saw her cloaked figure moving between the dying gardens, her raven hair stark against the white sky.

  Dimitri drifted closer, until he hovered just beyond the periphery of her perception, just as he had the first time they had met.

  "What is a girl like you doing so very far from...anywhere?" he drawled, but he could not help the grin from spreading across his face at how different those words sounded with warmth behind them, instead of hostility and suspicion.

  She spun around at his voice, her eyes wide, but as she beheld him, her taut figure relaxed with relief, an answering smile as warm as his own unfurling upon her pale, wan face. To his surprise, she ran to him and buried her head in his chest, her arms snaking around him. Recovering, he embraced her, relishing the feel of her in his arms–safe, where she belonged.

  “I’m sorry,” they said at the same time. Both laughing, she pulled back from his chest.

  “It was stupid,” she said.

  “I know. I ought to have–”

  “It's all right. I was foolish, too.”

  This time, his kiss was gentle and filled with sadness. He savoured the feel of her soft lips on his, her cheek in his palm, for he knew he would be lucky to ever feel either again.

  He pulled away, their smiles sobering.

  “What happens now?” Her voice was hushed.

  He sensed the uncertainty roiling in her, and it mirrored his own. He pushed the sick swoop aside.

  “There’s not much time,” he murmured. “You’re leaving–now.”

  Her mouth fell open at his words, her lips twitching with a barrage of unasked questions. “How? What?” she spluttered.

  “Your friends–Aedon, the Aerian, and the Indis–are close by. I’m taking you to them. They’ll take you far away from here, where he can’t reach you.”

  “I don’t understand.” The way she tightened her grip on him only made the ache in his chest build further.

  “I think we both know there’s no way to find a Dragonheart. His curse has done its work and can go no further, so there is little point in seeking one to break it. And we do not even understand the prophecy, how a Dragonheart could be used to cast him down.

  “You are somehow tied to this. You are the key to his downfall, and I fear that one day, he will decide the risk you pose is too great. There is no hope for you here. We cannot break our bindings to him, but distance will help you. They will take you where he cannot find you, and thus, you will be safe.”

  “What about you?”

  He sighed. She did not miss a thing. “I cannot come. I started this. It’s only right I stay here to fix this mire.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.” Her gaze bored into him.

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead atop hers. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, a desperate edge to his voice. “If I lose you, I lose all anchor to hope.”

  “Then come,” she urged him, and he nearly gave in.

  “I can’t,” he said with a frustrated, strangled sound. Life was so enduringly cruel. He had finally found someone he could trust, let his guard down around, even possibly love, but fate stripped her away from him.

  It would be so easy to run. Take them both far away, beyond anyone’s reach, live in isolated bliss in some secret pocket far from strife...until the world burned around them and fate tore them apart, as it inexorably would.

  Instead, he would stay and hope Saradon did not discover his deceit, though he knew such hope was pure folly. He will kill me if he realises, Dimitri knew. He only hoped his own guile and power could save him long enough to see their mission through before he met what would most likely be his inevitable end.

  “You must go,” he urged. “Find a way to untangle Erendriel’s prophecies and cast him down. She meant for you to find a way, but we will not find it here. I will remain, keep doing whatever I can to crumble the Order and his work from within. It will be dangerous–for both of us–but I see no other way.”

  She swallowed, but nodded. “If you think it... I will be glad not to see any of the Order again, or him. When will we meet again?” Pain wrote itself in the crinkles of her face, and it seemed as though his chest would cave under the pressure of his own agony.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his throat burning around the lump there. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “I won’t ever stop trying to end this. We will see this done, and I will find you.” Even if it’s not in this life. “Until then, I cannot risk seeing you, even thinking of you, for fear that it will all be in vain.”

  Her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. He crushed her to his chest, savouring every part of her, memorising every angle of her body, the feel of her warmth. There was no more time.

  He slipped them away from the dying gardens, holding her through the nothingness as if she would slip through his hands and tumble away, for soon, they would be as empty and cold as his heart.

  Forty Nine

  The waiting yawned into endlessness. They were all twitchy, impatient to be off, away from Saradon’s domain where they lay most vulnerable, despite the silence of the woods and stillness around them reinforcing their secrecy.

  A whisper announced their presence. Dimitrius’s arms were tight around Harper as they materialised. Aedon’s eyes narrowed at the familiarity, especially when neither Harper nor Dimitrius stepped away to a respectful distance, but remained locked together–Dimitrius’s arm possessively around her, her hand upon his chest, both of them in a world of their own, locked in each other’s gaze.

  A twinge of jealousy tugged at Aedon at the obvious bond between them. Now he understood why Dimitrius had asked him such a great favour, had reconciled with him to see it done. He loves her. As did Aedon, yet realising it too late. He pushed aside his own turmoil at that. The past was the past and could not be changed. It would not stop him from helping her, as he had promised–to both himself and Dimitrius.

  Harper faced away from where they stood, gathered in a hasty arc, having roused at their movement. Dimitrius glanced up, and his face closed. When he gestured, Harper turned.

  At the sight of them, she cried, racing from Dimitrius’s side to tackle Aedon in a hug, then Brand, then Erik
a, a whirlwind of cloak and hair as they greeted each other with relief and warmth after so long apart. She had plumped into good health, but she was drawn, her face pale, eyes shadowed, a crease of worry etched in her brow.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  Dimitrius glared at him, but Harper smiled, carefree for a moment as she beheld her friends once more.

  “And you all.” She turned to Dimitrius, and her smile faded.

  He slipped to her side, lacing her fingers with his. Aedon did not miss the subtle squeeze of his fingers upon hers, a silent reassurance. Dimitrius met his gaze with a cool, unrepentant stare.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  In the background, the Tir-na-Alathean elves lurked, out of sight, as Aedon had demanded. They did not have time, not this close to Tournai or Saradon, for questions. The wood elves were already livid at this deviation from Solanaceae’s orders.

  “You were not seen?” Aedon asked.

  “No, but her absence will be missed soon enough. You are prepared?”

  “Yes. We’ll go to...where we discussed.”

  Dimitrius would not, could not know if they were to keep Harper safe. He nodded sharply. Harper gazed between them, nonplussed.

  “Good. Let’s not delay then.” Aedon glanced at Brand.

  The wood elves appeared through the trees at Brand’s whistle, and after quick and unfriendly introductions, Ta’hiir and El’hari stood ready, joining hands with Aedon, Brand, and Erika, leaving space for Harper to join them.

  She turned to Dimitrius. Her voice was low, but Aedon could hear every word, see the fervent desperation in her.

  “Are you sure you cannot come?” Her hands were tight on Dimitrius’s. He pressed a desperate kiss to her whitened knuckles.

  “I would if I could.” He smiled, but it was weak and unconvincing. “I’m a lost cause anyway. Best left behind.”

  Aedon knew Dimitrius understood the peril he placed himself in, especially now with the deception of helping Harper escape. He would be severely punished if his treachery were discovered. A strange part of Aedon no longer relished such things. At the anguish upon Harper’s face, he found himself hoping it would not come to pass. She had enough pain. Yet Dimitrius would only ever be free with Saradon’s death, a prospect they had no hope of bringing about at present.

  “Look to the sky at night, Harper. Know that I will watch the stars, too, and think of you.”

  Wordless communication passed between Harper and Dimitrius, a look unfolding a thousand words between them. He embraced her one last time, and she stepped back with a scowl, holding tears of upset and frustration at bay.

  “Go on,” Dimitrius murmured.

  The tears finally fell as Harper turned away from him, stepped toward Aedon and his waiting ring of companions, and placed her hands in theirs, her tears falling to the dirt as the Tir-na-Alathean elves took them all into the ether and far away.

  Fifty

  The throne room was dark with the storm of Saradon’s anger as he raged before them all, the full strength of the Order and the court gathered before him, for none would escape his scrutiny.

  Dimitri stood behind him on the dais, shrouded in the shadows, pushing all thoughts of her from his mind. Saradon had no idea he had helped Harper escape, nor would he, if Dimitri could help it. Saradon knew Harper was learning to travel unseen through the world, as the Order did, and Dimitri had jumped upon it as an excuse for her absence.

  By now, he hoped she would be far from Tournai. Much farther than if she had sought to escape herself, and with five fearsome companions to protect her, should it come to that. Few could survive crossing paths with the elves of the living forest, much less the Thief of Pelenor and his Aerian and Indis warrior allies.

  The court cowered before Saradon, and even the Order quailed against his all-powerful ire, but despite their terror, no answer did he find amongst them.

  “Find her!” he snarled at them all, his bared teeth flashing in the gloom as his dark magic swirled around them all, battering them with a wind no natural phenomena could cause, one that cut sharply into them with a savage will of its own.

  The court and the Order fled at his dismissal, swirling into motion and disappearing from the hall as swiftly as their feet or magic allowed, until the hall was empty, save for Dimitri, Saradon, and his anger.

  Saradon rounded on him. His heart fluttered with panic, but he forced himself to bow low before his master.

  “Heir or not, the prophecy decrees the girl is my doom. She has shown she will never truly bend her will to mine. Let it be, if that be her wish. She has made her own fate. Altarea will fall to my dominion, one realm at a time. Damned be Erendriel and her edict. Down I will cast her and all who stand for her.”

  “And the girl? Harper?” Dimitri still bowed, glad Saradon could not see his face, hear his thundering heart.

  “I will destroy her.”

  The end.

  To be continued in book four, coming soon.

  Author Notes

  Hello, dear readers! Thank you so much for your support for the Chronicles of Pelenor.

  This series and these characters are very dear to me. I write the darkness in their story whilst battling with my own inner demons and great life upheavals, and it heartens me that you cheer them on, love them, hate them, hope for them. It cheers me on too.

  Whilst my debut series, The Books of Caledan, was as much my own coming of age as it was for my characters, the Chronicles of Pelenor is a more grown up beast. It is my own way, I suppose, of exploring myself, the people in my life, and the world I live in. In all my stories, I pour my soul and my own questions, seeking answers. I hope that it resonates with you, and helps you find your own answers too, if what you seek is more than just a good tale.

  We are all, I believe, inherently good, with the potential for greatness, and yet, we are all so flawed. We make mistakes. We may have done terrible, regrettable things that had far-reaching, devastating consequences, like the characters in this series. In some cases, we are simply so bound by ourselves – and I am guilty of my own fear and self-doubt getting the better of me – that it can cripple our potential.

  How do those negative traits make us real, three-dimensional people just as much as our strengths? Those flaws; the mistakes we have made in our lives; the terrible things we have done? How can we bear to see them – to understand the truth and know where we are found wanting? Can we examine ourselves, warts and all, without being crushed by what we may find?

  How do those flaws hold us back? Blind us? Lie to us? Turn us away from greatness?

  How can we, in spite of that, learn to accept, love, and cherish ourselves without judgement – the good parts and the bad? To forgive our mistakes and our shortcomings? To continue on our journeys to self-actualisation?

  Are we ever beyond redemption or forgiveness? Can we thrive, as imperfect beings in an imperfect world? If we strive to be our best, can we be worthy of the great gift of life that has been bestowed upon us, despite our shortcomings?

  It can be so hard to look our fears in the eye, shoulder the weight of mistakes we have made, acknowledge our flaws, and deny them. To affirm to ourselves, “No. I can do this. I can be my best. I am worthy.” Sometimes, we need reminding that there is always hope, we always have a choice, and our fears should not hold us back from greatness, because each one of us will leave an indelible mark upon the world, for better or worse.

  Every word we do or do not speak, every action we do or do not take is like a stone cast upon the water, rippling outwards, affecting the world around us. We have the potential, despite our shortcomings, for greatness. We have the potential in everything we do, no matter the mistakes we might have made, to make a positive change in the world.

  It is my hope that, by sharing my stories, I can leave, in some small way, the world a better place than I found it. I hope that by walking in my characters’ footsteps, and by sharing my journey, you can find whatever you need from thes
e stories, be it amusement, or something to contemplate that will enrich your life.

  As George R R Martin said, “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one”.

  I hope you enjoy the Chronicles of Pelenor series.

  Warmest regards,

  Meg

  Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.

  Thanks for reading the Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on Amazon, Bookbub, and Goodreads. These help me find new readers to transport to the magical world of Altarea!

  Review on Amazon

  Review on Goodreads

  Review on Bookbub

  Get a free copy of The Thief of Pelenor (A Chronicles of Pelenor Tale)

  ENJOYING THE Chronicles of Pelenor? Dive into this fast-paced companion short story as the daring Thief of Pelenor, Aedon Lindhir Riel, and his companions take on the might of the House of Ellarian for a daring mission.

  Available to read FREE.

  Download your copy here.

  You can also join my list (and unsubscribe at any time) for regular updates on my writing projects.

  With love and friendship,

  Meg

  Want more? Follow Meg or join her newsletter.

  Follow Meg on Amazon and/or Bookbub to be notified of new book releases, or sign up to her newsletter.

  Books of Caledan: a World of Altarea Completed Series

  ENJOY THE COMPLETED Books of Caledan epic fantasy trilogy, set in the same world as the Chronicles of Pelenor, which has been enjoyed by almost 100,000 readers so far.

  The series is rated over 4 stars on Amazon and Goodreads, with over 1,000 ratings, and the first in series, The Tainted Crown, is a 2018 SPFBO Semi-Finalist.