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

by Meg Cowley

  Eve

  “Yes,” said Eve. She examined at the image of Irumae on the mirror before her. “It might be our best chance and for now it’s our one chance to help her. That’s what I came for. I’ll go even if none of you join me.” She felt nervous at the prospect of going alone, unprepared as she was, but knew she could not ask the others to follow her.

  “I’ll go,” Luke said, though he stared at the mirror with a furrowed brow.

  Eve met his sincere eyes and a beaming smile crossed her face.

  “I shall come,” Nelda said serenely. “I would not have come so far to leave you now.”

  Nolwen was last to speak. “As will I. I have not had a good fight in many years.” He grinned at his sister, who tutted at him.

  “Thank you,” said Eve. “I appreciate your support beyond words.” She studied Irumae’s image one last time. The young girl remained prone, stretched out on the bed. “Lessa,” she murmured and Irumae faded away as the mirror returned to reflecting the web of leaves of the forest canopy above it.

  The sun was high in the sky, and so they devoted the rest of the day to discovering how they could access the concealed royal dock, planning to launch an attempt that very night if they could. Nolwen still felt the after effects of his drinks the previous night and so Nelda rode out that day with Luke. Eve remained confined to the camp, much to her frustration, but she bore it without complaint and set to preparing herself for what was to come.

  She washed herself in the beck as Nolwen slumbered and took out the dagger the queen had given her and her own sword to maintain them, though she hoped deep down not to have to use them at all. Falling into a methodical manner of working through her simple tasks sent her into a meditative state and before she knew it, Nolwen had awakened and it was mid-afternoon.

  Seemingly recovered, he insisted they spar together to warm up and make good use of the time. Nolwen was by far more skilled with the sword than Eve, but he sparred with her patiently and tried to hone her technique with constructive comments where he saw room for improvement.

  After their exercise, her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat and so she returned to the river to wash once more, although she knew that she could not shift the muck caked on her clothes. Luke and Nelda returned around the sixth hour after noon and took Nolwen and Eve, who had been discussing sword techniques, by surprise with their almost silent return.

  “We found a way. We’re to go tonight, if you both agree,” said Nelda.

  It transpired that Luke and Nelda had spent the day at the docks watching and listening for anything helpful. There was very little that they heard, but by watching the docks, they determined which vessels went to the royal docks, with which provisions, when.

  “By what we saw, there would be no way to procure passage on one of these boats; foot passengers are not accepted into the castle, especially by such a vulnerable route,” said Nelda. “Nor could we hope to gain entry to the boats on a working basis; I doubt they accept any old stranger from the docks to man boats at the drop of a hat. However,” she raised a hand to pause Eve, who was on the brink of speaking, “Luke may have found a way.” She looked to Luke to continue.

  Luke cleared his throat. “I noticed that the marina doesn’t have gangways large enough for all the boats to moor at. It means that some boats have to drop anchor in the lake itself and row in and out of the marina in small rowing boats, which the city keeps for communal use. It’s such a busy place that no one seems to take any notice of who uses them. One would just about fit the four of us in it; if we could happen to borrow one for the night, we could slip unnoticed out of the marina and into the royal dock.”

  “That’s brilliant,” said Eve, surprised by the simplicity of the solution.

  They agreed to set off just before nightfall on foot to the docks, leaving the horses near their camp, as there would be nowhere to tether them in the city. They packed up the camp, in case they had need of a swift exit, yet had no choice but to leave everything bundled in a pile. They could not risk burdening themselves with more than weaponry and armour.

  They dressed in light armour pieces from their saddlebags. Eve wore her fitted armour for the first time, slipping the chain mail over her top and strapping the greaves and bracers onto her shins and arms. She braided her hair in a long plait as Nelda had, which flowed down her back and double-checked that her helmet fitted well. The weight of armour was noticeable, even though it was not a full suit and the Eldarkind smiths had somehow made it light enough to not hinder or burden her.

  Eve flexed her arms and legs; trying to move in all directions to check she had full mobility and blushing when the others laughed at her strange movements. On her left hip, she hung her sword in its scabbard from her belt and on her right, the Eldarkind dagger and checked she could draw both without hindrance. The routine felt familiar, as if she were dressing in light armour for a training session at home.

  Lastly, she regarded her bow, which had hung disused from her saddle since she left Arlyn. It would not do for the confined spaces inside the castle. She stroked its smooth wooden limb fondly and left it atop her pile of belongings in the camp, next to her quiver, hoping they would still be there when she returned. Once finished, she saw Nolwen and Nelda similarly attired to her although they retained their brown haired and dark eyed disguises.

  Luke had donned the traditional style of armour that Eve wore to train in at Arlyn; chain mail shirt reinforced with thick leather plates on the front and back, bracers that extended to protect the back of his hand and the first joint of the fingers, greaves that extended up to protect the kneecaps. On top of that, he wore a formal helmet that protected the back of his neck and carried a small shield – more of a buckler than a true shield – which he hung from his hand and a half broadsword handle that sat in his belt.

  They ate what they could to give them strength through the night and concealed their armour beneath cloaks. Keeping to the forest borders for as long as possible before venturing out onto a road, they tried not to attract any attention amongst the many other users of the road.

  By the time they reached the docks on foot, the sun was setting, so they sat near the water in a dingy corner outside a tavern and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible until darkness fell. When life had faded from the docks – having moved inside either the taverns, ships or city – they stirred with nervous excitement.

  Nolwen sprinted onto the northernmost gangway and wove between crates and mooring ropes until he found a rowing boat tied up between two larger craft that hid it from the dockside. Once he had untied its mooring, he signalled to the others to join him. They piled into the boat, which sunk low into the water under their weight. There were two sets of oars resting in the boat across its two benches, so they took one each and coordinated their strokes to move through the marina, keeping behind large boats wherever they could to remain hidden from shore.

  The night was clear and large clouds drifted across the sky, obscuring the small amount of moonlight available; this helped to hide them, but hindered their movement through the maze of crafts. Eve could not be sure how long it took before they made it unseen to the mouth of the cave – it seemed like hours.

  The void like opening swallowed them in oppressive darkness. The pitch-black tunnel was not long, and they could see a dim glow ahead from the underground dock. Even so, it was a disconcerting journey, moving through the darkness and gliding over still, black water.

  As they exited the tunnel, the cave broadened out to huge proportions. They could see no one, although they could hear the faint sounds of talking coming from the guardroom. The water was still here, being so sheltered and there were small barges moored.

  The cave had formed naturally, though an entrance had been bored down to it from above many centuries ago. A small guardhouse guarded the way, next to a gate with a portcullis that could be lowered to protect it. A raised stone floor had been constructed by backfilling part of the cave so that there was a wide area t
o offload goods; this also meant that there was an open area for them to cross that would risk their discovery.

  The portcullis was down, and a small wooden gate beside it lay ajar. It was most bizarre to see a gatehouse and portcullis in a cave, but with such vulnerability under a castle, it was necessary to protect the fortification.

  The floor level was almost high enough to hide them in the shadows as they sculled across the water. They stowed the oars with a tiny clunk and the rowing boat glided to the wall with what was left of its momentum.

  It came to the wall side on and Luke and Nelda stretched their arms out to touch the wall first and push against it to slow the boat to a stop before it bumped against the stone. Nelda jumped out, quick as a flash and was gone, whilst the other three waited in silence as they had agreed earlier. Within minutes she had returned.

  “All clear,” she whispered. She reached down to pull Luke up and out of the boat, and then Eve, whilst Nolwen climbed out on his own. They made for the guardroom in single file led by Nelda, who ushered them in and then closed the door. Two guards lay sprawled out on the floor.

  For the first time Eve looked at Nelda with a tingle of fear; she knew her distant cousin to be well trained, but Nelda’s carefree personality hid colder skills that she did not understand. Not for the first time she began to feel out of her depth and fought to keep the unease buried.

  Nelda saw her consternation. “They are not dead, cousin.” Nolwen drew Eve aside. “I have merely sent them into a deep sleep from which they will not awaken for many hours. However the next men we meet we shall probably have no option to kill. They are traitors and will not show us mercy; we must show them none in return if we are to accomplish what we came for.”

  Eve nodded – though she had no idea if she were capable of that – as Nelda turned back to her brother and Luke, who had finished stripping the tunics from the limp guards. The two men donned these over their armour and belted their swords over the top. Once more, they put on their cloaks. Nelda and Eve put their cloak hoods up to obscure their faces and the four left the guardroom, Nelda grabbing a lamp on the way out.

  The portcullis led to a wide, spiralling ramp that seemed too conspicuous, so they chose instead the original spiral staircase next to it to ascend to the inner castle. The single-file stairs climbed several storeys up before ejecting them onto a wide corridor joined by the ramped road. There were no windows, just lines of dully-burning torches to illuminate their way, and so they crept along its length until the way bent up and down.

  They followed the downward arc to an iron gate. A locked, iron gate. Luke and Eve shared a look of despair, but Nelda crept forward. They made to follow her until Nolwen cast his arm out to halt them in their tracks. Nelda crouched by the gate, whispered, and the gate clicked open.

  They filed into a corridor that could take four men walking abreast. Doors lined the corridor on each side and Eve’s heart quickened. However, they discovered no prisoners, just dusty bottles of wine in racks towering above them on tall, long shelves. Nolwen huffed in disgust at the wasted time and they retreated.

  There was no choice but to follow the wide corridor up. The further they went, the better lit it was and the more chance they would be discovered. Yet the castle was unnervingly empty. Eve wondered whether the late hour of the night, combined with the king’s absence meant that the guard was minimal. Silent and tense, they crept on.

  The ramp led to a second closed portcullis set in the high-ceilinged corridor. The small wooden gate next to it also lay shut. Beyond they could not see anyone; it was not a well-defended part of the fort, for who could send an army through a small cave and two portcullises without being noticed sailing across the lake first?

  Nolwen unlocked this gate. He pushed it open and they crept through. They were on the lower levels of the castle now; the servants’ quarters, the kitchens and service rooms would be hereabouts and somewhere, the dungeons.

  Before they could discover the kitchens and servants’ quarters however, they came upon what they had been looking for: the dungeons. Another locked gate barred their way. Nolwen opened it without a hitch. They followed the corridor down a gradient to a closed wooden door on their left whilst the corridor stretched ahead and bent right.

  On the other side of the door they could hear talking and laughter; Nelda raised her eyebrows at Nolwen and held up five fingers. He frowned, listened, shook his head and held up six. They tiptoed past the door and began to examine the doors. Eve’s body coursed with nervous energy – she felt electrified and alert.

  From the scrying they knew the door was solid; it did not have a hole barred by iron as the first few doors did and so they passed these by without stopping. The corridor bent right and suddenly before them were two guards standing sleepily by a door matching what they had seen in the scrying mirror.

  The two guards stood no chance. Nolwen and Nelda leapt forward, swords drawn and cut the soldiers down before they could even notice the intruders. Almost in synchronisation, they lowered the men in slow motion to rest them on the ground with the smallest scrape of their armour on the stone flags. Eve dared not look at either of the bodies let alone her two companions as they all hurried into the room.

  Irumae lay on the bed, just as she had done in the mirror, the folds of her long dress falling about her legs and slippered feet. Nelda rushed over with Eve and though blood-stained, bent close to examine the girl. Her face was pale, made more so by the dark hair that lay across her in a tumble. She was twelve and her small form was frail in the dull light. She did not wake to a gentle shake, but did not appear to have any injuries.

  “I think she’s been drugged,” said Nelda. “We will have to carry her out like this.”

  “So be it,” said Nolwen. “Let’s go.” He scooped up the girl in his arms as if she weighed no more than a leaf. They froze at a noise outside.

  “Which idiot left the gate open?” a man’s voice called some distance away. “Rouse yourselves and check the prisoners!”

  Nolwen swore and passed Irumae to Luke so he could draw his sword. “Stay behind us,” he said to Luke and Eve, as he and his sister led them from the room, grim faced. Once out, they ran; around the corner and straight into a group of six soldiers who had spilled out of the guardroom in confusion in front of a seventh figure, who had his back turned to Nolwen and Nelda.

  Some of the guards already had swords drawn and they leapt forward with snarls as they beheld the intruders. The seventh man joined them as Luke passed Irumae to Eve, who stumbled under the sudden weight. Luke stepped in front of her to meet the onslaught as Eve drew her sword with difficulty, feeling useless.

  The metallic clash of swords hammering against each other filled the corridor with a din that jarred Eve’s ears. They had a slight advantage, as the corridor was too narrow for all the guards to meet them at once. Even so, it was difficult to fight in such a confined space. With their long swords, the Eldarkind were at a disadvantage to the guards who were equipped with shorter blades, even though they had far greater skill and a longer reach.

  One guard and then a second fell, and Nolwen, Nelda and Luke pushed forward, but as Eve turned around, several feet behind her companions who were engaged in the other direction, a soldier was barrelling towards her from behind with his sword drawn. She was forced to almost drop Irumae to the floor and raised her sword just in time to meet his.

  Where did he spring from? He was strong, far stronger than she and she felt his determination to best her through the sheer force of his blows. Back and forth across the corridor they danced, but she could not beat him although somehow she managed to escape his blade’s scything swings by darting out of reach.

  Once more she sprang forward at him and once more he parried her sword thrust. The clash of steel rung in her ears as her arm seared with pain at the force of his block. She whipped the blade away and slashed at his side – once more, he was there to stop her cutting open his unprotected abdomen. She had the smallest opening
to slice deeply into his leg, but something within her caused her to hesitate and his sword met hers.

  The edge of his blade slid along hers until they were hilt to hilt and then it was his turn to surprise her, pushing her away with such force that she reeled for a moment, lost her balance and fell to the ground, crying out with the pain of the fall. Her sword bounced out of her hand and came to rest over an arm’s length away in the shadows, as she laid semi-stunned on her back.

  His footsteps approached and her dazed senses heard his heavy breathing and the clang of steel as he kicked her blade away. She saw his shadow over her, black against the dark vaulted ceiling above. He circled her, sword still drawn, until he was face to face with her. He looked down, lifted his broadsword and rested the point on her collarbone. The cold of the steel seeped into her, but it did not dull the erratic heartbeat in her chest: the only sign of her fear. She could not move, could not speak.

  “Do you yield, traitor?” he asked her coldly.

  “No!” she heard Luke scream. She could not see him behind her, struggling to cut down the soldier in front of him to reach her. All she could see was Irumae slumped against the wall next to her. She did not answer the man, lost in her blank thought and staring at her cousin’s still form. He kicked her with contempt. As she cried out he raised his sword to strike her.

  Fear gripped her as she lay powerless and frozen against the stone, until something else flooded through her, energizing her body as though she had been struck by lightening.

  “NO!” she screamed and threw up her arm. The world turned white and unbearably bright as energy flooded through her. She was catapulted bodily off the ground and struck the wall. The world turned black and silent. She heard nothing more.