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

by Meg Cowley

  Today was different, however. At the head of the table sat a figure Dane had not expected to see. A flash of fear coursed through him as he beheld Zaki lounging in his father’s chair. He looked well, clothed in the finest riding gear and impeccably presented as always. Zaki sneered at him.

  In comparison, Dane was bedraggled – a shade of himself. His clothes were stained and torn and he stunk of fear, sweat and excrement. Hair hung limp across his dirty face and starvation had already gnawed away at him. Gaunt cheeks sat under dark eyes.

  “You have been treating him like an animal!” Zaki exclaimed.

  The captain froze, fearing reprimand. Zaki laughed – his usual short bark.

  The captain relaxed and smiled smugly.

  “Not so grand now, Dane Edmundsson. Where is Edmund? Where is Soren?”

  “I know not.” Dane coughed, his voice hoarse from disuse.

  The captain strode forward to give him a casual backhand blow across the face that was so strong it knocked Dane to one knee.

  “I know not, Your Majesty!” The captain corrected him. Dane glared up with hatred at the man who had dined with him amicably not three months before. “It’s always the same, Your Majesty. ‘I know not!’, ‘I don’t know!’, ‘I have heard nothing!’” The captain mocked Dane.

  Zaki sighed.

  “Obviously captain, your methods are not effective enough. I must leave, else I would take pleasure in this myself, but starting tomorrow, you must begin chipping away at him as he chips away at your patience. Let us see how many fingers and toes he can lose before he tells the tale we want. I am not a monster, however. You may have the rest of the day to consider that, young Dane. I tire of the stench. Take him away.”

  Arms grabbed him and dragged him back into the darkness. He was beyond tears, beyond fear and beyond anger as he laid in the dark, dazed and still, long after they had tossed him on the floor. I cannot tell them what I do not know, he thought to himself. Do I endure a slow and painful death? Do I end things now? He rebelled at the thought of suicide, not wanting to extinguish the hope of escape.

  It could have been hours later or minutes – though from Zaki’s promise he knew it was not days – when he heard a faint scratching on wood. He dismissed it. Yet it would not disappear, as insistently annoying as a fly. All of a sudden, after a soft thud, a panel of the wall, near the top lifted away and Dane beheld a face as grubby as his own, lit by a tiny match. He squinted, trying to place the young face.

  “Who are you?” he said.

  “Names are dangerous,” the boy replied. He slithered through the hole. Dane saw earth dug away on the other side and the faint glimmer of moonlight filtering down the tiny tunnel.

  “Are you here to rescue me?” Dane whispered.

  “I’m ‘ere to try.”

  Eve

  The four made for a small town on the lake’s edge, having decided unanimously that journeying to Pandora via water would prove much safer. In the upheaval caused by recent events, no one could be quite sure how safe the roads were. Of course, due to their unusual appearances, Nolwen and Nelda had no choice but to disguise themselves before leaving the mountains to avoid arousing suspicion.

  By some strange use of their magic that remained unexplained to Eve and Luke, they had managed to alter their anatomy. Eve and Luke awoke on their final morning before reaching the lakeside town, to the great shock of two unfamiliar faces staring down at them.

  Nolwen and Nelda’s sharp features had rounded and most distinctively, both their hair and eyes were now brown. Their voices had not changed at all, which reassured Eve that they were still the Eldarkind siblings, before she was able to see the slight resemblance remaining in their faces. Luke was spooked, but Eve observed the effort he made to act as though nothing had happened.

  As they rode into the town, the trees gave way to dwellings clustered by the lakeside, where jetty after jetty of all sizes and shapes extended into the water into the maze of boats both large and small. Although crowded in its arrangement of buildings and the number of people milling about, the busyness of the place was pleasant.

  However, they soon discovered a sight that shocked Eve, when they happened to pass by the town notice board. Large posters declared Prince Soren and Sir Edmund wanted dead or alive for obscene rewards. Their likenesses were very convincing. Both men were stern faced.

  Eve paused to view their portraits. It made her sad to think of their predicament and with the sudden realisation that she could, promised to herself that at the first opportunity she had, she would scry them. Luke caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile, but she felt little better.

  Chivvied on by Nolwen, they moved on to the waterfront to buy passage on the next boat to Pandora, sailing the following morning. As Eve opened up the purse containing her savings and a small allowance given by her father for the trip to count out the large fee for herself and Luke, she noted how much her funds had been depleted. Just a few coins remained in the bottom of what had been a bulging bag.

  They spent the rest of the day procuring provisions for the horses, as the voyage would take several days. They had been supplied with the Eldarkind’s traditional travelling fare; small cakes of grains and oats, mixed with dried fruits and nuts and sealed together with a sweet sticky substance. Eve at first thought she had never tasted anything quite so delicious and satisfying, however by the time they reached the lake she tired of it and longed for meat and cooked foods.

  The following morning, the docks were a flurry of motion in the predawn. The four led their horses on foot through the weaving net of people to the huge wooden barge like boat that awaited them. They tethered the horses under a purpose built shelter, which had three sides and a roof and gated stalls within. In the centre of the barge was a huge set of sails set across three staggered masts and a cog mechanism to raise the anchor.

  Although several traders had boarded and stabled their horses in the stalls, they had chosen to go below decks to guard their stocks. So, the vast deck was left empty save for captain and crew, who made the boat ready and fit to sail.

  Soon, the shore was hazy in the distance as the barge floated southeast across the Great Lake and once it had disappeared altogether there was nothing save water and sky in all directions. Although Nolwen and Nelda seemed content staring into the distance and occasionally talking in a mix of languages, by that evening both Eve and Luke were frustrated and bored.

  They had both spent the day in relative solitude; tending to the horses, or sat at opposite ends of the shelter with their own thoughts and were glad to come together for the evening meal, however meagre. They could light no fire on the wooden ship, so their food was cold, and in the looming darkness, their light was a solitary lamp. There was nothing more to do afterwards save sleep and so they set the usual watch and attempted to bed down for the night under the available shelter with the horses.

  “I think I prefer sleeping on tree roots,” Eve said with an almighty yawn as she awoke the next day. The four were bleary eyed, stiff and dishevelled as they ate breakfast in the fog to which they had awoken.

  It was a strange contrast to the clear though overcast day before. Steely grey waters swirled around the boat, wavelets slapping against its side as it ploughed through the thick, clinging mists. The bow and aft were barely visible and it was cold as the fog resisted the morning’s warmth.

  Huddling close together in the shelter made them colder and stiffer, so they rose and raced each other back and forth across the ship; even Luke cast off his reservations and joined in. Once warm and red cheeked, they collapsed laughing in the piles of hay, feeling far more enlivened. The energy soon passed however, and even Nolwen and Nelda seemed subdued, but Eve, feeling emboldened, nudged Luke and mouthed to him to follow her.

  Curiously, he rose to trail her across the boat into the mist. When Eve turned to find Luke stood next to her with a questioning look on his face, her heart leapt into action, beating fast in her chest, and she began to question
herself.

  It is not too late to turn back, not yet, the thought crept into her mind. She looked into his open face, wondering if she were right to trust him and he gazed back, nonplussed. After a long pause, he moved ever, as if to withdraw, but she reached out to grasp his sleeve. She dropped it almost instantly, her cheeks burning.

  “Please stay,” she said.

  He leaned on the railing and shifted his focus from her out into the unending white as he waited. Her heart would not return to its resting rate and hammered as nerves rushed through her.

  “How long is it since we spent time together as children and friends?” she asked him.

  “At least five years now,” he replied. “Although we have trained together since with the guardsmen since I joined their ranks.”

  “It’s not the same though,” she muttered.

  “No. It’s not.”

  “I do miss it, you know.” She dared to confide in him as he remained silent. “Our friendship. We used to be close, once upon a time. Things aren’t the same without you. There’s not been anyone else I felt so at ease with.” Her mouth curved in a small smile.

  “You were right, that night before Ednor, to try and help me, but you must understand, my mother’s identity is something I’ve never shared with anyone before.” She peered at him anxiously, but could not gauge his reaction. “I hope I didn’t offend you by concealing it. I hoped that our friendship counted for something.”

  “Is that why you kept me on, and not Nyle?” he asked.

  “Partly,” she said, “you and I were closer, and it’s regrettable to lose someone you can depend on. I would have kept Nyle too but there’s something in him that I can’t trust. I’m frustrated with myself for not noticing it before. I might as well tell you and then you can decide for yourself whether you still trust and believe in me or whether you wish to follow him home.” She trailed off.

  “Tell me what?” Luke frowned.

  “In hindsight perhaps I should have told you before you got on this boat and then at least you could have had the chance to ride off if you had chosen – perhaps that is what I feared…”

  “Tell me what?” Luke repeated.

  Eve looked at Luke with dread, biting her lip, but the moment had come and she could put it off no longer. She closed her eyes, as if to protect herself, and turned away, burying her chin into her shoulder.

  “Eve?”

  “I might have magic.” She forced out as if it were a swear word. “Because my mother was one of the Eldarkind, she had magic. Queen Artora said it is practically certain that I will inherit it too. I don’t know if or when or how it will happen and I’m not sure what it means. I was scared to admit it even to myself at first, and especially to you.”

  “I would not blame you if you refused to come with me. I know the prejudice held against magic; Nyle made it clear enough that it still runs deep. I appreciate your efforts in being so courteous towards Nolwen and Nelda. I won’t ask you to stay if you don’t want to.” She rushed over the words, dreading the response.

  “I already know,” Luke replied.

  “I beg your pardon?” Eve’s voice was shrill with surprise.

  “I already know,” he repeated softly to her amazed silence, as she comprehended the reason for his secrecy at last and tried to understand his decision to stay with her. “When Queen Artora took me aside at our leave-taking, she told me. I think she wished to test me, for your sake.”

  “Are you leaving, then?” Her fists clenched around the rail.

  “No,” he replied after a pause. “I shall do my duty.”

  She recoiled, indignant. “You do not have to stay for duty!”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He was hasty to placate her, but he stopped speaking and huffed. One hand struck against the rail whilst the other ran through his hair. “I don’t have the same way with words that you do,” he said. After a moments silence, he continued.

  “I didn’t lie, that night in the mountains. I stay because I wish to do my duty and protect you, but I also miss our friendship. I will be there for you whenever you wish to call on me, as a guard, a friend, whatever you should require. My Lady.” He turned and bowed before striding away into the mist.

  She watched Luke go, stunned as she turned around and sunk to sit with her back to the rail. A warm relief blossomed in her stomach. The tense knot of anxiety and anticipation, which had been so immovable just minutes before, dissipated.

  She let out a great sigh of release, knowing she had been right to place her faith in him. In the same instance however, she still could not pin down his character. He seemed forthright and friendly and yet distant and formal and she could not understand why.

  It was some while later when she arose to rejoin the others. The mist was burning off and pale light filtered through it, though warmth was still lacking. As she returned and seated herself on a bale of hay, there was the slightest tension between her and Luke as they exchanged faint, polite smiles and this did not go unnoticed by Nolwen and Nelda, who shared a look of their own.

  Suddenly, Nolwen leapt to his feet. “Come! Let us train,” he said. They regarded him with slow comprehension. “It is cold, I am stiff, and it would do us well to warm our muscles and our wits.” He smiled at them. “Come Master Luke. I wish to see the proficiency of the men of Arlyn.”

  “And I wish to see the skills of the Lady of Arlyn, Mistress Eve,” Nelda said, with a mischievous smile.

  Eve grinned. Luke got up and retrieved his sword. She fished around in her pack for the sword that had lain so carefully wrapped up in its sheath and belt since the day she had left Arlyn, leaving her armour concealed.

  It had been weeks since she had trained, and she noticed with regret the heavy weight of her sword, which felt less than familiar. At least against a woman I should still be a fair match, she thought to herself as she cast an eye over her weapon to check it was in working order.

  They stood, two pairs facing each other, spaced out on the empty deck. Eve gripped her slim blade whilst Luke experimentally whirled his hand and a half broadsword in a figure of eight. Nolwen and Nelda drew almost identical, razor thin, long blades covered in the same swirling patterns that adorned the dagger that Artora had gifted Eve.

  Heads were inclined as the humans saluted with their swords and the Eldarkind made a flourishing gesture with theirs and then the siblings leapt into action with inhuman speed. Eve clumsily brought up her blade just in time as the ring of metal clashing on metal sounded.

  The speed and force of the attack was astounding and unexpected and Eve had not even a moment spare to see if Luke was as surprised as she. The jarring impact radiated pain up her arm and she danced backwards out of the way to buy valuable seconds, but she had no time.

  Before she could breathe, Nelda was upon her again. Eve defended better this time having forced her stiff legs into action and dodged to one side. Crew members spilled onto the deck from the cabin to see the commotion and settled down to spectate.

  With the distraction, Eve spared a glance at Luke and Nolwen who seemed much more closely matched; Luke at least, was holding his ground better than she could manage against Nelda. They sparred for twenty minutes with Eve struggling to attack and forced to defend, before Nelda flicked Eve’s sword aside with relative ease and drew close to rest her blade against Eve’s neck.

  Her eyes bored accusingly into Eve, who realised with guilt just how complacent she had grown in her sword training. With a sudden spark of inspiration, she dropped her sword with a clang and wrenched out her dagger to point it at Nelda’s stomach. Nelda looked down at the noise, raised her eyebrows, and let out a single, clear peal of laughter that stopped Nolwen and Luke in their tracks several yards away.

  “Well, Mistress Eve,” she said with twinkling eyes. “You are a rough gem, but resourceful!”

  “Your skills are amazing!” Eve’s breath came heavily as she regarded Nelda with awe.

  “Years of training.” Nolwen dismissed the
complement. “Maybe we could train together when we can as, please take no offence, Lady Eve, perhaps you need to challenge yourself further.”

  Eve was glad for the colour already in her cheeks from the exertion as she blushed under it from embarrassment for her poor form, agreeing gratefully to Nelda’s proposal.

  Nolwen sauntered over with Luke in tow. Eve was glad to see he was as breathless as her. “I find the soldiers of Arlyn to be good fighters amongst men, what say you sister?” Nolwen said.

  “And the Lady must be counted as a good fighter amongst their women,” said Nelda. She was generous and Luke smiled at the praise. Eve winced as she caught the undertone of their meaning; amongst humans they were proficient, however against Eldarkind, they were no match.

  They lent the rest of the day to amicable discussion about weaponry and fighting techniques and manoeuvres, with Eve volunteering first watch that night. The fog had vanished and the sunset was glorious, setting lake and sky on fire. As it sunk below the horizon they set out their bedding and, wrapped in a blanket, Eve perched on a bale of hay and stargazed as she waited for her companions to fall asleep.

  Some hours later, when Eve was sure they were unconscious, she reached into her bag to pull out the box that had been a gift from the fey queen. As she opened up the dark container, the pearls and reflective surface of the mirror gleamed faintly in the star light. She breathed the incantation of far-seeing on the mirror. “Leitha Soren!”

  Nothing happened. She frowned in annoyance, about to repeat the incantation until the faintest flicker of light across the surface of the mirror stalled her. There was nothing more however, just roiling darkness with faint swatches of light passing across the mirror’s dark surface. With an internal curse, she released the image, annoyed with herself for assuming that, despite the late hour, she would still be able to scry her cousin.