The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  ‘What is going on?’ Furyn’s voice cut through the cacophony.

  Calidra’s resolve twitched, and she grabbed hold of Jisyel’s hand as she turned to face her mother.

  Furyn approached, one of her griffins trailing her, more of the Fellwood soldiers at her side. She took in the scene with a cool gaze, then rested it on her daughter. ‘Calidra. The company you keep is certainly creating a disturbance.’

  Calidra narrowed her eyes. It was just like her mother to berate her for something that wasn’t in her control. She nearly apologised, before catching herself. ‘I was about to stop it.’

  Furyn’s eyes narrowed, then she surveyed the scene before her. ‘General, is there some grievance you wish to bring to my attention?’

  ‘You know full well my grievance, Lady Vantonen.’ Varlot lowered his axe. ‘If you’d kept your end of the deal, I wouldn’t have had to spend all day trying to get more gold.’

  Furyn’s lips pressed together. ‘Right now, my money will be put into the defence of Fellwood. We need to protect our borders and send out patrols to ensure we are not taken unawares by the Myr. I’m sure a man of your reputation can understand the importance of that?’

  ‘I suppose your word means nothing.’ Varlot’s voice had quietened, but his anger clearly simmered. ‘I travelled all this way. Even if you didn’t want me to train your son, you should compensate me for keeping your daughter safe!’ He gestured in Calidra’s direction.

  ‘I didn’t ask you to do that,’ Furyn replied coldly.

  Calidra balled her hands into fists.

  Jisyel’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then she gathered herself and approached. ‘Furyn. It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Jisyel and—’

  ‘And I don’t have time for this nonsense.’

  Jisyel blinked, stunned. ‘Calidra and I have come a long way to see you! To help you with the canton. With the Myr!’

  Varlot laughed and adjusted his bearskin cloak. ‘You may not need them, but surely my skills are unquestioned? I’ve fought the Myr, the very enemy you’re about to face!’

  Selys, too, stepped forward, and gave a short bow, her tattoo in full view in the morning sun. ‘Lady Vantonen. Will you not honour your word to pay Varlot?’

  Calidra gaped at Selys. After the way Varlot had treated her, she’d not expected the priestess to stand up for the man.

  In response, Furyn raised one hand and gestured with her fingers. Half a dozen more of the household guard came forward at her command, each one armed and armoured. Sekano wore his helm, the red feather waving proudly.

  Calidra’s heart sank. Furyn never did things for show. If she’d called her guard, she meant it. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay and help her run the canton if it meant driving away her friends with a show of force.

  Jisyel, however, was infuriated. ‘You can’t honestly mean to turn your soldiers on us? After everything Calidra’s been through? It’s been years!’

  Furyn looked down her nose at Jisyel, a sneer curling her lip. ‘She turned her back on this family and only came crawling back here out of obligation. She doesn’t care about us, about the canton. Only her trysts. I don’t need some Porsenthian wretch here. Nor a drunk general.’

  ‘Drunk general?’ Varlot roared.

  Several of the household guards drew their swords in retaliation.

  ‘How dare you…’ Calidra whispered, hardly aware she was speaking.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Furyn looked at her daughter.

  Calidra had cried enough over the past few days. She wasn’t sure she had any more tears left in her. But her mother had pushed her to her limit, and it took every ounce of strength to keep her voice in check. ‘You clearly don’t need me, either. You’ve always wanted things done your way. Never wanted my help—only another person you could order around. I won’t be pushed anymore!’

  But Furyn wasn’t listening. She was glaring at Varlot as her soldiers approached him. From her expression, her patience, too, had worn out. ‘I’ve had enough. I have an entire canton to protect against the Myr, and I don’t have time for your complaints. Get your things and get out of Fellwood. All of you. If you’re still here in five minutes, Commander Sekano will personally escort you to the town gates.’

  Calidra had wanted Furyn to scream at her, to argue her point. To show some love, some acknowledgement of the hurt she’d caused. But Furyn didn’t care. She’d never cared. ‘I came here out of a sense of obligation, yes. To face my responsibilities, and see if anything could be salvaged between us. But the way you treated me? My partner? There’s nothing left for us. I thought it would be the case, but now it’s clear.’

  Calidra took hold of Jisyel’s hand, expecting her to tell her to try again, to work it through. But Jisyel simply nodded fiercely, her eyes watering.

  As Furyn’s soldiers stepped towards them, Calidra lifted her chin. ‘You don’t want help, fine. I can find my sister, and I can do it with a clear conscience. I can’t believe you convinced me she was dead all these years!’

  Furyn glared at her. ‘Calidra. You’re too emotional and immature to have any part in running this household, let alone the canon. I thought you’d step up, but clearly I was wrong. Get your things and leave.’

  Calidra stalked away from the others, tears blurring her vision, and picked up the bag she’d dropped. Somewhere behind her, Varlot was blustering. He’d been the only person to ever talk back to Furyn, and it was going about as well as she’d imagined.

  Absolutely pointless.

  Moving in a daze, Calidra grabbed whatever she thought would be useful. Clothes. Boots. Medicine. Food. Water. Bedding. Whatever she could get in the brief timeframe she’d been allotted, grateful she’d pre-packed most of it after wondering whether they’d leave early.

  She’d never thought it would be this early.

  Sekano watched her, then escorted her and the others off the grounds without a word.

  At least her mother’s outburst would get rid of Varlot. That was the silver lining to everything that had happened. Furyn didn’t want the Porsenthian in Fellwood, and Calidra didn’t blame her. Varlot’s reactions had been overblown, bordering on violent.

  ‘Well. That was…extreme.’ Jisyel stared up the slope, where the villa sprawled out under the bright, Bragalian sun. Somewhere high above, Amsel and Hailathlyl soared.

  Calidra shook her head.

  ‘I should’ve listened to you.’.

  ‘It’s okay. With someone like Bellandri raising you, it’s no wonder you didn’t realise what my mother would be like.’ Calidra wrapped her arm around Jisyel’s shoulder in a loose hug.

  Fenn and Selys stood off to one side, while Varlot paced along the now closed gates to the Vantonen home like a caged griffin.

  Fenn said, ‘Calidra. I’m sorry if…anything I did—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Even without you here, she’d have got rid of me soon enough.’ Despite her hurt, Calidra now had clarity. ‘This isn’t a case of her being upset with me because I’ve done something wrong. It’s her finding something wrong because she’s upset. And I always upset her.’

  ‘Calidra…’ Jisyel hugged her tightly for a moment.

  She stood back after their embrace, turning to Fenn again. ‘It’s fine. We should make the most of it. The path through the mountains is short, but tricky and steep in places. The sooner we head off, the better. My sister is in Porsenthia, so Jisyel and I might as well come with you as far as we can.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Fenn gave her an apologetic grin.

  Calidra turned to Varlot. ‘General. Again, I’m grateful for your assistance. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it here. But don’t be upset. There’ll be work in town. With the Myr so close, I’m sure plenty of people will want training, even a private guard. Someone of your reputation is bound to find coin more easily from that than in the gambling dens.’

  She thought about the more affluent areas of town, some suggestions on where he might have more luck,
when Fenn stepped forward.

  ‘Wait, Varlot. Don’t go!’ Fenn held out his hand as if to shake Varlot’s. ‘Look, I know I can’t pay you right now, and I know you’ve dealt with broken promises before, but…but you helped me in Ballowtown. Please consider helping me again? Once I know who I am? Once I have my memories back? I’ll make sure you’re paid. You might even get a reward for aiding in the effort against the Myr!’

  Calidra cursed at Fenn’s naivety. He’d definitely spent too much time with Jisyel.

  Varlot frowned, considering.

  ‘I need your help. Please?’

  ‘Well. At least someone wants me around,’ Varlot glared at Calidra.

  ‘Make your decision, quickly. We’ve already wasted enough time,’ Selys said.

  Varlot huffed, then scratched his chin. He’d not trimmed his beard during the journey, and it was already looking rougher than usual. After a moment, he seemed to arrive at a decision, nodding to himself before taking Fenn’s hand and shaking it. ‘Fine. I’ll come with you. Not that I have much choice. I left the army for a reason, and I don’t want to be in the front lines against the Myr when they’re attacking towns again.’ He rolled his shoulders. ‘Selys. Priestess? You owe me for the money I lost yesterday. You’d better ensure I’m repaid.’

  Calidra narrowed her eyes at his menacing tone, but Fenn was too happy to notice. She did not relish the idea of tiptoeing around Varlot’s temper again.

  Varlot clapped Fenn around the shoulder. ‘All right, lad. And while we’re on the move, I’ll teach you how to properly swing a sword.’

  Calidra had walked this mountain path many times with her sister. Fellwood was on the Porsenthian border, and quite often the two would make their way to Spindleford for a day trip. It served the best dark ale anywhere they’d found—far better than the weakened stuff served in Bragalia, where wine was preferred—and had spent many nights in the town in the woods.

  This time, it was more than a trip for pleasure. There’d be no time to sit down, drinking ale, wasting away hours.

  Selys led the group, Fenn behind her. Jisyel walked beside Calidra, and Varlot brought up the rear.

  Calidra didn’t like someone walking behind her—especially after Varlot’s outburst that morning—but it made sense to have someone with experience fighting the Myr.

  The mountain path was not as busy as it had been ten or twelve years ago, but there was always the threat of danger. Bandits used the tricky terrain and boulders to set up ambushes for unwary travellers—inebriated people made easy targets—and Calidra kept one hand on her dagger’s hilt the whole time. Now she was on her way to find her sister, it seemed fitting that she still had her dagger after all these years.

  Below them, the vast Spindle Woods darkened the ground beyond the line of mountains. The trees were particularly dense, the woodland dwarfing the forest on the Isle of Salt by some magnitude. Alnothen, Spirit of the Spindle Woods, was an ancient dragon worshipped for her love of life. Plants and flowers grew to enormous sizes within the trees, and people of Spindleford were forever begging the spirit’s aid to boost their crop growth or nurture their gardens.

  Alnothen was a kind spirit, a far cry from the mischievous trickster that Hassen was, yet Calidra remained on her guard. Even the most docile dragon had bad days, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with more bad tempers after that morning.

  She kept her gaze on Fenn, half-expecting him to stumble over again, but he was steady on his feet, even laughing with Selys as they made their way along the rocky path. ‘Varlot is rough around the edges, isn’t he?’ Calidra muttered to Jisyel once they were ahead enough to be out of earshot.

  ‘Hmm? I guess his retirement isn’t going too well.’

  ‘The fighting? Drinking? Gambling?’

  Jisyel shrugged as she carefully peeled a small orange. ‘Lots of people have those sorts of struggles. Think what he’s been through. What he’s seen? I wouldn’t be surprised if half the fighters in the world end up in the same boat.’

  Calidra didn’t know if that excused his behaviour or not.

  ‘Come on, Cal. Give him a chance. Especially after all the help he gave you! You said yourself you wouldn’t have made it to Fellwood without him.’ Jisyel’s hands swung as she walked, as if they were on a gentle outing and not crossing into Porsenthia harbouring a Myr-touched fugitive from the Inquisitors.

  Calidra frowned. Was she being too suspicious again?

  She’d thought the worst of Fenn, and he’d not turned out to be her enemy.

  After a while, Fenn doubled back to walk beside Varlot, the two of them talking together in low voices that Calidra couldn’t catch. Occasionally, Varlot would bellow with laughter, which was much better than the rage he’d shown back in Fellwood.

  ‘How old are you, Fenn? Twenty? Twenty-two? Ah, my boy would be about the same, now.’ Varlot remarked as he adjusted Fenn’s stances.

  Fenn was a quick learner, trying out some basic footwork as they walked, dodging and evading pretend attacks.

  He wasn’t too bad for a beginner, but Calidra knew he wouldn’t be able to defend himself if they needed to fight. She considered what she could add to Fenn’s teachings, how—

  ‘Griffin!’ Varlot barked, calling everyone’s attention.

  Calidra whirled round in time to see Hailathlyl swoop into view with a high-pitched shriek.

  ‘Calidra Vantonen!’ Amsel called out from the back of the war griffin, one hand held to the sky. ‘I wish you and your company safe travels as you leave Bragalia!’

  Calidra raised her hand to him, mirroring the gesture. ‘Thank you, Amsel. Please keep yourself safe!’

  ‘Lath and I are made for war! We welcome the fight!’ Amsel laughed. ‘I will see you again, Calidra! The Myr don’t stand a chance against my blade!’

  ‘Or my talons!’ Hailathlyl added.

  With a final nod, the griffin arced in the air, her feathers deep purple in the bright sunlight, and then she was gone—heading back over the mountains towards Fellwood.

  ‘Can’t believe you flew on the back of one of them!’ Fenn said, his mouth hanging open at the sight.

  ‘Not “on one of them.” On that specific one,’ Calidra corrected.

  ‘Must’ve been a thrill!’

  Calidra couldn’t stop the smile on her face at his child-like enthusiasm.

  ‘It is a wonder,’ Selys agreed. ‘One day, I shall travel to the Shrine of Yakris. I hope to meet more griffins in Ordana.’

  ‘Another shrine?’ Fenn asked, as the group continued on, hopping every so often into a few of the steps Varlot had shown him. ‘How many are there?’

  Calidra kept an eye out not just on her own footing, but Jisyel’s, too—the woman could trip over a rock the size of her head and wouldn’t notice until her face hit the ground.

  ‘Many,’ Selys answered. ‘The larger and more prestigious ones are built for more powerful spirits. But some formidable spirits don’t have any worshippers at all. Paragos, is one. He is the spirit of a blizzard that blows eternally across a mountain range bigger than this one.’

  ‘Hassen doesn’t have a shrine either, but he is a baby, as spirits go,’ Jisyel said.

  ‘Correct. So there are far more spirits across Tassar than there are shrines,’ Selys said. ‘Of course, even the Myr have their own spirits, but there are no shrines to them. Not on this continent, anyway.’

  Fenn ran a hand through his hair. Calidra wondered if he was already getting tired or simply overwhelmed by the deluge of information.

  Thankfully, as they made their way further down the path, more trees appeared, granting them patches of cool shade. The living forest whispered, a thousand voices animated by magic.

  ‘Could you imagine if the Myrish spirits were the same as the dragons? How many more there’d be if they had shrines? Priests and priestesses? People worshipping them?’ Jisyel gasped.

  Fenn shivered. ‘What if they do? Just…just not in Porsenthia? Or Bragalia?’


  ‘Who knows what those creatures have in their home country.’ Varlot adjusted his cloak. ‘They have all sorts of spirits and creatures under their control. Maybe they have more being whipped up in their home country as we speak?’

  That worried Calidra. Perhaps they’d spent the past five years rebuilding their numbers instead of licking their wounds. ‘But…but the peace treaty?’

  ‘Toriaken, strong as he is, is just one spirit. And Queen’s Surayo’s magic is good, but it’s nothing against them. The Myr could have anything in their cities and we wouldn’t have a clue. Not like you can check what’s happening on the far side of the world.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’ Fenn asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Aye. Once, not long after I became an officer. I never left the boat, mind, but that was as close as I wanted to get. One of Surayo’s earliest strikes against Ibeos—that’s one of the Myrish homelands, on a continent in the Polar Sea—you could see their cities from the ship. Looked like everything was carved straight from obsidian. Could feel their magic even at a distance. Flying creatures, too, huge, monstrous beasts bigger even than Toriaken.’

  Fenn rubbed his arms. ‘Well, we might be seeing one of these beasts for ourselves, right Selys?’

  The priestess nodded. ‘Perhaps not as formidable as what they sent to war, but yes.’

  ‘I wish you didn’t have to,’ Jisyel muttered.

  ‘My choices are pretty limited. Not many Myrish creatures here that don’t already want to kill us. And I don’t fancy going to that city Varlot went to—even if we could get there.’

  More trees erupted from the ground on either side of them, many of the roots exposed on the awkward path, bleached white in the sun. They walked under shade more than out of it, though, and Calidra was looking forward to a mug of cold ale when they arrived—the only place she preferred to drink something other than coffee.

  Mostly, she was glad some of the earlier tension had dissipated. Varlot was a loose cannon, but one they needed, she had to admit. Especially now they were on the edge of the woods, where the dangers would multiply.

  She took in their surroundings, remaining vigilant. A few butterflies dotted the trees, pink wings gently opening and closing in the dappled sunlight. Large thorn bushes grew in the shadows between the trees, their vines full of red and yellow flowering buds.