Aedin pinched her cheeks, but Elenn did not wake. She was cold as a stone, but still shivering, which meant that her body was still fighting against the water’s chill. He had to warm her up. She had been under a long time, and she looked deathly pale—even in the dim light of the cave.
Her wet clothes weren’t helping, but knew she wouldn’t be happy to wake up naked, given everything that had happened to her. Rotten, stinking Leif. And me, too, he thought. Never should have left the two of them alone.
Fire would provide heat, but it was dangerous. The cave had a natural vent somewhere, but the liquid curtain of the waterfall kept out most of the good air. Smoke would accumulate if he was not absolutely vigilant.
As he retrieved the flint and firewood that he had stashed here months ago, he wished that Elenn’s little songbird had not been lost. Watching the bird would have let him know if the air was going bad—a trick he had learned from brothers and cousins slaving in the mines for the Scales, fearing the chokedamp even more than their brutal masters.
After the fire was lit, Aedin dug a homespun wool blanket out of his cache, along with a couple of wolf skins. Aedin sniffed them. The dampness of the cave had not been good for them, but as far as he could tell they were free of fleas and lice. Laying down the skins near the fire, he set Elenn down on them and covered her with the rough blanket.
The fire was growing a bit large, so he removed two sticks. The stones near the fire were starting to warm, so he laid his own wet clothing there to dry. Shivering in his underclothes, he returned to the cache. The only thing left was a stained and threadbare linen tunic more Elenn’s size than his own. With difficulty, he tugged it on.
Stamping his feet and briskly rubbing his hands and arms to get the blood flowing, Aedin looked down at Elenn. In her tossing and turning, she had pushed off the blanket.
“Not what you’re accustomed to, Lady Adair,” muttered Aedin, “but they might save your life, so you’re just going to have to put up with the stink.”
He put the blanket back on her and lay down behind her and held her tight. She struggled weakly for a few minutes, but eventually slipped into a deeper sleep. He stayed beside her, thinking of the path ahead and getting up periodically to tend to the fire. When her warmth returned, perhaps an hour later, he got up and left her sleeping.
Aedin sat down and examined his sword and the two daggers. He wiped the blades clean and dry, and did the best he could with the scabbards. As he warmed up, the wounds in his shoulder and leg began to ache.
Somewhere outside the cave, he heard the distant cry of the dragon, out hunting. He wondered what it was hunting for. He hoped it wasn't them. Gods knew there were enough monsters on their trail already. Wincing from his injuries, he went to find his sewing kit.
He pulled a large bundle wrapped in leather from his cache and grunted in happy surprise to see a clay jug of wine. Aedin unstopped the cork and took a few swigs. Then he unwrapped the bundle. Inside were needles, gut string, and the dried remnants of some healing herbs in a little clay jar sealed with wax.
Aedin pulled up his tunic and took a look at his leg. The cut was ragged and hurt like the devil’s nephews, but it was shallow. He stitched it up with a few deeply felt curses. It wasn’t pretty, but in a few days he would be fine. The shoulder was more difficult. Aedin didn’t think it was bad, but it was difficult to see. And given that it was on his right shoulder, it would be even more difficult to reach.
“Here, let me see that,” said Elenn.
He turned to see her, stitting up and pushing the hair out of her eyes.
“Glad to see you up,” he said. He sat next to her with his back turned so she could see the wound.
“Glad to be up,” said Elenn, running her fingers along the edges of the cut. “How long was I out?”
“Two or three hours,” said Aedin. “Hard to tell in here. Can’t see the sun.”
“With all this smoke, I can barely see my hand in front of my face,” said Elenn. She coughed and waved a hand to clear the air. “So, shall I sew you up then?”
Aedin laughed at this, and pushed his sewing kit over to her. Elenn picked up the bone needle he had used on his leg, and deftly strung it with a new length of catgut.
“Thanks for pulling me out,” said Elenn quietly. “I would have drowned if you hadn’t.”
“Well, you rescued me with that … net trick you did,” said Aedin. “Figured I owed you one.” He looked over at her, but she was rummaging through his kit and didn’t react in any way to his attempt to trawl for answers.
Aedin decided to press harder. “You’re a conjuror, then?”
Elenn pulled a small leather pouch out of the kit and removed a vial from it. “Not really,” she said. “Aunt Ethelind tried to teach me a few things.” She unstopped the vial and carefully lifted it to her nostrils. She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“Healing balm,” said Aedin.
Elenn nodded, and poured some out onto the wound.
“It’s in my blood,” Elenn continued, “or so my aunt said. To tell you the truth, I never had that much luck with it before today.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “in desperate situations, the Gods smile on us and we do incredible things.”
Elenn nodded, thoughtfully. She pulled down his tunic a little further, and picked up the bone needle. In the dim light, Aedin was not sure, but he thought she might be blushing.
She jabbed the needle abruptly into his skin. Aedin sucked in his breath with pain and gave her a fierce glare.
“Sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed.
He shook his head. “No apologies. Just you and me out here. Two people against the world.” He took a deep breath. “Have to count on each other.”
Elenn did not look up, concentrating on pulling gut through the ragged edges of his shoulder wound. “This is a nasty cut,” she said. “What were those things?”
“Going to ask you the same question. Never saw anything like that before in my life. Why do you think they were attacking us?”
“No idea,” she said. “For all I know, they were after you.”
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. As a man who had plenty of experience with protestations of ignorance and innocence, Aedin thought this sounded much like an admission of guilt. Elenn might not know what those crow-monsters had been, but she knew they were after her—or after the priceless relic she carried.
“Suppose we’ll never know what they wanted,” he said, deciding not to press her.
“I hope we never see them again,” she said.
He grunted.
She fell silent, pulling the thread taut.
“Want to talk about what happened in the water?” asked Aedin quietly.
Elenn froze. “You saw the…” She trailed off. “What do you mean?”
“You were out,” said Aedin. “Wasn’t sure how much you remembered. Thought you might like to hear what I saw.”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
“Soon as you hit the water you went limp,” he said. “I tried to find another way down, but I was scared and those things were coming, so I jumped in after you.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he did gallant deeds like this every day.
She jabbed him with the needle.
Aedin sucked in a hiss of breath through gritted teeth. “Merciful Gods, give me strength!”
“Hold still, please,” said Elenn. “And watch your language.”
“Took me a while to find you,” he continued. “Couldn’t see how to get you out. I was searching for a tree branch or something, when the water started bubbling like mad. Then there was a surge of water, and you popped up like a cork.”
“A surge?” she repeated.
“Like a dam broke upstream,” he said. “Very strange.” He looked at her carefully. “Magic?”
“No magic I know,” said Elenn quietly. “But this world is full of strange magics waiting to be discovered, or rediscovered. That’s what Aunt Ethelind said,
anyway.”
Elenn passed the needle through his skin again, and Aedin could not help but gasp. “Almost done,” she said.
“Your stitching’s a lot neater than mine,” Aedin said, looking down.
Elenn smiled. “One of my many skills,” she said. “And I haven’t had anything to drink,” she added pointedly.
“Where are my manners?” Aedin said. With his left hand, he picked up the wine jug and passed it to her, but she set it down without taking a sip.
“Where did you find that, anyway?” Elenn asked.
“I have a network of hidden caches,” said Aedin, “along the major trade routes.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was good for people to think him more competent and prepared than he really was.
“This is a major trade route?” asked Elenn.
“Some of my caches are a bit off the beaten path,” said Aedin, “for reasons of security.”
“So you’re a smuggler, then?” She made a final stitch and began tying a delicate knot in the gut.
“Freelance merchant. Call it what you want.”
“I call it thieving and smuggling,” said Elenn. She used her dagger to cut the free end of the gut.
Aedin winced, turning away involuntarily.
“I’m sorry,” said Elenn. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Aedin laughed. “No, it’s your embroidering—not your words,” he said. “I told you to speak freely and you did. I admire that about you, Elenn. You speak your mind.”
“Thank you.” She gazed on her handiwork and then nodded. “There,” she said, sounding satisfied.
He pulled his tunic back into place and took a long drink from the jug of wine. She replaced the needle and all the other items to his sewing kit.
“Elenn,” said Aedin. “You still owe me a question.”
She froze in the middle of wrapping the kit up in its leather bundle. “I don’t think—” She cut herself off. “One question,” she said, looking up at him and holding up her right index finger.
“What are you doing with the Spear of the Gods?” he asked.
Elenn turned away from him, clearly discomfited by the question. After a long pause, she turned back and said, “I am taking it to the Fortress of the Leode.”
“But what for?” asked Aedin. “What are you going to do with it at the Leode? Why’s that horn so confounded important?”
“One question, one answer.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It’s all the answer you are going to get,” she said. “You agreed to take me to the Leode, and all I ask is that you keep your pledge.”
“You weren’t honest with me when I gave you my pledge,” he said. “So why should I honor it? Tell me why I shouldn’t just leave you here?”
“Because this is important,” said Elenn. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.”
“If it’s so important,” said Aedin, “you can give me a hint.”
Elenn took a deep breath. “You know that my aunt was one of the Leodrine. And you know that the Falarica has been used in coronation ceremonies.”
“Politics!” cried Aedin. “Should have known. There were crows cackling in the trees when I met you. Why didn’t I see it was a bad omen?” He took another swig from the wine jug. “Who are the Sisters going to crown?”
“I told you,” she said, “I can’t say any more.”
“Garrick?”
Elenn turned away. “I’ve said too much already.”
“King Garrick,” he said bitterly. “A Kilkarrin, of course.”
“They are a great family,” said Elenn, turning to face him, “and well loved.”
“Thank you, my Lady Adair,” said Aedin with a glare, “for telling me how I feel about the miserable stinking Kilkarrins. You’re right, of course. I do love the Kilkarrins. Can’t remember why. Let me think…” he said, tapping on his lips thoughtfully, “do I love them for making a pact with the Vitalion after the rest of us were scorched to death in the mud? Or for wiping out half the clans in the Riverlands?”
“All right,” said Elenn, “The Kilkarrins are no saints. But Garrick has the strongest claim to the crown. He’s a Barethon, on his mother’s side.” She halted, looking sorrowful. Something about this struck Aedin as odd, and he made a mental note of it.
“He’s also the best hope of uniting Deira,” said Elenn. “And we’ll never drive the Vitalion and their horrors out until we’re united.” She walked away from the fire, towards the curtain of the waterfall that hid the cave from the outside world.
“My aunt said the rebels call him the Dragon,” said Elenn. “Because of his might in battle. Did you know that?”
“I had heard that,” said Aedin. He had also heard numerous reasons given for the epithet. Aedin thought it was because the man was a menace, a scourge, and devoured everything around him.
“The prophecies of Enid say that we must crown the dragon,” said Elenn. “And Aunt Ethelind believed that this meant Garrick. She was—” Elenn paused. “She was going to administer the coronation herself.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
Aedin walked up and stood beside her. The two of them stood there silently for a minute. Then Aedin put one arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze.
“Sorry,” he said.
Elenn nodded.
“Come on,” said Aedin. “Plenty more wine.” He lifted the jug and swished it around. “It’s Vitalion. Ruthless, cold-blooded snakes, but they do make good wine.” He smiled.
To his surprise, Elenn accepted it took a long swig of wine. “Let’s not talk politics anymore,” she said, handing the clay jug back to him.
“Agreed,” he said, and he lifted the jug to his lips.
***
Chapter Twenty-One
After they polished off the first jug, Elenn slept most of the day away. Aedin was a little surprised that she wasn't in a hurry to leave, but he supposed it was understandable. Both of them were tired and hurt. And they didn’t know where the crow monsters had gone or if they might reappear.
About mid-day, hunger spurred him out of the cave. From the smell of smoke in the air, the dragon had set some woods ablaze, not too far away. Aedin judged that the wildfire was to the west, in the direction of their previous camp. That was a disconcerting thought.
Still, the fire was above the cataracts, and Aedin knew that wildfires usually did not move downhill. So he headed out in search of food. Most of the larger game had fled the fire, but he got lucky and felled a rabbit with a stone from an improvised sling. And on his way back, he found some late-summer blackberries, ripe and heavy.
Entering the cave, he found the fire running low. A second jug was empty, and a third one opened. This was surprising, but everyone reacted to death in different ways. “Want some blackberries?” he asked.
Getting no reply, Aedin popped a few berries in his mouth and stoked the fire with some new wood. Then he built a rough spit, and began skinning the rabbit. Elenn finally crawled out of her bed. Her difficulty extracting herself from the blanket and furs told Aedin that she was beyond tipsy.
As he put the rabbit on the spit, Aedin watched Elenn stumble out of the cave, presumably to answer nature’s call. When she returned, she went directly to the three jugs, testing each to find the one that still had wine in it.
After taking a sip, she plopped down by the fire. She said nothing, and Aedin likewise kept silent, turning the rabbit on the spit.
The rays of the setting sun came through the curtain of the waterfall that hid the cave’s entrance, lighting the cave in vivid colors. The fire, too, added its own flickering light. Shadows danced on the wall of the cave, and a mighty torrent of water poured in thick sheets right in front of them.
“What else is in that little hole of yours?” Elenn said suddenly. She got up unsteadily and stumbled to the cache. “More wine?” She put her head into the hole and rummaged around.
It seemed that Elenn had given herself license to lose control
, for some reason Aedin was unsure of. Perhaps it was because she was missing her aunt, or because her near-drowning had terrified her. Aedin supposed it didn’t matter much. He didn’t like seeing her so drunk, because it would mean trouble tomorrow. But he still had questions, and he thought this might be his best chance to get answers.
Elenn stood up and clumsily brushed her hair out of her face. “You fought with King Elfraed,” she said abruptly. “Was he beautiful?” Something about the awkward way she tilted her head made her look like a child.
“I don’t know,” laughed Aedin, slowly turning the rabbit. “Spent most of my time trying to keep my feet dry and my head out of dragon fire.”
“I bet he was beautiful,” said Elenn. “All the Barethons are beautiful. Elfraed, Garrick, Aunt Ethelind.”
Aedin froze. Elenn’s aunt—one of the legendary House of Barethon? He had accidentally killed Deiran royalty? And depending on how Elenn and Ethelind were related, Elenn might be a Barethon, too. He shook himself and returned his attention to their dinner.
“I don’t know about Ethelward,” Elenn mused. “He must have been, or Maiwenn wouldn’t have loved him.”
“Maiwenn?” said Aedin. Ethelward had been King Elfraed’s brother. He had died with his brother that day on Drumney beach.
“My sister,” said Elenn. She shook her head. “My mother.” She nodded. “Yes. Mother. She was beautiful.”
“You saying Ethelward Barethon was your father?” Aedin asked incredulously. Bloody gods, had Ethelward Barethon sired an heir? If this was true then her claim to the crown was as good as Garrick’s. Better, maybe. What had he stumbled into?
“Ethelward, Ethelind, Aedelred, Elfraed,” chanted Elenn. “What a funny bunch of names. They all sound the same.” She burped.
“Definitely a matching set,” agreed Aedin. And Elenn was part of the set.
“Wine?” cried Elenn happily, pulling a large bundle out of his cache. She giggled and shook it next to her ear, although it was clearly a different size and shape than the jugs of wine she had found earlier.
“No such luck, my Lady of Adair,” said Aedin. “All out of wine.”
Elenn sighed. Then her face lit up. “Is it a horse? My feet are killing me.”
The Crown and the Dragon Page 16
