The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (25 page)

“Are you saying the Surabhan came to Moyathair on the same ships as the Kel’mai?”

“No, definitely not, sir!” Olec nearly laughed. “They are
all
Kel’mai. The three
are
one! It says so at the bottom. Look.” He pointed to the long inscription at the bottom of the tapestry.

“Oh, yes.
One race
.” Olam nodded in agreement.

The caretaker bowed and resumed his position by the door. Olam shook his head at Arfael. “That has just created more questions, my friend.”

Arfael nodded in agreement.

The two continued on their investigation of the Sanctum. Along the left wall stood four suits of armour, two in the shape of Surabhan and two more that were
wolf in design, with long flanking grills and a helm designed around a wolf’s bite. All four were Kun hass Olef—Scale over Leaf—the same as that from the main hall upstairs. It now seemed obvious to both Olam and Arfael that the wolves played a larger part in the battles of Blai’nuin and Barais’coi than even they could have guessed. Olam was most surprised, as before entering the Sanctum, he would have said that he knew much of the Rukin. Seemed he was catching up, same as everybody else. Olam touched the sleeve of one of the suits of armour. Sections of scaled mail connected interlocking plates of what looked like silver.
It cannot be silver,
Olam thought.
It is far too hard.
Pulling at a section of mail, he was surprised to find it stretched around his fingers. “Amazing! This must be very comfortable armour.”

Arfael had one of those looks, the ones that spoke of remembering, or at least trying to remember. Before Olam could ask, though
, Toban returned. He had an agitated look about him. He huffed a little and paced up and down, eventually circling and nesting on one of the pelts.

“Whatever is the matter, friend?” Olam asked.

Toban huffed again. “I have just come from a meeting with some of the elders, a very short meeting. They are…
concerned
at the return of Arfael.”

Arfael looked to Olam and then down to Toban. “Why?”

Toban stood and walked to the far end of the Sanctum, where the largest of all the tapestries hung. “This is a depiction of the battle of Barais’coi, the last stand of Vila’slae. Or so we believed.”

Olam shrugged and shook his head. “Friend, you must explain
. We are not following.”

“I’m sorry,” Toban said. “As Rukin, we pride ourselves on the preservation of lore. Our records, as shown in this tapestry, tell the tale of Arlyn Gan’ifael. That is you, friend, or maybe one of your brothers. A
rlyn entered the cave at Barais and was never seen again, presumed dead, or so it was thought. Our history tells us that both Arlyn Gan’ifael and Vila’slae perished in the cave. The scrolls speak of a great fight, a titanic battle with the Drieg that left you both dead. Now that you are alive, some are seeing it as a bad omen. Some are saying maybe Vila’slae survived as well.”

“I see,” Olam said. “That would be a problem.” He knew that for an understatement.
Vila’slae… alive!

“Is there
anything
you can recall, Arfael?” Toban asked him. He sounded almost desperate.

Arfael shook his head slowly. “Waking up a long time ago. I was outside Barais, nothing from before, except cloudy dreams.”

Toban was at a loss. “It has been one hundred and twenty years. If the evil has returned, some news of it would be about, a rumour, something! Yet nobody has heard anything of her. Even so, it has the elders worried. Maybe because our records were wrong all these years—something that would annoy them to no end—or maybe a genuine worry. It is hard to see how we find a resolution. I would say to them to be grateful for good news. I would urge them to take heed of the past century, to be mindful of the absence of word concerning the witch. But I’m afraid they are a fearful lot and more prone than most to succumb to drama and gossip.”

Toban slinked back to the furs and sat. “Anyway, never you mind about such things. It is a nuisance that I must deal with and not a problem for either of you. You must feel that you are welcome among our people and pay no heed to doom mongering.”

“Nonsense. If there is anything we can do to help, we would be more than happy to assist.” Olam looked at Arfael, who nodded in agreement.

“I don’t see what can be done, other than remaining mindful while on your travels. If there is anything to the elders’ fear, then we must hear of it sooner rather than later. Truly, I believe it to be a fruitless errand. As I say, we would know something if the witch were alive.” Toban scratched the back of his ear. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know where to start looking for proof, even if there were reason for suspicion.”

“We are going back to Barais. Maybe we can ask and look,” Arfael said.

“Ah, yes! Of course,” Toban said. “That would be the obvious place to begin, wouldn’t it? Indeed, if you could do that and then send word, if there is any to send. There are traders in Bailryn that deal with our cousins
. You can find them in the main square I believe. Send message through them.

“But either way, witch or no witch, I would still be most interested to hear of your progress. Especially if you travel to Ca’ifael. Many among us speak of the Kel’mai
. Knowing they are still there would be a great comfort.”

“Agreed,” Arfael said.

“Thank you, Toban, for your kind interest. We will of course send you news of our travels. Only a shame you cannot come with us.”

“I fear that would be ill advised. If the residents of Bailryn discovered what a personable, pleasant soul I am, we would be overrun in a matter of weeks.” He laughed a barking chortle.

Olam and Arfael both joined in. “Yes, indeed, my friend. Your cover would be blown. You’ll have visitors before you know it. It is a fine place you have here, a beautiful place of symmetry and grace. It should be preserved if possible. I for one would look forward to a return, once our current quest has met with satisfactory conclusion, of course.

“Kind words indeed, Olam,” Toban said. “One more thing, if I may be so bold
. Are your companions aware of the dragon kin?”

Olam and Arfael shared a stare. Both knew what Toban meant by ‘dragon kin,’ but neither really wanted to bring it up. “They are good folk,” Olam said, “no question, but the kin is not something that one brings up in idle chatter with those you have just met. It is fair to say, before too long, we will say our farewells to these friends, probably to the end of our days. Talk of it seems pointless.” Olam took in a sigh and continued. “There are problems with the kin. My friend’s current state of mind leaves him ill equipped to control the bond, if that’s the right word for it. It is something we avoid. Strongly avoid! Indeed, the righting of it is among the answers that we seek. I long for the day when my friend can once again be whole. And I say to you fairly, you have provided more help in the last hours than I have mustered in the past thirty years. Again, I cannot tell you how important this is to us both. Arfael’s future is a quest to which I am wholly invested. A good end to it is as important to me as if we were speaking of my own fate.”

Toban bowed deeply, remaining there for a long moment. “It is my honour. I never dared to believe my own story would be as tangled in legend as it now appears to be. You have truly given this wolf a fine tale to tell his grandchildren, even if this day is the end of it.”

Arfael bowed to Toban. Then with his huge hand, he patted him on the head. Toban looked… surprised. Arfael bent down close. “This is my best day. Thank you.”

With that, the friends moved towards the door and out. “Do you have more duties this day, Toban?” Olam asked.

“Yes, I have one thing to take care of. Hopefully it will come to nothing. I have sent Aleban off on an errand. Some news may come of it yet. I will inform you if anything of importance arises.”

Toban led the two travellers up the stairs. “Now… I know where Sarai keeps the good wine. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?”

“Wine, yes, good plan,” Arfael said.

“Good,” Toban said, “because I can’t reach it.”

CHAPTER 17

The evening fell over Illeas’den, and with it, a grey shroud of mist rolled over from the eastern ridge. The moon was not yet up, nor did the full veil of darkness lie across the land. It was the
still
time, the quiet time, when the creatures of the sun went home to roost and the creatures of the moon were not yet awake. Little sound, if any, disturbed the peace, and the mist kept rolling in like a silent avalanche.

Ealian was down by the lake
. He said he was going for walk, wanted some time to himself. Standing by the grasping rocks that encircled the waters, he looked east towards the white ridge of the Am’ilean and beyond to the marshland at the horizon. The last flecks of dusky light clung to the tops of the darkened trees, but he could still see them, hiding. The mind he now shared with whatever was inside him knew they would be there, somewhere. All he need do was keep an eye out and be patient, and sure enough…

Stupid fools
, he thought.
Do they not know the wolves will find them if they stay there?
He walked around the bottom of the lake and up through an edge of thicket towards their position. With just a small clearing between them, he looked, listened, and waited for events to play in his favour. A quarter hour passed; the group split. Half went north; the others stayed where they were. Ealian shuffled across the clearing, bent low with hands almost at the ground. He came up on their left flank. Carefully, he eased in under the branches behind where they lay, watching. He sat for a moment, looking down the small rise at where they crouched behind bushes and laid themselves in shadow. They must think themselves clever, getting this close. They truly were fools. “Thought you people were supposed to be hunters?” he said.

Startled, the Salrians turned around quickly. Clearly not knowing quite what to expect, Si’eth drew his sword and settled into a defensive stance. The four other Salrians tripped over their feet in a hurried attempt to gain position. The smile o
n Ealian’s face grew wider as he watched them fumble for their weapons.

*
  *  *

Si’eth stared at the bow. Even in this light, he knew exactly who it was. “You! You’ve got some nerve sitting there like that.” He waved two of his men forward. The boy didn’t struggle when they grabbed him and pulled him forward. “Where is it?” Si’eth growled.

“Where is what?” the boy asked, picking at his fingernails, apparently oblivious to the two soldiers flanking him, pointing their swords at his throat.

“Are we going to play this game? One of you took the scroll. If you value your life, then I suggest you stop this childishness and start talking to me.” Si’eth brought his face up close to the boy, but he didn
’t flinch. He looked calm, of all things.

“Talking. Yes. That is precisely what I had in mind, Salrian,”
the boy said in a manner and confidence beyond his ken. “I know what you seek. I’m the one who took it, and only I know of it… for the moment. If you do what I say, I will return it to you, and only the word of a child will remain as proof it ever existed.”

“Did you open it?” Si’eth spat the words through gritted teeth. If he had opened it, he would have to die, boy or not.

“No. I have not had an opportunity. But judging by your willingness to risk your own necks to retrieve it, I’m guessing it is… important.”

“I know no more of its contents than you. It was trusted to me for delivery
. That is all. I’m here following my orders, like any loyal Salrian would.”

“Do you not think you
’re telling me a little too much? I do not care what you know. I only care that you want it back.”

Si’eth eyed Ealian up and down, curious as to what had gotten into this skinny child’s mind. Something behind his eyes spoke true, yet he couldn’t bring himself to accept the word of such an insignificant-looking Surabhan. “Find his tracks,” he said, pointing at Jern. “Trace them back and see if anybody is with him.”

“Sit him back down,” Si’eth said, waving the boy down. “We will just wait here a moment until my man gets back. I do not like this. I do not like surprises, and…
you
, I do not trust!” He poked a finger hard into Ealian’s forehead, pushing his head back. Again, the boy made no response. The skinny whelp looked cold, disinterested, as though nothing much mattered. He certainly wasn’t scared.

“Do as you will, Salrian. I’m not the one standing half a mile downwind of a village full of wolves.” The boy smiled as he spoke, nodding in the direction of the village.

“He has a point, Father.”

Bre’ach
’s voice grated in Si’eth’s ear. Turning, he saw his son peering through the branches of a wild berry bush. He was pointing east, like some twelve-year-old who had found a boar trail. Gods, he was even smiling.

“We
are
very close!”

“As you say, Bre’ach. Bring him
. We will move up over the brow to the trees west of those rocks we passed.” It seemed better to say his son was right than to admit his mistake to this Surabhan child.

The boy clapped his hands quietly. “If I’m delayed too long, they will get suspicious. And this plan will be over before it has had chance to begin.”

“Enough talk from you. Stay silent until I ask you a question.” Si’eth grabbed Ealian’s shoulder, spun him around, and pushed him back up the shallow slope. “If you’re worried about timing, then I suggest you hurry up that slope, boy,” he said, nodding at the two soldiers to stay with him.

The dark of night thickened around them as they walked—more like scurried—towards the trees that lay beyond the rim. Luckily, for Si’eth, the moon had not yet raised itself beyond the Illeas Ridge—it was four nights from full and probably bright enough to signal their location to the Rukin.
How could I be so stupid?
Si’eth thought.
Damn this grassland. Give me mountains, any day
. Moving to the edge of the clearing, all the time keeping the lower copse of trees between themselves and the village, Si’eth ordered them into single file. Quietly, they moved past the rocks and the low hedges, until they came to a hollow below a smaller clump of trees and bushes.

Si’eth gestured for all to sit once they were west of a rocky overhang, so as not to allow their scent to carry—at least that was the idea
. Who knew how the winds moved in this place? This was a bad idea.

The boy sat in the middle. The rest gathered around in a circle. Si’eth counted them; there were sixteen or so, all sat with their heads bent low, apparently nervous. He knew two were scouting and another off checking the boy
’s trail. “They better not give us up,” he whispered.

“Why did you bring so many?” asked Ealian. “You may as well have put up a sign.”

Gods, did he hear that?
“Are you trying to anger me, boy?” Si’eth pulled back his hand and was just about to slap when he saw something in his eyes. A strange reflection, like a curtain of blackened silk rolled over the white. Si’eth found himself staring. He shuddered. “What is all this? You are not that boy I met last week! What is your business here?” Lowering his hand, he grabbed the hilt of his sword. Whatever that was in the boy’s eyes had changed his mind. He might have listened, but now he wondered exactly whom it was he was listening to.

“Put your sword away and stop acting the fool. I’m your only means to
guarantee
seeing your property again.” The boy rolled his eyes. “I can hardly believe you managed to rise to commander.”

“I’m a captain. There are no ships around here. And you are trying my patience. Speak of your plan quickly, before I act with my instinct.” He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill him anyway, but they had come this far; might as well listen.

“Three or four days from now, you are going to have an opportunity to attack, a perfect ambush. You do that successfully, and one other thing I ask, and the scroll is yours.”

Si’eth couldn’t help but raise a brow.
This sounds interesting
. “Go on… more detail, boy.”

“Our path lies along the river to the south. We approach it from the eastern side of the ridge, then continue to follow the river east until reaching a gully that runs north alongside a waterfall. The gully has steep sides. If you leave tonight, you can be half a day clear of us and be waiting when we arrive.”

“And what of this other… errand you would have us do?”

“The old man and his friend, the big man… You know of whom I speak?”

“Yes, I have seen them, the old wizard and the strange giant.”

“That is them. Yes. I want them dead
. Simple as that, but spare the rest. I will need them to get where I’m going.”

Si’eth raised both brows at that, and he didn’t care if the boy noticed. “Well, you are full of surprises, boy—two men dead and a plan for the others. Where would a child like you be going that you need their help and the blood of dead men on your hands?”

“Other than this matter, my business is my own. Do we have a deal?”

Si’eth pondered on it for a long time, pawing over the boy
’s plan. The few ideas he had
might
win him back his scroll, but none seemed as likely to succeed as this. It was just the
boy
; he didn’t like him much and trusted him less. He wouldn’t like to have to kill the boy, after all. He was just a boy, strange eyes or not, but he was too deeply involved now; he couldn’t just let him go.

Jern returned and told him that the boy was alone. Sighing, Si’eth turned to the scrawny Surabhan. “If the scroll isn
’t delivered, you will be dead next to them. Now, is
that
clear, boy?”

“Very well
. Remember, the old one and the ‘strange giant,’ as you call him, no one else!” The boy glanced sideways at the two guarding him. “You had better let me go before I’m too long missed.”

Si’eth chewed his lip for a while and then nodded to the two Salrians. “Boy,” he said.

“What?” Ealian asked.

“They are not stupid. If they check the gully, make sure you’re the one who does it
. Understood?”

“Of course.”

“What is your name, boy?” Si’eth asked as the Surabhan began to walk back towards the village.

H
e stood a moment. “I don’t remember. Does it matter?”

Si’eth shook his head and then watched him disappear over the rock overhang.

Bre’ach came and sat beside him.

“Has he gone?” Si’eth asked.

“Yes, Father. Strange child. You know we must kill them all!”

“Maybe,” Si’eth said. “The only one we
need
alive is the giant. I do not know why, but we have standing orders to capture any Kel’mai. And no rock on the head this time. I want him pinned and tied and taken away, regardless!” Si’eth dry-washed his face. Sighing, he nodded towards the men sat on the far side of the overhang. “I want those new men across the river by dawn. Tell them to flank the Surabhan from the south. I do not think that boy was lying, but I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him. Send Jern to lead them. Tell him to take Uld’eth.” Si’eth rubbed his chin. “Oh, and bring me another bottle.”

Si’eth sat gazing around at the hedges and fields below the rocky overhang. A movement in the shadows caught his attention, down in between the thicket lining the western fields. He craned his neck, squinted his eyes. For a long moment, he held his gaze, but nothing. Shaking his head, he laughed quietly to himself. “Must be an owl,” he muttered. “I
’ve got to get out of here soon. I’m seeing wolves everywhere.”

*
  *  *

Down in the thicket, Aleban crept slowly along the bottom of the hedge, cursing himself for almost being caught. The moon was out and getting higher
. He had to get around the orchard before they decided to stir. Half a dozen of the Salrians were already moving south. He risked a run across open ground and pulled up short of the trees near to the edge of the lake. He couldn’t move too fast for risk of running into Ealian. Burying himself under a bush with a good view of the path, he waited until the boy passed before moving on. He wasn’t there long.

*  *  *

It was near suppertime back at the village. Elspeth was out looking for Ealian. The mist had passed and a light fresh breeze came from the eastern field, bringing with it a faint smell of blossom. Elspeth walked slowly around the village green, smiling graciously at those who bid her good evening, which meant smiling to every man, woman, and wolf she passed—and more than a few children. She had talked to some of the residents, who all wanted to know the same things. Indeed, so common were certain questions that she thought of writing the answers on parchment and passing them out. The same three questions, repeatedly: “Is that Arlyn?” followed by, “Where have you come from?” or more commonly, “Where are you travelling to?” Elspeth remained uncharacteristically sociable, always responding to their remarks, though she became weary of some, as it was obvious that a few wolves regarded the travellers’ presence with suspicion.

A near-f moon had risen over the eastern ridge when she saw Ealian walking in through the village gate. “Where have you been?” she asked, folding her arms and tapping her foot. And then
she wondered why she did it; she rolled her eyes at her mother for doing the same thing.