The Call of the Crown (Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  The travellers emerged from the trees and followed the path along the valley’s edge. At the southern point of the ridge, they turned east. After a short climb, they entered the Amein’toth, an area of decidedly boring grassland that ran from the Serath’alor all the way to the marsh.

  The rest of the day passed without incident. The travellers trekked a fair twenty miles before deciding to make camp. The next day followed in the same vein. The skies remained uncluttered. The pale dawns and crimson dusks came and went. Their route remained steady and straight for the most part—a small detour now and then around the base of a ridge or following the route of a stream.

  The brief moment of excitement came when a nobleman passed them going in the other direction, a tall man with a grey-green cape and an ornate sword, travelling with what appeared to be two guards. Daric thought it strange. As far as he knew, the route only led to the Am’bieth. The nobleman didn’t look like the type to travel though the marsh—especially not with horses. The Am’bieth wasn’t a place for horses. Where is he coming from? Daric pondered the thought and then dismissed it as none of his concern.

  They made good progress. On the evening of the third day, they had come to Hermann Forest, the last slither of woodland before Am’bieth. At its thickest it was barely two miles wide, thinning out to only a few hundred yards in places, yet it ran along the western edge of the marsh for almost the full ninety miles.

  The travellers made camp. Familiar now with all their duties, it only took fifteen minutes or so to get settled, Gialyn gathered wood, Grady dealt with the water, Daric set snares, Olam and Arfael did their own ritual—though they did begin to include themselves more—and Ealian and Elspeth sorted the food. They were set for supper in less than an hour.

  They spoke of many things.

  Elspeth asked Daric about his time in the Guards. He said it was a good time, more than ten years of steady income, and good friends. However, it was often tedious and boring. He talked about the pageantry and the seemingly pointless rituals, and went on to say a little about the barracks’ lack of privacy and the oftentimes “suspicious” food.

  Gialyn asked about what came after the marshes. Olam explained it would be another long week of open grassland until they reached the north road. Then up along the edge of what was left of the Speerlag until they reached Cultures. After a week, they would be well into the central plains of Aleras’moya. Once there, they would follow the Old Road all the way to Bailryn.

  Grady told a story about the woods of Crenach’coi, a mysterious tale of strange woodsmen and even stranger beasts. He talked about people making up outlandish yarns about the woodsman apparently being “eight feet tall” and having “big green hairy feet.” Everybody laughed, but Elspeth and Ealian gave each other half-excited, half-anxious looks.

  Before long, the dark veil of night fell tightly around them. Daric put the last few dead branches on the fire and laid himself down to sleep. All was peaceful, save the sounds of an owl in the nearby wood. The light wind did nothing more than freshen up the air, neither cold nor damp. The end of the first stage of their journey was a good night’s rest for all.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Salrians

  Elspeth woke suddenly, wondering if what she’d heard was part of a dream. She pushed fingers into her eyes, rubbing away the sleep. Half dazed and blinking, she looked around the camp. Something was wrong, she could feel it; an itch at the back of her mind spoke of trouble.

  Where is Ealian? “Ealian!” she shouted. “Eeealiiiaaan!” Fool, if you’ve gone and run off! Why would he run off? Elspeth’s yell heralded no response, other than Gialyn’s moaning; he mumbled some inaudible curse, rolled on his side, and pulled the blanket back over his head. Breathing heavy now, Elspeth looked again, searching the campsite and the tree line. Gods, the food pack, one of the food packs has gone, too! Panic flooded through her mind. A cold sweat welled on her cheeks. Her throat tightened and flecks of white crossed her eyes as the blood drained from her face. “Wake up! Everyone, wake up!”

  “What is it, Elspeth?” Grady asked in a low groan. With a yawn on his voice, he half sat up, leaning on an elbow.

  Elspeth pointed to her brother’s empty bedroll. The panic in her heart hardened her gaze. “Ealian… and the food bag…” She knew if it were just Ealian, he wouldn’t have taken it. “The food pack is gone.”

  Grady immediately sprang up and forced on his boots. He nodded towards the north along the tree line. “South, I would have heard him, east, we would still see them, and west is the forest. Wake everyone. I’m heading north.”

  The whole camp had woken up—up and out of bed, looking at each other with puzzled glances—before Grady’s foot left campsite. All but Daric; he rushed over to Elspeth. “What happened?” he said, blinking his eyes as he watched Grady disappear amongst the trees at the north end of their camp.

  “I heard something in my sleep, and when I woke, I saw he was gone, along with half the food.” Elspeth held back the tears, trying to put on a brave face, but her knees where shaking and she felt sick to the bone. Who could take him? Did someone take him? That must be it; he wouldn’t go off alone!

  “Well, he wouldn’t take the food,” Daric said. He scratched his chin as though he had actually considered the possibility of Ealian setting off alone with the food. “He hasn’t been gone long. Maybe someone stole it and he ran after them?”

  “No! No! He wouldn’t just go running off on his own.” Gods, tell me he wouldn’t. Of course not… not with the food! Wake up, Elspeth. You’re not thinking. “Honestly, he isn’t that brave! He would have shouted for help. He would have shouted something!” Why didn’t he shout? Gods, they must have gagged him! Elspeth grabbed Daric by the arm, shaking him as if trying to make him understand.

  There was no need. By the look on his face, Daric was already a step ahead. “He probably disturbed the thief.” Elspeth’s eyes widened. “They took him, Elspeth. If they were going to hurt him, they could have done it where he lay. Don’t worry, they do not have much of a head start. We will find them!”

  Olam, his voice muffled while pulling his shirt over his head, spoke. “Arfael will stay here with the other youngsters. You and I should go west and south, see if we can find any sign of him.”

  “Good idea!” Daric said.

  “No!” Elspeth was indignant. Right then, she felt as if she could charge heedless into a pack of wild dogs. “I’m coming with you!”

  “Elspeth, there are only two directions to cover. Stay here until we know more and can come up with a proper plan,” Daric said.

  Elspeth reluctantly agreed. She sat down, shaking in fear.

  Gialyn stood quietly, one arm by his side, the other gripping its elbow. He looked ashamed at not rising from bed immediately. “Do you want some water, Elspeth? I will get you some water.” He quickly spun around looking for the nearest waterskin.

  “No. I’m all right. But thank you,” she said.

  Gialyn danced nervously from one foot to another. His gaze darted between Elspeth, his father, and the two newcomers. He looked impatient for something to happen, anything. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Grady ran back into camp, breathless but with news.

  “Three men—I’m sure one was Ealian—across the clearing at the tree line. They have about a mile on us!” he said, looking directly at Daric.

  Daric and Grady both took on the guise of soldier once again. Elspeth looked on with amazement as both men hurriedly prepared themselves for pursuit. It appeared as though they were communicating wordlessly, handing each other weapons, tying on one another’s bow sleeve, pausing at the same instant to take a long drink of water. Their ten years and more of guardsmen duty must have equipped them well to deal with situations such as this. In less than a minute, they were dressed, armed, and organized. They stood face to face, quickly developing a plan between them.

  Olam interrupted. “Daric and I should go.”

  “What?” Grady said. “W
hat are you talking about?” Grady was midway through tightening his belt and picking up arrows.

  Olam explained. “We don’t know their numbers. The camp needs protecting! I can track a fly in a thunderstorm.” He looked straight at Grady. “You should watch the other two with Arfael. I can get Daric and myself there much faster.”

  “No!” Grady banked the comment with a stern look. “Enough talk! Let’s be off, Daric.”

  Olam took a step forward and took Grady by the arm. “Trust me, Grady. Think of the boy.”

  Grady’s expression flattened. He nodded in agreement with Olam’s request. “Yes, you are right. We must do what is best for the boy!” He turned to Arfael. “You and I will stay at the camp with Elspeth and Gialyn.” He nodded at Arfael, who bowed back.

  In the panic, nobody seemed to notice how quickly Grady had changed his mind.

  Elspeth was wide-eyed and even more indignant. “You can make your plans as you wish, but I’m going!” She was already strapping her knife harness to her thigh.

  “Please, Elspeth!” Daric said. “We don’t know the full story. There may be much more to this than meets the eye. Rushing in could be dangerous for Ealian.” Daric laid his hand on Elspeth’s shoulder and turned her to face him. His gaze was stern, full of authority. Elspeth had never felt more like a little girl in her entire life.

  “Argh! Go on, then!” She grunted out the words, raising her hands to her head as though about to rip out her hair. She fidgeted about back and forth, kicking pebbles all over the camp.

  Daric caught Grady by the arm. “Keep them busy—Gialyn, too. I do not want to come back to hysterical children.” Grady nodded as if he knew exactly what he meant.

  “Come on, you two. We have to prepare the camp.” Grady pulled Elspeth to her feet and gestured for Gialyn to follow them.

  Daric eyed Olam, who was just putting down a waterskin and picking up his long walking staff. “Are you ready?” Olam nodded. They started making their way north. “We’re off. Keep them safe, Grady.” Daric spoke over his shoulder.

  “Of course, my friend, do not worry about them.” Grady saluted his former captain.

  * * *

  Daric and Olam approached the clearing. In front, lay half a mile of short grass. Beyond that, the Herann’coi continued up a slope for the better part of a mile.

  “We run straight across, no need for stealth just yet,” Olam said.

  Both men strode out across the clearing. Olam ran a few yards ahead, looking from side to side, occasionally pointing his staff at a broken blade of grass or a disturbed patch of earth. They came quickly up the tree line. Olam slouched, bent at the waist. He gestured Daric to do the same. The older man paced back and forth along by the base of the trees, occasionally stopping to take a closer look. On the third pass, he spoke. “Here, they went this way,” he said, pointing at a faint crease on the hard earth. “And it appears our young friend was struggling.”

  “You weren’t kidding about tracking, were you, Olam?”

  “I know the land, sir,” he said. His tone was warm, as though talking about an old friend.

  The two twisted their way between thickly set trees, keeping as quiet as possible, yet mindful of a need for haste. Olam continually checked for signs. About three hundred yards into the woods, they came upon a stream. Even Daric could clearly see the scrambling footprints of their prey cut deep on the far bank.

  “We have to hurry. We are not far from the forest edge. It would be better not to face them in the open,” Daric said, checking his knife and sword.

  “No need for those yet, my friend,” Olam said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I do not think kidnapping was their plan. They were after food. I’m expecting to find Ealian abandoned, fit and well, before too long. As soon as they have put enough distance between themselves and our camp.” Olam put a reassuring hand on Daric’s shoulder. “At least I hope that is the way of it.”

  “Well, either way, we should be ready. Come on.” Daric took the lead. With the muddy boot prints, even he could follow their tracks with ease, at least for now.

  The chase carried on for a further ten minutes, until they came to the edge of the forest and another clearing. Across the open field, a low grassy ridge rose steeply and then turned left into a deep gully, surrounded by rock.

  “Look up there. Do you see?” Daric said.

  “If you mean the tent, then yes.” Olam pointed to an area just north of the gully, where the dark canvas of a tent roof jutted out from behind a rock face.

  Daric took in a long sigh. “They have a camp! It’s not just two of them, is it?” He bit his lip, looking to the heavens for answers.

  “Look down here, Daric,” Olam said, pointing along the tree line to the right. “We can follow these trees and cut across the flank without being seen. At the very least, we can see what we are up against. And look…” Olam pointed to the north at a shallow slope rising from a dip in the clearing. “There they are. There is Ealian. Can you see?”

  Daric squinted. “Yes, that is Ealian and two men Grady saw. By their clothes, they look like Salrians.” Daric was puzzled; the Salrians were eighty miles west of Cul’taris. There was no other pass through the Speerlag Cliffs, not for a cart and horse at any rate. “What in Ein’laig’s name are they doing here? They are well beyond the treaty border!”

  “Maybe we will get a chance to ask them,” Olam said. “One of many questions, my friend. Shall we try for the tree line?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. It is a good plan.” Daric picked himself up and led the way, crouching and careful not to disturb any branches. He ran as quickly as he could around the edge of the clearing, always glancing to his side to check the progress of Ealian’s kidnappers.

  “They are nearly at their camp. We must hurry.”

  Olam stopped. “Horses… look. They have horses, at least ten. See. Down between those rocks on that small grass verge.” Olam pointed beyond the Salrian camp at a small corral conveniently edged by fallen rocks and a cliff face.

  “Well, either it is two men with a lot of horses or we are in trouble,” Daric said. “Let’s keep moving along the ridge. We can climb the slope behind them and get a better look. Ealian’s nearly at their camp; we must hurry.” Daric quickened his pace, less worried about detection, now no longer in the Salrian’s line of sight.

  After a few minutes, they came to the ridge and started climbing. Keeping low under the rocks, they made good time to the top. Daric stopped. There was fifteen feet of open ground between him and the back of a large Salrian tent. Checking left and right that all was clear, he scooted low across the ground and nestled quietly between the tent and a tall rock face by its right. Silently, he edged his way up along the outside of the tent, stopping just short of the corner. He had a good, secure view of the camp. Olam tucked in behind, his back flat against the dark canvas.

  Ealian stood in the clearing at the centre of the camp, five paces in front of the largest of the Salrian tents. To his right, Daric could see several Salrians seated around a small fire. The small rocky alcove, where the Salrians corralled their horses, was behind the largest tent. Ealian was ten paces in front of the tent Daric and Olam had hidden behind, too far to grab, even if his kidnappers didn’t surround him. The two kidnappers stood at either side of Ealian. One of them crouched slightly, trying to see inside the bag of stolen food. The other remained at attention for some reason.

  The canvas flap to the larger tent flew open.

  “What, by the gods, is the meaning of this stupidity?” Si’eth yelled while walking up to the man with his head in their food pack. The kidnapper was a little smaller than Si’eth—in width, if not so much in height. “I told you to hunt for deer or goat, not a damn Surabhan. Are you completely out of your mind, you foolish imbecile?”

  The other Salrians began laughing, which only seemed to intensify Si’eth’s anger. “What is it you all find so amusing?” he enquired. His voice was ominous in its pla
in, conversational pitch. “We are miles beyond the treaty line, eighty miles from the pass, with no backup and strict orders to stay unseen. So I ask again… Where is the joke; am I missing something?” Si’eth asked. His tone was no longer conversational. Nobody answered.

  Si’eth paced round for a while as though thinking of a plan. After a minute, he spoke to the smaller Salrian kidnapper. “Put him in the east tent.” He pointed to the small tent, beside which Daric and Olam were hiding. “And tie him up. We break camp at sunset. At noon, you will take a horse and drop him five miles west.” The leader looked down at the small Salrian, waiting for a response.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “He is only a boy. They are not likely to raise an army on his word alone. You will see him safely away. Do you understand me, Bre’ach?”

  “Yes, Father.” Bre’ach bowed solemnly.

  “And don’t call me father in front of the men. At the least use my name.”

  “Yes, Si’eth. Sorry.”

  “And put his belongings with him. It smells like fish. I hate fish!”

  Bre’ach took Ealian by the arm, leading him into the tent by Daric and Olam. Daric pressed his ear against the canvas; he could hear the Salrian warning Ealian to stay silent, then a garbled threat, something like, “Once I’ve got you on your own.” It was hard to hear clearly.

  Daric and Olam crept back to the centre of the canvas, away from the clearing. “Any ideas?” Daric whispered.

  “Wait a second. See if they leave him alone.”

  Olam inched back to the back corner of the tent. He pointed at the base, at a two-foot slit bound with thin rope. He gestured at Daric to listen for Bre’ach leaving. After a minute, the Salrian exited the tent, leaving Ealian alone inside. Olam quietly undid the binding from the corner post and silently slipped inside—followed closely by Daric.

  Ealian sat tied up in the opposite corner. He hadn’t noticed them yet. The tent was small and quite dark. There was a small table along the back wall; an ornate box sat on it. Three bedrolls lay spread out on the floor; a small fire pit was in the centre, next to it, a bucket of dirt to put out the fire. A few packs leaned against the far side, including their food pack.