“Strabus will see me fall,” Corvus said, his eyes locked on Elenn’s. “Forget these people, forget this land, forget the dragon. I can save you. I can take you to a place where none of this matters.”
“No,” she repeated emphatically, more sure of herself with each heartbeat. He spoke of salvation, but cared for no one but himself. He promised protection, but all he wanted was control. And he complimented her strength, but obviously didn’t trust her to think or act for herself.
“What difference is your death going to make?” he demanded.
“More difference than my life will make if I leave with you,” she said. In his eyes, she wasn’t truly a person. She was a precious object, like the Falarica, to be kept in a pretty box. To be admired and studied. To be used. She shivered.
Corvus stepped into the dingy cell and grabbed her by both arms. “I have petitioned for trial by combat. I’m being forced to fight for the Emperor. If no champion appears in the next two days, you will be executed.”
Elenn said nothing, though her heart leaped as she envisioned Aedin appearing to defend her honor. Could she even dare to hope for his return? She didn’t know where he was, or even if he was alive. And if he did come—what then? Corvus had been known since his youth as one of Deira’s finest duelists. Aedin could easily be killed or crippled. And she would die anyway. Better for him to stay away, she decided.
Imitating her aunt Ethelind’s most maddeningly serene expression, Elenn coolly returned Corvus’s gaze and smiled.
“What? You think someone is coming to save you?” he demanded. “No one even knows you are here.”
“It will be as the Gods will it,” she said.
“Do you know what the Vitalion will do to you?” he cried. “It’s not fast. They won’t let it be fast. Gods above, woman! I beg you for the last time, come with me and forget this foolishness.”
“You talk about how urgent it is to leave,” she said, “but you stay here all the same.”
Corvus released her.
Elenn stepped back and folded her arms.
“Then… you’ll die,” he said, stunned. “And no Paladin will emerge to defeat the dragon. Lammas Eve will pass, and Garrick will not be crowned. What then?”
“Your man had the right idea, Corvus,” she said, ignoring his question. “You’d better get out of here before they find you talking to me.”
He slammed the door shut and turned the key in the great iron lock. Elenn heard his boots ringing down the stone corridor, growing more distant with each step. She was alone again.
She smiled. Now, more than ever, she was sure she had made the right choice.
When Aedin next regained consciousness, it was day, although he was not sure what day. Blinking his eyes, he saw that he was in a sod-roofed dugout with no furniture. He lay naked in a pile of soft skins. A small fire burned in one corner. Lilith was gone.
He pulled himself to his feet and felt a tightness and an ache in his side. He looked down and saw that the wound had been replaced by a white scar. He almost fell down. How long had he been out? What had happened to Elenn?
With a groan, he wrapped a skin around himself and lurched to the earthen steps leading up and out of the dugout. When he reached the wooden trapdoor, he found it opening from the other side. Framed by the bright light of the sun outside, Lilith stood above him.
“Get back inside,” she hissed, “do you want to get yourself killed?” She stepped down into the dugout, trying to push him back down the steps.
Aedin stubbornly refused to budge, digging his fingers into the sod walls. “I don’t see any guards,” he said. “Where are Clooney’s clansmen? Where are the Taftoughin?”
“Back any minute,” she insisted. “If they know you’re well enough to stand, they’ll take you back to Clooney’s brough for the duel.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it!” said Lilith, pushing him harder. “My word is the only reason you’re here and alive instead of dead in Clooney’s brough.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “There are no guards. The Taftoughin don’t know I’m here.”
“Get inside and lie down!” she cried, pounding his chest with her fists.
“No,” said Aedin. He roughly shoved Lilith aside, for which she repaid him with a long string of names that he more or less deserved.
Rising up out of the dugout, he surveyed the land and judged himself to be somewhere in the southern highlands of Ghel, in dragon country. He had vague memories of walking south through the Narrows, so this made sense. Tethered to a nearby beech was a horse, but he saw no guards or any sign that men had kept watch outside the dugout.
“Where’s my sword?” Aedin said. It had been Leif’s, one of his gifts from the Vitalion in exchange for his treachery.
“You didn’t have a shirt when I found you, much less a sword,” said Lilith, angrily scrubbing her eyes as she sat on the sod steps. “What do you need one for now? Are you in such a hurry to die?”
“They took Elenn,” he said, “and I don’t know if she’s alive. Gods, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep.” He spun and glared down at her. “Your doing, isn’t it? You did this to me, with your accursed conjuring.”
“All I ever wanted to do was help you.”
“Then why didn’t you come with me?” he asked, striding over to her. “Why did you let me leave?”
She turned away. “Because I couldn’t bear to watch you throw your life away for nothing.”
“Wasn’t for nothing,” he said, sitting down beside her on the earthen steps. “It was for our country. For our people. For our…” He hesitated. “… children.”
Lilith glared at him, and Aedin was sure that as soon as she opened her mouth, all the old arguments were going to pour out. But instead she cried. And he held her. After a few minutes, she pulled away from his embrace. She wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand.
“He never gave me any children, you know,” she said. “None of them have. So it wasn’t you. I was the one to blame. Of course.”
Aedin sighed. “What’s the use of handing out blame? What happened, happened. It’s over now.”
“Has been for years,” she agreed quietly.
For a moment, neither one said a word.
“What have you told her about me? Does she know how you got her ring back?” Lilith asked.
“Told her a few things,” he said. “Not the whole story. Maybe someday.”
She nodded. “Do you love her?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that matters,” he said, finally. “She’s the Paladin. Best hope there is to unite our people and drive the Vitalion and their monsters from this land. Can you imagine that? No more dragon? The land full of farms and villages again? She can make that happen. Whatever I might feel about her doesn’t matter at all.”
She snorted. “What a man feels always matters—especially for you.” She laughed. “I always said if Deira had a face, you would kiss it. Now you can.”
He suspected that this was Lilith’s way of trying to find out if he had in fact kissed Elenn, but he ignored her prying. It wasn’t her business anymore. And it didn’t matter.
“She needs my help,” he said. “I have to go to her.”
She looked up at him and sighed. “I have a sword in a cache not far from here. Come, I’ll show you.” She stood and walked up out of the dugout. Aedin followed her.
“You’ve slept less than two days,” she said. “If you take my horse, you should reach her in time.”
“How do you—?” he began. He stopped in his tracks. Conjuring.
She turned. Seeing the discomfort on his face, she grinned. “That’s right, lover. I saw it in the flames.”
She cupped her hands together, brought them to her lips, and blew. A tiny green flame blossomed into existence inside her cupped hands. It licked up at her face like an adoring puppy. Incredibly, this seemed to do her no harm.
“Since the moment I saw you in Clooney’s
court,” she said, “you’ve talked of nothing—waking or sleeping—but this Elenn of Adair.” The flickering fire danced between her fingers, slowly taking shape until a ghostly green form stood in each of her palms.
“She lives,” said Lilith. “At Tantillion castle. But unless you reach her by noon tomorrow, she will die.” She closed her left hand, and with a squeak like a frightened mouse, one of the tiny flame-people was extinguished. She smiled.
“You may die yourself,” she said, regarding the remaining fiery mannikin. It shivered, lost its shape, and once again capered across her hand. “That is hidden from me.”
Feeling a sudden chill, Aedin tugged the skin a little tighter around himself. “Put that fire away, or put it out, or… Just, please get rid of it.”
“You always curse my gifts,” she said, with a teasing smile, “but you never refuse them until after they have served you.” Closing her hand, she made the eerie flames disappear. Lilith stepped closer and ran a hand along the scar on his side.
So, that was conjuring as well. He should have known. “Maybe I’ll have to stop cursing them,” he said. He stepped carefully around her and loosed the horse from the tree.
“A woman does like to be appreciated.”
“And I thank you,” said Aedin, “for everything.” He led the horse toward her and waited.
“You’re welcome,” said Lilith, springing lightly onto the animal’s back. “Now, time for me to show you that cache.” She nodded her head, indicating the spot behind her.
He mounted awkwardly, trying at first to keep the skin girt about him before finally giving up on modesty and dignity. Although she laughed at him the whole time, Aedin found himself smiling.
As they rode together, Lilith talked about the Ghellish great sword and the set of armor that she had kept in the cache for her husband when he returned from the war. And he decided that he would tell her about his own secret cache in the cave behind the Cataracts. It was about time for her to have that dress.
***
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elenn sat cross-legged in her dungeon cell, envisioning a flame dancing above her hand. Focusing on the image, she willed it to come into being. Nothing happened. She tried to empty her mind of conscious thought and emotion, as her Aunt Ethelind had taught her, but found it impossible to silence her fears.
Today was the day on which she would be executed if no champion stepped forward before noon. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she suspected that she had little time left. Abandoning her attempts at conjuring, she said a silent prayer.
Gods of my fathers, she thought, in two days begins the festival of bread. Tomorrow at dawn, Garrick will come to Iliak to be crowned King and to swear an oath to free your people from the wicked ones who plague this blessed land. Please let me be an instrument of your justice. Please deliver me, and all of Deira, out of the hands of the wicked and their servants. So let it be.
Elenn felt a rush of warmth flood through her body. She opened her eyes and smiled. Her prayer had been heard.
Footsteps on the stones in the corridor outside her cell brought her to her feet. The heavy iron lock turned with a click, and the door opened.
A grim-faced legionary stepped into the cell, carrying a length of rope. He barked at her in Vitalae. Elenn was not sure what he was asking her to do, but she nodded and stepped forward hesitantly. He grabbed her hands roughly and then bound her wrists in front of her.
Tugging on her bonds until he was satisfied, the soldier then gave her a shove to get her moving out of the cell. In the stony corridor outside stood five other Vitalion soldiers. Each of them was armed with the ugly, forward-curved falcatas.
The oldest looking of the legionaries gave an order, and all six arranged themselves around Elenn—in front, in back, and on either side. When the pair in front of her began walking, she followed before someone shoved her again.
The soldiers escorted her down the corridor, out of the dungeon, through three halls, and finally into the courtyard. In the center stood Corvus, dressed in armor, flanked by a dozen Vitalion soldiers. She also saw the big man with the blond moustache, who was evidently Corvus’s superior. Standing beside him was a man richly dressed in Vitalion robes whose smirk looked familiar for some reason.
As she approached, Corvus caught her eye. He looked miserable, and angry. She didn’t know if this meant that a challenger had been found, or that one had not. The soldiers led Elenn to a spot in front of the big blond man and the Vitalion. Corvus stood about ten feet away. Now that she was closer, Elenn could see that behind them was a deep pit in the center of the courtyard. The bottom of the pit was sandy, with several large, dark stains on the walls.
Smiling, the blond man stepped forward and asked her a question in Vitalae. Elenn had learned some, but the man’s accent was difficult to understand. She could only shake her head and shrug. The man and his Vitalion friend laughed.
“Elenn of Adair,” the blond man said, “I am Imperator Theodoricus Aelius Strabus.” The man’s accent was even more pronounced in the Deiran tongue. From his speech, his stature, and his moustache, Elenn thought he must be from Baiohaemum.
Elenn curtseyed as best she could with her hands bound, though not too deeply.
“I believe you know Magister Corvus,” said Strabus. “He is representing the interests of the Empire in your trial and execution.”
Corvus, dressed in a suit of Vitalion scale armor, bowed rigidly to Strabus and to the other man.
Imperator Strabus acknowledged Corvus’s bow only with a faint smile. “And this,” said Strabus, gesturing to the smirking Vitalion at his side, “is Procurator Manius Puponius. He is here from Anondea, as a… spectator of sorts.” He laughed, as did his friend.
Corvus’s shot them both a look of intense hatred but remained silent.
Elenn curtseyed again. She had never actually spoken to the Procurator, but Ethelind had pointed him out when they had been in town. He had a reputation for treating his servants and underlings with great cruelty.
“Now that we are all introduced,” said Strabus jovially, “I hereby charge you, Elenn, with the crimes of sedition and treason, for which you will be executed. How do you plead?”
“I do not plead,” said Elenn bravely, “since I do not recognize your authority to judge me. I am a Deiran. And you are in a Deiran fortress upon Deiran lands!” She held her chin up proudly.
The soldiers muttered to each other in Vitalae at this. Strabus frowned. Alone among the Vitalion, the Procurator from Anondea laughed. Grinning, Puponius stepped forward and grabbed her face roughly in one hand. She shook her head, trying to free herself from the indignity, but Puponius only laughed. He shouted something to Strabus in Vitalae which sounded rude and suggestive. It made the soldiers snicker. Even Strabus looked amused.
Flushed with sudden anger, Elenn tried to spit on him, but Puponius shoved her face to the side and avoided the spittle. Still chuckling, he went back to Strabus’s side.
“No plea, then,” said Strabus. “Trial by combat has been petitioned on your behalf, but to my knowledge, no champion has emerged. Do you have a champion?”
Elenn said nothing. She closed her eyes in prayer. She heard more laughter from Strabus and his friend, and then it seemed that the whole courtyard fell into a hush. Hearing the creak of heavy iron chains, Elenn opened her eyes to see the portcullis rising.
Elenn’s heart leapt when she saw Aedin striding in, ducking to get under the portcullis. He wore in a glorious set of Deiran armor and carried a great sword from Ghel on his back. Every eye in the courtyard was on him as he raced up to her side, panting as if he had run the whole way from the Leode. Elenn thought she had never seen a sight so beautiful in all her life.
“Pretty dress,” Aedin said with a wink. “Like the color.”
Elenn blushed.
Then, in a loud voice, Aedin declared, “I am Aedin Jeoris, of clan Scylfing. I am a warrior of Deira, proven in battle. I am here to sustain with th
e sword the just rights of the lady Elenn of Adair.”
Strabus stroked his moustache and then exhaled slowly. “Very well,” he said grudgingly. Turning to Elenn, he asked, “Do you accept this man as your champion?”
“I do,” said Elenn happily.
“So be it,” said Strabus. “As Imperator of the Vitalion Empire in Deira,” he announced in a booming voice, “I hereby proclaim that this woman’s guilt will be determined by combat between her champion, and the champion of the Empire.”
While Strabus repeated his announcement in Vitalae, Corvus stepped forward and saluted. His face was grim as the assembled Vitalion soldiers cheered him, rattling their swords and thumping the butts of their spears against the stone courtyard.
Aedin turned to Elenn, meeting her gaze. He looked tired, and worried. His lips parted as if to speak, but before he could do so, Imperator Strabus pointed to the pit, and shouted something in Vitalae. Several soldiers got in between herself and Aedin, jostling and prodding him toward the stone steps that led down into the pit.
Aedin looked at her helplessly. Elenn stretched out her hand in a blessing and said, “Gods favor your blade, Aedin Jeoris.”
“So let it be,” Aedin said, bowing. With one last smile for her, he turned and walked down the steps.
Corvus, who had said nothing since Elenn entered the courtyard, gazed at her with regret. Saluting her with his sword, he joined Aedin in the pit. For some reason, his sadness made her angry. He didn’t have the right to mourn for her—especially before the trial had even started!
She stepped up to the lip of the pit, her hands still bound. Two guards stood behind her, their hands on their sword hilts. One of them was the soldier who had led her escort to the trial. Strabus and his friend the Procurator joined Elenn at the edge of the dueling pit. The other soldiers gave them a wide berth.
Elenn glanced at the two men, wondering if there was something she could say to soften their hearts.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, child,” Puponius said, leaning over to her. “This will all be over soon.” He smirked. “And then the real fun starts.”
The Crown and the Dragon Page 25
