Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection

by Meg Cowley

  "Yes," Aedon said. "I suppose we don't need to teach you Pelenor geography right now. You probably need some more sensible clothes, though. Yours look a little, ah...worn.” He seemed to want to be gentle with his words toward her. “What in Pelenor is that stain on your shirt? Some kind of blood?"

  Harper looked down and blushed. "Oh. No, it's stew."

  "I beg your pardon?" Now it was Brand's turn to be confused.

  "I... Never mind. It's not blood. I have a little money. Everything else is...at home." The word felt strange upon her tongue. Harper offered her copper, shameful as it was. She wondered if it were a hidden blessing that all her wordly goods and money had remained behind. Betta would need them in her absence.

  “Oh, that won't do you any good here." Aedon tossed it back at her. "What about your bracelet? That metal looks valuable."

  Harper snatched her arm back. "No. I mean, yes, it might be, but no, I can't part with it. Sentimental value." She ran her finger over the single charm, as she had done thousands of times before.

  "Well, if you're sure..."

  "Look, there's been a terrible mistake of some kind. If you could just tell me how to get home, or send me back, I'll be on my way."

  Aedon shared a troubled look with Brand, who shrugged. "You're going to have to tell her sooner or later. Might as well be now."

  "I'm afraid there's no way back, Harper," Aedon said quietly.

  She furrowed her brows. "What?"

  "I mean, it's technically possible. You could travel for months, eventually reaching where you call home. Maybe. If you survived the sea crossing."

  "There must be some way I can get back!" Harper said desperately, trying to fight the nauseating swoop at the bottom of her stomach. Home might not be much, but it was home, and the only anchor she had in the world. More important than anything, Betta depended on her.

  Fifteen

  Dimitri cast out toward the Dragonheart, seeking for that now familiar feeling of magic. Nothing. He cast the net wider, out of his quarters and into the city. Into the palace. Into the vaults. Into the sprawling suburbs.

  Nothing.

  Nothing of that vast magnitude of power.

  Not one trace.

  His heart skipped a beat. Where had it gone? He could not conceivably have made it vanish, yet it was no longer where it had been.

  I have sent it beyond my own reach, Dimitri realised. But where?

  Dimitri waited, calm and composed. He knew no one would suspect him, but he would be one of the first they called on. Who else but the king’s spymaster? It could play right into his hands.

  It was not long before the king’s men arrived. They pounded on the door so hard it shook on its hinges.

  The very picture of consternation, he accompanied them toward the great hall. He had even changed into his nightwear and ruffled his normally neat hair so as to look even more surprised at the intrusion on his evening.

  “You sent for me, my king?” Dimitri swept into a low bow, waiting until he spied the jerk of Toroth’s hand to rise. He tugged his dressing gown around him for emphasis.

  The great hall was cool, though not as cool as he pretended. The fires had already died to embers, and all traces of that evening's meal had been cleared by the servants. Only the dogs lingered by the fire, as close as they dared, and Dimitri did not fancy bedding down with them.

  His attention snapped back to the king, whose eyes were wide with rage as he stalked from side to side on his dais. “One of the... Something from my vaults has been stolen!” he growled.

  Dimitri could barely see Toroth’s face in the darkness of the hall, save for the rage-filled spark in his eyes reflected from the embers.

  “I am most sorry to hear that, Your Majesty. Have you apprehended the thief and recovered the object?” Dimitri asked smoothly, with a touch of dismay.

  “No!” spat Toroth, now trembling with rage. Rage Dimitri hoped not to bear the brunt of.

  “That is terrible, Your Majesty. How may I be of service?”

  “I have every member of the Kingsguard searching, and come dawn, I shall send every member of the Winged Kingsguard on the hunt.”

  Dimitri almost raised an eyebrow at that, but knew to do so would be too dangerous. Even if he did not know what had gone missing, that would have been a clue in itself.

  A large enough treasure to warrant a full dragon-rider compliment to be sent out? Dimitri was slightly taken aback by it. Did the king really place that much value on one Dragonheart?

  “I will find it.” The king’s teeth were gritted as he paced back and forth like a caged beast. “You will assist.” Toroth turned the full measure of his balefulness on Dimitri.

  “Of course, sire,” Dimitri answered, sweeping into a low bow. His heart had settled somewhat. Good. He clearly has no idea what happened. There had been the slightest touch of dread Toroth knew all along. Fear like that was never far away in his court. “What is it I seek?”

  Toroth scowled at him.

  Reluctant to tell me what you hide in your vaults? Very well...

  “I must know what I seek if I am to have any chance of finding it for you, my king,” Dimitri said in a painfully affable tone, his head slightly bowed in deference to his intrusion into the king’s privacy.

  Toroth muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine. They stole the Heart of a Dragon from me.”

  “I have heard of them, though have never seen one,” Dimitri lied. He had seen one many years ago, though only fleetingly. It had entranced him then, too.

  “My warden will give you details.” The king’s tone was short once more, and Dimitri sensed what little patience he had was running out.

  “I shall do everything in my power to locate it. Do you have any leads I may follow?”

  Toroth glared at him, but Dimitri stood his ground.

  “No,” he finally admitted. “Ask the general of the Winged Kingsguard to be brought up to speed with any new developments. Report solely to me. Discretion, secrecy, and speed. Get. It. Back.” With one last glare, he flicked his hand, dismissing Dimitri.

  He bowed and quickly retreated, lest he be subject to the king’s ire. His panic had decreased at the confirmation Toroth knew nothing of his involvement, but now it spiked back to life again.

  The whole of the kingdom sought that Dragonheart. He would have to reach it first.

  Sixteen

  "Well, I mean, there might be one way back, but it's really very unlikely."

  "Tell me,” Harper pleaded.

  Aedon shrugged. “If the Dragonheart truly brought you here, perhaps it can send you home. Unfortunately, no one here knows how. Perhaps there are elves elsewhere, or even the king’s mages, who would know of such magics. But you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who will help you when, no offense, you have nothing to offer in return.”

  It was clear from Aedon’s dismissive tone that he thought the notion hopeless. Harper’s heart sank a little at that.

  “Mind, I think he'd want his Dragonheart back first, and there's every chance you wouldn't even get to petition the king. You'd be presumed to have stolen it and left to rot in some dark hole for such a treasonous act. Dragonhearts are incredibly precious, and the king lays claim to them all."

  Harper recoiled, her arm protectively encasing the Dragonheart. "It’s mine! I found it.”

  "Well, maybe the king will look leniently on you, but as I said, it's a long shot. In any case, there's nothing we can do about it tonight.” Aedon ruffled his already tousled hair.

  "So I'm stuck here for now,” Harper said, swallowing.

  "Yes.”

  She nodded, silent for a moment as she tried to take in that fact. She had not realised that, having gotten to this strange place so easily, there would be no way to go back.

  Well, I wanted an escape from my life. Way to get what you wished for, Harper, she berated herself. I didn't mean this...

  "Pelenor isn't all that bad!" Aedon said, nudging her and smiling. She forced out a s
mall smile, but it did not reach her eyes. "I mean, it's better than Valtivar." He chuckled, but no one joined in. He threw up his hands. "Oh, come on, you grumps. Lighten up."

  "What's Valtivar?" Harper asked.

  "Another country bordering Pelenor. Far to the south of here, across the mountains.” He nodded at the dwarf. “Ragnar is from there."

  "What about you?" Harper asked Aedon. "Where are you from?"

  "I'm from Pelenor, though I have blood of the elf realm, Auraria, running through my line." A smile lit his face. For a moment, he looked utterly carefree, staring into the distance as if he could see a different place around him.

  "Is that far away?"

  "Oh yes."

  "Why are you here then?"

  Aedon's smile faded as he shot a glance at the rest of the crew, who fidgeted. "I'm an outcast. We all are, in a fashion. Cast out by our families, countries, and people."

  Harper's heart sank. "You mean, you're criminals?"

  Aedon drew himself up, full of affront. "Not at all!” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Well, I suppose a little."

  "You can't be a little bit of a criminal. You either are or you aren't."

  "We're not in our own eyes, and that's what matters to us," growled Brand. "But if you want to get technical, yes, we're criminals."

  Harper looked between them. They didn't seem very criminal, though they didn't seem too friendly, either.

  "Oh, go on, elf. You might as well tell her who you are.” Erika scowled. “Sate her curiosity – and your ego. But she has no right to know my story, save from my own lips."

  "Nor mine," Brand said.

  Ragnar remained silent, watching from the shadows at the edge of the fire.

  "Oh, if I must!" Dramatically, Aedon leapt to his feet and swirled into an exaggerated bow. "Aedon, legendary Thief of Pelenor, at your service, miss. Pleasure to meet you."

  Harper's jaw dropped. "You're... You’re a thief?" she spat.

  "Again, not in my own eyes, but technically. My reputation far precedes me. I'm rather proud of it actually."

  "What sort of things do you steal?" Harper's eyes narrowed as she took in the ragtag crew once more. They didn't look wealthy. She presumed a good thief would at least wear fine clothes, or have a big house or a hoard of treasure. Some evidence of the proceeds of their crime.

  Maybe they're terrible at it.

  "Things that need to be liberated from their present owners." Aedon lifted his chin, and Harper was surprised to see how resilient his sense of righteousness was. But now that she knew he was a crook, it tainted how handsome she had found him. "We take from those who have not earned it and give to those in need."

  "That's very gallant of you, but theft is wrong, no matter how you try to justify it."

  "You're quite mistaken.” Aedon’s eyes flashed, and she shrank back at their intensity. “Would you not consider it reasonable to return funds to overtaxed peasants who cannot feed their starving children? Would you not consider it reasonable to liberate commandeered goods, stolen for avarice, and return them to their owners? Would you not consider it more than reasonable to steal a cure to a sickness that would otherwise be withheld, costing innocent people’s lives?"

  Harper swallowed at his passion. "N-No, I suppose not."

  Aedon sat on his rock with a huff. "Well, there you have it. Of course, the king and his guard don't agree. That's why I'm one of the most wanted criminals in the land. Though...” He nodded at his companions, “these three aren't far behind."

  "Were you stealing something today?" Harper asked. "You were being chased..."

  "Yes."

  Harper didn't dare ask what, but she leaned forward, her eagerness apparent.

  Aedon sighed. "I can't divulge. I did not get what I came for, from the source I intended, if that will relieve your distress.” He shared a look with the rest of the group. “But, suffice it to say, it keeps in line with our criminal ethos to protect those who cannot protect themselves within the line of the law."

  Harper coloured. Perhaps she had been wrong to call them criminals, but then again, they were thieves, quite freely admitting it. His arguments made sense, and yet, the law was the law for a reason. Surely no man – or elf – ought to be above it.

  "Now...” Aedon’s tone held an edge of unfriendliness she had not expected, but understood. "We gave you food from our meagre stores, you’ve had warmth from our fire – and my cloak, I might add – and you are welcome to shelter with us for the night. Frankly, you ought to be grateful we're taking you in. However, if you'd rather not spend the night with a bunch of hardened, moralless criminals, you're free to leave." He gestured at the path.

  "Can I stay?” she asked in a small voice. "I have nowhere else to go." And goodness knows what beasts roam these lands. Harper was not afraid of the dark or the forests, but she was not a fool, either. She could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile on Aedon's face at her words.

  "What good is a half—" Brand began, but Aedon cut him off with a hiss.

  “I’m curious to see if she knows first,” he said in Pelenori, which Harper could not comprehend. Brand frowned at him.

  Harper looked between them, nonplussed.

  "She can't fight, she can't survive in the wild, and she has no magic." Erika's assessment was brutal. Harper flinched.

  “I can survive. I’ve hunted and provided for myself for years,” Harper retorted with a spark of defiance. The harsh woman continued to glare, but Harper straightened her spine, glaring back.

  "She does have a Dragonheart, though. That makes her special," Aedon said patiently. "Give her a chance, Erika. I doubt you'd survive in her lands."

  She huffed. "I could survive anywhere."

  "We don't need a wet blanket," said Brand.

  "I'm happy for the girl to stay." Ragnar's voice was quiet, albeit filled with an authority Harper had not expected.

  The others stopped their bickering to look at him. He met each of their gazes in turn, and there was something accusatory in his that made each person drop their eyes.

  "I know what it is to be an outcast. You all do. You all know how important it is to be accepted, flaws and all. The girl's fallen on hard times, as we have all done. We have a home in each other. Why not one more, at least for a while?"

  Brand glanced at his feet, Erika looked uncomfortable, but Aedon beamed. "That settles it then. Three votes to two. Yes, Harper's vote counts. You're stuck with us now, my dear."

  Harper gave Aedon a hesitant smile. For all their strange depths, they seemed keen to have her. They must be generous souls, she thought, for I have nothing to offer them. "Thank you. I'll do whatever I can do earn my keep."

  Erika huffed, but Aedon ignored her. "That's the spirit!" He clapped Harper on the back.

  “Now, how about a game of chatura?” Ragnar said, eyes twinkling under his bushy eyebrows. He pulled forth a box that contained a folded, hexagonal wooden board and several dozen tiny, intricately carved pieces in three different colours of wood.

  Brand rolled his eyes.

  “What? You afraid of being beaten...again?” asked Ragnar, grinning.

  “Never,” Brand growled. “A copper piece says I can wipe the ground with you.”

  “Easiest money I’ve made all week,” Ragnar chuckled. He lay the board flat and started to stack two sets of figures upon it in a seemingly random order. “Erika? Aedon? Harper?”

  Erika shook her head, continuing to tend her blade. Aedon sighed and held up his hands. “I have no coin left, Ragnar. You cleared me out last week.”

  “And don’t forget the ‘I owe you’, mister.”

  Aedon winced. “And that.”

  “Harper?” Ragnar asked.

  She looked at the board. “Um... What is it? I don’t know how to play.” It looked like no game she knew. In the inn, most games centred around coins and alcohol, played with whatever chips and vague rules the gamblers decided.

  “Go on,” said Aedon. “Count me in. I’ll show
you how it’s played.” He gave Harper a winning smile, which she responded to before she remembered he was a criminal. She looked away, sour-faced.

  “That’s a poor do for the girl. She’ll never learn to play from you. You couldn’t win if I was blindfolded!”

  “We’ll see about that.” Aedon stuck out his tongue. “But no money in or out on my part, Master Dwarf.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Ragnar promptly cleared the board of all of them, taking Brand’s copper – stamped much differently than Harper’s – to the tune of the huge man’s cursing. Harper did not have a clue what had happened. Some strange game of strategy, much more complicated than she could follow, with the amount of turns per player changing, different rules for when and how each figurine could move, and a seemingly arbitrary rule system.

  When they had finished, Harper’s face ached from smiling. Somehow, lost in the game, all her cares had been forgotten.

  “Chatura master again!” Ragnar crowed.

  “Lucky win,” retorted Brand with a scowl. He rose to his feet and stomped off.

  Harper looked at Aedon, face blank.

  He winked at her. “You’ll pick it up in no time. Ragnar, perhaps we have a future chatura mistress on our hands.”

  Ragnar laughed. “Maybe if she learns from me. Definitely not if she learns from you.”

  THAT NIGHT, AEDON LET her keep his cloak and a pelt as bedding, brushing off her thanks. She wrapped herself in the homely material, noting the faint smell of herbs and woodsmoke. As she lay down away from the others, who piled onto their bed of pelts, she could not sleep, despite her exhaustion.

  It was difficult enough to explore the idea of travelling to a different country, but not being able to return home? What would Betta do without her? Then there was the small matter of the Dragonheart. And running with a band of outlaws, including the most wanted criminal in the kingdom. One who had her in a strange and annoying kind of flutter. Harper suppressed a groan.