Chronicles of Pelenor Trilogy Collection

by Meg Cowley

  Harper gasped as Aedon disappeared into the cliff.

  A moment later, his head popped out between fronds of greenery that Harper thought clung to the rock face.

  “Come on!” he called.

  She followed him through the vegetation, flanked by their companions, and into the concealed caves beyond it – and darkness. There, the waters that fed the pool babbled across an invisible streambed.

  Aedon’s hands and face were illuminated as he conjured a faelight to guide their way, but as Harper’s eyes adjusted, she realised it was not as inky black as she had first thought. The glowing stream wound into the distance, motes of light dancing down it.

  She followed Aedon eagerly, ahead of their companions, though her stomach tingled. Was it with faint apprehension, or the curling of magic deep inside her? The darkness felt inviting, not intimidating, though she could not explain why. Ahead, the light grew, as well as a humming sound that Harper barely registered, until they stepped into a tall, wide cavern. It held a vast pool that disappeared into the gloom in the distance, under the mountains.

  Harper could deny it no longer. Glowing specks of light swirled lazily through the water and air. She tingled with the energy of it all. This place felt different than anywhere she had been before. It felt like touching Aedon’s raw magic as it had coursed through her, but a thousandfold more powerful. Somehow, the motes moved, though the air was still.

  The hair rose on the back of Harper’s neck, but not from the temperature. It was neither cool nor warm, but somewhere comfortably in between. No, her senses pricked at the watchful, benevolent presence of something greater that held court there. It was as though the entire cave held its breath with her.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Aedon drew closer. “You’ll see. Follow me.”

  To her surprise, he walked toward the water, picking his way down the rough, rocky shelf and into the shallows. Aedon turned toward them, smiling reassuringly, as his faelight soared lazily above them all, illuminating marble walls, slanted at an angle, that ran with lines of a vibrant rosy colour.

  Harper slowly advanced, glancing into the swirling, glowing waters with a frown. Aedon grasped her hand the moment she stepped in, pulling her with him. To her surprise, the water was warm, as comforting as his hand on hers, and buzzed against her skin.

  He strode out farther until submerged to his waist, Harper tugged along, no matter the tingle of fear that now stroked her spine. The waters flowed around her, billowing her cloak, even as the fingers of a gentle current tingled across her skin.

  What lay in the strange waters? It unnerved her to not be able to see her feet or where she stepped. She suppressed visions of sinking into deep, ink-black water, never to be seen again, and fought down the wave of panic clutching at her chest.

  Aedon grasped her other hand, lacing her fingers through his as he moved to stand before her. Harper blinked away the blackness and focused on his laughing green eyes. The glowing motes bobbed around them, swirling in a sedate dance on their invisible currents.

  “Drink it.”

  “W-what?” she spluttered.

  Aedon’s face broke into a wide grin as he beheld her confusion with mirth. “Trust me, Harper. Drink it. I promised you all would be revealed.”

  Slowly, Harper pulled her hands from his and lowered them into the water. For a long moment, she enjoyed the gentle tug of it flowing through her fingers, the slight tingle each mote of light brought her as she touched it. Aedon nodded his reassurance. She cupped the water in her palms, bought it to her mouth, and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened.

  “It's so sweet! And... And tingly...”

  “It’s safe to drink. Go on.”

  Emboldened, Harper took a long draught, draining the liquid in her hands. She cupped them in the water twice, then thrice, savouring the rich sweetness as it tingled down her throat, leaving her stomach full of butterflies.

  “What is it?” she whispered, though she already had an inkling. She had felt the sensation before, when Aedon had shared his magic with her. Already, she sensed it bubbling up inside, a spring waiting to burst forth.

  “Magic,” he confirmed, and his grin widened. “Welcome to the Well of Life.”

  Harper observed her surroundings. Hues of pinks lined the walls as layers of marble, carved by time and water, undulated around them. The water glowed, reflecting a rosy hue, as the golden motes swirled into the depths and distance, and so high above them was the cavern that Harper could not even see the heights.

  “What is this place?” Her voice was hushed, reverent. She knew nothing of this place, but it was clear it was special.

  “One of a few areas where the river of magical energy that flows through the world unseen intersects with the physical plane. This is one such place... A wellspring of magical power.”

  It sounded fanciful, but Harper nodded. She could feel the truth of it humming through her.

  “For me, it’s like coming home. For you, it is the rains after a drought. Drink, please. Take your fill.”

  She did, hungrily. The power building within her welled from the tips of her toes to every hair in her head until it floated around her shoulders. Harper realised with a start that she actually floated, hovering in the water away from the bed of rock beneath them and somehow a good foot taller than Aedon.

  The power filled her with giddy abandon. She laughed with delight as she realised her very skin glowed with magic. She splayed her fingers before her, marveling as golden light arced from each fingertip, bouncing upon the water’s surface to join the swirling dance of magic and energy around them.

  What was her potential now? With a thrilling rush, she realised the magic at her fingers sparked at the slightest hint of her will.

  Her glow was reflected in Aedon, who laughed at her, sharing in her joy. Now she knew what he spoke of. The truth of it. Her innate powers, so long slumbering, charged through her like horses that refused to be contained. Inside, she could feel it longing to burst free. Her mouth split with a joyous grin to match Aedon’s as she revelled in the power and potential.

  More, her body urged. More.

  Aedon caught her, his hands on her slim waist, as she gently drifted down to him once more, then they waded out to their waiting companions, who watched with wide eyes and curiosity. Despite the strange warmth of the place, Harper’s clothes clung to her with cool wetness.

  With half a thought, she wished to be dry. A moment later, all trace of water had vanished from her clothes, leaving her pants as crisp and fresh as the day she had first worn them. Harper gasped.

  Aedon chuckled. “Very nicely done.”

  “Can I do anything just by thinking it?”

  “Not quite. You might find yourself able to do the strangest things with a thought, but magic is like a muscle. It takes years of honing to become capable of great deeds, and you cannot exceed your own will and strength to perform it. But you can certainly do minor magics with ease now. It’s instinct. You must use it well, however. Magic is not a whim to be used whenever one desires, upon whatever one fancies. With magic comes responsibility,” he warned.

  Harper looked to her hands once more, turning them over and back in wonder, watching as the glow faded into her skin.

  “Can anyone else do that?” Harper glanced at her companions, who looked toward the exit as if hasty to leave.

  “No, lass,” replied Ragnar. “We could drink from the well, yet it would be nothing more than sweet water that quenched our thirst. Only those of elven blood may take magic from the wellspring.”

  The dwarf sounded wistful, as though he wished it could be different. Harper rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. She knew he longed to be more than he was, though he would never say it.

  “Come,” said Brand. The Aerian warrior towered over them all, though even he was dwarfed by the cavern. “We are still not far enough from Tournai to be safe from the Kingsguard.”

  And Dimitrius, Harper added silently.
The elven lord’s eyes still followed her wherever she went. She shivered and hurried after Brand, pushing all thoughts of the raven-haired spymaster from her mind.

  “Nor the elves of Tir-na-Alathea,” Erika warned them, already down the tunnel and scouting the way ahead.

  Aedon scoffed but followed, chivvying Ragnar and Harper before him.

  Harper turned for one last look at the cave, trying to imprint the vision of the rose-lined walls, swirling golden motes, and glowing water upon her memory. Never had she seen a place like it before.

  She pinched her arm. The nip hurt, and she quickly rubbed the skin to soothe it. No matter how many times she tried it, she still had not woken in her own pallet in Caledan.

  It’s truly not a dream. This is my life now, she told herself again. Each time, she said it with less regret, thoughts of those she had left behind fading.

  This time, a thrill ran across her skin, sparked by the magic coursing through her. She had left so little behind and found so much. Magic was yet another question she now sought an answer to. With a huge grin, she broke into a jog and bounded after Brand as the gleam of sunlight bloomed ahead.

  Three

  “Do not promise that which you cannot deliver,” Lord Thaeus scoffed at Dimitri, who stood before him, unperturbed by his lack of faith.

  “Quite, quite,” Dimitri replied, nodding at the older elf, who far surpassed him in rank. “I promise nothing. What can be promised in such times? Only more of the same. Fear, rumours, instability. I merely offer an alternative. One where you are rewarded more justly for your endeavours in fair Pelenor’s name.”

  Lord Thaeus scoffed. “Harumph! And you think Toroth will take this lying down? I think not!”

  Dimitri chortled. “I hardly think it, but there is far more at work than what you realise. You are not the sum of these machinations.”

  Thaeus raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

  “Nay. All of us are mere parts.” Dimitri downplayed his own involvement. “And yet, I know what will unfold. It will be the greatest change in our country’s history, and you had better be on the right side of it if you wish to see your House and name preserved.” He fixed Thaeus with an unflinching glare that exuded his conviction of that.

  Thaeus swallowed. “S-Surely not,” he stammered. “I mean, you would need an invading army to topple the king.”

  “Would we really?” Dimitri asked, though he thought to the goblin forces that Saradon wooed to do exactly that. “Toroth has grown himself a nation of folk – common and high alike – who despise him. Why, he has grown his very own rebellion.”

  Thaeus dabbed a dank cloth to his forehead, then tucked the handkerchief away once more. His eyes darted around, as if the very walls had ears, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Fear not, Lord Thaeus. You are safe with me.”

  “Forgive me if I do not trust the king’s spymaster.” The reply came with the usual injection of hostility and suspicion.

  “I suppose I might deserve that. Yet... Did you ever wonder why you never did get arrested, or charged with the embezzlement of taxes from all the landed goods that were never declared in the port at Eyre?” Dimitri asked casually, picking imaginary grime from his nails. He had waited patiently to play that card.

  Thaeus froze. “Wh-What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t,” said Dimitri smoothly, leaning toward him to clap him on the shoulder conspiratorially, winking. “It never happened, did it?”

  “N-No,” replied Thaeus, even though Dimitri knew it most certainly had.

  Such a flea-bitten coward. Dimitri truly despised them all, for the court was rotten to the core. Each of them is more self-serving than the last. They care not for how the realm bleeds.

  Dimitri knew he had Thaeus cornered. All the long years of gathering information, not all of which had been for the king’s benefit, would finally pay dividends.

  And one way or another, you shall get your comeuppance, too, when all is said and done.

  He needed them to break the wheel, to remake Pelenor to his and Saradon’s visions, but he did not need them afterward. Not in their current form.

  “Excellent. Then I look forward to working very closely with you, Lord Thaeus.”

  “Q-Quite, Lord Ellarian.” Lord Thaeus’s watery eyes followed Dimitri as he strode away, unfurling a triumphant smirk as he did.

  It marked the end of a long day of plotting, and the last noble he would blackmail, bribe, or curry favour with...for now. He considered he had collected enough of them for one day. His neck was now over the parapet, especially when he infiltrated the guilds. It would take just one of them to betray him, but he knew they would not. In implicating him, they would also damn themselves to certain death at the king’s hands. He did not know any one of them who would be so brave as to sacrifice themselves for that.

  Still, Dimitri’s heart hammered as he strode to the safety of his chambers, and a wave of anxiety rushed through him when four red cloaks turned the corner, walking toward him. He forced himself to walk past the Kingsguard with his usual arrogant grace, glaring at them as he passed, then flicking his attention away as though they were beneath his notice. They glared back with open dislike, but not one said a word.

  It was only when he returned to the safety of his own warded rooms that he at last let the mask slip and let out a great, shuddering breath of relief.

  “Are you quite all right, Dimi?” Emyria asked, her greying eyebrow raised in question.

  “I shall live another day perhaps, Emyria,” Dimitri replied. A yawn swallowed his next words.

  Emyria tutted and stood on her tiptoes to unfasten his cloak, sweeping it over her arm before she hooked it upon the stand. “Well, dear, sit. I shall bring you a warm drink and your slippers.”

  “What would I do without you, Emyria?” Dimitri flashed her a tired, grateful smile and slumped onto his most comfortable couch.

  “No doubt get into a lot more trouble,” she said, glaring at him with pursed lips and mock sternness. She had been a mother of sorts to him. Her brown, greying hair was pulled back from her kind face and swirled into braids that bobbed as she worked to pour him a sweet infusion.

  “I don’t doubt it. How long have you been here now?”

  “With you? As well you know, sir. In Tournai, it will be nigh on a hundred years now.”

  A hundred years serving the king’s will. He shuddered at the thought, though he had been there almost as long, albeit in a different way. “I hope I am a better master than the king was.”

  “You know the truth of it.” Her voice soured at her clipped words. Neither of them had ever truly spoken about what he had rescued her from, and she did not like to dwell on it. Unlike him, she had just the barest hint of elvish blood in her line, and thus was destined for the lowliest forms of servitude and station in her prolonged life. The gift and the curse of her heritage.

  “I’m sorry, Emyria. I did not mean to dredge it up. I suppose I have been wishing for better circumstances for us all.”

  “I thank you, Dimitri. I know you will deliver us through these testing times.”

  She had already thanked him for sheltering her, for giving her a comfortable life where she barely had to lift a finger to care for him...unlike her former slavery.

  Deep in thought, he watched her leave. As much as I do this for myself, I do it for the likes of her, too, he thought. Nowhere in my new Pelenor will there be bonded servants. It made him feel uncharacteristically noble, momentarily washing away the slime of the court and all its shadows, but the moment quickly passed.

  First, he had a mire to wade through and a realm to overturn.

  Four

  “Where to now then?” Harper asked.

  Now that their journey had ended and their quest was fulfilled, her thoughts had once more strayed to Caledan and Betta, with not a small amount of guilt at what she had left behind, no matter how impossible it would be to return.
/>   The group looked to Aedon, the unspoken leader of their mismatched troupe. Aedon blew a long exhale and spread his arms wide.

  “We have a whole world of potential, dear Harper. The sickness is cured, so now we wander until we find our next calling, as we always do. But far from Tournai.” He grinned and winked.

  Harper nodded, smiling at the memory. They had left the village a much better place than they had found it, cured of the spreading sickness that had ailed the folk there, although there had been no time to enjoy the hospitality insisted upon by the villagers. They were close, far too close, to the Winged Kingsguard and whomever else hunted them. None had forgotten the threat of the Tir-na-Alathean elves.

  They had fled south, past the heart of Pelenor and toward the spur of mountains that cleaved the kingdom apart, and within which sat the dwarven realm of Valtivar.

  “We can find shelter in the mountains. And perhaps even some respite at Keldheim or another hold,” Brand suggested, though his gaze darted to Ragnar when he mentioned the dwarf’s homelands.

  “We would be safe from Toroth’s reach there,” acknowledged Aedon.

  “If they will have us.” Ragnar’s quiet voice caught them all.

  “You are not an exile or a criminal, as the rest of us are,” said Aedon gently. “You are welcome there.”

  Ragnar scoffed. “Welcome is not the word I would use.”

  Aedon pursed his lips. “Perhaps. But we must lay low for a while. Tir-na-Alathea is closed to us now, and all in the realm of Pelenor, save for the dwarves of Valtivar, are loyal to the king and his riders.”

  “I did not say I disagreed with the logic of it,” Ragnar said, an uncharacteristic snap to his voice.

  Harper looked between them. Ragnar once told her he missed his home, and she had felt his sadness. Yet he did not want to return? The outlaws’ histories were as complex as a woven cloak. She wondered at his reluctance to visit Keldheim, the dwarven stronghold.