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

by Meg Cowley

  Eve thanked them. She went to find Luke, leaving Nelda and Nolwen to begin their healing of Irumae. He was not hard to find, but appeared a little restrained and there seemed to be awkwardness between them.

  “I’m so glad you’re well,” he said after a long pause. He stepped forward, gathered her into a tight hug, and buried his face in her hair. She froze, taken by surprise and rested her hands on his sides until he released her.

  She saw he had tears in his eyes and looked at him in concern.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so glad you’re alright,” he laughed and wiped his eyes on the back of one hand. “I thought I’d lost you; it was a black moment.”

  “It’s alright. Are you well?” she asked him. “How did we escape?”

  They perched upon a fallen tree and he recounted the night’s events to her. They fell into companionable silence when he had finished.

  “Thank you for getting me out of there,” she said once he had finished. “I cannot imagine how hard it was.”

  “You’re not that heavy,” said Luke, wrinkling his nose, “but it was hard. I still feel tired even after a sleep. I ache everywhere, especially my shoulder.” He explained how he had been slashed on his upper arm from behind when he had raised his sword arm to strike.

  “I might be able to help you,” said Eve, “I’d have to check with Nolwen and Nelda first, to see if it’s possible.”

  “What do you mean?” said Luke.

  “Nolwen and Nelda explained the light to me just now,” said Eve. Luke tensed, unblinking. She repeated much of what they had said; but she struggled to describe how everything appeared slightly different, the strange language in her head and explain how perhaps she would be able to heal him with her new abilities.

  Luke was stunned. “I can barely believe it, but it would explain why the pair of them haven’t got a scratch on them after last night,” he said after mulling over her words. “How did you kill a man like that?”

  “I didn’t mean to – it just burst out! I feel so conflicted!” she admitted to him.

  “Well, talk to me then.”

  She hesitated for a moment, but realising she had no one else to confide in and did not trust anyone else as she trusted him, spoke quietly, feeling dismal.

  “I couldn’t kill him,” she said. “I feel so ashamed. I saw his desire to beat me and I knew he would not spare my life given the chance. Even so, I had an opening to best him and I could not take it, although he tried to kill me a second later. I did not want to take his life. I never thought it would be possible to feel that way about someone who wished to kill me.”

  “You’re too kind hearted,” said Luke, after a long pause. He slid his hand along the tree trunk to cover hers and she did not withdraw from him. “It’s not a bad thing, but it doesn’t help you now. Sword practice at home is a long way from fighting for your life.”

  “How did you do it though? You killed last night,” asked Eve.

  “I did it because you needed me and the man in front of me was stopping me helping you. I would have killed a hundred men if it meant I could keep you safe,” Luke said, more open in that moment with her than he had ever been before. “I would do anything to protect you.”

  Eve’s stomach fluttered as she tried to comprehend the depth of what he had just said. “Truly?” she met his eye.

  “Truly.”

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  “Now? Of course I will, why?”

  “No, I mean after now. I mean, do you trust me? Now that what Artora suspected has come to pass?”

  He hesitated as he tried to find the best way to reply. “I won’t pretend, I don’t understand it Eve.” As he said her name it sent a thrill across her. “If I’m to be honest it scares me a little. Maybe a lot. I don’t know if it will change you, but I know you and I trust you and that is what I will hold on to.”

  She dared to lean into his arm briefly and he took her under it in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she murmured to him, though the words seemed to express her gratitude inadequately.

  Her heart beat faster as she studied the wood around them with her fresh eyes, admiring the beauty that seemed to leap into new focus from everything her gaze touched. Her senses seemed invigorated and infinitely sharper; the colours brighter, the sounds more diverse, the touches against her skin tingling. She lost herself in the moment, feeling invigorated, as Luke sat with her in quiet contentment, resting his head atop hers.

  Eventually he moved, infinitesimally. Eve sat up straight. Luke released her, his touch lingering across her back. He looked at her with eyebrows raised and his cheeks flushed, as she stared searchingly at him.

  “Do you think you can help me become more ruthless?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure if it can be taught,” Luke said. “Besides, it’s not all about being ruthless, or heartless or cruel. Sometimes you just have to be able to do what is necessary.”

  “Well can you show me if we practice together?” He agreed and she went back to camp to collect their swords and check on Irumae. Nolwen and Nelda were hard at work still over the immobile girl and looked up with a cursory glance as she left the camp with the two blades.

  She returned to Luke and tossed him his sword in its scabbard and they drew blades and circled each other.

  “I need you to beat me,” said Luke. HE flung the empty scabbard to one side. “And instead of being polite about it, you need to push me to the edge. Show me you’re the best; be hard.”

  “Fine, don’t go easy on me though,” she said. “I want it to be fair.”

  “Done.”

  They came together with a smash of steel, both going for the head on attack. Luke had the advantage; he was taller and heavier than Eve. I’ll have to play a cleverer game, Eve realised.

  They danced back and forth and around the trees, always keeping the fallen log in sight so they would not get lost. Each gained and lost the advantage, but Eve never pushed when she could have bested him and Luke grew frustrated.

  “You’re not trying hard enough!” he growled at her, red faced after he called a halt. “You’ve had at least five chances where you could have caused me damage and you didn’t press it far enough!”

  “We’re just practising!” Eve replied, as red and out of breath. “I’m not going to try to stab you am I!”

  “Again,” said Luke. “I’ll show you what I mean. I apologise in advance, but you told me not to go easy.”

  He flew at her again in his head on style and as she stepped to sideswipe him, he surprised her by sidestepping too and slashed at her. She raised her blade to meet him, surprised by his ferocity and parried, but he caught her on the back foot and she could not gain the advantage. He beat her down and forced her towards an old tree.

  Knocking into her, he tripped her backwards over a gnarled root. As she fell she dropped her sword and he pinned her with the full weight of his body against the ground. One of her wrists held in his hand, the other arm pinned to her side by his knee as he half straddled her, he rested his sword across her chest, near her throat.

  “That is what I wanted from you,” he said between catching his breath. “Don’t just drop your sword and start a new round when you feel you’ve won. Push as far as you can.”

  She lay under him, winded. She was not sure whether it was the lack of breath affecting her or the heat of the fight, but she felt a strange stirring within her as his warm weight pressed down on her. She had not been this close to him before, mere inches from his face. She could see for the first time that intricate lines of amber traced through his bright, warm, brown eyes, framed with dark curling lashes.

  He was attractive, she had always known it, yet never realised that she might be attracted to him, nor just how comfortable she felt around him. Their close contact and sparring had lowered her defences. His mouth was so close to hers. She felt a sudden desire to kiss him and opened her lips. He must have felt it too for he bent towards her until they were almost touching, their e
yes locked.

  The only sound was of their laboured breathing until Luke gave an agonised groan.

  “Don’t,” he said. He rolled away and sat up. To her surprise, he slapped himself around the face.

  “Don’t?” she questioned. He ignored her.

  “Again. We’ll fight again,” he insisted. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I want you to be that ruthless with me. If you can do it to me I’m sure you can do it to someone who’s really trying to kill you.” He turned and stomped away, vigorously swinging his sword as he walked back to the fallen tree. Puzzled, she followed him, confused by what had just happened.

  It took a few minutes of sparring to distract her. Luke pushed her even harder than before and she had to give it her all to keep up with him. Eventually, she bested him by ducking his guard and, to her shame, using what seemed like the only option of kicking him between his legs. He went down in a chorus of swearwords.

  “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” She panicked around him and dropped her sword, full of regret.

  “No, don’t apologise,” he spat out in between curses, “that’s perfect. Not for me. That’s exactly what you should be trying to do; win in any way possible. I think we’ll halt there if you don’t mind.”

  Their timing was perfect, for Nolwen’s voice rang out in the distance. “Eve!”

  Luke, still on the floor, waved her away.

  “Go on, I have some pieces of my pride to find.” He forced out a smile.

  She laughed and apologised once more, before running back to camp, where Nolwen beckoned her.

  “We’re about to wake her.” Nolwen gestured to Irumae who lay behind him, “and we need you to be the first face she sees; we don’t want to scare or panic her after whatever she’s been through.” Eve hurried to kneel by her cousin, feeling tense as she held one of Irumae’s hands.

  “Awaken.” Nolwen imbued the word from the old tongue with power and a second later Eve felt Irumae’s hand twitch against hers. The young girl’s cheeks reddened to a healthy hue as she breathed deeply and her eyelids flickered for a few seconds before she opened them.

  “Cousin Eve?” she said, confused, as she saw Eve. “Where am I? Why are you here?”

  Eve glanced across Irumae’s head over to Nolwen, who had retreated. He shrugged and stepped further back to give them privacy.

  “We are in the woods south of Pandora, Irri,” Eve said. She tried to smile. “We rescued you from the castle. What happened?”

  Irumae sat up and gazed around their small camp – Nelda and Nolwen had now vanished – before replying.

  “Men came in the afternoon, just before high tea,” she began. “I did not recognise their crests. They did not knock and forced their way in. I have no idea where my guards were. I tried to fight them and I tried to escape but there were too many of them! They held me down and made me drink a foul tasting liquid and that is the last I remember. What day is it?”

  Eve paused, trying to work it out. “I fear I have lost count!” she admitted. “I believe we are a week into the sixth month of the year.”

  “So late?” Irumae exclaimed. “Then it has been weeks! Perhaps some of my dreams were reality; I woke again and again in a small stone room. Pandora castle? Why was I held in the castle?” She frowned. “What has happened?”

  A feeling of horror swept over Eve. It is my duty to tell her that her mother is dead, she realised, chills creeping down her spine. I cannot avoid it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself, moving to kneel opposite Irumae.

  “Your uncle took the throne from your mother. He took it by force; he will have commanded the men who captured you no doubt. As far as I know, he also took your mother’s life in the process. I am so sorry, dear cousin,” she said, aching with sorrow as her cousin’s face registered mingled confusion, shock and sadness.

  Before her eyes, Irumae seemed to shrink even further into herself. Eve reached out to embrace her. Her cousin did not resist and fell into her arms. Irumae clung to her and buried her head into Eve’s shoulder.

  “What of my brother?” Irumae said, her voice still muffled, turned into Eve’s chest.

  “As far as I know he lives.”

  “Yet he has not come for me?”

  “No, but Sir Edmund said that he wished to – greatly – and was most reluctant to flee without you. He will not have forgotten you,” Eve promised Irumae.

  Her cousin fell silent. She did not weep – instead, she seemed altogether emotionless. However that night, despite being introduced to Luke, Nolwen and Nelda, who had all tried to distract her as best they could, the four of them could not fail to hear her stifled sobs as she lay in the dark. Eve rose to comfort her, but she was beyond consolation and so Eve lay down with her and held her close until the fits subsided and she drifted into broken sleep.

  Soren

  “Name yourself and declare your purpose.” The booming voice challenged him.

  Soren stood as tall as he could before the gates of his city. The walls loomed over him, crowded with people. In his dishevelled state, he appeared no more than a pauper but he knew that he and his scaly companions would at least be an interesting sight.

  “I name myself Soren, rightful heir to the kingdom and I challenge the unlawful rule of Zaki who I name guilty of regicide, high treason and murder! I demand his immediate abdication and arrest,” he shouted up to the men on the gate. The silence on the walls turned to instant noise; wondrous murmurs overtaken by cheering from the population. A horn blew and silence fell.

  “You have been declared guilty of those same crimes,” the voice called. “An order has been issued for your capture, dead or alive. You will be arrested and held awaiting trial until His Majesty King Zaki returns.”

  Boos and jeers from the crowd accumulating unseen behind the city walls drowned out the rest of his speech. The cries rang out from within, taken up by many voices; “The true king has returned!” “Long live the king!” “Loyalty to the dragon king!” “Down with the imposter!”

  It sounded much like there was a riot unfolding within the city; the mood had turned sour and angry shouts rang out. Clashes sounded within the walls and Soren stood before the gates, unable to see what was happening within the city. At last he heard the faint cry calling “open the gates!” and unseen men drew up the portcullis, whilst Soren saw the gates inched apart, opened by the efforts of the city folk themselves.

  Soren tensed, his sword hilt in hand, ready to leap onto a dragon should he need to flee. Yet the people before him were no soldiers, but ordinary, unarmed Caledonians. He was welcomed with cheers by the people, who surged out to line the way to invite him into the city.

  “Ride me,” said Myrkdaga into his mind. “You should make the grandest entrance with what you have; let it be one the people remember.”

  Soren was surprised. The great black dragon had seemed distant and aloof in their brief time together and he had not expected him to offer such a submissive gesture. He bowed to the dragon and thanked him.

  Before he could climb up onto Myrkdaga’s back, a small figure broke from the rest and hurried towards him. The man prostrated himself on the ground a safe distance away from the dragons. As the figure rose up, Soren saw it to be the city’s steward; a middle-aged man with greying temples and deep wrinkles set into his face.

  “You’re alive!” Soren said.

  “Zaki could not kill me, Your Royal Highness,” said Lord Behan, beaming at the prince. “I obey different laws. Even he must abide by those despite my loyalty to your mother and to you.”

  “I am most glad that you are well, Behan.” Soren strode over to grasp his forearms in a formal embrace. “Is it safe to enter the city?”

  “Not safe, as such,” said Behan, “but the city is certainly with you, sire. The people forced the soldiers loyal to Zaki to retreat into the castle; many of them even threw down their arms declaring themselves no enemy to you. It would appear that many have been wa
iting for you to return.”

  “Zaki is not here though?”

  “You have missed much,” admitted Behan. “It would do well to update you on the events in Pandora, however yes, he is gone for the present time. Now please, it is time for you to return home. Whilst the castle is held against you, you may reside with me,” he said, to Soren’s agreement.

  And so it was that Prince Soren returned to Pandora on the back of the black dragon Myrkdaga and flanked by two of his kin, with Lord Behan the Steward and Sir Edmund leading the way through the crowds of welcoming city folk. The enthusiastic welcome he received – and riding through the city streets on dragon back – felt altogether like an out of body experience.

  Soren retired to Behan’s dwelling; a grand, detached townhouse, gated with its own guard, where he bathed and changed into spare clothes donated by the household. The dragons rested in large gardens under Behan’s pruned trees. Behan set on all the guards he had at the perimeter of his land, though there seemed no need. The people of the city took up their own vigil outside and the excited babble and occasional rousing song filtered through the walls. Soren listened as he dressed in the soft, finely woven and most noticeably cleaner fabrics and savoured the feeling of the smooth materials over his newly scrubbed skin more than he had ever done.

  He met with Behan and Edmund to dine, plot and find out what had occurred in his absence. As hungry as he was, the food before him lay untouched. Behan described what had happened from the day everything had changed, including Zaki’s movements and those of his men outside Pandora. Soren stepped in to fill in the gaps in Behan’s knowledge, relating in a few breaths how Zaki had destroyed the northern monastery in his quest to procure the crown for his coronation.

  “What a monstrosity.” Behan’s eyes widened. “I had hoped that was nothing more than a rumour. It explains why he was crowned by his deputy and with a lesser crown. The abbot did not attend and the throne did not reveal itself at the opportune moment. By rushing to crown himself he could have doomed his own rule.

  “Since that day, and perhaps even before there has been discontent growing. The number of disappearances and strange deaths of nobles grow daily; those who were open supporters of your mother, or who are less than discreet in their displeasure at the regime change. Zaki ordered the entire city be locked down in the week of mourning, so that it could be searched to weed you out.