The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (29 page)

“’Recon… What?” Gialyn asked.

“I’m going to see what is up there, check it is safe.” Daric smiled at Gialyn, who still had a puzzled look. “Just have a drink and wait here a moment.”

“I will go!” Ealian shouted.

Daric stopped and turned. Ealian was already striding fast from the back. “That isn’t necessary, Ealian. It will not take but a minute or two. You wait here with the others.”

“No really, I don’t mind. I do not do much. Besides, if there were trouble, best you were here to rescue me, rather than sit captured,” he said.

“He’s got a point there!” Grady said.

Daric mused over the thought for a moment. “Right you are, then, Ealian, but run back if you see any sign of trouble.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” Ealian dropped his pack and made for the gully.

“Looks as if he isn
’t useless after all,” Grady said quiet so as not to allow Elspeth to overhear.

“It would seem so.” Daric didn’t like it, not with his suspicions concerning Ealian. It
was
a good place for an ambush.

Grady dropped his pack and untied the two waterskins that
were lashed to the back. “I’m going over there to fill these up. I won’t be a minute.”

Daric nodded without taking his eyes off Ealian, who was just approaching the foot of the gully. “No rush, Grady. We have a few minutes ‘til he gets back.”

Grady left and Olam arrived. He moved to Daric’s shoulder. “Is all well, Daric?”

“Yes, of course, just waiting on Ealian, five minutes, maybe ten.”

Olam leaned to the left and appeared to take in Daric’s expression. “That isn’t what I meant, friend. Is everything well with Ealian?” He looked over his shoulder as he spoke and whispered at the last.

“Why, has something happened?” For the first time, Daric broke his fixed stare on Ealian and looked at Olam directly. The old man—he still didn’t know how
“old” he was, and he certainly didn’t look any older than he did; however, if what he said was true, he was at least one hundred—leaned on his staff, sucking at his top lip. “Olam, has something happened?”

“I think maybe it has,” he said.

“And what does that mean?” Daric stood, hands on hips, his brow creased.

“Daric, I’m certain the boy has
the Black in him. Yet he has done nothing but be polite and helpful these past four days. I would wager he is planning something.”

“Planning something? How? When? He is a child. He knows nobody for fifty leagues in any direction. What could he possibly be planning?” Daric huffed. “Maybe we
’re wrong. Maybe it was a fever, and he is just now coming out of it.”

Olam raised his eyebrows. Daric knew he was betting the moon wouldn’t rise, but he had hoped the boy would be safe, somehow. Hoped even that he wouldn’t have to be the one to deal with the consequences if he wasn
’t. That thought pushed guilt deep into his belly like a pile of river rocks. How could he think such a thing when a child’s life lay in the balance?

“As you say, Olam. It bears watching. Let us just… get onto the plains. At least there is a chance of finding help there.”

Olam bowed. “As you wish, Daric. Eyes open.”

The “old man” turned and stepped back towards Arfael, just in time for Grady to return with his full waterskins.

“Are we set? The boy is waving,” Grady said. He nodded his head towards the gully where Ealian was stood, ten paces from the top, waving them forward.

Daric turned back to the others. “Are we all rested?” Picking up his pack, he waited for the others to load up.

“I’ll carry his,” Arfael said, taking hold of Ealian’s pack.

“I was hoping you
’d say that,” laughed Daric.

*  *  *

Climbing the slope proved harder than Elspeth and the others had expected. Arfael reached back and took her elbow, steadying her. Olam and Grady stayed to the back, Olam using his staff to hold firm against the slope. Daric and Gialyn walked together at the front, occasionally lending one another a hand.

Daric gazed up the slope towards where Ealian stood. The boy seemed casual in his stance. The smile on his face once again triggered Daric’s suspicion. His conversation with Olam didn’t help his misgivings.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a hail of arrows splintered against the ground a few feet in front of him. Ealian ran back to the group, but with little sense of urgency. Daric and Gialyn ducked to the side and pressed themselves against the rock face, underneath where three of the archers stood. At least they wouldn’t have a target. Those on the opposite wall still had a clear view of the two of them. Daric took off his pack and placed it between Gialyn and those archers. Arfael swooped up Elspeth under his arm and pinned her between himself and the rock, a few feet behind Daric and Gialyn. Olam stumbled forward to Arfael and knelt crouching by his side. Grady threw off his pack and bounded to where Gialyn sat cowering. He crouched and placed himself in harm’s way between Gialyn and the arrows.

Panic and, above all, fear flowed through Daric’s mind. The situation appeared hopeless, trapped in a perfect ambush. What would he say to Mairi if anything happened to Gialyn?
Gods, why was there no bloody merchant train?
It was then that he caught site of their attackers, of their clothes, mostly. He took a breath, piecing together events that had led them to this point. He took in a deep sigh and shook his head. His face was a picture of disgust. All thoughts of their attackers emptied from his mind as he realised the truth of it. “You might as well stand up, Ealian,” he shouted.

Ealian looked shocked, but really, if he lay in the throes of any emotion, Daric thought it was probably anger and annoyance—anger his plan was uncovered. Even so, the boy made a good plea to Daric. “What! What are you talking about?”

“You know of what I speak, whoever you are, hiding inside that innocent child. Enough with the theatre. I have suspected you for nigh on a week.”

“Yes, boy! Why don’t you stand up and introduce yourself to us all.” The cry came from farther up the slope. Si’eth had immerged from behind the boulder and taken a few steps towards the travellers. “I would be most interested to know who
exactly
it is that I have made a deal with.”

Shouts of confusion came from Elspeth. “What by the gods are you all talking about?” She attempted to push her way free, apparently mindless of the danger.

“Stay there!” Arfael grunted as he held her head down and covered her back with his thick arm.

“Yes! Stay there, sister.” Ealian stood. He turned his gaze up towards Si’eth. “This was not our arrangement, you fool!”

Si’eth turned to his son Bre’ach. “Did he just call me a fool? Really, does he think me a puppet?” His voice was mocking and loud enough for all to hear.

“What is your order, Father?” Bre’ach asked.

Si’eth replied with a quieter voice. “I’m going to get the scroll. If there be trouble, then put them down, but only if there is trouble. Remember, no matter what happens, take the big one alive. Make sure your men understand that. If we can get the scroll without violence, all the better. I don’t want it damaged.”

Si’eth turned back towards Ealian. “Now, boy, just hand over what you stole from me. Maybe we can resolve this ugliness without bloodshed.”

“What? What did he steal from you?” Elspeth shouted.

“He knows what it is. Come now, boy, my patience grows thin, and I had scarcely any to begin with.” Si’eth paced left and right, his hands behind his back.

Daric fought hard to beat down his anger as he looked at Ealian, trying to remember that it wasn’t the boy’s fault. “Whatever he is talking about, speak of it now and let us end this. We can help you, Ealian. The woodsman may have answers.”

Ealian said nothing, just stood calmly, arms folded and a thin smile on his lips.

Daric wanted to run over and thrash the demon out of the boy, or whatever it was that had possessed him. Instead, he turned back to Si’eth. “What did he take?”

Si’eth stopped pacing. “Oh
, so you were telling the truth, boy, at least about your friends knowing nothing of your
crime
.” He emphasised the last with a growl. “He stole a scroll, Surabhan, about a hand’s span in width, fine parchment, with a wax seal.” He began pacing again. “And if I find the seal broken… Well, let’s just hope it isn’t!”

A glimmer of hope entered Daric’s heart.
Gods, is that all they want?
He turned to Olam. “Check his pack, quickly!”

Olam dragged Ealian’s pack over from the centre of the path where it lay. He wrenched open the top and wasted no time in emptying the contents on the ground. A bowl, mug, and some apples rolled down the slope. The rest lay in a heap. Olam spread the contents about, picking through them and throwing to one side all that was irrelevant. “It is not here!”

“Of course it’s not there,” Ealian said, taking the scroll out from his inner pocket. He held it up for the Salrians to see. The seal was still intact. “See. I told you I wouldn’t read it.” Ealian took it in both hands, as though about to rip it into pieces. “Now, I’m leaving! I will leave the scroll at the bottom of the slope once I’m down and away.”

Si’eth immediately nodded at one of the archers poised on top of the rock face. The archer let fly. The arrow pierced Ealian strongly about the stomach, powerful enough to push him back against the rocks. Elspeth let out a mournful cry. Ealian slumped to his knees and then the ground, releasing his grip on the scroll.

Daric turned to the others. “When it starts, get amongst them.” Daric directed his first comment towards Grady, Olam, and Arfael. He turned to the youngsters. “Get behind that rock and hide.” He pointed up at the rock face to where a large boulder lay wedged against a splintered, dead tree trunk. “If you have to, jump into the waterfall.” He silently reached inside his coat for his blade. “They will come down to fetch that scroll. When they are close, we make our move.”

Gialyn protested, and Elspeth looked ready to spit. “We can’t leave,” she said. “My brother!”

“We have to play this well, Elspeth, or we could all end up dead. That will not help your bother one bit. Now do as I say. If we can draw them off, you can come back for Ealian. That scroll is the key. If I can get it…”

Elspeth nodded yes, but her face said maybe. Daric didn’t blame her in the slightest.

Sure enough, Si’eth and Bre’ach slid and stumbled down the slope towards where Ealian had dropped the scroll. The archers directly above Daric and the others stood down and began to move along the top of the rock face to join their compatriots. They couldn’t get a shot from where they stood; only the two on the western rock face had a shot. Daric was very glad of that much, at least.

Si’eth, Bre’ach, and two of the other Salrians were but ten feet away when Daric gave the signal. Immediately, Grady picked up two rocks and hurled them up at the remaining archers, giving Daric and himself enough time to move. They lunged towards the four Salrians. Daric knocked Bre’ach down to the ground. He slid on his side until he took hold of a small outcrop to steady himself. Grady flew into the two Salrians
from behind, piercing one’s shoulder with his knife. The other he hit square in the face with the hilt of it. The four Salrians at the top of the slope quickly slid down to help. Daric saw them and sprang to the side, letting two of them slide right past him. Arfael took one by the leg and threw him up against the rock—that was the end of his fight. The big man was about to attack the other when three more Salrians jumped from the rock face behind. Two landed square on his back; the third lassoed his left arm, tethering it to a boulder, holding the strain with his legs, both legs. His fellow Salrians grappled with Arfael’s free arm; it took both to render it harmless. Olam hit one across the shoulder, missing his intended target. He became pinned behind a boulder by the two archers that remained on high.

Gialyn and Elspeth followed Daric’s heed and climbed to the top of the face. Behind them, a ten-span drop to the waterfall was followed by a thirty-span plummet into the plunge pool below. Neither particularly wanted to take the leap. Two of the other Salrians made their way across the eastern rock wall and towards the two youngsters. Gialyn threw rocks at them, while Elspeth readied an arrow. She was shaking fiercely
. Her aim was not true. The arrow splintered in the side of a boulder nearly four feet from its target. She fumbled for another arrow but instead picked up the whistle that Toban had given her. A desperate instinct made her blow hard on it, though knowing fully that Illeas’den lay near sixty miles west. She shouted to those below. “Help up here!”

Daric heard her shout and left Grady to deal with Si’eth and the one remaining Salrian. Olam had managed to keep Bre’ach down by throwing rocks. Daric ran, keeping as close to the Salrians as he could. Once at the rock face, he quickly climbed up and ran along its rim. Headless of any danger, he charged into the two Salrians that were attacking Elspeth and Gialyn. So great was the force that both he and the two Salrians fell from the cliff’s edge towards the water below. The Salrians both struck the rocks.

Daric managed to clasp at a thin grip on a ledge under the rock ridge. Slowly, he tried to move left to where Gialyn and Elspeth were. Gialyn hung halfway over the edge, while Elspeth held him by the ankles. Daric reached for a final grasp of Gialyn’s hand. They took a weak hold on each other. Gialyn reached down farther to his father’s shoulder and twisted the leather handle of his knapsack about his wrist.