The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  ‘Probably stowaways.’ Calidra was beside him again, watching the dock with a calm confidence. ‘That’d be you if it weren’t for that paperwork. Keep hold of it, you understand?’

  Fenn gripped the envelope tightly in his pocket and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. There was no need to be pessimistic. So far, luck had been with him. He just had to hope it lasted a bit longer—until his memories returned and he could get back to whatever home he’d left behind. His family—if he had any—must be worried sick.

  As if sensing his sudden panic, Calidra turned to him. ‘Don’t worry. I’m the daughter of a Laird, remember. No-one is going to question me.’ Her voice was smooth and confident, and it eased his nerves somewhat.

  ‘All right, all right, get in line. Papers at the ready,’ an officer barked up at them as the captain brought the schooner in, the dock suddenly very close. He was tall and burly, with a thick beard of black and grey, his eyes hidden by a helm of iron worn low upon his head. A dragon insignia had been burnished into it, the same insignia as on his and the other officers’ cloaks.

  With a gentle bump, the schooner nudged the dock, and the crew scrambled to pull out the gangplank for their passengers.

  Taking a step back, the waiting officer stared down at his papers and pulled out a quill.

  The messenger, who had ignored them throughout their trip, marched off the boat first, and raised his chin to address the officer. ‘Mias Uselin. I’m a messenger bound by Fellwood, I left on yesterday’s boat. You should have my name listed. Quickly now, I’ve urgent work to attend to.’

  ‘Uselin…Uselin…’ The officer ran his index finger along presumably a line of names, muttering under his breath as he did so.

  Fenn peered cautiously around Calidra’s shoulder, who stood next in line. Jisyel remained behind him, and offered an encouraging smile. ‘It’s just a formality, don’t worry.’

  He didn’t like being told not to worry so often. If anything, it had the opposite effect, and his heart was already thumping loudly.

  While the officer dealt with the paperwork, Fenn turned his attention to the rest of Ballowtown, which rose up beyond the docks like mushrooms atop a large boulder. There were many buildings, most three or four storeys high, each with the same red tiled rooftops. Several spires reached higher, here and there, which Fenn assumed were churches or watchtowers—a few even had large, iron bells in them. Several buildings had already been lit, their windows providing a cool, yellow light as dusk fell across town.

  ‘Next,’ barked the officer, waving away Mias and looking up to see Calidra.

  ‘Calidra Vantonen, of Fellwood, daughter of the Laird. With me is my partner, Jisyel and my servant, Fenn, of Salt Ash.’

  Fenn held in his gasp at that, but the officer didn’t notice. He thumbed through the papers, turning over a few leaves, then frowning. ‘Your Ladyship, you are listed, as is Jisyel, as residents of the island. But…the servant, Fenn, he…I can’t seem to find a record—’

  ‘Are you questioning me?’ Calidra raised one eyebrow.

  ‘Ah. No! Of course not, it’s just…I…I can’t seem to…If I could just see his papers, please….’

  ‘So you are questioning me.’ Her voice had taken on an edge, and the man gulped. Despite standing a clear head and a half over Calidra, he shrank away and adjusted his helm.

  ‘Certainly not, Your Ladyship. I just…I wouldn’t mind…him travelling with you is normally fine, it’s just…’

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘Well, the Master Inquisitor is on his way. On business of the Iron Crown. Been a lot more persons unaccounted for, recently. In Bragalia, I mean. I can’t risk any slip ups, I’m sure you understand. Why, even your father has a reputation for—’

  ‘That’s quite enough. Fenn. Show him your papers,’ Calidra snapped.

  Shuffling forward, Fenn pulled out the envelope and handed it to the officer, wondering if he’d seen through their ruse and he’d have to make a run for it. He glanced around, looking for any potential openings. But the place was busy, full of officers, sailors, and townspeople. And it wasn’t as if he had the first idea of where he’d go even if he managed to get through all of them.

  He didn’t want to end up in chains, especially not for a crime he’d not committed.

  With several muttered apologies, the officer quickly skimmed his paper and then, satisfied, stamped it with the same dragon insignia that adorned his uniform. ‘Thank you, Your Ladyship. Welcome back to Bragalia. I wish you safe—’

  ‘Fine. Let’s go.’ Calidra cut him off again and ushered Jisyel and Fenn forward. She strode past the rest of the berthed ships and out of the busy docks without a look back.

  ‘Calidra, what—’ Fenn ventured, but was silenced with a glare colder than he’d seen from her before. He kept his hands in his pockets, struggling to keep up with the pace Calidra set as she led them down a wide, cobblestone path, past taverns and shops, and into the heart of Ballowtown, which had started to come alive with evening activity.

  Lamps were being lit, with several burning in an ethereal purple that cast peculiar shadows on the walls between buildings. Fenn was quite sure he heard the fire whispering, but the words were just too low for him to catch any detail.

  When they were some minutes walk from the sea, Jisyel spoke, her voice shaking. ‘The Master Inquisitor, did I hear that right?’

  ‘Apparently so. What he’s doing all the way down here, I have no idea.’ Calidra replied, no longer angry. She sounded afraid.

  ‘On the dock, the officer said, “persons unaccounted for.” What does that mean? People without papers?’ Fenn asked, thinking back to the line of people he’d seen in chains.

  ‘Pretty much,’ Jisyel said. ‘Bragalia and Porsenthia share a border. It can be easy for stowaways to cross countries.’

  ‘I wonder if they’re like me.’ Fenn hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

  ‘Like you? You mean…suffering from memory loss?’ Jisyel asked.

  ‘What if it’s happened to others, too? Happening to them right now?’ Fenn wasn’t sure if he wanted to to be true, couldn’t tell if it would be a good or a bad thing.

  ‘Let’s just find Ashothka and get settled. If I don’t sit down somewhere solid soon, I’ll vomit.’ Calidra brushed her forehead with the back of one hand. ‘Damned crossing never gets any easier.’

  Calidra and Jisyel were familiar with Ballowtown, so it didn’t take the two women long to reach a particular tavern in the heart of the place, Seafarer’s Haven. It was a large, vibrant building, heard for some distance before they saw it. Bellandri had instructed them to wait for Ashothka there, if he wasn’t already at the docks. That way, they could get a hot meal and stay in shelter if the weather was poor. Judging by the dark clouds overhead, they didn’t have long before the weather turned.

  Fenn had been dizzy with the sights and sounds of Ballowtown, it was so overwhelming. Each street was paved with flat stone slabs, or large round cobblestones. Stone buildings with red tiled roofs appeared to be the trademark of the town, and after more than a handful of turns down side streets and across squares, he was confused. Everywhere looked the same, and there were numerous alleyways between the tall buildings, many of which were lit by those strange, purple lanterns.

  He was able to keep a sense of where the sea was, for the most part—if anything he could always use his sense of smell to find his way back there—but as the shadows lengthened and his legs ached for rest, he was looking forward to sitting down to some food.

  As they crossed one of Ballowtown’s many squares, something drew his attention to the far side. It was the shadow-like creature that he’d seen before, looming out from one of the alleys, half-lost in darkness. Its edges blurred, as if it wasn’t quite there. The air surrounding it rippled, and he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, to no avail. Something about it felt wrong. Very wrong. But he couldn’t put his finger on why.

&nbs
p; Fenn stumbled on a cobblestone, and Jisyel caught him by the arm.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Y—yeah,’ he muttered, clutching his shin where he’d caught it. He could have sworn a pair of amber eyes glowed from the alleyway, but when he looked back, it was gone.

  Delirious. He was completely delirious.

  Calidra found them a table in the corner of the busy tavern, at least twice the size of The Hog’s Tusk, and bursting with patrons—most of whom smelled of the sea, which he supposed was what gave the place its name. Several people hunched over large mugs of hot, steaming drinks at the bar, while others ate furiously, devouring platters of seafood as if they had the gullets of gulls.

  Unnerved by sighting something unknown, Fenn kept quiet, lest anyone else tried to question who he was and what right he had to be there. He was glad the large table of officers opposite them were more interested in their ale than in the flood of people coming and going.

  He hoped they were off duty.

  A large fire roared fiercely in the hearth, and Fenn slipped out of his overtunic, unable to rid himself of the doubt nagging at the back of his mind. What was that creature? Another spirit? It didn’t look like Hassen. He thought about it while they got comfortable at the table, checking out the other patrons for signs of Ashothka.

  When Calidra rejoined them a few minutes later, bringing three mugs of coffee, Jisyel whispered, ‘Cal, should we really be here? There are officers over there. What if they check Fenn?’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Calidra didn’t bother to look at them. ‘The portmaster checked his papers, no-one will question him now he’s already in town.’

  ‘But Torsten…’

  ‘I’m sure Torsten will be very busy with whatever business has brought him here. He won’t care for one young lad already in town, blending in with everyone else. Drink. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘You’re probably right…’ Jisyel didn’t sound convinced. She leaned on her elbow and tried not to look at the officers, their laughter rising every few minutes as they drank more. ‘I don’t like it. They make me uncomfortable.’

  ‘You’re the one who wanted me to come back to Bragalia. I’ve made the crossing. Don’t change your mind about it now!’

  Jisyel sighed.

  Fenn glanced around, wondering about the other patrons here. Close to them, a trio of women laughed, sharing a large, tin pitcher of something foul-smelling; a brooding man with dark hair and gold rings in his ears, more interested in the pie on his plate than anyone else, ignored them; two men argued over whether Bragalian or Olmese steel was better; a tall man thumbed through a stack of papers, his plate of food untouched, and kept throwing anxious glances towards the officers.

  Could anyone here be someone he knew? Had known?

  On the table to their right, two men played a board game with several pieces, each carved from different coloured wood. Black. Grey. Brown. Cream. Blue. Red. They were moved in seemingly random ways, some several squares at a time. One of the players moved two red pieces, carved to look like broken trees, and his opponent let out a disappointed groan.

  ‘Rehkaro.’

  Fenn glanced up to find Jisyel watching him. ‘That’s the game?’

  ‘It’s an old Bragalian game for keeping young children and old men quiet.’ Jisyel rubbed her upper arms. ‘I just hope Ashothka gets here soon. This place is too busy for my head.’

  ‘You’ll feel better once you have some food. Shouldn’t be too long before they bring it out. I got you hot onion soup,’ Calidra said, and Jisyel immediately brightened.

  Fenn could see the edge of the street through one of the tavern’s small windows, and he watched as night enveloped Ballowtown. He kept staring in case the shadow creature wandered past again, but the coast remained clear. Their food came; empty plates went. Still no sign of Ashothka. His stomach sank, and he wondered whether it was too late to run for it, after all.

  Without Ashothka, he didn’t know what they’d do next. Bellandri’s contact was supposed to give them a place to stay, and help them on their way. If Ashothka wasn’t coming, he might as well go it alone. That way, he wouldn’t be ignored and dismissed by Calidra, who clearly had her own reasons for coming to Bragalia.

  Calidra drummed her fingers on the table, the only sign she was growing more worried as time ticked by.

  At least they hadn’t rid themselves of him at the first opportunity—they seemed to want him to be okay and on his way before they let him go—but Calidra and Jisyel’s visible nerves weren’t just to do with him. Ashothka was a contact of Bellandri, someone she trusted.

  Had he ignored Bellandri’s message? Hadn’t he received it?

  It was getting late, and there was no reason for the lack of response. Rain spattered on the thick, glass windows, the clouds finally releasing their bounty, and a peal of thunder rolled overhead.

  ‘If I knew his address, we could just go there,’ Jisyel gave words to the thoughts clearly on everyone’s minds. ‘We’ll just have to keep waiting. Stay here tonight, if he doesn’t show. We have enough coin for a room between us, don’t we?’

  Calidra’s fingers continued to drum.

  ‘Should we ask after Ashothka? If he lives in town, maybe someone here knows him?’ Fenn suggested, trying to be helpful.

  Calidra dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Fenn. Everyone in their right mind is suspicious. No-one is going to help a group of strangers. Not unless there’s something in it for them. People aren’t like that.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh?’

  ‘Being harsh is expected. You should get used to it.’

  Several patrons had left, but the tavern remained relatively full. Could Ashothka be one of these people and they hadn’t realised? He opened his mouth to suggest that very thing, when the tavern doors burst open, bringing in a wash of rainwater. That in itself wasn’t unusual, people had been coming and going all evening, but the three people who stood in the doorway drew the eye of everyone present.

  A man stood ahead of the other two, his black cloak lined with silver fur, the same dragon insignia on it—as well as his helm, shield, and the scabbard that held a longsword at his hip. Gold edged his half-armour, too, the only distinction in his uniform from the two with him.

  One of his companions, a narrow-shouldered man with sandy-coloured hair, walked through the crowd to the bar, ignoring the stares of those around him. The other, a slender woman with dark, braided hair reaching her waist, took one step to the right, standing at attention beside the door.

  ‘Torsten. Queen Surayo’s Master Inquisitor,’ Jisyel whispered, her face suddenly close to Fenn’s ear.

  He didn’t need her to tell him that. By the hush that took over the tavern, it was clear these officers were of a different caste to those already inebriated.

  Torsten joined the officers at their table, one member standing and giving up their seat, then conversation within the large room resumed, albeit quieter and less rowdy than before.

  ‘Should we…go?’ Fenn whispered, making to grab his overtunic again.

  Jisyel rested a hand on his arm, giving Calidra an accusatory look in the same motion. She whispered, ‘That other Inquisitor is by the door. They’ll be noting who leaves now that Torsten’s here. Can’t go now, it’ll look suspicious. Maybe they’re just here for a drink, not on business. It’s late.’

  Fenn lowered his head, leaning over his folded arms, staring at the officers’ table and trying to work out what was being discussed. It was hard to make out anything above the murmur of the tavern, clinking crockery, and the occasional loud belch.

  A few words floated above the general cacophony and he focussed on the snatches of conversation that reached him.

  ‘…sign of it…’

  Narrowing his eyes, Fenn scooted over on his bench, trying to get closer. Were they talking about the same creature he’d seen?

  ‘…lost…Too easy to hide…deadwater town.’

  ‘…what kind of cre
ature…’

  ‘Could be dangerous if we don’t…’

  ‘Fenn, what are you—’

  He tumbled off the edge of the bench, hardly aware of Calidra’s hissed warning. He smacked his nose painfully on the wooden floor, inhaling dried ale and dust. His headache, which had subsided after a full belly and a mug of coffee, flared back with a violent fury that left him seeing stars.

  ‘Hmm. Trying to listen in on official Inquisitor business, boy?’

  Fenn held his nose tenderly, afraid he’d broken it, and a trickle of blood leaked from one nostril. He was infuriated with being shoved around by someone else, yet again. ‘You’re having a conversation in a public house. Of course people are going to listen in.’

  He was aware of Jisyel’s sudden gasp, before a hand grabbed him by the scruff and roughly yanked him to his feet—where he stared directly up at Torsten.

  ‘Do you have any idea who I am?’ Torsten’s voice was flat, without the anger Fenn had expected, but his blue eyes burned with barely concealed outrage. He was clean shaven, with sallow skin and thin lips.

  Fenn gasped with sickening realisation that he’d pushed it too far. Torsten clearly was not in a mood for jokes, nor was he about to cede any ground. Fenn recalled the few snippets of conversation he’d overheard, combined it with the shadow he’d seen earlier, and took a wild guess. ‘The creature you’re hunting? I’ve seen it.’ He’d blurted out the words before realising what he’d said.

  It took Torsten by surprise, too, the man’s cold eyes narrowing down at him. ‘What did you see, boy?’

  Fenn wanted to turn around and look at Calidra and Jisyel, maybe take some comfort from them, but he didn’t dare look away from the Inquisitor. Most of the talk in the tavern had ground to a halt, all eyes and ears on the pair. He wasn’t sure about his guess, but it was too late to backtrack now. Fenn continued, ‘I…I saw…it was a shadow. A huge creature, in Ballowtown. First saw it on the Salt Sea, and then again earlier—’