The Tainted Crown: The First Book of Caledan (Books of Caledan 1)

by Meg Cowley

  They trotted to the nearest inn, preparing a plausible story as to who they were in muttered tones in case anyone stopped to question them. After tethering the horses in the stables and untying the saddlebags to take with them, Edmund flipped a small coin at the taciturn stable hand and requested him to unsaddle and groom the horses. He scowled at them as they walked into the inn and made no move to fulfil their requests. His eyes followed them to the door. Riding cloaks concealed their swords but were unable to hide the crossbows strapped to their backs.

  The inside of ‘The Anchor’ was dingy, dull and thoroughly unwelcoming. Nevertheless, Edmund still felt relieved to be out of the rain. A small, smoky fire burned in a damp grate and the air was unpleasant with the smell of it. Edmund and Soren shared a glance of mutual dislike and resignation at their first impression of the place as they stepped over the threshold.

  It seemed that despite the early hour of the night, the locals also found it a unlikeable place, for there were two other men sat in the yawning shadows that pooled around the inadequate lamps spotted around the room. Their gleaming eyes tracked Soren and Edmund. Soren averted his eyes and followed Edmund to the bar. The barman glanced disinterestedly at them, not offering a greeting.

  “Good evening,” said Edmund. After a few moments silence from the man, he continued. “I wonder if we might seek a room for the night? My servant and I are travelling through the area and would appreciate a meal and a bed tonight.”

  The man sniffed loudly and replied. “Fine. Have you got horses stabled too?” As Edmund nodded, he continued. “That will cost you extra.”

  “How much?” asked Edmund.

  The barman chewed the inside of his cheek. “Two coppers for each horse and a silver for you and the boy,” he said, with a grimly gleeful smile at the inflated price.

  Edmund's mouth thinned in disapproval but he counted out the coins on to the bar with no word of a protest. The barkeep eagerly raised his hand. Before he could sweep the coins into his grimy apron, Edmund stopped him.

  “For that extortionate price we want meals both now and for breakfast,” Edmund insisted, “and I want some meat with that too.”

  The barman scowled but assented and Edmund smiled, satisfied as the coins tumbled into the depths of the man’s apron pockets. As they turned to sit at a table, the barman stomped off into the kitchen. The door slammed behind him. Dust fell from the beams.

  “Well we haven’t been recognised,” Soren mouthed.

  “And may it stay that way,” muttered Edmund. He evaluated the two other inhabitants of the room, who regarded them with open interest.

  They ate the lukewarm fare brought to them a long while later by the barman, but they were glad for it. A broth, with unnamed chunks of meat floating in it, was better than nothing. As soon as they finished, they retired to their room still under the scrutiny of the two men. Edmund latched and locked the door, before barring it with a chair as well for good measure.

  The room had a double bed, if it could be called such, for it was nothing more than a wooden base with a lumpy straw mattress. A thin, patched blanket lay on top. Other than that, the room was bare; lit by one lamp, with shuttered and locked windows, it was oppressing and dark.

  Although the door and window were locked, they still took alternate watches throughout the night, not trusting the inn to be safe. Throughout the night they heard footsteps outside their door several times, but the handle was only tried once. When found locked from the inside, the perhaps opportunistic attempt to enter was abandoned. The feet and their owner padded away again.

  It was a poor night’s sleep and so they rose early to ride to the docks to charter a boat and forwent breakfast. The wind had fallen, but it was pervasively cold and damp in the predawn darkness. By sunrise, they were already attempting to barter passage with the sailors who were in a flurry of activity getting ready for their day’s work. Man after man they asked; anyone they could see with a small craft, to no avail.

  By noon all the boats had refused them, many having sailed before they even had a chance to hail the captains. Their lack of progress left Edmund and Soren feeling frustrated and short tempered. Chilled and tired, they retired to a dockside tavern for a hot meal and a rethink of their strategy, and it was there, quite by chance, that they had the most fortunate of meetings.

  The barmaid was a lively, chatty young thing, who seemed out of place in such a dull and unsociable town. Luckily for Edmund and Soren, who had attracted her interest as outsiders, her tongue was loose and without having to reveal too much of their fabricated identities and purpose she had already furnished them with details of a fisherman who lived a few hours ride north of the main town.

  She described him as an enigma of a man, who sailed nearer to the dragon isles than he ought to; nearer than anyone else, but who somehow still managed to come to no harm and return with the reward of huge catches and strange tales. He lived an isolated life and rarely mingled with the townsfolk except to barter his fishes for other products and this had gained him an unusual reputation.

  He sounded odd enough to Edmund and Soren, however after a hopeless time on the docks that morning, they decided he might be a viable option. With a brisk thanks to the young woman, Soren and Edmund departed. In their haste, they bumped into a man entering the tavern. Edmund apologised as they brushed past him, but as he paused for the briefest moment he could have sworn he recognised the man. The feeling passed, forgotten as he mounted his horse.

  The maintained north road ended with Harring – stopping quite abruptly beyond the last house – though a discernible track lead north through the mud, rock and grass. Urging the horses forward, they began the dismal trek along the seashore to find the sailor.

  It was slow going as they picked out the pathway, and the further away from Harring they travelled the more unnerved they became. It seemed a windswept and bare place but even more than that, utterly barren; not a creature stirred or called to break the sound of the wind. After a time however, there seemed to be too many hoof beats upon the ground for them to be alone, yet when they looked about, they spied no one. The hairs on Edmund’s neck rose and a shiver passed down his spine.

  As they passed a rocky spur, they saw a horse up ahead; it stood saddled yet riderless and cropped the grass as it ignored them. It was only when they approached it to pass that it raised its head to wicker at them and trot away backwards.

  “Ho!” a nearby voice called. The man it belonged to strolled out from behind a line of shrubs to their left, tightening his pants up. “Well now then good sirs, how are we on this fine day?” His glance was keen and his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

  “Good day, sir,” Edmund responded, thrown off guard by the man’s manner, so contrasting to the unfriendly folk from Harring. He made to ride on but the man passed before his mount and forced him to halt the horse again.

  “Well now what a fine horse this is,” the man remarked and stroked the stallion upon his nose. “And his lady looks so fine too.” He leered at Miri. Edmund tensed. The man seemed far too jovial and once more Edmund had the feeling they had met before, but could not recall where.

  “Here, Al!” called the man, startling them. Miri pranced – Soren calmed her with a touch. “Come look at these lovely horses!” Edmund’s heart sank. He lowered his hand towards his sword surreptitiously as a second figure emerged from their right. Behind him, Soren mirrored his movement.

  “Oh aye, Jem, mighty fine.” Al appeared. Al held an axe. It relaxed too carefully against his hip. Instinct caused Edmund to turn back to Jem, as the quietest hiss of another blade being drawn met his ear.

  Edmund yanked on his stallion’s reins and the horse rose beneath him to lash out with his front legs. Jem fell back as the hoof struck him across the chest, although he managed to retain his grasp on his grimy dirk and did not fall. Upon the horse, Edmund cut an imposing figure with his drawn sword and he saw the fear reflected in Jem’s eyes as he beheld the now less than helpless tra
veller. Edmund suddenly realised who he was; one of the two men from the inn the previous night. Contempt filled him.

  Eve

  Time in Ednor seemed to flow faster than normal and it was already time to depart. Although Eve felt excited about the new path laid before her, her heart was heavy as she packed away her few possessions.

  She had not seen Artora again, but her time in Ednor had exposed her to the wonders of the Eldarkind culture where she felt strangely at home. The surroundings felt familiar in a way she could not explain; almost as if she had been there in another dream or another life. For her guards however, that had not been the case – she had not confided her plans in Nyle and Luke.

  The three had spent their free hours exploring Ednor together, escorted by one of the Eldarkind who became a willing guide, eager to tell them of his home. Whilst Eve delighted in the sights about her in quiet awe and wonder, Nyle and Luke grew more restless. Noticing this, Eve felt guilty but did not know how to tell them she would not be returning to Arlyn. Although Luke remained too shy to pry, she could see that Nyle was eager to leave and growing frustrated by Eve’s refusal to engage either one of them in serious discussion or confirm her intentions.

  On the morning of their departure, they gathered in the courtyard to find their horses already assembled and tacked with saddlebags brimming with provisions. Eve was dressed once more in her now clean riding clothes.

  Unbeknownst to her guards however, she had also been measured over the previous days for the fitting her own personal set of light armour, a gift courtesy of the queen that now lay concealed in her saddlebags for later use. She had been given a fine and surprisingly light chainmail hauberk, with engraved metal greaves and bracers and a small helm of similar design. The night before departing, Artora also presented Eve with a long, silver dagger that had a decoratively etched handle of the blackest ebony and was accompanied by a matching black leather sheath.

  From a distance it was unremarkable. Close up, the detail on the small weapon was fascinatingly intricate. Although the precious armour was stored away in the saddlebags as were her bow and arrows Eve wore the dagger around her waist with great pride, feeling overwhelmed by the queen’s generosity and the kindness of her people.

  As they added their few personal belongings to the bags and checked over their mounts, Artora met them with two of her kind in tow: a male and a female, both fair haired and blue eyed like the rest of their race. They stood behind her with neutral faces as she greeted Eve and her companions.

  “It is a sad day to see you leave, dear cousin, so soon after you arrived,” Artora said with affection colouring her voice, “but of course I wish you well on your travels, and the greatest of success in your endeavour.”

  Luke and Nyle shared a look of mutual bafflement.

  Artora glanced between them, before resting her eyes on Eve. “I think it is now that your intentions must be shared, Eve.”

  Eve steeled herself. The moment she had been dreading had arrived. A hard knot in the pit of her stomach convulsed as she turned to face her guards. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and wracked her brain for the best way to explain.

  “I shall not be returning to Arlyn,” Eve said.

  “What?” Luke and Nyle exclaimed in synchronisation.

  “I won’t be returning to Arlyn,” repeated Eve, her resolve strengthening. “There are other things that I must do before I can return there. I’m going to Pandora instead, to find my cousin Irumae. My mind is made up and cannot be changed.”

  Luke and Nyle gaped at her speechless.

  “Nyle.” Eve met his eyes as unflinchingly as she could. “I require you to return to my father with Queen Artora’s news, and also my own.”

  At this, the female Eldarkind stepped forward and offered Nyle a scroll and a small box that a simple set of clasps fastened shut. He automatically took it and frowned as he examined it.

  Eve reached into her saddlebags to withdraw her own correspondence, also handing it to him, before turning to Luke. “Luke. If you are willing, you will accompany me.”

  “You cannot be serious! Have these folk addled your brain?” said Nyle.

  “Who are you to question me, and how dare you slander our host and my kin!” Eve said.

  Nyle glowered.

  “Eve,” Luke said. He chewed on his lip. “We are expected to protect you and return you safely home and your father is relying on us to do so. How could we fail in that?”

  “You would be protecting me and returning me home, just not to my father’s schedule,” Eve said persuasively. “Nyle, you would be taking him news so that he does not fret over me.”

  “Yes,” she said as Nyle opened his mouth, and held up her hand to stall him, “I know my continued absence would concern him. At the very least you can reassure him of my safe arrival and productive time here. He does require some news from my stay and the letter sets out everything he needs to know.”

  “And what do you think he will do with me when he finds out I let his beloved daughter and heir go gallivanting around the wilderness?” Nyle kicked a stone in frustration as Luke stood in silence, his brow furrowed in worry. “I’ll lose my position! I’ll lose everything I’ve worked hard for, as will Luke! Have you thought of that?”

  “I have begged him in the letter to not punish you at all. I write that I left you no choice in the matter. If he disregards my words then you have my solemn promise that the moment I return, if all is not well with you I will make it so.”

  “If you return,” he muttered. It was clear Nyle was infuriated rather than placated. “What if we bound you and carried you to Arlyn whether you liked it or not,?” He folded his arms and glared at her.

  “We cannot do that!” Luke protested.

  “What, so you’re just going to do whatever she says and damn the consequences?” Nyle scoffed at him.

  Luke hesitated, aware of Eve as she shifted her gaze to him. He met it for the fleetest of moments and cast his eyes down, also avoiding Nyle’s glare.

  “If she is to go regardless of our wishes, I would sooner go with her to make certain that she is safe and protected, rather than return to Lord Karn without her,” he murmured. “I would certainly never consider taking her anywhere by force if she felt the cause were so important, unless her life were in danger. I do not deem that to be the case now, so what other choice do I have? Yes, I too risk my position, but I would rather try to protect her as is my duty than give up and slink home like a coward.”

  “I am no coward!” snarled Nyle, bristling. “You have forced me into a corner.” Stiff and hostile, his mouth was a thin line with the force of his displeasure. “It would seem I have no choice in the matter.” He surveyed the silent group of people before him with gritted teeth.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said. He executed a sharp, cursory bow in Artora’s direction. She dipped her head to him, but he had already turned away to mount his horse. “My Lady,” he called back in farewell to Eve without turning as he urged his horse away.

  “I feel I have made an enemy of Nyle today,” said Eve, feeling troubled as he rode out of sight. “I hope this will not have repercussions.”

  “It will be what it will be,” said Artora. She glided forward and touched her shoulder reassuringly. “Come, do not let this darken your day. I have one final gift for you, dear cousin.”

  The male Eldarkind behind Artora handed her a small box matching the one given to Nyle. Artora passed it to Eve, who admired it for a few moments before she opened it.

  It was made of an unfamiliar dark grey wood and was rectangular in shape, just over a hand span long and wide, very thin and light. Something within gave a slight, hard rattle. As she opened the clasped lid, a gleaming silver surface caught the light and a beautiful round mirror, a smaller replica of Artora’s even including the rich pearl border, was revealed lying cushioned in the box.

  Eve’s fingers brushed over the pearl border and she gazed at Artora in wordless thanks.


  Artora beckoned her closer and bent to whisper its purpose into her ear. “As you have not yet inherited your powers Eve, I have enchanted this mirror so that you may scry as you wish without magic of your own. Speak the words of seeing as you saw me do and you shall see what you desire. The magic shall draw off the surrounding energy of the land until you should come into your powers.

  “Use it wisely though and in secrecy, for it is a great crime to needlessly breach another’s privacy and this ability should never be shared carelessly. I have sent the same mirror to your father, linked to yours, so that you will be able to scry each other and share words if you need to. Keep your mirror in its case when you do not use it and keep it close.”

  Eve closed the box, snapped the clasps closed and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you,” she said fervently to Artora, “for everything you have done for me.”

  “You are welcome, dear cousin.” Artora smiled. “I am glad to show the daughter of Freya kindness. Return soon.”

  Eve beamed.

  “Luke,” Artora said. Her benevolent gaze flicked to the guardsman.

  Luke gawked at her, wide eyed and apprehensive.

  “Walk with me.”

  Luke hurried to obey as Eve observed them, curious and puzzled.

  They walked some distance away. Eve strained her ears and eyes, but could not discern anything. Exchanging some final words inaudible to Eve, Luke bowed to the queen before returning to his horse. As he passed Eve, he glanced at her with deep brown eyes that now held a troubled and thoughtful expression.

  Eve looked to Artora for any clue; the queen acted as though nothing had happened and turned to the two unnamed Eldarkind, who had been murmuring away in their tongue in her absence.

  “I shall introduce my escorts, as they shall be your travelling companions on the journey to Pandora. Nolwen,” Artora said, as he flashed a bright smile at her, “and his sister Nelda.” Nelda bowed her head.