The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (32 page)

“Agreed, but please, I need water first.”

“You will have to go to the river. Your packs are back at the gully.”

“Daric reached inside his jacket and pulled out his spirit bottle. “Empty that and fill it with water. Please. It is nearly all gone anyway. Also, it’s Grady’s, so…”

Gialyn took the bottle from his father. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Son, you’re here!” Daric said. “Oh yes! Now I remember. You wouldn’t let go.”

Gialyn looked down at the floor, disappointed in his father’s reprimand. He sulked off the fill the bottle.

“He saved your life, Daric,” Toban said. “You were attacked by wild animals. Your son fought off seven of them with a stick until we arrived to aid him. He nearly died.”

Daric closed his eyes and banged the back of his head against the ground. “Idiot! Why do I…? Thank you, Toban. I only said it because… Gods, I do not know why. I didn’t want him to risk his life for me.”

Gialyn came back with the bottle. Daric grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “Thank you, son. I’m so proud of you!”

The two sat in an embrace for a long minute until Toban interrupted.

“We should decide what to do. It would be my suggestion to wait until morning before we travel.”

“You won’t get an argument from me.”
After taking a drink, Daric lay back down and closed his eyes.

Gialyn lay by him. He was about to drop off to sleep, too, when a plume of fire rose in the eastern sky. Daric didn’t wake, but Gialyn sat up quickly.

“What was that?” He looked to Toban for an answer.

“I’d guess… but… No. That is impossible.”

“What is impossible, Toban?”

“Nothing, Gialyn, you go to sleep. It is probably just the woodsmen.”

Gialyn lay back down. Sleep came quickly.

CHAPTER 23

With night falling in, it was proving difficult for Grady and the others to find a safe place to cross the tributary. It was by no means as wide or deep as the river, but its flow was fast as it cut through the bedrock on its way to the waterfall. They would need to walk some to find a safe crossing. A mist
hung over the trees to the east, obscuring the near-f moon. The western sky bled into a deep-purple hue. It wasn’t long before all but the wolves would be fumbling and tripping over their feet.

Eventually, they found a shallow area near to a bend that looked as though it may be navigable. Along its western edge, the banks of the river lay all but level with the grass, and on the east, just a small step to find firm, dry footing again. The wolves crossed first, and then the Salrians carried Ealian between them, flanked by Grady and Olam. Both of whom had their swords unsheathed and pointing towards Si’eth and his son. Still, the water was fast here
. Grady found himself having to relinquish his sword in favour of aiding Si’eth. He supported his arm while the Salrian—maybe on purpose, maybe not—gingerly hunted for secure footing.

Once back on dry land, they found themselves at the edge of a wide, sloping field that lay between the tributary and the edge of Crenach’coi, less than a mile away. The group walked slowly. The wolves constantly sniffed the ground and pricked their ears at the slightest sound. Grady and Olam stayed at their station either side of the Salrians, while Elspeth walked just in front, continually looking back at her brother. She held his hand while they walked, which made it all the harder, but she refused to let go.

Before too long, they reached a hollow, a small dip in the grass about thirty feet across, set at the edge of the forest. Trees lined up to the north and south, and a small mud bank to the west completed their cover—a perfect campsite. Grady ordered the Salrians to carefully take Ealian down into the hollow and lay him in a nook of large oaks’ roots. Si’eth and Bre’ach sat, as ordered, on the other side of the tree. The wolves nodded in agreement at Grady’s request to guard them.

Olam knelt by Ealian. He tried to fish through his bag to see if he had anything that might help. “We need a fire, Grady,” he said. “We cannot help Ealian without some light. None of us, save the wolves, can see what we
’re doing.”

“As you say, my friend,” Grady said. “Elspeth and I will sort a fire
. You stay by Ealian.”

Olam felt he had failed. It was his suggestion to take the southern path out of the
Am’bieth Marsh. He was the one who attacked the Salrians in their camp. And he didn’t check the rocks for the Dead Man’s Vein, when, of all people, he should be aware of the threat. Now he had an injured child lying in front of him, a child who may die before another day done. How was he to fix this? Could it even be fixed? And where was Arfael? The questions kept coming.

The truth was no comfort
. Admitting his failings wasn’t helping the boy. Olam was scared, plain and simple. The thought of Ealian dying cluttered his mind with doubt.
What am I doing?
he thought.
You are not going to help anyone feeling sorry for yourself, fool.
He put his palm at Ealian’s forehead. The boy was boiling and clammy to the touch. Olam suspected blood poisoning from the dirty arrow. “No! Too soon for that.” He spoke aloud. The years of experience came to nothing. Why did the boy have such a fever, and so quickly? He was at a loss. The only fair explanation was the unexplained. The sudden turn must have something to do with the Black. If that were the case, then no medicine would help. Olam bowed his head and prayed he was wrong.

Grady and Elspeth returned to the hollow, their arms full of twigs and branches. Elspeth dropped hers in a pile in the centre ground and stepped over towards Olam, while Grady began snapping twigs into manageable kindling.

“Is he any better?”

Olam drew in a sharp breath. “He’s hot
. I would say blood poisoning, but not enough time has passed, unless the poison was from the arrow itself.”

“No. I asked them earlier, when I felt him heating up. I don’t know if they spoke the truth, but they said no poison.”

“Then it’s probably the Dead Man’s Vein.”

Elspeth put her head in her hands. She looked tired, the sort of tired that spoke of shock. In truth, Olam thought she didn’t look much better than Ealian. She dry-washed her face. Her eyes looked drawn and tired. Her face was gaunt and pale. Yes, shock.

“What can be done?” she asked.

“Nothing tonight, bar the usual remedies. We need to break the fever, help him fight
it. Keep him warm and hope.”

“That doesn’t sound like much, Olam. There must be more!”

“There may be something, if we could find some kharoe ash or liet Root, or preferably both. But I have neither with me.”

“Then you know my next question: where and how much?”

“There are no towns within a three-day march, and I doubt any passing traveller will carry it, even if one did pass by.”

“There is a town, Olam.” Grady interrupted. “Be’olyn
. It’s barely ten miles from here.”

“Well, then, let us go! We can leave now.” Elspeth stood and turned to Grady.

“You wouldn’t get a mile in this dark, Elspeth. You and I will go at first light, if the boy hasn’t improved at all.” Grady insisted.

“That might be too late. We must go now!” Elspeth fastened her cloak as she walked to where she
’d dropped her pack.

“Elspeth, no!” Grady took her by the arm. “It is as likely as not that we would get lost in this darkness. And there are the prisoners to think of, never mind we have no word on Daric or Gialyn. We must wait until morning. Please!” Grady put his hand to her shoulder.

“You don’t care about him. You have as good as said as much. What if he was
your
brother? You wouldn’t sit and wait on chance. I don’t know how you can expect me to.”

“I would hope I had someone who could speak sense before I ran off and made things worse.” Grady released her arm. “Elspeth, I do care. This is the best choice
. First light. I promise!”

Elspeth stood a moment in silent indignation, knowing Grady’s plan made sense yet unable to admit to it. She said nothing to him of agreement but walked slowly back to Ealian’s side and sat silently watching over him.

*  *  *

Grady finished making the fire and stored the spare wood in a pile a few feet to the side of Elspeth. “Keep the fire burning
. Keep him warm,” he said softly. Elspeth nodded without taking her eyes off her brother. Grady fetched his pack and sat in front of the fire by Olam. “Have we got everyone’s belongings?”

“No. Arfael’s pack is still in the gully, and I think Ealian’s is, too. I’ll go over and fetch them in the morning.”

“Good. We might be in need of supplies. We could be here a few days, if not more.”

Grady took the scroll out of his inside pocket. “Might as well see what all the fuss is about.” He waved the scroll at the Salrians. “Do you want to tell me, or shall I just open it myself?”

Si’eth raised his head. He regarded Grady with scorn. “If more of my men come, that unbroken seal may be the only thing keeping you alive.” He scowled. “And no, I do not know what’s in it.”

“So I should leave it… Is that what you suggest?” Grady looked at Olam in amazement. “They caused all this trouble, and I should behave myself and not open his precious scroll. I think not!” Grady broke the seal with his knife and unrolled it. He started to read the contents. Second by second
, his expression became tenser. He moved towards the fire to get a better look. Grady sat down, still eyeing up the scroll for a further two minutes. After he had finished, he rolled it back up and put it back in his coat. “Do you know what’s written on here, Salrian?”

“I’ve already told you, Surabhan. No!”

“You have precious little time, Salrian. Answer me truthfully or, by my oath, I will forget I’m a soldier and end you and your child where you sit.”

“For the last time
, I don’t know what’s in it! They are
sealed
orders.” Si’eth spat out his answer.

“What is it, Grady?” Olam asked.

Grady sat for a moment, his eyes fixed on Si’eth. The Salrian stared back impassively. He either knew or was scared; a captain wouldn’t be so deadpan over such a thing, not even a Salrian. Either way, Grady wondered whether to answer Olam in front of him. “The scroll… The scroll contains drawings of the Tunnels of Aldregair: entrances, safe routes, known dangers—accounts from
both
sides of the border.”

Olam sat back against the tree. Slowly, he turned his eyes towards the Salrians. He raised a hand to his mouth and stroked his chin. He was thinking of something. “What do you have to say about that, Si’eth?”

“Why are you asking him?” Grady asked. “He has earned no right to speak. We don’t know if he’s involved.”

Olam spoke. “I’m guessing he didn’t know, judging by the look on his face.” He turned back to Si’eth. “Am I right?”

Si’eth refused to answer.

“You know what this means?” Olam went on
. “There can be but one reason why a Northlander wants a map of the Tunnels of Aldregair: passage beyond the border. Your people are planning an invasion!”

Si’eth sat with his thoughts. Olam was right; he did look shocked by the contents of the scroll. Either that or the man was playing him, and Grady didn’t think he was that good an actor. “It wouldn’t be us,” Si’eth answered quietly.

Bre’ach’s head spun. “Father! What of your duty?”

“Quiet, Bre’ach, this is of no concern to you. My duty lies with my people. These orders… this…
fool’s errand
the general has sent us on is wrong.” Si’eth turned to Grady, and with a sincere look, he continued. “This scroll is for the aid of another, and I have no duty to them.”

“And what of your duty to orders?” Bre’ach insisted.

“As I said, this is a fool’s errand, with orders written by a fool.” Si’eth dropped his gaze to the ground. He looked like a man who knew what he must do but drew no comfort from doing it. “Alaf’kan, general of the Southern District, personally gave me my orders. I doubt the leaders in Barath know anything of it. Kan is known for having a love of finery. I would wager a sale for profit was his aim.”

“So why go to such lengths to retrieve it,” Grady asked, “when you thought it no more than this ‘fool
’s’ profit?”

“It was my hope to be gone swiftly from your land, with the scroll intact and the seal unbroken.
Alaf’kan may be a fool, but he does hold power over me.” Si’eth shook his head. “This is going too far. I will not be party to war. I have had enough of it.”

Grady took the scroll and opened it again. “This bears the Moya seal from the palace at Bailryn. Did you steal it?”

Si’eth shook his head again. “No! I collected it from a man in Northwest Aleras, by the Am’bieth, close to where my son took your boy. The man who delivered it was Surabhan, an ambassador, a man called Faelen.”

Grady’s shoulders slumped. He looked vacantly into the fire. “What have we stumbled into?” he said softly. He rolled up the scroll and put it to his forehead, as though praying to it for answers, but only questions came to mind:
Who wants the scroll? Is Si’eth telling the truth? Is there someone in the palace aiding this mysterious enemy?
He pulled his knees up to his chest, still tapping his forehead with the scroll. A game was being played, a web of treachery and deceit being woven. Thinking of the consequences of this
game
suddenly left him feeling helpless.

“The guard recruits!” Olam suddenly piped up. “Of course. The guard recruits!” He rushed over and knelt in front of Grady. “The palace knows of this danger, my friend. You said a messenger came to Albergeddy to invite participants. That always seemed a strange errand to me when usually they post such things without ceremony. I think maybe I know why!”

“Please, Olam, no riddles. Out with it!” Grady’s head was spinning with a thousand bleak scenarios. He couldn’t grasp where Olam was leading.

“Well, I know what he’s talking about
,” Bre’ach said. The whole group, including Elspeth, looked at the young Salrian. “They are recruiting for war. It’s obvious.”

Grady let out a sigh and stared to the heavens. “Stone me for a fool, of course they are. Damn them!” He kicked out at the edge of the fire, sending spirals of burning embers into the air. “Damn them for their deceit!” He stood and started to pace. “Why not just ask? We are not a country of cowards.”

“My friend, I would guess they are acting on rumour, which makes this information of vital importance. We may have stumbled on the enemy’s invasion plans.” Olam turned to Si’eth. “Do you know anything of those who would receive this scroll?”

“No
. Only where to meet, twenty leagues northwest of Cul’taris, by the Vale of An’aird.”

“Then we must make haste!” Grady said. “It is three hard days at least to the northern keep. We must go there and share this information. When were you supposed to deliver this scroll, Si’eth?”

“Six days from today.”