The Iron Crown (Dragon Spirits Book 1)
Page 30
Nadja shook her head. ‘You were marked for execution. You were given mercy. A choice you should not have been given. And from the sounds of it, you squandered that choice. Another poor decision to add to your very long list of poor decisions.’
Apollo swallowed, trying to think quickly. ‘Well, the key is gone. No-one’s ever getting to it again, believe me.’
‘I don’t believe you. Neither does Torsten. Or Queen Surayo for that matter.’ Nadja brushed down her uniform. There wasn’t a speck of dust on it, but she was meticulous none-the-less.
‘Look. I was told to get rid of the key. That’s what I did.’
‘No. You were told specifically to feed it to Paragos. You failed.’
‘I didn’t fail! Surayo’s curse is gone!’ He was on his feet now, Renys in one hand, the girl already on the cusp of tears. ‘She gave me my pardon. I got my life back! Everything is over! Maybe the Myr are back? But I don’t see how it’s got anything to do with me! Maybe they’ve had something else secret this whole time? Ever think about that?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
Apollo hadn’t expected the Inquisitor to agree. ‘Well…go investigate that, then. Leave me and my family alone.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’
Apollo turned away from Nadja, backing up towards the bar. He always kept a longsword behind there—he wasn’t brilliant with the weapon, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. Especially not to an Inquisitor.
‘Apollo. I was sent here to bring you to the palace, nothing more. But I was curious as to the circumstances of your freedom. Of your past. I wanted to know for myself what kind of man you were.’
‘What kind of man I was?’ Apollo snorted, taking slow steps, edging closer to the bar.
Nadja nodded. ‘Yes. Though you may choose to believe otherwise, I care about the fate of Tassar. The people in it. Not just in Porsenthia, but beyond. If the Myr have returned, we will be plunged back into war. Back into that dark time where people feared the night, when people were slaughtered where they slept.’
Apollo took another step. He was within five paces of the bar, now. He, like most people, remembered a childhood of fear. Remembered the jubilation when Queen Surayo announced the armistice. The end of the terror.
‘Surely you don’t want Renys to experience what you and I have?’ Nadja continued, unfazed by his movements. ‘Throwing her back into a time where Myrish death spirits roam free? Where life is sucked from the very ground we walk upon? Where our dragons die?’
Apollo tightened his hold on Renys and darted behind the bar. Dropping to his knees, he put his daughter on the ground and grabbed the longsword. When he stood up again, Nadja hadn’t moved. She didn’t even look at the tip of the sword pointed at her.
‘If you are responsible for that, Apollo? Then you will have to face the consequences.’
‘I’ve had enough!’ Apollo snarled. ‘I have the queen’s pardon. I’ve lived my life free for five years, and whatever is happening in Tassar is not my fault!’
Nadja sighed, almost sadly, and drew her own longsword. The blade gleamed silver; light steel with an edge sharp enough to cut clean through a body.
Apollo didn’t need any help remembering that. He pushed it out of his mind and raised his sword. It was old, with one part of the blade chipped, but it was made of good steel. ‘Nadja. I’m asking you to leave. We don’t need to spill blood.’
‘I’m not a common soldier who loves to fight. I’ve never relished drawing blood. I would also prefer it if we didn’t. But, if I must, I will.’
Apollo flicked the tip of the sword towards the door. ‘Then leave. No harm done. And I’ll sit here, serve my patrons, live my life, and do the same thing the next time an Inquisitor comes snooping around.’
‘I can’t do that. I told you. I’ve been sent to bring you to Eastbrook. You’ve answered my questions, but it’s Queen Surayo who wants answers.’ Nadja crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat.
‘Stay there, Ren!’ Apollo stepped away from the bar, unwilling to be trapped there.
His daughter wailed, tears already dripping down her cheeks, her arms outstretched for comfort.
‘Last warning, Nadja. Get out!’
‘You don’t want to add harming an Inquisitor to your crimes, Apollo.’
He raised his sword. He wasn’t going back. There was no chance he’d allow himself to.
The tavern door banged on the wall, it was thrown open with so much force, and Apollo looked past Nadja to see Malora standing in the doorway. She dropped the boxes of butcher’s meat, her face stricken. ‘Apollo!’
‘Mama!’ Renys raced out of the bar, leaping over Apollo’s leg before he could snatch her up.
Renys was as slippery as a fish when she wanted to be, able to worm her way out of practically any hold. But she was upset, frightened, and confused.
And Nadja was faster. Quick as a flash, she scooped up the girl and rested her on her hip.
‘No! Scary lady! Let go! No! NO!’ Renys was furious, screaming at the top of her lungs.
‘Let go of my daughter!’ Malora had no weapon, but she strode across the tavern floor towards the Inquisitor.
‘I’m not going to hurt her. And I wish it hadn’t come to this. Malora Tamlin, I presume? I’m arresting your husband for high treason.’
‘Treason? What are you talking about?’
In Nadja’s arms, Renys continued to scream and thrash wildly.
‘Put her down this second!’ Apollo levelled his sword at Nadja. He couldn’t slash at the Inquisitor without risking Renys, but he was certain he could drive the blade through the Inquisitor’s throat. They could always move again. Find another port town. Maybe even cross the Lasseen Ocean into Olmir, where Queen Surayo’s power couldn’t reach them.
He’d always wanted to see the desert. Renys would be fascinated by the griffins there, too. And she’d probably love the warmer weather. Malora, being Bragalian—technically half-Olmese—would be more at home there than she’d ever been in Foxmouth.
Tightening his grip, he bent his knee, ready to thrust.
‘For his failure to destroy the Citrine Key, therefore opening a path for the Myr to return,’ Nadja said, still speaking to Malora.
His wife’s mouth dropped open. That action made Apollo pause.
‘It appears the Myr are back. The Citrine Key was one of their most powerful artefacts. If Apollo did not destroy it properly, then we are on the cusp of war. That is high treason.’
‘Apollo…’ Malora’s anger was abruptly swept away.
Seeing her so afraid killed Apollo’s resolve. He lowered his sword as he tried to think. ‘Nadja. I told you, I got rid of the key. Surayo’s curse is gone. I’m alive. Isn’t that proof enough?’
‘I’m not convinced. And if you’ve nothing to hide, then you’ve nothing to fear, either.’ Nadja sheathed her own sword one-handed, then produced an iron fetter from her belt.
Apollo’s chest tightened. His next breath wheezed, as if his lungs had forgotten how to work. ‘But you can’t! I did what was asked! Malora…Renys…’
Nadja handed the screaming child to Malora, who took her numbly.
He couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. ‘You’re making a mistake.’
‘That’s possible. And if it is, I’m sure Queen Surayo will adequately compensate your family for any losses while you are away. If the cause is something else, you will be free to go.’ She threw the fetter at him, which twisted and moved in the air of its own accord.
Apollo had seen it before—a practically failsafe way of trapping petty thieves. Toriaken’s soul was in every piece of iron. Much like the Inquisitor’s daggers, it was another tool in their arsenal.
Running only made it worse—he’d seen people break legs and shatter ankles if they tried to escape the bite of the dragon’s iron—so he didn’t move. Head hung, he watched as the grey snaked around his ankles, locking them together with a dull click.
‘Mal.’ His voice was a whisper. ‘I’m…I’m sorry.’
19
The Poison
Fenn
In the wake of the spirit, Alnothen, Fenn’s emotions were all over the place. He bounced between shock and awe at seeing such an enormous dragon—it put Hassen to shame—and the accusation she had made about Varlot.
After the man had shouted at Selys that morning, Fenn knew the former general had a bit of a temper, but Varlot had also helped him. The first person to do so, willingly. Even Jisyel and Calidra had only helped him out of obligation, and Selys was doing so to help her own spirit.
But Fenn couldn’t believe what Alnothen had said.
A child murderer?
Varlot was a strong man and a powerful fighter. But surely he hadn’t crossed that line? He was a good person, wasn’t he?
Fenn didn’t know what to think. He knew what it was like to be regarded with suspicion. Even Jisyel, who was the warmest, most positive member of their entire group, hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after Selys had announced he’d been Myr-touched. He’d not technically done anything wrong, and although she’d eventually pushed her fear to one side, it had taken her a while to come around.
He couldn’t so easily forget the way she’d looked at him. The accusation and fear in her eyes.
It was much the same look Varlot was receiving from Calidra right then.
Had Varlot been the same as him? Not technically done anything wrong—or certainly hadn’t any control over what had happened—and that’s why the spirit hated him? Maybe it was a misunderstanding. An accident, perhaps, not something Varlot had done on purpose.
He didn’t have all the facts, so he couldn’t judge. It would be wrong to even try.
‘Let’s keep going,’ Selys said, ‘there’s a long way to go before we can rest.’
Fenn could see she was eager to be off again, picking her way through the foliage, using her glaive to delicately push aside thicker vegetation. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to engage with Varlot for a second time that day.
He hurried to keep pace with her, hoping Calidra would let the matter drop. He didn’t spare her a look, keen to avoid yet another confrontation in the middle of the wilderness.
‘The path here is overgrown and difficult to see. Watch your step, Fenn.’ Selys indicated with the tip of her glaive at a growth of purple, thorny roots that criss-crossed the leaflitter. ‘That is tanglethorn. Native to this forest. You do not want to get stung.’
Fenn immediately wondered what would happen if he did, almost reached out to touch it out of blind curiosity, but caught himself. But the warning had been clear enough in Selys’s voice, so he kept his mouth shut and his hands in his pockets.
‘Wait, Selys! I’m not going anywhere until you’ve explained yourself.’ Calidra pointed her finger at Varlot. ‘Child murderer? Really? Is that why you left the Porsenthian army? Or were you forced to leave when they found out what you’d done?’
‘Calidra…’ The last thing Fenn wanted was another argument. He’d been on edge in Fellwood earlier, and was only just recovering from the high emotions. He didn’t deny there needed to be a conversation, possibly even an explanation, to clear the air. But now wasn’t the best time.
‘You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’ Varlot didn’t bother looking at Calidra. He followed in Selys’s steps, his head down, gaze fixed on the ground.
‘No? Then why don’t you enlighten us!’ Her hand rested on the hilt of her dagger.
Varlot whirled around, rage in his eyes. ‘That’s amusing coming from you! A woman who didn’t even cry at her own father’s funeral!’
Fenn saw the tremble in Calidra’s lip, saw the stab of hurt in her eyes. She recovered quickly, as he knew she would.
‘This isn’t about my dysfunctional family. Look at you! A former general, one of the most decorated men in the world, and you’re washed up! Nothing but a gambling alcoholic, now! And a murderer, to boot? Why else would the spirit of this forest tell you that you aren’t welcome?’
It was a low blow, one equally as hurtful, and Fenn couldn’t take it any more. ‘All right, all right! Stop shouting! You’re not making this any better. Both of you back off!’
‘Alnothen is unhappy at your presence, Varlot. Let’s not give her any more reason to be angered by us. We need to keep going,’ Selys said.
Varlot lifted his face to the canopy above, eyes closed.
For a moment, Fenn thought Varlot wouldn’t react at all, but after a long moment, he sighed. ‘I told you about what I saw, didn’t I? At the Battle of Marlrush?’
‘The men you killed there? Yes. I remember.’ Calidra folded her arms, her eyes narrowed.
‘Many people died there. And in other battles. Not just soldiers, not just the Myr, but families and children, too. Alnothen abhors any who take life. It goes against everything that spirit stands for. It’s no surprise I’m unwelcome here.’
‘What a crock of hogshit.’
‘It’s okay, Varlot. I’m sure you had to do a lot of awful things. That’s what war is,’ Jisyel said softly, ever the voice of reason. ‘Cal, come on. Is this really the best time?’
Calidra rolled her eyes, but didn’t object.
Fenn had worked so hard to get Varlot to stay, to see that he was liked and wanted, and he didn’t want Calidra to drive him away through her distrust. As much as she hated her mother, he thought they acted very similarly. ‘Alnothen let us pass. She might not like Varlot, but we can keep going. Selys said there’s a long way to go, so why don’t we put our energy into getting there, instead of shouting at each other?’
‘You want to travel with this man, Fenn? After what he’s done?’ Calidra scowled.
‘I don’t even know what I’ve done. He hasn’t hurt me. Only helped. And it was the same with you, wasn’t it?’ Fenn said, certain he was doing the right thing. ‘I’m not going to judge until I know all the facts. And I’m not going to find out anything if we stand in this forest shouting at each other!’ After how he’d been treated before, he didn’t want to make anyone else feel as unwanted as he had been made to feel. ‘You were fine with him an hour ago. He’s the same person now as he was then.’
Calidra bristled, but she let go of her dagger, leaving it sheathed in her belt.
Jisyel rested her hand on Calidra’s arm and whispered something in her ear that Fenn couldn’t hear. Whatever she said, it made Calidra relax.
Fenn gave Jisyel a smile, hoping she would understand his gratitude from it, then hurried over to where Selys waited. ‘Let’s go.’
The mood had become subdued, and Fenn was keen to get rid of the rising tension. Quite how he’d do that, he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to do something. Most of them were here because of him. Even Calidra and Jisyel could have chosen another route to go up north.
He was considering what to say when Jisyel collapsed.
‘Jisyel!’ Calidra cried, sinking to the ground to haul the other woman back to her feet. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know?’ Jisyel gazed around, puzzled. The colour had drained from her face, and she was pale enough to begin with that it made her look ill. Her eyes drifted in and out of focus. ‘Cal…?’ Absently, she waved a hand in front of her face, half-reaching towards Calidra.
‘Jisyel? What’s wrong?’ Calidra kept Jisyel at arm’s length as she looked the other woman up and down, her frown deepening.
‘Jisyel?’ Fenn made his way over to the pair, wondering what had happened. Jisyel had been fine a minute ago.
Again, she waved haphazardly, her eyes not quite focussing on him as he approached. Jisyel leaned on Calidra, tried to take another step, then staggered. She let out a groan, more of surprise than pain, given her curse, and Calidra kept her from falling to the ground.
‘Come on, woma
n. Pull yourself together!’ Calidra looped Jisyel’s arm around herself and led them along the forest path towards Selys and Varlot.
As they passed him, Fenn noticed the bottom of Jisyel’s trousers were shredded. Blood trickled down the back of her calf. ‘Wait!’
Everyone came to an abrupt halt.
He pointed at the jungle of thorns Calidra and Jisyel had just walked through. Selys had warned him about it not long before. A mass of foliage with wide, dark leaves and purple thorns that protruded along the length of every stem and branch. ‘Is that…is that tanglethorn?’
‘Spirits take me, I hope not!’ Calidra passed Jisyel to Selys, then hurried back to where Fenn pointed. ‘Those thorns are three inches long! How did you not see them? There’s nothing wrong with your eyes!’
Jisyel giggled, unsteady on her feet. She leaned heavily on the priestess. Her face had turned pallid. ‘Selys? You look so upset?’
The priestess pulled back from Jisyel’s face. ‘I’m fine, Jisyel. Looks like you’ve been poisoned.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be cursed soon, too…’ Jisyel trailed off, evidently confused.
Fenn wondered what the poison would do Jisyel. He doubted it would be pleasant. Already, her foot was beginning to swell up, her clothes stretching around her bloated calf.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Calidra stalked up the path, rifling through her bag of belongings as she did so. ‘I can make some more glinoc paste—’
‘It won’t be effective against tanglethorn. We need to get to Spindleford. There’ll be an apothecary and we can get a proper antidote there.’ Selys shifted Jisyel’s weight, struggling a little with the limp woman. ‘She’ll have a couple of hours before the vomiting starts. Less time if she gets excited.’
‘Here. Let me help.’ Varlot stepped towards Selys and Jisyel.
Fenn was quite certain Calidra’s eye twitched, but she didn’t say anything. How could she? Jisyel had been hurt, and Varlot was easily the strongest of their group. It would be petty to argue when Jisyel’s safety was on the line.