The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  Fenn nodded. If he had any doubts, he hid them well. ‘I’ll be ready. I hope getting to the mainland will help, all this chaos and confusion is sickening.’

  ‘I’m sure it will, dear.’ Bellandri reached over and squeezed his wrist, as if he was another of her grandchildren. ‘At least you’ll be in tip top shape for travel after my excellent hospitality.’

  Calidra didn’t sleep that night.

  Too many thoughts and emotions cascaded through her mind, not permitting her a moment’s peace. A wave of nausea spiked at the thought of crossing the cold expanse of water, but she pushed it away. Coffee would solve that. Or at least make it more tolerable.

  Fenn was the least of her concerns, though he was a complete mystery. Perhaps Hassen had cursed him. She was already up, washed, and dressed before the first of the sun’s rays lit the horizon. She was downstairs, polishing off a breakfast of eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, and potato, and had downed her second coffee, when Fenn and Jisyel joined her.

  Jisyel yawned widely, rubbing her eyes clear of sleep. She’d never been a morning person, but even Calidra could see how excited she was for the trip with the smile that refused to leave her lips.

  Bellandri had stocked their bags with plenty of supplies for the journey. It would be four or five days’ travel to Fellwood from Ballowtown, but they had enough food to last them three weeks. ‘Are we expecting some catastrophe to befall us?’

  ‘Of course not, but there’s no need to take lean rations. Anxiety is worse on an empty stomach.’ Bellandri pulled Calidra into a rough embrace, squeezing her so hard that she thought she was going to bring up her breakfast again.

  She hugged Jisyel and Fenn, too, showing him as much warmth as she was used to giving family, then walked the three of them to the edge of the inn’s grounds. She carefully handed Fenn a sealed envelope, decorated in gold filigree, and told him to keep it safe. She kissed Jisyel twice on each cheek and smoothed her unruly hair until Jisyel pulled away with a giggle. Then, Bellandri turned to Calidra. ‘Whatever happens, whatever decisions you make, you know you’ll always have a home at The Hog’s Tusk, Calidra. Always.’

  Calidra’s breath hitched at the sudden surge of emotion that powered through her. She bit down on her lip to keep it from wobbling. Bellandri had been more a mother to her than anyone in her own family ever had been. ‘Thank you.’ Her words came out more breathless than she’d expected.

  ‘Keep a close eye on my granddaughter, please. And Fenn, poor lad. Don’t let anything happen to them, will you?’

  ‘I won’t.’ Calidra turned to catch up with Jisyel and Fenn, but Bellandri kept hold of her hand.

  ‘Calidra. Promise me. You’re as much my granddaughter as Jisyel is. You’re family.’

  A lump formed in the back of her throat. ‘I promise.’

  Bellandri smiled, her face cracking into all her wrinkles and crow’s feet. ‘There’s a good lass. I’ll see you again, soon?’

  Not trusting her voice, Calidra nodded and hurried to catch up to the others.

  Jisyel had already led Fenn down the path towards the trees. They needed to keep a brisk pace to make the boat before it left, and they were racing the rising sun.

  Thankfully, they didn’t encounter Hassen, Spirit of Salt Ash, on their way through the forest, for which Calidra was immensely grateful. She didn’t have patience for the trickster spirit at the best of times, and certainly not while they were on a tight deadline.

  It was a relief when the cold, green Salt Sea came into view, the waters choppy as they were prone to be. Despite her unease at being on open water, she picked up her speed. A thick layer of dark cloud had rolled in, and the three of them sprinted the last few legs of the journey to the dock to beat the inevitable deluge.

  The first few raindrops spattered down as they boarded the waiting schooner. When not transporting people to and from Bragalia and the Isle of Salt, it tended to fish in the southern part of the Salt Sea, along the island’s north and eastern coastlines. With a crew of six, it was far from the gallant sailing vessels common in southern Bragalia, but having spent the best part of a decade on the island, Calidra recognised them all, and even knew a few by name.

  Most were ready to be off before the weather turned, and none paid Fenn the least bit of attention, which was a relief. She wasn’t sure she could stomach more questions while so queasy.

  With a deep breath, Calidra stepped off the land and onto the boat, clutching onto Jisyel’s arm as much for comfort as to steady herself.

  ‘Perhaps this is a good omen?’ Jisyel said, setting down her bag and finding a place to sit for the journey. ‘You going back, I mean. After all these years. It’s exciting!’

  ‘Perhaps. Just not going back under the best circumstances, am I?’ Calidra didn’t believe it was a good omen. She shuddered at the boat’s unsteadiness underfoot, and gritted her teeth against the growing nausea, already at the base of her throat. She told herself it was just the wind in The Hog’s Tusk, and that she was perfectly safe.

  The crew got on with the bustle of getting the schooner away on their journey, unfurling sails and pulling on ropes. She spotted the messenger from yesterday curled up in a bundle of thick furs and boiled leather. Evidently he’d paid the captain to spend the night on the boat, preferring that to sleeping upon the Isle of Salt. She smirked. Calidra had quickly learned there was very little to that “cursed” rumour, and even Bellandri laughed at the soft-bellied mainlanders who were too scared to stay more than a couple of nights on the island.

  Her gaze found Fenn and lingered on him. The young man stood on the starboard side, peering over the edge like a child seeing the sea for the first time, his eyes wide in wonder. ‘What do you think of him?’

  ‘Hmm? Who?’ Jisyel replied with another yawn. Even the brisk walk had failed to wake her more.

  ‘The lad. Fenn.’ Calidra gestured with her chin.

  ‘Oh. I don’t know. He seems okay. You don’t trust him?’

  ‘Jisyel, it took me three years before I trusted you.’

  She snorted at that. ‘I don’t think he’s dangerous. He didn’t steal anything, I checked his room this morning.’

  ‘Jisyel, you’re so tired in the mornings that you wouldn’t notice if your own arm was missing.’

  The boat lurched forward, water slapping at the hull, and Calidra couldn’t suppress a gasp of fear. One hand instantly went to the knife at her belt, then stopped. Her blade couldn’t do anything against the sea. It was part of the reason she felt so uneasy on water.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Jisyel took her free hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘We’ll be in Ballowtown by lunchtime, if Neros is kind.’

  Calidra nodded, eyes scanning the waters ahead for any sign of the Spirit of the Lasseen Ocean, which bordered the Salt Sea to the south. A far larger body of water, the Lasseen Ocean had given rise to a powerful dragon spirit, Neros, who was famed to make travel across her waters treacherous whenever she was in a foul mood.

  Their course would take them swiftly inland, hopefully before they attracted the attention of any spirits, yet Calidra couldn’t help but worry at the thought of it.

  She kept staring at Fenn, his hair quickly windswept, white flakes of salt streaking it within minutes of leaving the island, awe clear on his face. She wondered if he’d ever seen a boat before—or if it was something he’d forgotten. The idea of losing her memories, her sense of self, terrified her. It was the thing that kept you sharp, aware of dangers, and able to react swiftly.

  Something gnawed at her about him, and it was more than her general dislike for strangers and overly cautious nature. But Bellandri and Jisyel were happy enough, and if he had been cursed by Hassen, it explained his confusion.

  She wondered if they might unearth more answers if they stayed with him, instead of handing him over to the Inquisitors at the first opportunity. The doubt sat at the back of her mind like a toad on a sunny stone. It had no intention of moving.

  Handing him over would just
be another example of running away from her responsibilities.

  Calidra turned her mind to Bragalia. Her father had died. Her family had completely ripped itself apart. She half-expected to find a warzone in Fellwood, and wondered how much had changed in all the time she’d been away. Would anything even be as she remembered it?

  Wrapping her arm around Jisyel—although more to support herself than anything else—she sighed as the boat rocked below them. ‘Spirits bless me, what’s waiting back home?’

  The Crossing

  Fenn

  Fenn had quickly realised there was nothing to be gained by arguing with Calidra.

  Jisyel was far less sour and had been considerably more patient with him, but he remained at their mercy. If they decided to throw him overboard—not that he really thought they would—he’d be able to do very little about it.

  He’d not yet regained the full strength in his arms, and was shaky on his legs. The fog within his mind hadn’t lifted either, even after a decent night’s sleep, and he didn’t know what any of it meant.

  They’d said the Isle of Salt was cursed. Had it caused the issue? Was Hassen, the spirit of the forest there, responsible? Or was it mere coincidence? Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to think. Tried to recall something, anything.

  It caused a flare of pain behind his eyes, and he clutched onto the handrail of the boat to keep his balance. Swaying at the lull of the sea underneath, he was amazed at such power held within the water. He was tiny before it; weak and insignificant. He wondered if he was heading towards his home, whether he would even remember it if he saw it. Was anyone looking for him right now, wondering what mess he’d got himself into this time? Why he’d disappeared so suddenly?

  Bragalia.

  It sounded important, the way Calidra, Jisyel, and Bellandri had spoken of the place. Clearly it was important to Calidra, who despite her obvious discomfort on the boat still walked with confidence and certainty—unlike himself and Jisyel.

  He was frustrated at not knowing things, for being caught up in the tide of events like a piece of driftwood. His grip tightened on the rail, knuckles whitening.

  Once they were on the mainland, he was sure to find someone who knew more. Someone who wanted to help him. Chancing a look back at Calidra and Jisyel, a pang of resentment grew. They didn’t care about him. And why would they? He was a stranger to them. They had their own problems to deal with without worrying about a lost, confused amnesiac who was getting in their way.

  At least they’d shown him some kindness.

  He doubted it would last once they made reached the mainland.

  Pulling out the envelope Bellandri had given him, Fenn carefully turned it away from the strong winds and opened it. For a moment, he was afraid he’d lost his ability to read, but then the words came swimming back into focus—even if he didn’t understand half of them.

  The bearer of this pass may be permitted to travel between the Isle of Salt and two Bragalian cantons, including the gates at Ballowtown and Fellwood, as decreed and signed by Vantonen, Laird of Fellwood, Bragalia.

  Fenn swallowed. Calidra’s father was a Laird. Bellandri had said as much when she’d fed them. Vantonen must be the family name.

  And he’d died.

  It was one thing to forge papers, it was another to use the signature of a dead man for gain. He suddenly felt sick, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Without the paper, he’d be stranded on the cursed island with Bellandri’s overbearing fuss on one side, and Hassen tormenting him on the other.

  Slipping the paper back in his pocket, he sighed, turning his gaze back to the unending green-grey streak of cold seawater. Leaning over the rail, he peered into the murk, stunned to see a shoal of fish swimming alongside the boat.

  He knew he recognised the species, but the name of the fish never materialised in his thoughts. They were large and slender, with powerful tails for swimming in the rough waters. He counted over thirty of them, and far more swam deeper, their shapes hardly more than shadows in the waters’ depths. One splashed upwards, breaking the surface of the cold, foamy sea for a split second, then dived back to join the others in its shoal.

  Fenn lifted a hand to touch the spray on his cheek, shivering at the water’s temperature, and wondered if he’d ever seen this sea before.

  He was less panicked than yesterday, more frustrated than anything else. He’d expected the events of the previous day to fade into nothing, lost like things from before, but he could recall everything from the moment he’d been stuck in the bog.

  Had that been an awakening of sorts?

  Everything was too confusing, made too little sense.

  The boat lurched, cresting a rising swell, and Fenn staggered, grasping the handrail again and peering overboard. A large, dark shadow appeared on the horizon, heading towards the mainland faster than their boat. Vaguely humanoid, with long arms that appeared to drag along the waves behind it, the sight of it made his mouth run dry.

  Fenn tried to keep his footing without losing sight of the shadow. ‘Calidra? Jisyel?’ he called over his shoulder, not willing to pull his gaze from the horizon. ‘What’s that?’

  Calidra was beside him moments after he’d called. She staggered under the moving boat and clutched the rail with one hand, her dagger already drawn and ready. ‘What is it?’

  ‘There. Looks like…a creature of some sort?’ He pointed with one hand, though unsteady.

  She followed his gesture and narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t see anything.’

  Fenn blinked. The horizon was clear. ‘It…I saw…’

  She glanced up and down the horizon line.

  ‘It was right there!’

  ‘Don’t make things up, Fenn. It’s not helping your case.’ She turned away.

  ‘But I didn’t!’ He watched her return to her seat by Jisyel, sheathing her dagger and shaking her head. Fenn turned back to the horizon, which was clear save the rolling, grey clouds that threatened more rain. He had definitely seen something. Hadn’t he?

  ‘Best sit down and get some rest, Fenn. It’ll be a few hours before we get to Ballowtown,’ Jisyel called.

  Despite his growing unease, Fenn left the side of the boat and made his way over to the two women, sitting down heavily and folding his arms against the chill sea air. His headache was a constant companion now, occasionally causing his vision to flicker.

  Perhaps he had been seeing things.

  By the time the mainland came into view, the sun was already low and the temperature had plummeted. Although even at its zenith, the warmth had done nothing against the freezing wind over the Salt Sea, which bit deep, chilling his bones. Fenn was glad he’d chosen a thick, fur-lined doublet and a long overtunic from the wardrobe at The Hog’s Tusk. He’d been cold on the island, and on learning he’d be crossing water, he thought more layers would be better.

  Not to mention he had no idea what awaited him in Bragalia.

  He fought to keep from shivering as the schooner took them up a narrow bay towards their destination, and land encased them on either side.

  ‘See anything you recognise, yet?’ Jisyel asked, ever positive. She strolled along the deck, and flakes of the thin, sugary pastry she held fluttered away in the wind. She quickly took another bite lest more of it was lost to sea.

  ‘Still nothing.’ Fenn could always lie. Try to appease them. But then he was sure they’d question him further, and his lie would quickly unravel. It wasn’t something he wanted to chance, especially not with Calidra so quick to grab her hunting dagger.

  ‘Jisyel, you don’t need to eat again so soon. Especially not after being on the moving boat. You’ll be sick,’ Calidra admonished.

  Jisyel shoved the rest of the pastry into her mouth with a bright grin and ignored her. ‘We’ll be docking soon. That’s Ballowtown there, Fenn. See those buildings where the land slopes up?’

  He stood up to get a better view of the large town nestled against the water’s edge like a cat waiting to
pounce on an unsuspecting fish. He wondered if the town would dig its claws into him, too.

  ‘It gets all sorts of people. Bragalians, mostly, but usually merchants and traders, people passing through. Much busier than on the island. You’re not afraid of crowds, are you? Don’t worry if you are, we’ll keep you in one piece until we can figure out what’s going on.’

  Fenn idly scratched his eyebrow, watching as the town grew closer. Although grateful for Jisyel’s kind words, he knew the sooner they docked, the sooner he’d be palmed off to the Inquisitors, whoever they were. They didn’t sound particularly friendly, and his stomach was already in knots at how quickly everything was happening to him.

  There was a bustle of activity across the schooner as the crew slowly brought the ship into port, confidently avoiding other vessels already docked, heading out to sea, or further inland. The bottom half of every vessel was darkened by time in the water, with barnacles and sea molluscs clinging to the lower parts of their hulls.

  Fenn suddenly wondered if he would have been better off staying on the Isle of Salt and taking his chances with Hassen. He glanced at the horizon again, in case the shadow had reappeared, but it was as empty as when Calidra had taken a look. Typical.

  ‘Hope my gran sent out a fast pigeon, otherwise we’ll be waiting forever for Ashothka.’ Jisyel rested one hand on her hip, the other shielding her eyes from the low, evening sunlight. Crowds were gathered along the docks, seagulls screeched overhead despite the dying light, and salt wind filled the air. The place was a bundle of energy, noise, and movement. Officers in whale skin coats and thick rubber boots paced the edge of the docks, reams of paperwork under their arms as they barked orders at the gathered people, pointing them in different directions, directing carriages of cargo, and yelling at the boat crews.

  On the far side of the docks, Fenn saw three young men, not much older than himself, with their hands chained. They were being led away by another officer with a longsword, and his stomach dropped at the sight.