The Crown and the Dragon (13 page)

“No, thank you,” she said.

He heaved a sigh and stood up again. “Never could talk a woman into bedding down with me,” he muttered.

Elenn supposed this was an attempt at levity, but the memory of Leif’s hands groping for her was much too vivid for her to find much humor in it.

Aedin scratched his head. “Sure you don’t want one of these?” he asked. “Told you before, I don’t need both of these cloaks. Happy to build you your own shelter.”

“That’s very kind,” she said quietly, “but I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head, but said nothing. He sat down on the other side of the campfire with an armful of milkweed he had gathered as they walked. In the flickering light of the campfire, he rubbed and twisted the plant fibers into crude twine.

“That’s a useful skill,” said Elenn, after several silent minutes.

“Well, when you’re in the wilderness, you have to think about how to take care of yourself,” he said. From inside his shirt, he pulled out the Sithian dagger that she had discarded, and placed it on a nearby stone with a pointed look.

She looked away.

“Won’t always be someone around to look after you,” he added.

Elenn thought of Aunt Ethelind, and fought to contain her tears.

He worked on his cord, oblivious to her pain. “Rely on yourself, is all I’m saying. Otherwise, you’re not going to finish this mission of yours.”

“Let me worry about that,” she said, her voice a little choked with emotion.

Aedin shook his head. “Listen to yourself,” he said. “You’re a mess. And no wonder. Walk all over creation, with hardly any food. Half a fish this morning, and a handful of wild mushrooms this afternoon. It’s not enough.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said.

“We’ve got a long way to walk tomorrow,” he said. “And the next day, and the next.” He frowned at her. “If you’re going to push your body all day, you need to make sure you rest at night.”

“You sound like my aunt,” said Elenn, screwing her face up in a mock scowl.

“You sound like my nephews,” he replied, scowling back.

She laughed, imagining the pugnacious ruffian surrounded by a troop of equally ornery youngsters. Aedin grinned and turned his attention back to twisting milkweed into rough twine.

“Where are your people?” Elenn asked.

“Ain’t no people,” he said.

“Everyone has people,” she said.

“Lying in ashes, hanging from trees,” he said, “rotting carrion in some wolf’s belly.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

Aedin stood up. “Think I’m done with this for tonight.” He picked up the milkweed and the rough cord he had made and stowed them under the lean-to. “I’m going to sleep. Want a spot in here, you’re welcome to it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But I’ll be fine out here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. He crawled into the rude shelter and lay down on his side, facing away from the fire.

Elenn curled up on the other side of the fire, which popped and crackled as it burned the wet wood. All around her, she heard the noises of the wilderness. Crickets and owls and crows and wolves.

She lay awake until she heard Aedin snore. Then she got up quietly and retrieved the Sithian dagger. Tucking it into her belt, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

***

Chapter Eighteen

The distant cawing of a crow woke Aedin before the sunrise. In the subdued light of the pre-dawn, he opened his eyes and found that he was not alone. Lying next to him in the lean-to, under the dead men’s cloaks, was Elenn. This brought up any number of questions.

Without moving, Aedin glanced at the fire. It was out. From what he could see, it had rained during the night—not heavily, but enough to make sleeping under the stars unpleasant. Aedin said a silent little prayer of thanks for the men who died to give him the cloaks that had kept him dry.

Elenn shifted slightly in her sleep. Her nose twitched as a strand of her hair fell into her face. Aedin smiled, remembering how Nywen had looked in the dim twilight. Then he scowled, remembering how Nywen had looked in the arms of another man.

Elenn’s nose twitched again and she rolled over. As she turned away from Aedin, he saw something trapped partially beneath her. It was the slim wooden case she had been carrying so closely since they had left her aunt lying unburied in the cart on the side of the road.

Aedin inhaled deeply. Was this some scheme to test him? Looking at Elenn and listening carefully to her breathing, he convinced himself she was asleep. Perhaps the case had fallen out of her clothing while she slept. It didn’t matter.

He reached out for it, and hesitated. She would be furious if she woke up and saw his hands on the case. If he waited, and she rolled just a little further away, she wouldn’t be on top of it at all. Aedin frowned. But if she rolled the other way, it would be impossible to take the case.

Aedin considered his options. If he tried and woke her, he could always pretend to have been unconsciously reaching to embrace her in his sleep. If she didn’t believe this, he could then clumsily deny that he had been trying to grope her. Aedin smiled. It was always better to layer lies at least two deep, so that when people saw through the first one, the truth they thought they had discovered was just another lie.

He reached over and very carefully pulled the wooden case out from under Elenn. Then he silently picked up his sword and slipped out of the lean-to, exiting to one side so that he would not have to crawl over Elenn’s sleeping body.

Aedin strapped the eagle-headed Sithian saber to his back and walked uphill away from the campsite. He placed his feet carefully to avoid making any noise. He was thankful that this was a quiet hour, haunted only by animals that saw the virtues of silence, like deer and rabbits. There was little sound apart from the calling of a few birds—nightjars, grouse, and crows.

He stopped. Crows? For all their association with darkness and death, crows were not active at night, or in the twilight. Crows should be asleep. But he had heard one earlier this morning. That was unusual.

Aedin turned and looked back to the south, where they had found the four bodies. Elenn had been terrified of the crows at that spot—almost as upset by them as by the bodies. And something about their behavior had seemed strange to him, too. What had it been? Aedin tapped on the wooden case absently and then remembered his errand.

Ducking behind a large alder tree, Aedin leaned back against the trunk and examined the wooden case. It was heavy and dark, made of polished Renonian oak. Fairy gallows. Aedin pictured Orren and Dawes, swinging in the breeze up by Tay Barrows and shivered.

There was a brass latch in the shape of a sea nymph—a symbol of wealth and good fortune to sailors and traders from Rhona to Minnaeus. Aedin smiled. Jewels, then. Or perhaps letters of credit. He opened the lid.

Inside was a piece of what looked like a narwhal tusk, decorated with tiny carvings and inlaid with silver. It was broken off about eight inches from the base. Aedin touched it reverently with one trembling finger.

“Spear of the Gods,” whispered Aedin. “Can it be?”

Legend said that this world was once overrun with monsters like the dragon, but that the Gods had banished and defeated them with a lance of fire called the Falarica. Champions chosen by the Gods to wield it in battle were ever-victorious and never tasted death. Instead, they ascended to live with the Gods when they tired of the mortal world.

As a boy, Aedin had heard dozens of tales of the Falarica, the spear of the Gods. Its shaft was forged of precious metals and decorated with priceless jewels. And the head was the horn of a unicorn, a gift from the last of the divine creatures to set foot on the world.

All the tales of Deira’s downfall began with the Gods sundering the Falarica as punishment for the continual feuding of the Deirans. Supposedly, its broken pieces were scattered to the ends of the earth to prevent it from ever being used again.

“Bloody tortured gods in the abyss!” Aedin cursed aloud.

The Sisters of the Leode would pay handsomely for a relic like this. It was most likely a fraud, but even so it would attract pilgrims and other visitors. This was far more valuable than jewels.

“You wretched thief!” said a voice behind him.

Aedin turned to see Elenn, standing in the woods not ten yards away.

“What have you done?” she said.

“Me?” he cried. “What have
you
done? What are you doing with this thing?” He shut the case and shook it at Elenn as she stalked up to him.

“I don’t have to answer you,” she said. “You’re nothing but a robber.” She held the Sithian dagger she had discarded the day before—another little mystery.

“You’re not?” he countered. “Who are you, anyway? Don’t give me that cockalayne about joining the Leode of the Virgins.”

His bluster had no effect on her, or not the right effect at any rate. She came straight for him, lunging with her dagger. Aedin scrambled out of the way just in time, and Elenn stuck the blade into the trunk of the tree.

“Calm down, lass,” he said, holding the case in his left hand. “Just wanted a look.”

“Liar!” she snapped, wrenching the dagger free.

Aedin stepped back as Elenn advanced, menacing him with the blade. He reached up and took hold of the hilt of his Sithian saber but did not draw it.

“Careful, now, Elenn,” he said. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

She slashed at him with the dagger, and he had to jump backward to avoid it.

“Give it back!” she cried.

“Happy to,” he said, holding out the case.

She reached for it, and he pulled it away.

“Soon as you give me back that dagger,” he said.

Elenn narrowed her eyes. “No, I’m keeping it,” she said, waving the blade more aggressively.

“Please put that thing away before you get lucky.”

“Happy to—soon as you give me back the case.”

Aedin cursed. “Look, I could take that knife from you.”

“I’d like to see you try!” she shouted.

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want to fight you. Just want to talk. Nice and quiet. Like folk who’ve broken bread and shared shelter.”

Elenn lowered the dagger slightly. There was a moment of silence as both of them considered their options. Not far away, a flock of crows was cawing. Aedin tilted his head.

“So, talk,” she said.

“Give me one honest answer, and I’ll give you this box. More than a fair trade, by my reckoning.”

“Ask your question.”

“The thing in this case,” he began. “Is it …” He trailed off.

The cawing of the crows was growing louder. Much louder. The flock must be enormous. He glanced up and then over at Elenn.

“I feel it, too,” she said. She sounded worried. “Something is wrong.”

“The crows,” he muttered, pointing south. The sky there was full of ravens, hundreds of them, flying in their direction. “Too early in the morning—barely dawn. And there’s way too many together. I don’t know what’s happening here, but it’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “In fact, it’s probably much worse than you think.” She stepped closer and offered her hand. “Truce?”

Aedin shook her hand. Then he handed Elenn the wooden box.

“Thank you,” she said, tucking it away.

“You owe me a question,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

“Fine. Now let’s get out of here.”

Aedin drew the eagle-headed saber from the scabbard strapped to his back, and offered Elenn his hand. She took it. They headed northeast, away from the campsite. “There are caves behind the cataracts. I’ve stashed supplies there, unless someone else has already found them. Either way, we can get out of sight.”

“I’m not sure that will be enough,” said Elenn.

“Me either,” admitted Aedin. “I don’t know what’s going on here, or even if we really do need to hide. Could be jumping at shadows.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the flock of ravens swirling and roiling like an angry black storm cloud, only a few hundred yards behind them. Suddenly, the whole cacophonous mass of birds darted to the ground at once—like a hawk pouncing on a hare. Aedin wasn’t sure, but he thought it was the spot where they had made their camp.

“I would say the shadows are jumping at us,” said Elenn.

They dashed through the thick woods as the chorus of caws at the campsite behind them reached a fever pitch. Aedin wanted open ground so he could stop dodging trees and just run, but he was also glad for the cover that the canopy of leaves provided.

“What’s chasing us?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” panted Elenn. “Reminds me of … something I’ve seen before.”

“Any bright ideas?”

“Keep running.”

The cataracts were only a league away, and Aedin could hear them—although the rushing waters had to compete with the noise of the crows, and the frantic beating of his own heart. He ran toward the sound of the water, pulling her behind him.

Elenn’s breathing was labored. She was from a soft life and not used to this kind of exertion. But if they didn’t hurry, the two of them might not get to the cataracts with time enough to make the descent down to the safety of the caves.

“Just a little farther,” Aedin said.

Gasping for air, Elenn nodded an unspoken acknowledg-ment.

Hearing caws, Aedin glanced up through the leaves and saw a half dozen ravens flying above them in the air. They had been spotted. No point in trying to hide in the woods any more. They ran for the tree line.

When they reached open ground, Aedin judged that the cataracts were less than a mile away. Looking over his shoulder, he saw two distinct flocks of ravens behind them above the trees, each one with at least a hundred birds. Their harsh cries filled his ears. Aedin cursed, and ran desperately across the heather with Elenn in tow.

As they ran, the birds raced along ahead of them. Aedin could see the cataracts now, but the birds had cut them off.

He cursed and stopped running. They were out in the open now, at least a hundred yards short of the cataracts and the cliff route down to the safety of the caves. They could run for the trees again, but the ravens were faster.

“I say we just run right through them,” said Aedin.

Elenn looked at him as if he were mad.

“Sometimes crows will mob people who get close to their nests,” Aedin admitted. “Never heard of ravens actually attacking people in open country like this. It’s just not normal.”

“This,” shouted Elenn, waving her hands at the crows in front of them, “is not normal.”

Aedin tightened his grip on his saber.

“Think I can keep them off us with this,” he said. “Unless… you have a better idea?”

Elenn shook her head.

Aedin dashed forward, straight at the heart of the flock. As he got closer, he bellowed and whirled his saber in the air above his head. Instead of dispersing, as he had hoped, the cloud of ravens began to fly in two tight spirals that spun downward into a pair of swirling black columns—like thick, oily smoke.

Aedin pulled up short, and watched the smoky masses coalesce into dark figures about ten yards in front of him. The figures advanced toward them, their faces and bodies covered with hooded cloaks. Their arms were outstretched, unfurling long black talons.

There was a sound very like a hundred ravens all squawking at once, and a sepulchral voice said, “Die.”

***