The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)

by L. L. MacRae

  Had they not been reliant on The Duschtet to reach Foxmouth, they’d have stood with Fenn and Selys. And there was no telling what might have happened had she and Jisyel stayed.

  Not for the first time since they’d set sail again, she wondered whether finding her sister really was more important than keeping Fenn safe. Her sister could wait another few days in blissful ignorance. Fenn’s life was on the line right now. And if Selys was to be believed, it affected all of Tassar, too.

  Again, anxiety grew in her gut. Had she done the right thing? Was she looking after the right people? Would her decisions today affect her poorly tomorrow?

  ‘If your sister is blessed by Chyram, would she…would she…’ Jisyel trailed off, as if realising what she was asking after the first few words had already escaped her lips.

  Calidra sighed. She didn’t want to think of Jisyel as another beggar, desperate for the help of someone favoured by a spirit. It had been close to ten years since she’d last seen Malora. Just knowing she was alive was overwhelming—let alone a mother—and the thought of asking her for help hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  ‘I don’t know, Jisyel. We didn’t exactly part on good terms. She might not want anything to do with me.’ That, too, had been a possibility Calidra had staunchly ignored. She’d thought she could salvage some sort of relationship with Furyn, and that had gone out the window. What if that was the case with Malora, too?

  No. Surely her sister would welcome her with open arms, much like Calidra would, if their roles were reversed.

  Neither of them had behaved amicably when they’d been under Furyn’s oppressive control. She wanted to focus on the positives. The possibilities. She kissed Jisyel on the cheek, hoping to keep her spirits up. ‘But, maybe she’ll know someone who can.’

  Calidra shivered as the cold wind skirted around the back of her neck and her sense of dread grew. What would be waiting for them in Foxmouth?

  Shouting woke Calidra in the middle of the night. Confused, and sure she was still dreaming given her unfamiliar surroundings, Calidra swung her legs off her bunk and rested her bare feet on the scratchy wooden floor.

  It took her a few seconds to remember where she was. Although The Duschtet was a large vessel, the passenger quarters they’d been given were cramped, and only had room for single beds. Jisyel slept in the bunk above her, and Calidra scrambled up the ladder to shake Jisyel awake.

  ‘Whassmatter…’ Jisyel mumbled, turning away from Calidra to face the wall.

  ‘Jisyel, get up. Something’s wrong.’ She peered out the small circular window in their room. The sea was rough, with sharp waves and plumes of foam bursting from them, but the sky was dark. They were some way off dawn. And yet her heart thudded as if someone had drawn a blade against her.

  More shouting sounded above their room giving voice to her unease.

  Where were they? It was too dark outside to make out any detail. There might have been land in the distance, but everything was a mash of black and grey, and it all blurred together alongside the churning sea.

  Then, in the distance, cannon-fire.

  ‘Jisyel! I think we’re under attack!’

  Calidra’s words roused Jisyel, who half-fell off the top bunk, and landed heavily on the floor. ‘Has the ship been hit? Are we sinking?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I can hear cannons.’ Calidra pressed her face against the window, looking for any indication of what she’d heard.

  Something exploded outside—much closer than the cannon-fire had been—and more orders were shouted from on deck.

  ‘Jisyel, get dressed. Quickly.’ Calidra pulled her own boots on, hopping on one foot in her haste. She grabbed a thick shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, careful to tuck it into her collar and protect her neck from the cold.

  Jisyel helped her fasten the toggles on her cloak, and then the two women were racing out of their cramped quarters and up the ladder to the main deck. Oil lanterns had been lit since sundown, and they burned low, throwing much of the deck into elongated shadows.

  ‘Get those harpoons primed!’ Captain Kifil bellowed. ‘Load the cannons! Quickly man, move those legs! Unless you wanna take a swim tonight!’

  Calidra put a hand across Jisyel, stopping her in place before a pair of crewmates charged into her.

  ‘Are we under attack?’ Jisyel called out.

  Kifil glanced over at her. ‘No. They are.’ He strode past, taking a longsword from one of his crew, and brandishing it high. ‘We’re gonna have to keep clear of the islands. Don’t want a rock to rip our hull apart before we have a chance to help!’

  Calidra and Jisyel hurried over to the side of the ship. Now they were out in the open, where the dawn sun had begun to cast a thin, fiery light on the horizon, Calidra could see they were near land. Without a map in front of her, she couldn’t tell exactly where in Porsenthia they were, but there was a settlement on the coast ahead. It was a large town, nestled up against the sea. Far to the east, the mountains rose up from the ground like enormous, shadowy ghosts. Fenn and Selys were somewhere in there, on the far side of the mountain range.

  The settlement had to be Foxmouth.

  And the bay beside the town was full of ships blasting cannons at the horizon. Calidra clutched Jisyel’s hand.

  ‘Why are they fighting?’ Jisyel asked, scowling at the naval battle underway.

  There had to be close to fifty ships on the water, of various sizes. Most were fishing vessels rather than warships, but they were all armed. As she watched, one ship lurched as it fired another cannon out into the pre-dawn gloom.

  She couldn’t see what they were shooting at. ‘What’s happening? Captain?’

  But Kifil was too busy to answer her.

  One of the crew, a lad of perhaps seventeen or eighteen hurried past, carrying a length of rope. Calidra grabbed him by the sleeve, and he yelped in fright. ‘Who are they fighting?’

  The lad turned to her, bloodshot eyes watering. His mop of hair was messy, his uniform crinkled, as if he’d recently been dragged from bed. ‘Can’t you see? It’s the Myr.’ He pulled out of her grasp and raced off towards Kifil’s shouted orders.

  Jisyel shook her head. ‘That can’t be right!’

  ‘Why not? There were Myrish spirits in Ballowtown and walking across Bragalia.’

  ‘But we’re in Porsenthia! We’re near the Iron Crown!’ Jisyel gripped the ship’s handrail. ‘The queen kept us safe!’

  Calidra joined her, and looked up past where the ships were firing. She wanted to see the Myr for herself and understand what they were all truly up against. If they were attacking Foxmouth…

  Her heart skipped a beat and she pushed the anxious thought away. Malora would be fine. There was a veritable armada between Foxmouth and the Myr on the horizon. And as the ship sailed closer, she could hear raised voices in the brief lapses of cannons.

  ‘Fire incoming!’ Jisyel screamed.

  Calidra looked at the horizon in time to see a fireball charging through the sky, leaving a plume of thick smoke in its wake. Three more appeared alongside it—cast from a huge shadow that floated above the sea.

  ‘It’s them…’ Calidra whispered, not quite able to believe what she was seeing. This wasn’t the same as an individual spirit in Ballowtown, or even the one that had attacked her and Varlot outside Meadowhill.

  This was the Myr rising.

  Her mouth fell open.

  On the horizon, several mounds floated towards them. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought they were hills or mountains. They were dark, shadow-like, and growing as they came closer. They were coming from the south, lit up by the slowly rising sun, and it was in this flash of yellow-orange light that Calidra could tell the shapes were not features of some distant landscape. They were creatures. Living creatures of pure magic. Crackles of light flashed across their bodies every so often.

  And they were heading towards Foxmouth.

  More cannons shot towards the mass of the Myrish
creatures. Several slammed into the shadowy spirits, but it didn’t dissuade their slow, consistent approach.

  ‘Jisyel…’

  ‘Wait, we can’t possibly fight them!’ Jisyel shouted, stepping back from the side rail. ‘We need…we need Toriaken! The queen! We need the army! A fleet of warships!’

  The Duschtet groaned in the water as Kifil put his crew to oar. Waves churned under the hull as the ship cut through the cold waters, heading straight for Foxmouth and the other vessels already protecting the town.

  ‘We should get away! Get help?’ Jisyel yelled, but none of the crew paid her any mind, too busy with their own tasks.

  Panic and chaos built in equal measure. ‘Jisyel, we can’t leave Foxmouth. Even if we wanted to!’

  ‘Why not? That’s the Myr! Just one of their spirits almost killed us all in Ballowtown!’ Jisyel gripped Calidra’s arms.

  ‘My sister lives in the town! She has a daughter, as well. Young. They’re in danger!’

  ‘But…but…’ Jisyel’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘We…we can’t fight them!’

  Calidra chewed her lip. Jisyel wasn’t wrong, but she couldn’t leave Malora and everyone else in Foxmouth to be destroyed by the Myr. She understood why Kifil was adding his own firepower to the battle.

  But if she and Jisyel stayed, they’d be in danger of being ripped apart, too.

  ‘We need to get a rowboat. Get to Foxmouth ourselves. Find her, and get out.’ It was a ridiculous plan, but it was the only thing Calidra could think of at that moment.

  The Duschtet was a large enough vessel, and she’d seen four rowboats secured to the ship’s sides. ‘Come on, Jisyel. Help me release one!’ Calidra darted away, her stomach churning at the movement, the terror, the stress. She grabbed one of the ropes tying the nearest rowboat and began unknotting it. It was stiff with salt, and had probably never been undone before. She gritted her teeth as the fraying material bit into her fingers.

  ‘Shouldn’t we ask someone first?’ Jisyel stepped aside as more of the crew barrelled past, racing back and forth along the deck with supplies and weapons.

  ‘I think the captain has his hands full at the moment. And if we don’t get off right now, we’re going to end up in the middle of the fray.’ Calidra loosened the first knot and moved to the next. ‘Come on, help me!’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Jisyel! Captain’s probably forgotten about us! He’s going to be doing what he can to keep his crew safe and defend Porsenthia against the Myr. I’m not a soldier and neither are you. We shouldn’t be here in the middle of it!’

  Jisyel hesitated a moment longer, conflicting emotions raging across her face, then she stepped forward and started on one of the other knots.

  Another explosion sounded right beside them, and Calidra covered her eyes from the sudden flare of brightness. The Myrish fire was nearly upon them. They couldn’t have been more than a few minutes from the edge of the ships outside Foxmouth.

  They were going to get blown to pieces.

  Before she had a chance to unsecure the knot, The Duschtet lurched as its own cannon-fire joined the other ships.

  Calidra lost her footing as the ship swayed, the sudden drop forcing bile into the back of her throat. She coughed and spat it out overboard, wincing at the acrid taste. She couldn’t lose her focus, not now.

  Then she heard the Myr’s hissing.

  It was an insidious noise, somehow low enough that it rippled through her chest, and high enough that it set her teeth on edge. The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing Foxmouth in warm, pink light. It was enough to show the Myr in their full horror, too.

  There were dozens of them. A hoard of Myrish creatures each nine or ten feet tall. Many were humanoid in appearance, others were more like animals—all covered in swirling smoke. Their amber eyes were chips of light in their dark bodies, and they set upon the ships with fury.

  One ship, a single-masted sloop, erupted in splinters as one of the Myr’s attacks blasted its hull in a direct hit. The crew screamed as they went up in flames, orange fire roaring high as it licked up the mast. ‘Abandon ship!’

  Calidra staggered back as the heat surged over them. The fire was intense, like nothing she’d ever felt before. ‘Jisyel, stay clear!’

  ‘The ropes!’ Jisyel pushed forward, untangling the knot to release the rowboat.

  ‘You’ll burn!’

  Jisyel didn’t reply, too focussed on the knot. Her fingers were bright with heat as the flames soared ever higher, close enough to touch.

  Another fireball careened past—high over the gathered ships—and slammed into Foxmouth itself.

  Calidra gasped, racing to the other side of the deck to look at what damage the Myr had done to the town. Already, a plume of black smoke rose from where the fireball had landed. She couldn’t tell from this distance, but it looked like it had hit a cathedral of sorts, somewhere in the middle of town where it sloped up towards the mountains.

  More buildings were catching fire as the Myrish attack ate through stone and wood alike.

  Again, The Duschtet lurched as it fired cannons—three in quick succession. The waters of the Lasseen Ocean slapped against the ship’s hull, sending spray into Calidra’s face where she peered over the edge.

  She staggered back, the taste of salt making her nausea worse. ‘They’re already attacking the town!’

  ‘Last knot!’ Jisyel called back.

  Calidra ran back to her, and together they finally released the rowboat. It dropped like a stone, landing in the water below with a splash. She glanced around the deck, in case any of the crew had seen. But they were too engrossed in their own tasks, following their captain’s orders to fight back rather than flee.

  Another explosion rippled through the bay, the waters bubbling violently as more flames tore through the air. Three more ships had been lost, and several parts of Foxmouth were on fire.

  ‘We have to get off now!’ Calidra cried.

  ‘Shit, we can’t. Our stuff is in the cabin!’ Jisyel shook her head. ‘We won’t last long without our food and clothes!’

  Calidra bit her lip to keep from cursing. They didn’t have time for any of this. The Myr were upon them. If they didn’t go now, they wouldn’t make it at all. ‘We’ll come back for it!’

  ‘What if the ship goes down?’

  ‘We’ll get more! Jisyel, come on!’ She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Stepping into a tiny row boat and dropping into an ocean in the middle of a battle. If it wasn’t for her desperate desire to survive overwhelming her fear of water, she’d never have reached this decision.

  Calidra could barely hold her tears back as she saw more and more of Foxmouth blasted to pieces. She could hardly see the town at all underneath the black smoke.

  Jisyel ran to her and clutched her hand. ‘Cal…’

  ‘On the count of three, okay?’

  ‘One…’

  ‘Two…’

  A deafening roar cut through the shouts of battle, the raging fire, and the groan of splintering wood. Underfoot, the waves swelled again, bigger than ever before, and Calidra and Jisyel were thrown to the deck floor as the ship tilted violently backwards. Screaming, they grabbed onto the mast before they slid past it, as boxes and barrels and everything else unsecured on deck rolled away.

  ‘Hold on!’ Jisyel called, eyes squeezed shut as the ship continued to tip further and further back.

  Crewmates slid backwards, trying to grab anything they could reach before they were flung off the back of the ship and into the sea below.

  Calidra gasped. The Duschtet was almost vertical and groaning with the forces pressing against it. Her legs dangled as she and Jisyel gripped onto the ship’s mast, but already, her fingers were weakening.

  Green light surged upwards, throwing smaller ships into the air as it burst from the water with a thunderous snarl.

  Jisyel’s grip failed, and she dropped away from the mast with a scream.

  Calidra reached for her without thin
king. She grabbed Jisyel by her wrist, wincing at the pain lacing through her arms as her muscles stretched. ‘Jisyel!’ She looked down. Jisyel’s free arm flailed along with her legs. Beyond her, the back of the ship appeared mere inches from the churning sea. Another crewmate slid past, grabbed for the rail, slipped, and plunged into the water.

  ‘Cal! You can’t hold on forever!’

  She gritted her teeth. Her fingers grasped the ship’s mast, but they were already beginning to slip. ‘I’m not letting go!’ The Duschtet was easily three hundred feet long. Maybe more. A drop like that wouldn’t necessarily be fatal.

  A second flash of fire lit up the sky as the Myr attacked again.

  The ship juddered as fire exploded against the exposed underside. Something blew apart, and burning debris fell down around them, streaming smoke.

  ‘Jisyel! I’m…I’m going to let go.’ She couldn’t believe she was saying this. Couldn’t believe she was preparing to throw them both into the sea. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter! Let go before you lose all your strength for swimming!’ The wind blew Jisyel’s hair in all directions, her skin paling in the cold.

  Calidra could swim. But it had been many years, and she wasn’t even sure she could remember how. She’d have to. She’d have to force it. Somehow.

  Jisyel looked back up at Calidra, and screamed.

  Gulping, Calidra turned her head to see what had scared Jisyel.

  Neros, Spirit of the Lasseen Ocean, filled the air with her bulk. Water sluiced down her vibrant scales and steam rose from her open jaws. Calidra realised with another wave of nausea that the spirit had pushed the ship up as she’d risen from the water, and sent other smaller vessels flying.

  The dragon was sea-green and blue, with fins connecting each vicious-looking spine that ran along her back, her attention fixed on the approaching Myr, with no regard to the chaos she’d caused on the surface of the ocean. She roared again as the Myrish attacks slammed into her. More fireballs headed for Foxmouth in a torrent of magical energy, distant explosions ringing across the water.

  Calidra winced. Her fingers and wrists burned with pain, and the effort of holding on any longer was too much.