The Crown and the Dragon

by John D. Payne

  Her step grew lighter, and her disagreement with Aedin began to seem less important. If he didn’t want to talk to her, that was his problem. She wasn’t going to let it spoil her day.

  Elenn smiled, pushed her way through a curtain of hanging moss, and walked right into a dead body, dangling on a rope.

  She screamed and ran, but in her heedless flight she collided with another body. Looking up from the ground, it seemed the whole stand of willows was full of corpses, hung from the branches.

  Before she knew it, Aedin had scooped her up in his arms. He crushed her close to him, and whispered to her.

  “Hush, hush, it’ll be all right, girl.” He turned her head away from the horrible scene, pushing her face into his chest. “Hush, now, hush. Bring the whole Vitalion army down on our heads.”

  Elenn soon regained control of herself. She found her feet and pushed Aedin away. The awful cawing of crows in the trees all around sounded like a harbinger of evil things to come. But no foul wind swirled, no darkness gathered, and the crows remained perched on their branches.

  “Keep an eye on those crows,” she said, shivering.

  “What for?” he asked.

  “Just watch them!” she said. Then, steeling herself, Elenn again pushed back the curtain of old man’s beard and stepped into the stand of willows.

  Four bodies hung from the trees, with their feet about the height of her waist. The four men were still dressed, their rough cloaks swaying gently in the breeze. Their faces were a gruesome sight—bloated and missing their eyes. Elenn shuddered.

  At her side, Aedin bent down. Elenn looked, and realized that in her momentary panic Aunt Ethelind’s wooden case had slipped out of her kirtle and fallen to the ground. She snatched it up quickly, before Aedin could touch it.

  He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t going to steal it.”

  “I know,” she said, tucking the case away. “I’m sorry.”

  Aedin stepped in front of her, walking from one body to the other. He prodded them with his scabbarded saber, regarding each one as they slowly turned, the ropes creaking faintly.

  “Who were they?” she asked. “And who did this?”

  “Can’t say for sure,” he said, replacing his saber and re-adjusting the straps on his sword harness. “Looks like Vitalion work to me.”

  “Are they the ones who…” She swallowed. “Is that what happened to their eyes?”

  He glanced up at the bodies. “No. The crows.”

  “The crows?” she asked. A sudden terror gripped her as she imagined a shadowy, cloaked figure reaching out to stab out her eyes with its great talons. She spun around, but the crows sat on their branches still, croaking at her impudently.

  “Scavengers,” he said. “The Vitalion just hoist the bodies up. Let nature take its course.”

  “But why? What was their crime?” Elenn asked.

  Aedin pointed to one man’s right hand, and Elenn saw that his fingers had been cut off. “Looks like this one had done some thieving. But there’s more to it than that.”

  He reached up and pulled a dagger from the belt of the man missing his fingers. He took it out of its sheath and examined it closely.

  “My guess, they were rebels,” he said. Using the dagger, he gestured at the corpses. “What you get for believing in causes.”

  “You can tell that from the dagger?” she asked.

  “What? No.” He sheathed it and tucked it into his own belt. “Just stands to reason. The Vitalion wouldn’t come all the way up here in dragon country for ordinary highwaymen. So either they’re infamous master criminals, or they’re part of the rebellion. And I never heard of them, so they can’t be that notorious.” He shrugged.

  Elenn frowned, finding it hard to believe that he could know any of this. “You’re that well-connected among outlaws?”

  “I hear things,” said Aedin. “Keep my eyes open.” He reached up and began rummaging through the pockets of one of the corpses.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “The Vitalion usually lift the coins and such,” he said, “but sometimes you get lucky. Not this time, more’s the pity.”

  He walked over to another man and pulled off his boots, comparing it to his own foot for size. Frowning, he tossed the boots aside and walked to another body.

  “Mostly when you get a new officer in the patrol,” he continued. “Doesn’t want the men to see him stealing yet. Men don’t want him to see them stealing, either.”

  The second man’s boots seemed a better match, and Aedin sat down to pull off the boots he had taken from the Sithian.

  “Kind of sweet,” he said, “when you think about it. Like young love.”

  He put on the new pair, and stood with a smile. “Now that’s a lot better,” he said happily, pacing back and forth to test them out.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” said Elenn. She turned and walked .out of the stand of willows.

  “If he was a thief,” he called after her, “he deserved what he got. We owe him nothing. If he was a rebel, he died for Deira. Be happy to sacrifice his boots to help a brother Deiran.”

  “At least cut them down,” she called back. “We should give these men a proper burial, whoever they were.”

  “Burying rebels is an act of rebellion,” said Aedin, “according to Vitalion law. Bury someone the Vitalion have hanged, they hang you, too. Just like this.”

  “But how would they know who did it?” said Elenn suspiciously.

  Aedin laughed. “They don’t care. If no one confesses—or names a convenient neighbor—the Scales’ll just hang whoever they can get their hands on. So if seeing these men swinging is too much for your delicate stomach, just think of the poor farmers who’ll be swinging in their place if you take them down.”

  Elenn put her hand over her mouth.

  “Oh,” Aedin added, “and they dig the bodies up and hang them again. And if you think this is a gruesome sight—” He raised his eyebrows and gave a low whistle.

  Elenn shook her head in disbelief. “I heard that the Vitalion hung bandits, of course, but I never could have imagined…”

  “Well, once you see it a few times, it’s not so hard to imagine,” said Aedin. “Sometimes it’s pretty hard not to imagine it,” he muttered.

  “But to deny burial to anyone… It’s appalling,” said Elenn. Almost as appalling as stealing from a corpse. “It’s just uncivilized.”

  “Don’t make the rules,” he said. “Vitalion do. From the look of these bodies, they were here no more than three days ago. We should be on our way.”

  Elenn walked back and found Aedin removing a cloak from one of the bodies. “Leave those poor things alone, and let’s get out of here,” she said.

  He laughed, grimly. “Oh, they don’t hang men for stealing from dead rebels. Just for burying them.” He held up the cloak to examine it in the sunlight. Nodding, he rolled it up and tucked it under his arm.

  “Want one?” he said.

  “I’ll not rob the dead,” said Elenn emphatically.

  “Don’t want to get your hands dirty, Lady Adair?” said Aedin with a slight smile. “That’s fine. Happy to do it for you.” He circled around, examining the other three bodies.

  “It’s obscene,” she said, “and I want no part of it.”

  “Death isn’t obscene,” he said, “any more than birth is. Both messy; both part of life.” He nodded up at the crows. “They know that. Someday you will, too.” He removed a second man’s cloak and rolled it up with the first.

  “You and those carrion eaters think far too much alike for my taste,” Elenn said, striding out of the trees. As she walked, she removed the Sithian dagger from her belt and dropped it on the ground. Aedin would surely think her foolish, but she would not profit from some other man’s cruel death.

  When they camped that evening, she sat by the fire and watched as Aedin built a crude lean-to using the cloaks from the dead men. Standing back from it, he gave the shelter a satisfied nod, and
then turned to Elenn.

  “What do you think?” he said. “Pretty good, right?”

  “I’m sure it’s very well made,” she said.

  “But you still don’t want to sleep under it.”

  Elenn shook her head, suppressing an involuntary shudder. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Getting close to Ghel,” said Aedin. “Almost reached the Cataracts today. Higher up we get, colder it is. You need to keep warm.”

  “I have the fire,” she said quietly.

  “Fire won’t keep the dew off you,” he said, sitting down next to her. He took a deep breath. “Look, there’s room for both of us in the shelter, if we sleep close. Warmer that way, anyway.”

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  He heaved a sigh and stood up again. “Never could talk a woman into bedding down with me,” he muttered.

  Elenn supposed this was an attempt at levity, but the memory of Leif’s hands groping for her was much too vivid for her to find much humor in it.

  Aedin scratched his head. “Sure you don’t want one of these?” he asked. “Told you before, I don’t need both of these cloaks. Happy to build you your own shelter.”

  “That’s very kind,” she said quietly, “but I’ll be fine.”

  He shook his head, but said nothing. He sat down on the other side of the campfire with an armful of milkweed he had gathered as they walked. In the flickering light of the campfire, he rubbed and twisted the plant fibers into crude twine.

  “That’s a useful skill,” said Elenn, after several silent minutes.

  “Well, when you’re in the wilderness, you have to think about how to take care of yourself,” he said. From inside his shirt, he pulled out the Sithian dagger that she had discarded, and placed it on a nearby stone with a pointed look.

  She looked away.

  “Won’t always be someone around to look after you,” he added.

  Elenn thought of Aunt Ethelind, and fought to contain her tears.

  He worked on his cord, oblivious to her pain. “Rely on yourself, is all I’m saying. Otherwise, you’re not going to finish this mission of yours.”

  “Let me worry about that,” she said, her voice a little choked with emotion.

  Aedin shook his head. “Listen to yourself,” he said. “You’re a mess. And no wonder. Walk all over creation, with hardly any food. Half a fish this morning, and a handful of wild mushrooms this afternoon. It’s not enough.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said.

  “We’ve got a long way to walk tomorrow,” he said. “And the next day, and the next.” He frowned at her. “If you’re going to push your body all day, you need to make sure you rest at night.”

  “You sound like my aunt,” said Elenn, screwing her face up in a mock scowl.

  “You sound like my nephews,” he replied, scowling back.

  She laughed, imagining the pugnacious ruffian surrounded by a troop of equally ornery youngsters. Aedin grinned and turned his attention back to twisting milkweed into rough twine.

  “Where are your people?” Elenn asked.

  “Ain’t no people,” he said.

  “Everyone has people,” she said.

  “Lying in ashes, hanging from trees,” he said, “rotting carrion in some wolf’s belly.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Aedin stood up. “Think I’m done with this for tonight.” He picked up the milkweed and the rough cord he had made and stowed them under the lean-to. “I’m going to sleep. Want a spot in here, you’re welcome to it.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But I’ll be fine out here.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. He crawled into the rude shelter and lay down on his side, facing away from the fire.

  Elenn curled up on the other side of the fire, which popped and crackled as it burned the wet wood. All around her, she heard the noises of the wilderness. Crickets and owls and crows and wolves.

  She lay awake until she heard Aedin snore. Then she got up quietly and retrieved the Sithian dagger. Tucking it into her belt, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  The distant cawing of a crow woke Aedin before the sunrise. In the subdued light of the pre-dawn, he opened his eyes and found that he was not alone. Lying next to him in the lean-to, under the dead men’s cloaks, was Elenn. This brought up any number of questions.

  Without moving, Aedin glanced at the fire. It was out. From what he could see, it had rained during the night—not heavily, but enough to make sleeping under the stars unpleasant. Aedin said a silent little prayer of thanks for the men who died to give him the cloaks that had kept him dry.

  Elenn shifted slightly in her sleep. Her nose twitched as a strand of her hair fell into her face. Aedin smiled, remembering how Nywen had looked in the dim twilight. Then he scowled, remembering how Nywen had looked in the arms of another man.

  Elenn’s nose twitched again and she rolled over. As she turned away from Aedin, he saw something trapped partially beneath her. It was the slim wooden case she had been carrying so closely since they had left her aunt lying unburied in the cart on the side of the road.

  Aedin inhaled deeply. Was this some scheme to test him? Looking at Elenn and listening carefully to her breathing, he convinced himself she was asleep. Perhaps the case had fallen out of her clothing while she slept. It didn’t matter.

  He reached out for it, and hesitated. She would be furious if she woke up and saw his hands on the case. If he waited, and she rolled just a little further away, she wouldn’t be on top of it at all. Aedin frowned. But if she rolled the other way, it would be impossible to take the case.

  Aedin considered his options. If he tried and woke her, he could always pretend to have been unconsciously reaching to embrace her in his sleep. If she didn’t believe this, he could then clumsily deny that he had been trying to grope her. Aedin smiled. It was always better to layer lies at least two deep, so that when people saw through the first one, the truth they thought they had discovered was just another lie.

  He reached over and very carefully pulled the wooden case out from under Elenn. Then he silently picked up his sword and slipped out of the lean-to, exiting to one side so that he would not have to crawl over Elenn’s sleeping body.

  Aedin strapped the eagle-headed Sithian saber to his back and walked uphill away from the campsite. He placed his feet carefully to avoid making any noise. He was thankful that this was a quiet hour, haunted only by animals that saw the virtues of silence, like deer and rabbits. There was little sound apart from the calling of a few birds—nightjars, grouse, and crows.

  He stopped. Crows? For all their association with darkness and death, crows were not active at night, or in the twilight. Crows should be asleep. But he had heard one earlier this morning. That was unusual.

  Aedin turned and looked back to the south, where they had found the four bodies. Elenn had been terrified of the crows at that spot—almost as upset by them as by the bodies. And something about their behavior had seemed strange to him, too. What had it been? Aedin tapped on the wooden case absently and then remembered his errand.

  Ducking behind a large alder tree, Aedin leaned back against the trunk and examined the wooden case. It was heavy and dark, made of polished Renonian oak. Fairy gallows. Aedin pictured Orren and Dawes, swinging in the breeze up by Tay Barrows and shivered.

  There was a brass latch in the shape of a sea nymph—a symbol of wealth and good fortune to sailors and traders from Rhona to Minnaeus. Aedin smiled. Jewels, then. Or perhaps letters of credit. He opened the lid.

  Inside was a piece of what looked like a narwhal tusk, decorated with tiny carvings and inlaid with silver. It was broken off about eight inches from the base. Aedin touched it reverently with one trembling finger.

  “Spear of the Gods,” whispered Aedin. “Can it be?”

  Legend said that this world was once overrun
with monsters like the dragon, but that the Gods had banished and defeated them with a lance of fire called the Falarica. Champions chosen by the Gods to wield it in battle were ever-victorious and never tasted death. Instead, they ascended to live with the Gods when they tired of the mortal world.

  As a boy, Aedin had heard dozens of tales of the Falarica, the spear of the Gods. Its shaft was forged of precious metals and decorated with priceless jewels. And the head was the horn of a unicorn, a gift from the last of the divine creatures to set foot on the world.

  All the tales of Deira’s downfall began with the Gods sundering the Falarica as punishment for the continual feuding of the Deirans. Supposedly, its broken pieces were scattered to the ends of the earth to prevent it from ever being used again.

  “Bloody tortured gods in the abyss!” Aedin cursed aloud.

  The Sisters of the Leode would pay handsomely for a relic like this. It was most likely a fraud, but even so it would attract pilgrims and other visitors. This was far more valuable than jewels.

  “You wretched thief!” said a voice behind him.

  Aedin turned to see Elenn, standing in the woods not ten yards away.

  “What have you done?” she said.

  “Me?” he cried. “What have you done? What are you doing with this thing?” He shut the case and shook it at Elenn as she stalked up to him.

  “I don’t have to answer you,” she said. “You’re nothing but a robber.” She held the Sithian dagger she had discarded the day before—another little mystery.

  “You’re not?” he countered. “Who are you, anyway? Don’t give me that cockalayne about joining the Leode of the Virgins.”

  His bluster had no effect on her, or not the right effect at any rate. She came straight for him, lunging with her dagger. Aedin scrambled out of the way just in time, and Elenn stuck the blade into the trunk of the tree.

  “Calm down, lass,” he said, holding the case in his left hand. “Just wanted a look.”