The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  If she concentrated, the light whispers of life grew loud. Trees. Flowers. Grasses.

  It was like being on the Isle of Salt again.

  Jisyel evidently had the same idea, because she spun around to grab Calidra’s shoulders and pointed at the foliage with a wide grin. ‘No bogs here!’

  ‘Thank goodness for that!’ Fenn laughed.

  Before Calidra could respond, a shadow darkened the glade and the temperature plummeted. There was only one thing that ever affected the environment that way. Calidra grabbed Jisyel’s arm, her other hand resting on her sheathed dagger—not that it would do any good.

  And then the dragon was upon them, a loud bellow announcing her arrival. Her scales were a plethora of vibrant greens and yellows, somehow more vivid even than Hassen’s. She was bigger than him, too, with a longer, serpentine neck and fins across her ridged back. Each of her horns was a rich, forest green that faded to black, and moss grew along her legs and lower body as if she’d ripped herself out of the ground itself. There were even several small red and white mushrooms growing in the shadow of her wings, and her tail ended in a large rock that could have been plucked from the bottom of a pond.

  Calidra shouldn’t have been stunned. She knew Alnothen ruled here—the spirit was kind, benevolent. This forest was far bigger than the one on the Isle of Salt, so it meant the spirit of that forest would be bigger and older than Hassen, but she was still imposing.

  Calidra tried to calm her breathing. Most dragons cared about their domains more than anything else. She checked she’d not accidentally stepped on a flower or plant—that was the quickest way to angering a dragon—and thankfully there was no damage near that she could be accused of.

  She stared up at it, wondering if she should go down on one knee or bow, but the dragon ignored her.

  ‘Alnothen. Great spirit!’ Selys extended her arms and bowed low, one leg stretched out behind her as she showed her reverence. Neros’s tattoo was in full display on her left arm. ‘We thank you for your welcome into your domain. Please allow us to pass through in peace.’

  Alnothen tilted her head and watched Selys. ‘You are one of Neros’s watchers.’

  Selys nodded, still in her bow. ‘We mean no harm to you or your domain, great spirit. I shall visit your shrine once we are settled, and offer your blessed ones words of peace.’

  ‘My brother has touched you, sick one. I wonder why…’ The dragon’s wings flexed as she watched Fenn. Her movements were slow and considered, as if every step cost her a huge amount of effort—except her eyes. They darted between each of them with intelligent, calculated certainty. And they lingered on Varlot. She ignored Selys, and hissed at the former general. ‘You. Porsenthian. Varlot Keir.’ Flames jumped between the dragon’s jaws with every word she spoke. ‘You remain unwelcome here, murderer of children.’

  Mist exploded from Alnothen’s scales, blasting in all directions and covering the dragon in seconds.

  Calidra covered her face and turned to Jisyel, holding her breath as the wind whipped up.

  ‘Alnothen!’ Selys’s words were lost in the gust.

  When the searing wind passed, Calidra peeked out from behind her arm, only to find the dragon had completely disappeared. A thin layer of frost laid upon the ground where Alnothen had stood only moments before. Tiny ice crystals had formed on the tips of the leaves nearest the spot, which were already beginning to melt.

  The slow drip, drip, drip of water was the only sound other than everyone’s staggered breathing. Silence had fallen over their group, and Calidra watched Varlot—waiting for the man’s reaction to Alnothen’s accusation.

  Varlot let go of the handle of his axe, glaring at the spot where Alnothen had spoken. ‘Let’s go.’

  18

  The Inquisitor

  apollo

  As his patrons left the tavern, Apollo’s heart sank. A familiar, creeping dread made its way through his gut—something he’d not felt for a good number of years.

  It had once kept him alive. Aware enough of his surroundings and encroaching dangers that he was rarely surprised. Some sort of warning that kept him one step away from those who wished him harm, or had tried to kill him.

  But this threat was standing beside the bar as if she were about to help herself to the bottle of vintage wine he’d brought in from Westbrook.

  An Inquisitor.

  Not Torsten. Not even a Master Inquisitor.

  Just one of Queen’s Surayo’s run-of-the-mill spies.

  She’d already disregarded his pardon. That bit of paper had always been more than enough to send other officers running—after all, who would disregard the queen’s word? And yet she didn’t look like she was going to budge on her stance.

  A handful of patrons gave him a pat on the shoulder as they walked past, Apollo assumed in encouragement. It didn’t do much to lift his spirits.

  He glanced past the last of the patrons out the open door, but there was no sign of Malora. She’d be gone a while. That was probably for the best.

  Apollo had kept Renys on his shoulders the entire time, and though his arms ached, he had no intention of letting her down just yet. Somehow he felt it would be better to keep his daughter with him, just in case the Inquisitor wanted to try anything. He’d never trusted Inquisitors before, and he wasn’t starting now.

  Nadja remained motionless by the bar, arms folded, watching the last of the patrons leave. ‘You two as well. This is a private matter which only concerns Apollo Tamlin.’ She dismissed Apollo’s workers. Neither attempted to argue back, and simply joined the others outside, where excited conversation had broken out on the street.

  Apollo winced. More rumours. Just what he needed.

  ‘The girl?’ Nadja asked.

  ‘I’m not letting her outside by herself. She stays with me.’ There was no chance Apollo was going to let the Inquisitor force his daughter away. Renys herself had gone unusually quiet, and he wondered if she was picking up on his unease.

  Nadja opened her mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it and shook her head. ‘Please. Sit.’

  Apollo couldn’t believe he was being ordered around in his own tavern, but he did as he was instructed—sitting down at the nearest table, which had recently been cleared of breakfast. A stain of bacon grease darkened one corner. He gently lifted Renys off his shoulders and sat her on the dry side of the table, one hand around her arm. She gave a huffed groan of displeasure at coming down from the height of his shoulders, but she didn’t complain, soon entertaining herself with an unused teaspoon.

  He was grateful she wasn’t crying “scary lady” at the top of her lungs.

  When they were settled, Nadja crossed the floor and took a seat opposite him, the wooden chair scraping on the floor as she pulled it back. It was suddenly very quiet in the tavern.

  Apollo couldn’t recall a time where he’d ever sat eye-to-eye with an Inquisitor. Usually they enjoyed looking down on people, asserting their authority with a mix of intimidation and barked orders. It was refreshing to have one who was decidedly more…human. But it didn’t mean he could trust her.

  Nadja leaned back in her chair and spent a long, uncomfortable minute surveying him. ‘Do you know why I’m here, Apollo?’

  ‘Can’t say that I do. Someone else report me for this?’ Apollo pointed at the curved scar that took up one side of his face. Marked him as a thief.

  ‘Actually, it is related. Master Inquisitor Torsten gave you that after he caught you trying to steal from Queen Surayo’s palace.’ It wasn’t a question.

  Apollo didn’t need reminding. He gave a noncommittal shrug, more interested in keeping Renys entertained than having a conversation with one of the queen’s snakes. He let his daughter hold his hand between hers, the little girl inspecting every knuckle, nail, and wrinkle with obsessive curiosity, the spoon forgotten. She turned his hand in hers, pointing out freckles and hairs as if she’d never seen them before.

  When he didn’t reply, Nadja continued,
‘As I understand it, you would have been executed for that crime. But you weren’t. You were given a way out.’

  As the conversation turned, Apollo became more aware of his heartbeat. It wasn’t that loud, was it? Would Nadja be able to hear it from across the table? He looked up at her, but she hadn’t moved—still leaning back in the chair, as if they were having casual chat over tea. He decided saying nothing was his best course of action, so he gave a small nod, his attention drawn back to his daughter.

  Renys grumbled, eyes drawn to the windows, but otherwise kept herself amused for the time being.

  ‘Five years ago, you were given a pardon in exchange for carrying out a task. Would you care to confirm that?’

  ‘I was pardoned, yep. You’ve seen the paper. You and all the other Inquisitors who come sniffing around here.’

  ‘Queens don’t pardon thieves unless there’s good reason, Apollo. Especially not a man of your…particular background.’

  Renys pulled on his thumbnail and he flinched. ‘Ouch. Gently, Renys!’

  She giggled, finding his pain amusing, and squeezed it again.

  ‘Renys, stop it!’

  ‘Apollo. The task you were appointed?’

  ‘I did it, didn’t I? That’s what the pardon’s for!’ Apollo snapped, pulling his hand away from his daughter.

  Nadja frowned and went quiet.

  Apollo continued to appease Renys, aware a drop of sweat beaded on his forehead. How much did this Inquisitor know? She couldn’t have had all the facts, otherwise she’d have come straight in with an accusation, wouldn’t she?

  And he was quite certain no-one would have travelled across the Lasseen Ocean all the way to Malnova. It was a distant country with no trade routes. There was no way they could possibly know. Surayo had to be clutching at straws. Something had made the queen nervous, and he was an easy target.

  He swivelled in his chair, pulling Renys off the table and onto his lap, almost as if she were a physical shield. He wasn’t going to let the snake intimidate him in his own home.

  ‘Good location, this tavern.’

  He looked up sharply at Nadja’s change of tact.

  ‘Foxmouth is a busy town. Always busy, isn’t it? Ships coming and going, even from other continents. I suppose you must get a lot of stowaways?’

  Again, Apollo shrugged. What did they think he was doing this time, harbouring fugitives? Whatever the queen thought he was up to, she was sorely mistaken.

  ‘It’s easy for people to cross Tassar for the right price, isn’t it? Surely any captain is happy to earn a bit of extra gold? And even easier if it’s small cargo.’

  Apollo had no idea what she did or didn’t know, and had no interest in playing games with the Inquisitor. ‘Neros has been in a foul mood recently. Not much of anything coming or going, these days.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Nadja pursed her lips and raised her gaze to the window. ‘We’ve had a lot of people turning up recently. Stowaways, you might say. And reports of attacks. Hamlets, lone travellers, that sort of thing. I’m sure you’ve had no such trouble in as busy a town as Foxmouth?’

  Apollo shrugged again, unsure.

  ‘Well you should count yourself lucky. There are even rumours whispering in the quiet streets that the Myr are back.’

  Apollo almost choked. How could Nadja, an Inquisitor of all people, say such a thing? While not outright illegal, mentioning the Myr was more likely to clear out a tavern than a batch of bad beer. To even insinuate the ancient, magical creatures had returned was paramount to treason.

  The Myr.

  In the silence that followed, Apollo realised that one, single word held more sway over him than he’d first thought. Memories flooded. Freezing cold. Aching muscles. Trudging through snow, battling his way against a blizzard that blew eternally. The weight of the Myr’s stolen cargo in his pack as he carried it to the farthest edge of the world. Even his queen was not above taking what wasn’t hers.

  His thigh twinged with remembered pain where the queen’s magic had touched him, and Apollo gritted his teeth against it.

  ‘Da? Da you okay?’ Renys asked, looking up at him with wide eyes full of worry.

  ‘Fine, Renys.’ He smoothed her hair with one hand, turning her gently away from Nadja.

  ‘You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that. There aren’t many who can outfox Queen Surayo’s magic, or a spirit like Paragos. I’m impressed,’ Nadja said, more than a hint of pride in her tone. ‘But let’s stop dancing around the issue, shall we? I need a straight answer. And let me warn you—what you say will have implications that go beyond my actions at this table.’

  ‘You wouldn’t hurt—’

  ‘Renys? No. But I’m not just talking about your family, Apollo. The implications will affect all of Tassar. So believe me when I tell you I need you to be truthful.’ Nadja’s easy stance had disappeared, and she straightened up in her chair, as business-like as she had been when she first entered the tavern. Any shred of kindness, of compassion, had gone—replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

  A typical Inquisitor pose.

  Renys murmured, a noise more than a word, and pushed her face into his chest.

  ‘It’s okay Ren. I’m here.’

  ‘Apollo Tamlin. Most Porsenthians, even most Bragalians, would like to believe the Myrish threat is long gone. A past nightmare, only useful for keeping our children’s behaviour in line. But what I have seen these past few weeks has brought that fact into question.’

  Apollo went very still. Didn’t trust himself to look up at her.

  ‘Queen Surayo was thorough with her war. She’d ensured the Myr had no chance of resurging. She’d crippled them. With their last iota of power gone, they could not rise again. And you were supposed to aid in that. Keeping peace in Porsenthia. Am I right?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Would you like a moment to gather your thoughts?’

  Apollo glared at her. ‘She said something like that…’ His mind whirled, trying to remember what Torsten and Surayo had told him so long ago. Another lifetime ago. Most of the details had been overshadowed by the joy that he and Malora had survived a task that was supposed to have ended in his death.

  And he’d cheated it again.

  ‘If the Myr are back, then the only loose end we have left is you.’ Nadja let the threat hang in the air.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Apollo raised his chin. ‘I told you, there are fewer and fewer ships with Neros as enraged as she is. Foxmouth supplies a lot of food to Eastbrook. I suggest Queen Surayo worries more about these dwindling resources than the Myr who are nowhere near. Well, whatever’s left of them.’

  He remembered the palace in the freezing snow. The chanting. The pressure of Myrish magic. The artefact they’d returned…The spirit who’d spoken…

  ‘Apollo. I said I needed you to be truthful.’ The warning was clear in Nadja’s voice.

  ‘What’re you going to do? Execute me here? In front of my daughter?’

  ‘Only the queen may exercise judgement over life and death. We just carry out her orders.’

  Apollo decided he’d go for blind confidence. It was all he had. ‘If Queen Surayo was unhappy with what I did, if her magic thought I’d messed up, I’d be dead already.’

  ‘The effects of your…failure…were not apparent until now.’

  ‘Failure? I did exactly what I was asked! That queen sent me to die. Sent Malora to die! My friend Yorik did die there—alone and frozen, without any other soul in Tassar knowing what happened to him! And you Inquisitors have nothing better to do than to come sniffing around here looking for some rule I’ve broken so you can lock me up again. I’ve done my time. I wear the scar of my past—spirits know I’m not allowed to forget it—so you can go back to your queen and tell her that she’s worrying about the wrong thing.’

  ‘Da…’ Renys whimpered at his raised voice. ‘Where’s mama?’

  He wrapped both arms around her, soothing her as bes
t she could. ‘Hush Ren. Your mama will be back soon.’

  ‘When the scary lady goes?’

  ‘When the scary lady goes,’ he repeated, throwing the Inquisitor a dark look.

  ‘Apollo.’ Nadja got to her feet.

  He smirked. He’d wondered when Nadja would assume the position all Inquisitors did—standing over him to assert their authority. It was their default, regardless of personality.

  ‘Do you have any idea what that artefact was? What you were sent to destroy?’ Her voice had quieted to a whisper.

  Apollo was incredulous. How could she happily talk about the return of the Myr, but that damned key was forbidden? There was no point in lying about it if she knew what he’d been sent away with. ‘It was some key.’

  ‘Not just some key. It was a powerful Myrish artefact. One that needed to be destroyed. That’s why you were sent to Paragos.’

  ‘Why didn’t Surayo destroy it herself?’

  ‘Her magic is nothing compared to the power of that key.’

  ‘What about Toriaken, then? Nothing can stand up to that dragon!’

  ‘Apollo, you don’t seem to understand. Paragos, a wild and ancient spirit that devours magic, was the only thing in Tassar that could have destroyed that key. Toriaken is bound to the queen. As formidable as he is, that limits him. And the fact that you are standing here, whole, leads me to believe Paragos did not devour that magical key as you were instructed to do.’

  Apollo couldn’t believe it. ‘Damned spirit would’ve eaten me, too.’

  ‘That’s exactly why you were sent!’ Nadja raised her voice, and Renys whimpered again. ‘A lifelong thief who was bound for execution anyway. Paragos is powerful. Greedy. How could he resist a prize as that key?’

  ‘Oh of course. That’s why Surayo never sent one of you, isn’t that right? Can’t risk one of her precious Inquisitors dying, but some common thief? Sure. Who cares about me?’