The Crown and the Dragon

by John D. Payne

  “My father, in his wisdom, made himself useful to the Emperor, and I spent my youth and education abroad,” Corvus said, taking another sip from his glass. “This allowed me to see a great deal of the Empire.”

  He leaned forward on the stool. “I’ve seen many things Elenn,” he said, intently. “Magicians in Hortonium who summon up dueling beasts of horrific size, only to be devoured themselves, Sarinese shamans who lie face down on glowing coals, unscathed. The darkest and most terrifying rituals performed by the conjurors of Yall.”

  “But,” he said, lifting up his index finger, “none have intrigued me as much as this.”

  Elenn watched in the mirror as Magister Corvus held aloft the Falarica. Then she gaped in astonishment as he produced another fragment and fitted the two halves together, his eyebrows raised.

  “The missing piece!” she cried out, spinning around.

  She started toward him, but he pulled the two half-relics away and smiled. “Oh, not yet, my Lady of Adair,” he said.

  “Don’t call me that,” said Elenn, instantly, twisting the ring on her finger.

  “As you like,” he said with an indifferent shrug. He set the two fragments of the Falarica on the table beside him and leaned back, as if he were trying to look casual.

  She stared at the two halves and tried to gauge the possibility of her reaching them before he could stop her. She didn’t know what she would do with them once they were in her hand, but she felt an urgent need to reclaim them from this traitor.

  “I have collected many artifacts,” Corvus said, twirling one of the two fragments idly on the table. “Some only elaborate props for religious hoaxes, others viable ducts of power. But this one—” he held up the unfamiliar half, “—has more potential to move humanity forward than the rest of them combined. I’ve searched many years to make it whole, and at a great cost.”

  Elenn couldn't take her eyes off the new fragment. It looked like there were characters of some kind written all along the length of it.

  He laughed. “I can see you are as desperate to inspect my half as I was to find your half.” Standing, he stepped closer and held it out towards her.

  She reached out, but he pulled back and held up a warning finger. “You may look,” he said. “But don’t touch.”

  She looked at the strange writing—perhaps Yaltese script, or a form of the old Deiran tongue—but was unable to decipher it.

  “‘The blood of the dragon shall anoint the dragon,’” he intoned, “‘and heal the land.’”

  At these words, Elenn had an image of the dragon flash in her mind, as clearly as if the creature were in the room with them. She shook her head and saw another image, this time of the Falarica—whole, and glowing white—held in front of her by an unseen hand.

  “Fascinating,” said Corvus quietly, staring at her eyes, as if trying to look behind them, directly into her mind.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked, turning away from his gaze.

  “Your assistance,” he said. “In my hands, it’s a couple of pieces of an old narwhal horn.”

  “Unicorn horn,” she corrected.

  “Unicorn horn,” he agreed. “Broken, inert.” Then he inhaled deeply, half closing his eyes. “It could be so much more! Reunited in the hands of the daughter of Ethelward Barethon, and an anointed Deiran priestess, the Falarica would be a vessel of immense power.”

  He reached out for her hand, trying to pull her in close. She recoiled.

  “Don’t you see, Elenn?” Corvus asked. “The Gods have brought us together. Me, to assemble the necessary pieces. You, to fulfill your destiny and reunite the Falarica. I knew it when I saw you in Ghel, and I know it now, seeing you here before the two pieces. It is to this end that you have been anointed.”

  “You know nothing of my destiny,” she said fiercely.

  He tilted his head and regarded her like a robin looking at a worm.

  “Anyway,” said Elenn quickly, “I wouldn’t even begin to know how to unite that horn, let alone wield it.”

  “You survived the Glyderinge,” said Corvus, “so I know there is power in you. When the time comes, you will receive the knowledge. Or perhaps you have it already.” He hesitated, and then held out the two fragments.

  She backed away, suddenly unsure. If a villain like Corvus wanted her to touch them, maybe it was best to leave them alone.

  “Please try,” he said shaking his head. “Concentrate. It will come to you.”

  “I will not help you.”

  He sighed and returned the pieces to his pockets. “You’re wrong. You will help me, sooner or later. This is your fate.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Just as Magister Corvus tucked away the two halves of the Falarica, the door banged open. Corvus turned, ready to deliver a rebuke to whoever had dared to interrupt him. The words froze on his lips when he saw the imposing figure who had thrown the door open. Imperator Strabus.

  Strabus’s bear-like frame filled the doorway as he took in the scene. He exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring and his blond moustache bristling with fury. Though he was unarmed, the passion of his anger filled the room with a nearly palpable presence. Corvus took an involuntary step back.

  “Take this girl,” Strabus said in Vitalae, pointing to Elenn.

  Behind Strabus stood the legionaries whom Corvus had set to watch the door and prevent him from being disturbed, Bruttius and Hostilius. The two soldiers glanced at each other and stepped forward to fulfill Strabus’s command. Neither one met Corvus’s gaze.

  “Forgiveness, Magister,” whispered Septor Bruttius.

  “Silence!” roared Strabus. “One more word out of either of you and I will have you castrated to see if it makes you more compliant!”

  Bruttius paled, and he and Hostilius pulled Elenn out of the room. Elenn herself offered not a word of protest. The soldiers shut the door behind them, leaving Corvus alone in the room with Strabus.

  “Imperator,” said Corvus carefully.

  “Shut your mouth, you insubordinate fool,” growled Strabus. “Do not make me lay my hands on you, because I may just kill you more quickly than you deserve. And that would make me truly angry.”

  Corvus bowed his head and stood, silently watching Strabus, who gazed out the cell’s small, barred window.

  “Explain yourself, Corvus,” said Strabus, regaining his composure.

  “It was within my imperium as Magister,” said Corvus. “You have authority over military affairs, but I have authority over civil and religious matters. And as the Senate’s writ specifies, I am entitled in times of crisis to—”

  “Don’t you dare hide behind legal niceties,” interrupted Strabus, still looking out the window. “There’s no Senate in this room, Corvus. Just you and me.” His voice was so soft and calm it was terrifying.

  “As you say,” Corvus agreed.

  “Now,” said Strabus, “you took thirty of my legionaries and attacked a nunnery. Why?”

  “You’ve told me that I was too lenient with the Orders,” said Corvus. “You said we needed to let them know that the Emperor ruled here.”

  Strabus turned and regarded Corvus, contempt evident on his face. “What kind of moron do you take me for? Are you going to pretend you didn’t see a problem with this?”

  Corvus opened his mouth, but Strabus held up his hand. “Let me make this simple,” Strabus said. “Burning nuns makes the natives restless, and there’s nothing I hate more than restless natives.” He smiled. “Except disobedient subordinates. You are relieved of your duty and confined to this room. The girl will be executed immediately.”

  Strabus turned and walked to the door.

  “Executed on what charge?” Corvus demanded.

  Strabus turned, incredulous. “You’re asking about her? This girl, what is she to you?” Before Corvus could reply, Strabus shouted, “Nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing!”

  “What charge?” Corvus repeated stubbornly.

  Str
abus snorted. “Treason and sedition.”

  “You have no evidence,” said Corvus.

  “Two weeks ago there was a mountain of evidence!” Strabus said. “You’ve been bleating on about it forever!”

  “There is none,” said Corvus.

  “So,” said Strabus, “you are a liar. And you are using the Empire’s resources for your own means.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you keep handing me cudgels to beat you with, Corvus, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” Strabus opened the door.

  “I petition for trial by combat,” said Corvus.

  “I have no interest in your primitive Deiran customs,” said Strabus. He pursed his lips in disgust. “And frankly I’m surprised at you. You’re a Vitalion citizen, with a commission from the Emperor. Pull yourself together and face your punishment like a man.”

  “Not for me,” said Corvus. “For her. The Senate decreed twenty years ago that the Vitalion would observe Deiran law. She is your subject, and you have no evidence! Trial by combat must be observed.”

  ”Very well,” said Strabus. “She shall have her trial by combat. And you shall represent the Empire’s interests in this, not hers!”

  Corvus was silent.

  “You may be one of the Emperor’s little pets,” said Strabus, “but out here you’re just another self-serving dog in need of a beating. She shall have three days for a champion to proclaim himself. If no one steps forward, she shall be executed. If one does, then either you are slain or you defeat her champion and she dies. Either way, you solve a problem for me.”

  Strabus exited the room and closed the door. Corvus sat on the stool and listened to the rasp as soldiers outside slid the plank into place to bar the door.

  Aedin woke up in darkness. He tried to sit up, but gasped, feeling a terrible pain in his side. A hand helped him ease back down into a pile of soft skins. He groaned, clamping a hand over the wound in his gut. The skin was hot to the touch.

  “Lie still, my love,” whispered a woman’s gentle voice.

  “Nywen?” he said, reaching out for his wife.

  “You know that’s not my name,” said the woman.

  “Sorry,” said Aedin, struggling to orient himself. The voice was familiar, but his memory was a blur of confused images. “Where am I?”

  “Where do you think you are?” the woman said.

  “It’s not heaven, is it?” he asked.

  The woman laughed. “Oh, my poor sweet babe. You are very confused indeed.” She tousled his hair, as if he were a child.

  Aedin tried in vain to clear the cobwebs from his mind. “What happened to me? How did I get here?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I was stabbed,” he said, “clean through.”

  “Go on,” said the woman. She stroked his forehead tenderly.

  He frowned. In his mind he saw an image of a large, bald, ugly man. “Leif,” he muttered.

  “Good, you remember,” said the woman. She lifted a wooden cup of bitter tea to his lips. “Now, tell me, my dear, why were you fighting with Leif?”

  “Elenn,” said Aedin, without thinking. “He wanted Elenn.”

  The woman took the cup abruptly and sat back. His eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness. He could make out her shape, kneeling beside him.

  “Lilith,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “You remember my name at last.” All the warmth and tenderness was gone from her voice, and from her posture.

  “Lilith, I’m sorry. Sorry I left you. And sorry I came back. Didn’t mean to hurt you.” He reached for her hand.

  “I have to go,” she said, standing.

  “Where?”

  “To see Clooney,”

  “Clooney?” Aedin cried, trying to sit up.

  “Lie down,” said Lilith, kneeling beside him again and pushing him back into the bedding. “You’re in no danger. Clooney wants you healthy.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “So no one can say he had an advantage when he kills you,” she said.

  “Have to get out of here,” he muttered.

  “So eager to flee,” she murmured, caressing his cheek. “So quick to leave me once again.”

  “That’s not fair, Lilith,” said Aedin. “We both made our choices, a long time ago.”

  She sighed, and withdrew her hand. “I suppose we did,” she said. “But that’s all past, one way or another. Clooney is your present trouble. And he’ll not let you walk away from him again. There are guards all round. No way out for you, my little lost lamb.”

  He moaned with pain and frustration. “Clooney can kill me if he likes. But not yet. Not until I get to Tantillion. Have to save Elenn.”

  “Hush, now,” she said. “Hush.” She lifted the cup to his mouth again, stroking his throat gently to help him swallow the bitter tea.

  “Tell Clooney,” he said between swallows. “Tell him, Nywen.” His lips felt fat and clumsy, and his eyes were heavy. “Barethon’s girl… She’s… the Paladin.”

  “Hush, baby,” said Lilith. “Time to sleep.”

  Aedin slept.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Elenn knelt on the stone floor of her dungeon cell, the only light coming from the cracks under and above the thick door. The straw on the floor was damp, and it reeked, but she could not afford to leave any part of it unexamined. So she felt about, searching every nook and cranny for some hint of a way out.

  She remembered how easily she had let the Vitalion soldiers take her from her first cell to this desolate spot. She was outnumbered, after all. What good would it have done her to make a fuss? And she had been pleased to see Corvus, the old crow himself, discomfited. Part of her thought that perhaps this new person was on her side, by dint of being opposed to Corvus.

  Instead, he had sent her down to the dungeon. Elenn could hardly believe it. Of course, it was not unusual for a Deiran noble to be held captive. Members of wealthy Houses were often held for ransom after losing a battle. But there was an etiquette to be followed—after all, such hostages were too valuable to mistreat. Or so she had thought.

  She had done everything she could to resist, but it was no use. She found herself shoved unceremoniously into the dank, dark cell. Her cries of protest went unanswered, as did her screams and her sobs. At last, she crawled into a corner and gave in to despair. She felt like she was sinking into a bottomless pit, or the depths of the ocean.

  As she sat, numb, she heard something. At first, it failed to register, and then she heard it more clearly. Somewhere, she could hear a bird chirping. She scrambled to her feet and began shuffling around the room, trying to find the best location to hear the bird. She even tried whistling back a piece of the tune. She told herself that it sounded like a finch. It could even be Gawaine.

  As she thanked the Gods for this wondrous blessing, Elenn felt her heart lift. She remembered what her aunt had said to her in the Glyderinge: “You are stronger, and braver, and wiser than you could ever have imagined.” She thought back on all that she had passed through in the last two weeks. She wouldn't have believed that she could survive, but she had.

  Maybe she was underwater again, so to speak, but even when drowning she had heard the song of the nymphs. Even then, she had been delivered. She sat up straight. This time, she was not going to float helplessly and wait to be saved. This time, she would rise up. So she dried her tears and searched the cell on hands and knees.

  When she was sure there was no ordinary means of escape, she decided to try conjuring. It was more difficult without the Falarica, to be sure, but she had done it before. She could do it again.

  Elenn quieted her mind and held out her hands, trying to whisper the door open. After minutes of focus and meditation, her conjuring failed. She thought she felt it shift slightly, but that was all. Part of her wanted to scream in despair, but, praying to the Gods, she resolved not to give in.

  If she could not escape her cell, perhaps she could at least make it more be
arable. She knelt down by the door and concentrated on the dim light that leaked in under the door. Closing her eyes, she reached out toward that poor little light with her hands, and with her heart. With every breath out, she pushed out the darkness. With every breath in, she invited the light to come in and fill the room.

  Suddenly, even with her eyes closed, she was aware of a great increase in light. Her eyelids flew open. Was it her imagination? No, more light was pouring in through the cracks around the door. Elenn laughed aloud with delight.

  The great iron lock turned and the door creaked open, flooding her gloomy cell with brilliant illumination. Her eyes, now accustomed to darkness, squeezed shut. Holding up her hands to block out some of the harsh glare, she opened her eyes just enough to see Corvus looming above her with a nervous-looking legionary at his side. Both men held oil lamps in their hands.

  She scowled. This was not exactly what she had been praying for.

  “Not happy to see me, I take it,” said Corvus.

  “Why should I be?” said Elenn, using the stone wall to pull herself to her feet.

  “Because I’m getting you out of here,” he said, tossing her a bundle of clothing.

  She looked him in the eye. He seemed upset. Did that mean he was lying? “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because a vibrance and an instinct like yours is so rare,” he said, inhaling deeply, “I can’t… I won’t allow them to take you from me.” He reached out toward her, inviting her to take his hand.

  She hesitated. Was this her rescue? Was this her salvation? Please, she prayed, gods of my fathers, show me if this is deliverance or destruction.

  “You are strong,” Corvus said, “but the Empire is stronger. And being the Paladin doesn’t make you immortal. Come with me, and I will protect you.”

  She took a deep breath. “No.”

  Taken aback, he lowered his hand. “No?” he asked.

  “Magister,” said the soldier, “there’s no time. We need to leave. Immediately.”

  Corvus waved for him to be patient, but the soldier turned and ran down the dimly lit dungeon corridor.