The Call of the Crown (Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  “We’ll see who it is first,” Grady said. “Could be a rabbit.”

  Suddenly, Bre’ach charged at his father, knocking him into the fire. Then he quickly turned and ran up the bank. “It’s me, Bre’ach! Don’t shoot!” he shouted.

  The wolves took chase, sprinting up the bank after him. Before long, Aleban had Bre’ach by the cloth at his ankle while the other was a second from pouncing. A volley of arrows flew past, one sticking in the ground barely a pace in front of Aleban. They ducked, turned, and ran back to the hollow, weaving from side to side as they went. The arrows continued to fly while the wolves took cover behind the large oak where Ealian still lay.

  Grady had dragged Si’eth from the fire and patted him down. He was free of his bindings yet didn’t attempt to escape. “Let me talk to them!” he insisted.

  Grady shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “All right, go ahead!” He waved dismissively to the north. “I wouldn’t stick your head out too far, though.”

  Si’eth moved swiftly and took up position behind the same oak. “Cease fire! This is your commander, Si’eth. Cease fire!” All went quiet.

  Grady pricked his ears. Nothing. He turned to the wolves. “Can you hear anything?”

  “I can hear two men running back, about one hundred and fifty yards north.” He raised his head to listen again. “They have stopped—less than two hundred yards. I got a quick look as they fired on us. I would guess at five, maybe six”

  “Three is bad enough!” Grady said. “We must prepare in case they choose to ignore our friend here.”

  Si’eth was indignant. “I’m their commander. They will obey me.” He stood, jaw clenched, eyes fixed to the north. He was clearly frustrated—or insulted—at being ignored by his men.

  A long moment passed, maybe a minute. Si’eth shouted again, but still no response, just the whisper of branches swaying in the breeze. Despite his bravado, he had to admit things were not going his way. “You may be right,” he said to Grady. “Looks like that son of mine has them in a spin. They will be attacking soon!”

  “What makes you say that?” Grady asked.

  “As stupid as my son is, he is not that stupid. He knows reinforcements could be here any minute. He won’t wait.”

  “In that case, let’s get to it,” Grady said. “Everyone behind the logs. Prepare the bows and swords.” Grady turned to Aleban. “Don’t risk yourself to arrows, friend. Wait until they are close.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” Aleban pulled the burning log over to a bush that lay at the front of the hollow. “Quick, set this alight. It will make the area behind the logs seem darker. We don’t have time to put out the fire properly, so we might as well use it.”

  Grady jumped up and quickly ran the flame under the bushes. It took mere seconds before a line of fire bared the western edge of the hollow. “Good plan, my friend,” he said. “All behind the logs. You too, Si’eth.”

  Si’eth nodded. “I still think I can stop this before blood is shed!” he said.

  “You’ll have your chance to try soon enough.”

  They pulled the logs in a U-shape, with their backs to the forest. The wolves waited within the trees for opportunity to strike, while Grady, Perrin, and Tanri gathered arrows and placed them in easy-to-reach nooks.

  There, they waited for the inevitable. The fire on the western edge of the hollow made the rest of the night sky seem darker by comparison. They were going to have to wait until the Salrians entered the hollow before seeing them. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to set light to the bushes. But at least they only had one entrance, and the Salrians would be blinded by the fire, too. Grady hunkered behind the logs, eyes fixed on the northern rim, bow in hand, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.

  “Try not to kill my son!” Si’eth said.

  “You don’t sound too convincing,” Grady said.

  “I might kill him myself before the night’s out.”

  Grady thought a moment. It was the man’s son, after all. “I’ll give you one chance to get them to stand down, and then it’s every man for himself. I can do no more than that.” Grady looked around behind to see all was set. “We should have taken Ealian into the forest.”

  “Better close than have them make a hostage of him,” Perrin said. “Besides, I doubt even Salrians would harm a sick man.”

  Si’eth huffed. “That would depend on whether or not they came across the graves you had us dig this morning.”

  “It is too late to worry now,” Grady said. “But for the record, you started it!”

  They waited in near silence. The crackle of the burning bush tormented Grady’s ears. Each crack of a burning twig could be a twig snapped by a Salrian foot. Definitely a bad idea! No warning came from the wolves that anyone was approaching. Maybe they couldn’t hear above the bloody fire, either. A minute passed, then two. What are they waiting for? Grady thought. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Five of the Salrians ran down into the hollow, screaming and shouting their war cry. Bre’ach and two others came on Grady’s position from behind the large oak. Uld’eth and three more Salrians ran in from the west. They appeared stunned by the burning bush. The three of them had to change their plan quickly and run around north. It was a good idea after all; the fires had foiled their flanking attack. All seven of the Salrians grouped together at the north end of the hollow.

  Grady twisted around the log and let an arrow fly, hitting one of the Salrians square in the shoulder. He cursed at his missed hit, but it was still enough to put the Salrian down in agony. Another arrow took one more Salrian in the leg. He, too, hit the floor, wailing in pain.

  The five others reached the logs—too short for arrows. Time for the wolves to play. Aleban and Mott sprang out from the trees onto the backs of two more Salrians. Aleban tore at the neck of one but was cast off by a thick arm wielding a long knife. The Salrian stabbed at Aleban’s hind leg. He let out a yelp as the knife tore at the muscle. Quickly, Aleban bit ferociously at his attacker’s wrist until he dropped the blade. However, he wasn’t done. The thick-armed Salrian grabbed at Aleban’s neck and wrestled him to the ground. There they stayed in virtual stalemate while the fight went on around them.

  The wolves fighting one on one should have left equal numbers to fight it out at the logs, only it wasn’t so. Bre’ach brushed off attacks. Instead, he went to Grady’s pack and ripped it open. He tossed the contents on the ground and quickly scrambled around the items until he found what he was looking for. Once it was in his hand, he left—left his compatriots to their fate.

  If anyone had noticed what Bre’ach did, no one could have stopped him. One of the Salrians hit with an arrow was back on his feet. Perrin was quickly overcome, and Tanri had more than his hands full. The two wolves were busy, too. Mott was pinned under a Salrian knee—the owner of which looked as if he dared not move for fear of being savaged, while Aleban wrestled with the fat, thick-armed Salrian who didn’t seem to care whether he was bitten or not.

  Si’eth, for all his good intention and pretence of controlling his own men, fought with one of the two remaining Salrians. A club had hit him hard when he stood and tried to order a halt. Now he was groggy and could barely contend with a man who was half his size.

  Grady struggled with a large Salrian who had dragged him across the logs and was now intent on crushing Grady’s head with his boot. Grady took three hits before he managed to turn onto his front and right himself. He grabbed the Salrian in an arm lock and twisted around and down until the Salrian was on the floor. With all his might, Grady pulled at the bigger man’s neck, but the Salrian was too strong. He flipped Grady in front of him and came again, giving Grady a vicious kick to the side.

  The big Salrian took up a rock and was just about to crush Grady’s head when he let out a fitful scream. Grady watched as his attacker dropped the rock and began scrabbling around at his back. After a moment, the man fell to his knees and then the floor. Grady’s own long kn
ife stuck out of the Salrian’s back.

  Grady looked up, expecting to thank Si’eth or Perrin for saving his life. However, in front of him, holding out his hand to help Grady to his feet was Ealian. He gave Grady a nod.

  “You’re not going to do much good down there, Mr. Daleman.” Ealian chuckled.

  CHAPTER 31

  What Happened to Ealian?

  A deafening roar from Arfael alerted all those in the hollow to his presence. The Salrians—those with any fight left—quickly surrendered. They sat on the floor with their hands in the air. The two that were fighting with the wolves cowered at Aleban’s and Mott’s snarling teeth. The wolves ushered them into the centre. One Salrian lay dead, another as good as. Only three were left that could stand or pose a threat.

  Daric ran over to Grady and helped pull him to his feet. “What happened here?” he said. He looked down at the dead Salrian at his feet, then at the burning bushes and at the packs strewn, emptied, all over the camp.

  “It would appear that we left some Salrians unaccounted for!” Grady smiled despite what must have been a painful bruising at the hands of the big Salrian. “They are what are left of Si’eth’s group. Seems they broke orders and turned north.”

  “Em… so it would seem.”

  Daric surveyed the injured: Aleban had a knife wound; Perrin had a black eye, but otherwise looked well enough; Mott acted as though his ego was more bruised than anything else; Tanri was worn out but in one piece; Ealian… Gods, Ealian!

  Elspeth ran to her brother, tears already in her eyes. “Thank the gods you are all right!”

  Ealian—who was still a little unsure of his feet—stumbled over to her. “I’ve had the strangest dreams,” he said while being hugged halfway back to unconsciousness. “I can’t explain it.” He held his sister for a long moment, smiling and contented, it seemed, with his lot.

  Then he saw Cal. He backed up from Elspeth and approached the woodsman. “Ien ulst vielth nors taal, engrae na voith Ealian’tien,” he said with a deep bow.

  His ancient recital met with absolute silence. Elspeth backed off with mouth wide open. Grady thrust his head back and couldn’t decide which one to look at, Ealian or Cal. The others froze to the spot, mouths agape and eyes wide. All but Cal and Mateaf.

  Cal nodded cautiously at Ealian, all the while darting sideways glances at Mateaf and the other Cren. “Ulst vieth? toiv da Tien?” he asked.

  Ealian nodded to Cal.

  “Wait-wait-wait-wait!” Elspeth said. “By the gods, speak common!” She put out a hand to Ealian, slowly touching his shoulder, as though not too sure of what, or who, he was anymore.

  Ealian backed up into the centre of the hollow. “My name is Ealian’tien. I know from Ealian Tanner that many of you will be confused, and I know this is going to take some time to explain, particularly to the Surabhan, but it appears we don’t have long. If this fight is anything to go by, I’m assuming I have arrived in the midst of trouble of some kind?” He looked about the group, waiting for an answer.

  Cal stepped forward. He was about to speak in Cren, then remembered Elspeth’s plea. “You are Tien?” he asked and then continued. “The Tien of Old… the one for whom it is named, the Tien of the ancient scrolls?”

  Ealian looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Well, I do not know how ancient the scrolls are. What year is this?”

  “It is 1530 by the common calendar, 1284 of the kingdom.”

  “Really!” Ealian said half at a gasp “Then I suppose a thousand years is quite ancient.”

  Cal and Mateaf gazed at one another, confusion written loudly in their expressions. After a moment, they both got down on one knee and bowed to Ealian, one hand on their hearts, the other on the ground in front of them. Perrin and Tanri joined them.

  “Ien ulst vielth nors taal, Alicin’tien.” The four Cren spoke in unison.

  Ealian—or rather, Ealian’tien—bowed back. “Please,” he said. “It is not the time for that. You must tell me all that has happened. I assume you have something to do with all of this.” Ealian looked over at Arfael. “Unless things have changed a lot in the last thousand years, a Kel’mai in the forest of Crenach is not a good sign… Knowing what you people generally think of trees.”

  Arfael looked bemused. “I’m not a common Kel’mai,” was all he could think to say.

  “But there is trouble of sorts? If I’m guessing right,” Ealian said.

  Olam came forward. “Well, yes. Quite a lot actually, but don’t you think you should explain yourself a little first?”

  “You are of the Am’bieth! I can sense it from here.” Ealian bowed. “I’m guessing Am'bieth Raics are still uncommon?” He looked back to Cal.

  “Yes, indeed they are. I’ve only met one other in near a hundred years,” he said.

  “Well! This is an honour indeed!” Ealian said, bowing again to Olam. “I’ll answer your question quickly. Though really, someone such as yourself should know already. Crenach Raics are individuals, while Am’bieth Raics are the essence of ancient good and evil. You possess an affinity with the land and the creatures upon it that is greater than any other. I’m merely the essence of one man, a single spirit, with only his experience and memories. If you like, I’m a living book of ancient times, where as you are the living earth beneath my feet.”

  Elspeth could stand no more. “WHAT HAPPENED TO EALIAN?” she shouted.

  Ealian turned to her. “Sister, I understand your fear, believe me I do. I’m your brother… and I’m Tien. We are flour and water, milk and honey. Both and yet neither. I’m Ealian’tien. I’m new.” Ealian’tien placed his hand on his chest and nodded toward Elspeth as though his explanation would be enough.

  “I don’t believe it.” Elspeth drew her breath and near passed out in front of him. “You have to get out of him. My father… His father! What of our family? You are not Ealian!” Grady grabbed her and sat her down on the floor. “I’m going to be sick. To come from such joy to this in an instant is too much. I can’t bear it!”

  Ealian sat beside her. “It is this or death, sister. Rest assured, that is where he was heading. The one within him—the one that came before—he would have killed him before the night was done. I’m Ealian. I remember everything. I remember the picnics by the river; I remember stealing your toys on your sixth birthday; I remember fishing, swimming, the walks we had in Beugeddy with our grandmother. It is all there.” Ealian paused. “Think of it like this: I’m Ealian… who grew up really quickly and has learnt a lifetime’s worth of wisdom in one night. And I’m alive, sister, and I love you!”

  Elspeth put her arms about his neck and pulled him in close. “By the gods, this is going to take some getting used to,” she said.

  “Indeed it is.”

  “And you are telling Father.” She laughed.

  Grady suddenly spun around. His hands gripped tightly on his hair. “Oh no!”

  Daric shrugged his shoulders at him. “What’s wrong, friend?”

  “My pack, he has taken it!”

  “Taken what? You’re not making any sense.”

  “That… Bre’ach has taken the map and run off north.”

  Cal ran to the top of the hollow. “How long?”

  “It can’t be more than twenty minutes. I didn’t see him in the attack, yet he isn’t here. It must have been him!” Grady said.

  “Uld’eth has gone, too,” Si’eth said.

  Cal paced around at the top of the rise. “So which of them took it, this Bre’ach or the other?”

  “It was Bre’ach,” Aleban said. “I saw the other run off when I was fighting. He took nothing with him.”

  “So twenty minutes, then. Can you track him?” Cal said to the wolf.

  “I doubt it. North, west, south, this whole place stinks of Salrians, alive and dead!”

  “Then we are ruined. If he gets it to her, then we are lost!”

  Daric turned to Olam. “Can you track him?”

  “Of course!” Cal said. “The Am
’bieth Raic! You can track him, can’t you?”

  Olam stood. “Yes, I can track, but sadly, I can’t see in the dark. It will have to wait until morning.”

  Cal huffed. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the ground. “There are only two ways he can go: northeast through Cul’taris or the tunnels themselves. Now that he has the map, he will probably choose the tunnels. It is the quickest route.” He put his hand to his mouth and bared his teeth. “We will be on horses in a few days. We can catch him before he gets there.” He jumped down the slope to the others. “That will have to do. We’ll have to hope for luck. Once we’ve reached the northern cusp of Crenach, I will send the horsemen after him. We all have our other duties, but if he’s gone that way, the Horsemen of Crenach will catch him, gods willing!”

  “Then we need to prepare,” Olam said. “As much as sleep may elude us on this strangest of nights, we must rest and be off with the dawn.”

  The travellers and their new friends settled for the night, all with their own thoughts, worries, and questions. The packs were made ready. Gialyn and Grady did a run to the river for water, and Daric checked the food. As for Elspeth, she could barely keep a thought in her head. She had accepted Ealian’tien for what he was and even felt grateful, in her own way, but it was all a bit much to take in over such a short time.

  The Cren felt very much as she did. Someone would have to go back and tell Kirin’thar that he wasn’t going to be their leader for much longer. And what of Ealian himself? Cal argued that he should go back but didn’t think for a moment that he would leave his sister, at any rate. There were many answers to work on through the night and as many hopes that the dawn would enlighten them.

  CHAPTER 32

  The New Road

  The morning came and none was much the wiser. However, the wolves from Illeas’den finally turned up. They had arrived before dawn and lain quiet just south of the hollow until the others woke.