“Not of Vila’slae, but her man, the Kel’madden captain, he was there,” Cal said.
Tor let out a short burst of flame from his nose. “Should have finished with him last time. We must assume she is leading. The dragons wouldn’t be there without her, unless they have found another to take her place.”
Kirin’thar sighed at the thought. “Be it her or someone new, our aim is still the same. We must learn of their plans and prepare as best we can. The old alliances must be born anew and the borders strengthened. And if we are to do this, we must seek council with Eidred’s heir and bring the armies of Aleras to the fight.”
“And what of the Salrians? They must know of the Madden massing on their flank. Could they be working with them?” Tor asked.
Kirin answered. “I doubt it; they have little love for Eiras or the Madden. As for the east, the land is sparse. The Salrians dwell, almost to a man, around Barath. There are only a few small boarder outposts, thanks to that ridiculous treaty and of course, Cul’taris. They could very well know nothing of it!”
“Then she won’t risk a war on two fronts,” Tor said, “at least not until she has a foothold in the south. And if she can’t go through Taris, then that leaves the Tunnels of Aldregair.”
Kirin laughed. “After what happened to her last time, I doubt she will risk the tunnels. She could come on Taris and pass the Northern Keep before the Salrians can react.” Kirin thought a moment. “Yes! And be on Bailryn even before the Salrians are warned.”
Tor growled. “Argh… we are just guessing. She could be attacking from the sea!”
“No,” Cal said. “They were ferrying the Madden in from Toi’ildrieg. They have no more than seven ships.”
Tor pondered the situation. “It’s clear someone is going to have to go up and take a look, someone who can get there and back in time enough for us to prepare. Maybe one of the smaller dragons, perhaps Ban or Lyduk?”
Kirin shook his head. “You shouldn’t risk exposing yourselves. I can send a man on a fast horse, two weeks, maybe.”
Tor wasn’t happy, but he had to concede that Kirin’thar was right. “Yes, I suppose if anyone can spy and gather news, then it would be one of the Cren, no doubt there.”
“So that’s settled. Not all the questions answered, but it’s the beginnings of a plan,” Kirin said.
Tor stopped and pulled a contrite expression. “Well, actually…” He hesitated. “There is a little matter that I need your help with.”
At that moment, Tor saw four men running up from the village, each with two buckets of water. “Ah, thank the gods,” he said. He hunched back and sat on his tail. He grabbed the first bucket in his front paws. The contents were gone in three long gulps. He dropped the bucket and reached out for more. The bewildered Cren passed him the other bucket. Tor had three more and then at the sixth, he asked the woman holding it if she would mind throwing it over his back.
“Ah, that is better! Thank you all.” He got back on all fours and continued walking towards the village.
“What were you saying about a favour?” Kirin asked.
“Oh, yes… Sorry,” Tor said. “The Cinnè’arth is right now camped just outside your forest, to the northeast in what looks like a hollow just north of the river. I’d like you to do what you can to persuade him to come to me.”
Both Kirin and Cal stopped dead in their tracks. “You mean the… Arlyn Gan’ifael! He’s sitting in a hollow on the boarder of our lands?” The two Cren looked at each other with wide-eyed, jaw-to-the-floor astonishment.
Once Kirin had gathered himself, he continued. “I thought he was dead! Everybody thought he was dead. Now you say he is sat in a field on the borders of Crenach. How could I go a hundred years and not know of this?” He put his hand to his mouth and then scratched his fingers through his thick black hair, shaking his head constantly from side to side. “Well, this changes everything. What of the other Kel’mai? Are they back, too?” He looked with bewilderment up at his friend.
“I don’t know,” Tor said. “I’ve only known a few months myself. Since Brea, our soul guardian, came of age.”
“Really… you have a soul guardian now?” Kirin said with a genuinely pleased tone. “What, like the old, or is she…?”
“She will be an oracle, if she survives the quickening.” Tor looked sad. “The first for five hundred years!”
“Yes, if you do not count that Eiras witch. And look what happened to her.”
Tor angered at the thought of such a thing happening to Brea. “No, she isn’t Eiras. She is pure Gan, linked to my son, Ulrekan, or Rek as she calls him. Which frankly annoys me no end. Rek, phaw, it’s a girl’s name.”
Kirin’thar grinned. “To be fair, Tor, it doesn’t sound like a girl’s name.”
Tor huffed. “Well, it is in dragon tongue.”
“Fair enough,” Kirin’thar said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “So, how am I—what reason should I give? What do I tell him to make him come to you?”
“He can’t come to me!” Tor said. “He must first go to Brea. He has been cursed. The Kin is no longer under his control. For us to meet, Brea must first treat him so the rage of Cinnè’arth will not come to the fore.”
Kirin grumbled a little at the thought of “persuading” a Cinnè’arth to do anything. “I don’t pretend to understand all of which you speak, friend. However, I will do my part the best I’m able. You can be sure of that!”
“Good!” Tor said. “We will speak some more of happier times. Then, come daylight, I will sleep and fly back tomorrow night, before he comes to you. This effort has been harder than I expected. I won’t make it if I leave now.”
“Of course, that would be good, my friend. It has been a long time since you have visited. Most of our people haven’t seen the like. We shall make food and talk. I doubt many will be sleeping tonight anyway.” Kirin bowed.
The three reached the outskirts of the village. Kirin asked Tor to wait in a small clearing by the well while he had food prepared for him. Tor agreed, immediately resting himself on the edge of the clearing underneath the bows of a line of birch.
He closed his eyes and thought of the night, remembering his journey and what had brought him to this point. A soothing sense of relief came over him, a feeling that he was no longer the lone carrier of this burden. He knew he wasn’t scared, at least not in the sense that he would run from this challenge if he had the chance. Nevertheless, he did hold fear for the future. A fear now eased with the knowledge help was at hand. Still much to do, he thought. At least it has started. No more feeling useless and being at the mercy of others.
* * *
Kirin’thar and Cal walked the rest of the way into the village, talking as they went.
“You know there are those in the council that won’t agree with this action, don’t you?” Cal said.
Kirin hardened his gaze. “Yes, and they are fools, fools for thinking we can hide in the trees while the Madden roll over Aleras and Ealdihain. Fools for thinking the witch will stop there and fools for believing that troubles of others are no business of ours!” He shook his head and kicked out at the ground beneath his feet. “They forget the old war and what it was like before. Every man calling himself king of his own backyard. We must stay together. We must join with the Surabhan and even the Salrians. If we do that, we can see an end to this as one people. United!” Kirin slowed to a muted stroll and looked aimlessly in front of him. “Maybe better lessons can be learnt and peace will win once and for all!”
A large group of excited Cren were waiting back at the village for Kirin’thar’s return, all clambering around the edge of the waterfall, waiting to hear what was happening. A small girl broke from her mother’s grip and ran to Kirin.
“Can we go see?” she said.
Kirin laughed. “He’s very tired and you’ll have to behave, but yes. We will all go to the clearing and have some food.”
“Why did he hit the tree?” asked another child, laughing.
<
br /> Kirin avoided directly answering. “He’s come a long way and was tired.”
“Maybe he should look where he’s going,” the little girl at his feet said.
Kirin mussed her hair and quickly turned to his wife, who stood waiting on the steps of their hut. “Can we get some food organised? Maybe you can see the butcher. Half a pig should do it.”
His wife nodded and scooted off to the other side of the square.
Twenty minutes had passed and Tor was still lying on his side along the edge of the clearing. He was awake, but barely. He heard the sound of footstep approaching and slowly opened his eyes. There before him stood a line of Cren of all shapes and sizes, some with smiles on their faces, some agape with awe. Tor looked down the line from left to right and smiled at each in turn. About twenty stood staring at him. All were silent; nobody wanted to speak. Tor rolled onto his back and blew a plume of bright-orange flame thirty feet into the air. He spun quickly onto all fours and looked fiercely at the assembled Cren, especially the children. After a second, he laughed. They all joined in and applauded him on his fire show.
Tor was happy to be in the company of so many friends. For years, he had seen none but the same few dragons and maybe the odd villager. This is good, he thought as he talked to the Cren. They were friendly souls and mighty interested in him. Even the children were fearless, never having heard a bad tale about a dragon. In their eyes, Tor was an exciting, wondrous thing. They felt very lucky to meet him. Their kindness showed, as Tor all but forgot the reason for his journey and sat talking and eating with his new friends. This is how it should be. It has been so long.
After around an hour, Cal returned to the group. He bowed to Tor and beckoned Kirin with a nod. Kirin walked over to him, laughing and tipping his mug at those having fun in the clearing.
“I’ve got some men together. We will leave first thing in the morning. They should be easy enough to find, but I’d like to observe them in the daylight first, check all is clear,” Cal said. “It’s six hours, so if all goes well, maybe late evening tomorrow,” he said.
“Very good,” Kirin said. He stood a while, looking quizzically at Cal. “You’re not one of those who think we should stay out of this, are you, my friend?”
“Sir, my personal views are my own. I will do my duty.”
“That’s not what I asked you. Answer my question.” Kirin threw away the dregs in his mug and squared himself up to Cal.
“Sir, I don’t know enough to have a strong opinion one way or another.”
“And you think I don’t either. Is that the problem? Do you think this is all a bit rushed and maybe we should sit at council and debate a while?” Kirin waited for a response. “Well… is that what you think?” He insisted.
Cal stood firm against the accusation. Looking sternly away from Kirin’s gaze, he answered, “I think we have a council for a reason, sir. This clearly is a matter for it. There are eighty thousand Cren throughout Crenach’coi, and while you are our leader, you are not a dictator.”
Kirin nodded his head and bit his lip. “Will you do as I asked to the best of your ability?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” Cal said.
“Then go and do it. Leave the politics to me.”
Kirin’thar turned and rejoined the party. Cal hastily about-faced and stomped off along the track. The three Cren with him stood staring at each other for a moment and then all quickly marched off to catch up.
Back at the party, they had built a fire and all were still laughing. Kirin came to stand by Tor, who had apparently seen what had happened.
“Is there a problem, my friend?” he asked.
“No, no. Nothing for you to worry about, my friend. The Cinnè’arth will be sent to you as you requested.”
CHAPTER 25
Elspeth’s Wish
The morning sun laid long shadows across the hollow. Despite the near-perfect blue sky, the campsite remained in complete shade. A chill in the air contradicted the heat of late, enough that Elspeth pulled her blanket tightly to her chin. She lay on her side, eyes half open, staring at her brother. How long had she been lying there? Time had run faster than the river she could hear in the distance; for two copper, she would swear she’d been in bed for less than an hour, yet the dawn belied her senses.
She watched surreptitiously as Olam rose. She doubted if he’d slept much either; the man had tossed and turned all night. Why did he feel so bad? It wasn’t as if any of this was his fault, or was it? He knew about that… black thing and didn’t warn them. He attacked the Salrians with that apple bomb Grady mentioned. In fact, it seemed as though they’d done nothing but follow the man from one disaster to another for the past week and a half. No, that isn’t fair. You just want someone to blame. Olam didn’t shoot the bloody arrow.
Olam flung his blankets to the side and stumbled, still crouching, the few feet to where her brother slept. Only Elspeth already knew he wasn’t sleeping. She had watched for an hour as Ealian lay half-propped against the roots of the oak tree. His eyes open wide, staring into nothingness. His breath was shallow for the most part, occasionally dragging a harsh gulp of air through his open mouth. Olam took him by the hand and knelt by his side. Elspeth watched as the old man leaned close to Ealian’s ear and whispered. What is he saying?
Wearily, she rolled herself out of her blanket and crept quietly to her brother’s side. She bowed low upon seeing him up close. Only a few hours passed since exhaustion forced what little sleep she’d had upon her, yet it was clear, even in that short time, Ealian had taken for the worse. His skin shone of a clammy, grey hue. Matted sweat lined his forehead. His eyes were blackened, gaunt, and glazed a greyish-blue and lay deep in his skull.
Elspeth swayed until steadying herself against Olam’s shoulder. Sickened by her feeling of helplessness, she began to moan. “What are we to do?” she asked. Her words brought forth a stuttering cry, as if they were as much a plea to the gods as a question for Olam. “Look at him!”
Olam took Elspeth by the shoulder, steadying her against her trembling heart. “Don’t lose hope, child. He is fighting. We have some time.” Olam’s words rang thin in her ears. She knew the truth was plain enough to see, even to her untrained eye.
Elspeth eyes turned to steely determination. She got to her feet and moved swiftly to where Grady slept. “Get up!” she said, kicking him about the leg.
“Wh—what’s happened?” Grady sat up. Blinking, he squinted around the camp, doubtless looking for the cause of this rude awakening. His shoulders slumped when his gaze fell on Ealian. His face said he remembered the promise he’d made to Elspeth.
“Grady! Quickly, please! My brother doesn’t have long. We must go to town and fetch the medicine Olam spoke of.” She picked up Grady’s pack and thrust it into his arms.
“I know, Elspeth. Calm down.”
“Calm was yesterday!” Elspeth said. Blinkered determination raged in her chest. They were going if she had to drag him out of the camp.
Grady had risen quickly, too quickly, nearly losing his feet and landing in the fire. Slowly he stumbled over to where Ealian lay. The sight of the young man took his breath. He raised his hands and interlocked his fingers, pushing his hair back from his eyes. “Oh no!” he whispered to himself. “I’ve seen healthier-looking dead men.” He bent to Olam’s ear and whispered, first glancing around to see that Elspeth couldn’t hear. “Are these… medicines going to work?’
“What! No, Grady, you do not just give up on him. We are going,” Elspeth screeched. She threw her half-folded blanket to the ground. “Just take water and a little food and we’ll be off. No excuses. You promised!” She stomped over to where the waterskins were stored, picked one up, and took it over to him, shoving it in his hand. Her eyes stared at him, full of hurt and disappointment. She was going and he was coming, too, no arguments.
Grady bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Elspeth. I just…” Elspeth stood, fists on hips, staring at him. “Never mind, give me two mi
nutes.”
“Going where?” A shout came from the south, beyond the rim of the hollow.
Elspeth’s heart jumped in her chest. She dropped her pack and ran to where the sound came from. Finally, the seal broke on her tears. Her face shone red, her legs quivering, as she ran with open arms to Daric. “Thank the gods you are safe. Thank the gods!” Her words were barely audible above her blubbering.
“Elspeth, what is wrong? What has happened?” Daric must have thought the worst. His eyes certainly said so.
“It’s Ealian!” She was holding Gialyn by now. “The story is too long! You must speak to Olam. Grady and I are off to a town to find medicine.” They continued walking while she spoke.
Daric looked to Grady with a puzzled expression.
Grady answered his gaze. “I’d love to tell you, Daric. It has been a night for tales, that’s for sure. But Elspeth is right. There is no time. Olam will speak of it… and it’s good to see you well, friend.” He bowed low with his hand on his heart.
“It is good to see you,” Elspeth said, “both of you. I’m so glad you are well.”
* * *
Daric found the hollow held more questions. The first, and not least: what were the Salrians doing there? However, so hurried was the chaos that before a minute’s end, he found himself saying good-bye to Elspeth and Grady.
Olam explained everything: what happened with Arfael, Ealian’s fever, the scroll, and Elspeth’s quest for medicine. Daric had so much to say he found he was unable to say anything. Obviously, it was clear to him the priority was Ealian. Olam explained about the kharoe ash and liet root, most notably that he honestly wasn’t sure if they would help at all.
“Then why did they go?” Daric knew the answer before he finished asking it. “Never mind, but Be’olyn! They are piling trouble on top of misery by going there.”
“I know,” Olam said. “She needed to do something. Fear loves nothing more than a task-less heart.” Olam poured water into his palm and dripped it onto Ealian’s lips. “To be honest, Daric, it is a blessing she will not stand and bear witness. The hurt in her eyes brings forth a pain in my chest greater than I can swallow. I fear a bad end before tomorrow is done, and I do not have the words to tell her.”
The Call of the Crown (Book 1) Page 30
