The Crown and the Dragon

by John D. Payne

  “Easy to hate him,” said Aedin, “but Leif wasn’t always this way. Country’s had nothing but war for twenty years or more. Changes a man. Makes him do things. Bad things.” He turned away. Sometimes it even made men take terrible risks with other people’s lives.

  “I don’t care what happened to him,” shot Elenn. “Nothing—not war, or anything else—excuses what happened to me.”

  “No,” said Aedin. “Really doesn’t.” He pulled the sheathed dagger from his belt, and bounced it in his palm. What if Leif hadn’t backed down? Could he have killed him? Aedin shook his head. He really hadn’t thought things with Leif could have gone so badly, so quickly.

  Turning back to Elenn, Aedin offered her the weapon.

  “Yours,” he said, “if you want it.”

  Elenn eyed it, but did not reach for it.

  “Got a sword,” said Aedin, tugging on the eagle-headed pommel of the saber strapped to his back, “so I don’t need it. Might want to protect yourself.”

  “That… belonged to one of the Sithians,” said Elenn, “didn’t it?”

  Aedin nodded. He held the dagger out for her again. “Here. Take it. I never hold on to a blade for long anyway.”

  Elenn accepted it gingerly, turning it over in her hands. It had dried blood on the sheath. “Which one?” she asked. “Tuliyek? That was the name of the one with the beard, I think. The mean one.”

  “Other one,” said Aedin, adjusting the straps on the rude harness he had rigged to hold the long Sithian cavalry saber and scabbard on his back. It was rigged to fit a shorter, rounder man, and he still hadn’t got it to feel comfortable. “The blond.”

  “Nurzod,” said Elenn sadly. “Poor thing. He didn’t seem as bad.” She sighed.

  Aedin shrugged his shoulders, testing the fit of the harness. It was better, but it still didn’t feel quite right. Probably because he wore it over the Sithian’s quilted jack, which fit even worse and was more difficult to adjust.

  “It just seems so wrong,” Elenn continued, “to have left them there without a proper burial.” She stepped over to the stream, and began washing the dagger and sheath clean. On the bank beside her, Aedin could see where her struggle with Leif had left gouges in the mud and the moss.

  Elenn finished washing it and shook it free of moisture. After a brief search, she found a bit of her kirtle that wasn’t stained with blood, or grass, or dirt, and she carefully dried the dagger.

  “Sorry, Elenn,” said Aedin.

  Elenn looked up at him. With a slight frown, she stood, and tucked the sheathed weapon away in her belt.

  “For your aunt’s death,” Aedin added. “For… everything. What’s happened to you… No one deserves this.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  Aedin watched her carefully. He needed to know if it was safe to leave her behind, or if she would send someone after him to avenge her for what she had suffered. To Aedin’s relief, he saw in Elenn’s face only sorrow, loss, and grief. There was no sign that she laid the blame for her aunt’s death, or the horrors of the morning, at his feet—although of course he would have to keep an eye on her.

  “Isn’t safe,” Aedin said, “living rough like this. Not good for a girl like you.” He smiled, sadly. “Let’s get you out of this wicked world, back where you belong.”

  “Thank you,” said Elenn quietly. Her eyes glistened with tears, and with a gratitude so sincere that Aedin could not help but smile. A grateful woman was not a woman who would send soldiers looking for him. For Leif, perhaps—but the man had only himself to thank for that.

  “Saw signs of shepherds to the north,” said Aedin, indicating the direction with his head, “and woodsmen. Not completely sure of where we are. Not far from a settlement of some kind. Most Riverlanders are hospitable folk. They’ll take good care of you.”

  Elenn hesitated.

  “Or if you like,” said Aedin, “I can take you east to Butcher’s Creek.” He squinted up at the sun. “Be there by noon. Find the River Mareys or the road. Either way, you’ll find someone to take you wherever you want to go.”

  “I want to go east,” said Elenn.

  Aedin smiled. He would be rid of her in a matter of hours. And a few days east of here, he had stashed away some weapons and things that would have him back on his feet again in no time. Perhaps his luck was beginning to change.

  “East, then,” Aedin said. “Let’s gather up your things.” He himself was already wearing the Sithian’s sword and the quilted jack, so he had nothing to retrieve. He strode briskly back toward the site of their rude camp, with Elenn following behind him.

  “I hope your friend didn’t take all the food,” said Elenn.

  “Being roped together doesn’t make us friends,” said Aedin. “But I’m sure he left us a little. Enough to get us to Butcher’s Creek.”

  “Well, I’m not stopping at Butcher’s Creek,” said Elenn. “I need to get to Ghel.”

  Aedin stopped and turned to face her. “Ghel? Where in Ghel?”

  “The Leode,” said Elenn. She resumed walking, taking the lead.

  “Week’s journey at least,” muttered Aedin. “Maybe less if you cross through dragon country. Won’t find many parties headed that way. Too dangerous.”

  The lands where the dragon most frequently hunted were largely abandoned by law-abiding folk. But desperate men and outlaws sometimes risked it, as Aedin well knew. His own stash was more than twenty miles into dragon country.

  “Plenty of folk headed to Ghel the long way, around the Lough,” Aedin continued. “Once we get you to the road, you’ll find some group of pilgrims to travel with. Train of merchant wagons, maybe. Some fine caravans travel that road.”

  It was just such a caravan that Aedin and Leif had been trying to ambush when they had been captured by Vitalion soldiers three days before. Aedin rubbed his wrists, which were still raw and sore from the ropes.

  “No,” said Elenn, marching purposefully ahead of him through the trees. “I’m not going to sit on the side of the road and hope to find a party headed my way. My task is too important for that.”

  Aedin did not respond. He hoped he was wrong, but it sounded like the girl didn’t want to part ways.

  “What I need is a guide,” said Elenn. “Someone who can take me all the way to Ghel. Someone who has demonstrated his trustworthiness.”

  Aedin stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth. He was right. The girl was working her way up to asking him to take her to the Leode. He wanted no part of her fool’s errand. His plan to convince her of his good intentions seemed to have succeeded rather catastrophically.

  After walking confidently twenty paces further on her own, Elenn also stopped. “Which way is the camp?”

  “Left,” he called. “Few paces and you’ll see it.”

  “Well,” Elenn said, spinning to face him with a look of triumph. “It seems there is at least one person here who can find his way through the forest.”

  Aedin tucked in his chin to hide his glower and walked to rejoin her. “Know this area a bit. Still, better off attaching yourself to a large caravan,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “I do,” said Elenn, with a sly hint of a smile.

  Aedin scowled again. “I said already, best way to Ghel is the road,” he said gruffly. “Takes you north around the Lough, but it’s safe. Vitalion soldiers and auxiliaries patrol it regularly.”

  He glanced at Elenn, who was eyeing his garb—the breeches, boots, and quilted jack he had stolen from the dead Sithian. “I’m not a man you’ll want with you on the road. I’m wanted. They’ll be after me for true now, since I escaped and left two bodies behind.”

  Elenn turned away and said nothing. But in the wordless whisper of her breath, Aedin could almost hear her correction: “Three.”

  In silence, they reached the site of their rude camp. It was a disaster. Leif had not only taken the horse, he had taken all the strong drink and rich food they had pillaged from Elenn’s tub cart.

  S
haking his head, Aedin looked to see what food and necessities Leif had left them. Elenn gathered what remained of her things, which had been scattered all around the clearing. Some had been ground into the dirt.

  Aedin took a moment to follow the tracks of the horse. Leif had made no attempt to hide them, and they led south and west, toward Anondea. Aedin grimaced. Was it a warning? A bluff? A double bluff? Aedin kicked the dirt and walked back to the clearing.

  Elenn stood ready, a leather sack thrown over her shoulder. At her feet was her small chest, which seemed to have been badly battered. To Aedin’s eye, it looked to have been kicked by a horse.

  Aedin picked up the chest without a word. The two of them turned their faces to the morning sun and began walking east.

  ***

  Chapter Fourteen

  It took them the better part of the day to get to Butcher’s Creek, and despite her best efforts, Elenn found herself unable to engage Aedin in conversation. She wasn’t sure why he was in such an ill temper, but she thought it was partly due to his frustrations with himself and his pathfinding skills. He certainly did not like being asked when they were going to arrive, or why his earlier estimate had been off by hours.

  It probably did not help that he was walking in boots that were not designed for him and did not fit him. And she did not think that he had fully recovered from the ordeals he had endured at the hands of the Sithians. She could see him suffering in little ways, and she tried to talk to him about these things, but found him no more willing to talk about this than about their progress, or lack thereof.

  She wished she had not lost Gawaine. At least he would have listened. And Elenn needed someone to talk to. Her aunt was dead. She had been attacked by an escaped prisoner. Merciful gods, she was traveling with another escaped prisoner and hoping she could convince him to accompany her further.

  Maybe that was another reason Aedin didn’t want to talk to her. Since gallantly coming to her rescue, he had seemed to want nothing to do with her. The further they walked, the more grim and taciturn he became. Elenn supposed he saw little point in getting to know a person he would abandon on the side of the road like an unwanted kitten.

  When they came to the creek, she was glad to see that it was swift and deep, which meant that she could ask for his help crossing. As he assisted her, she took every opportunity to be gracious and friendly, to thank him for his aid. But it was to no avail. He was as distant as before.

  As they stood together on the far bank, she tried a more direct approach. “What did you mean, the best way?” she asked. “When you said going around the Lough is the best way. The fastest, you mean?”

  “Surest,” he said. “Which is usually fastest.”

  “Short cuts make for long delays,” she said to herself. It was something Aunt Ethelind had said.

  She picked up her leather sack, and Aedin hoisted her small, battered chest. They walked together along the creek bank toward the road, which he said might be as close as two miles.

  “So it’s not the shortest route,” Elenn said, a few moments later. “The road around the Lough, I mean.”

  “No. Shortest would take you almost due east,” he said, in his clipped, north-coast manner of speaking. “Dragon country. To say nothing of the bandits. Assuming you survive all that, you have to cross the River Mareys and the Narrows.” He regarded her skeptically. “You swim?”

  “Can you?” retorted Elenn. She had grown up practically in the River Mareys. Aunt Ethelind had taught her when she was a girl. Before she knew they were related. Back when Ethelind had called herself Sister Remembrance.

  “Worked the docks in Heortigsport,” he said. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re afraid,” she said, trying to provoke him.

  “Of a dragon?” he said. “Flaming right I am.” He took the battered chest off his left shoulder and pushed it into her hands. “If you go that way, this is where we part ways. Farewell and good luck.” He nodded his head to her and strode off to the north.

  “Please!” Elenn called out. “Please, can’t you help me?”

  “Told you one night. Already more than that,” he said without turning around. “Taking you to the road is as much help as I can give.”

  He didn’t slow down, so she hurried after him. But her pursuit of him was encumbered by the heavy chest.

  “That’s not fair,” she said, struggling to keep pace. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be bound for Tantillion to feed the crows.”

  Aedin snatched up a dry stick as he walked, and used it to decapitate a flower. “I’m grateful. Not enough to lay my head back in the noose. My life’s worth more than that.” He shrugged.

  “You killed my aunt,” said Elenn desperately.

  “What do you want?” he said hotly. “I can’t bring her back. Can’t be your mother hen. I’m sorry. Got my own problems.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He said nothing. He just kept walking. But after a minute, he stopped and took the chest from her, which she greatly appreciated.

  After another mile, Elenn decided to try another approach. “Tell me about your problems,” she said. “Maybe we can help each other.”

  He made no reply.

  “I could pay you,” she said, “if that would help with your troubles.”

  He turned to face her. He looked her up and down, and then raised one eyebrow, the disbelief obvious on his face. In the stained and torn remains of what had once been finery, she was sure she looked truly pathetic. Elenn felt herself growing hot with embarrassment.

  “I could pay you,” she repeated, emphatically.

  “I’m not like Leif,” Aedin said. “Don’t think you and your aunt stole everything in that cart from your masters. What can you offer me?” He shrugged.

  She grew even redder, and she turned before he could see the tears she knew were welling up.

  “I didn’t—” he began. “Wasn’t trying to—” He broke off again. “I’m not like that. Wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  Elenn nodded silently, still facing away from him, not trusting herself to speak.

  He sighed heavily. “Gods, you’re tenacious. Like something out of the stories.” She heard something like admiration in his voice. “But this is not some grand adventure.”

  Aedin stepped in closer, his eyes hard. “I’m not your knight-errant. I’m an escaped prisoner. Seen a lot of friends hanging from the gallows. Someday, my luck will run out and I will swing. Every morning I pray this won’t be the day.” He cursed.

  “And you,” Aedin shouted, spinning her around to face him, “you’re just another woman with no money and no family a long way from home. Met a lot of refugees and I can tell you—sooner you accept the reality of your position, better off you’ll be.”

  He jabbed his finger at her ragged clothing for emphasis. “You’re not some princess in distress, Elenn. No one’s going to rescue you. Get that into your skull.”

  He glared at her, breathing a little heavily.

  She laughed.

  “What’s so confounded funny?”

  “I am Elenn of Adair,” she said, trying to keep her composure.

  “What?”

  “Daughter of Mathis and Kaiteryn of Adair,” she said. Though she now knew that they were in fact her maternal grandparents, it still felt true to call them her parents.

  He swore. Elenn laughed harder. He stalked off, still following the creek north to the road. She ran to catch up to him.

  “Don’t care who you are,” he said. “Hard country between here and Ghel. Too dangerous for you. And the roads are too dangerous for me. Crawling with Vitalion patrols, thick as fleas on rats. They’ll be looking for me, and I don’t want to be found.”

  “Come with me then,” she pled. “We’ll stay off the roads.”

  “Fool girl,” muttered Aedin. “What have I been saying? Dragon country that way.” He shook his head. “Best thing for you to do is to wait on
the road for a train of wagons. Pilgrims, merchants, soldiers—it doesn’t matter—any of them will make a better escort for you than I would.”

  “I told you before,” said Elenn. “I want someone I already know I can trust.”

  He stopped and glared at her, but she could not read his face.

  “My family owns a large tract of land,” she said, “not far from Queen’s Ford. It takes a full day to ride the perimeter. It’s mine now.” She paused to let him think about that. “If you can deliver me to the Leode at Ghel, I’ll give you all the land you can ride around in an hour.”

  “How close to Queen’s Ford?” he asked.

  “Not far,” she said, evasively.

  “Where exactly?” he pressed.

  “Well, it starts about six miles southeast of the ford proper,” said Elenn. “And it stretches another thirty miles. As I told you, it’s very large.”

  “Very large,” said Aedin. “Very uninhabitable.”

  “Not at all,” she protested.

  “Must be half in dragon country,” he said. “Or more. Even if not, it’s close enough to Anondea as to put you smack under the thumb of the Vitalion.”

  “Aunt Ethelind and I have been living in the manor house,” shot Elenn, “and we were quite happy there. Are you afraid to live where a young girl and her auntie kept house?”

  Aedin squinted into the distance absently. “One hour’s not such a long time,” he said, tapping his lips with his fingers.

  She smiled. “I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “For every day you get me there before Lammas Eve, I’ll give you an hour to ride.”

  “Told you before,” he said, “the Leode’s a week away. And that’s for a man like me, in battle condition.” He glanced at her. “Think you’re up to it?”

  Elenn stood up straight and nodded with all the confidence she could muster. “Yes.”

  “Well, then. Just one last detail.” He paused. “What’s on the table?”