The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (10 page)

CHAPTER 7

The sun had dipped halfway to the western horizon by the time the travellers reached the border
of Arandor, the midpoint to their first campsite. The last few hours had passed by peacefully, with only the odd moan or mumble about sore shoulders or chaffed ankles. All appeared to be going well. Gialyn was beginning to think his father had worried over nothing—Daric had mentioned an uneasy feeling he’d had over travelling with the Tanners. They were not easy people to get along with, that much was certain, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps the Tanners were more mature than he or his father had thought. However, as with many things, no sooner had he thought about it…

The grumbling and moaning gathered like a winter storm: a sarcastic smile here, an ill-conceived joke there, followed by a childish rebuttal. For twenty minutes, it carried on in that vein. By the time they reached the edge of the
Serath’alor valley, the Tanners were at each other’s throats.

“Will you stop it? For the love of Ein’laig, just be quiet for five minutes… pl
ease!” Elspeth said. It seemed Elspeth’s already limited reserve of patience was at an end.

“But you wouldn’t have won, not if Vin
had spent half the time practicing as you did. I bet if he had even one day’s practice he would have beaten you easily.”

Elspeth’s brother had
been rambling on about that bloody archery contest for the past half hour. Gialyn was convinced the fools argument was more for
his
benefit—Ealian
still
thought he had been cheated out of a victory on the Hill Climb—but the selfish little twolloc couldn’t face Gialyn, not without his cronies around him to urge him on and protect him,
coward,
so poor Elspeth had to take the brunt of Ealian arrogant prattle.

“I will gladly prove it to you, Ealian.
” Elspeth said, staring her brother in the eye. “Why don’t you go walk over there with that half-eaten apple on your head? Let’s say, uh… twenty paces.”

Ealian laughed.
“You couldn’t hit a
moving
target at twenty hands, never mind twenty paces, and certainly not something as small as an apple.”

Elspeth smiled cheekily. “I wasn’t eve
n going to try, Ealian, but I don’t mind pretending, so long as it gets you away from me. Go on!” She waved him away to the side of the track.

Ealian sarcastically waved
his
hand in front of her face. “Twenty hands, Elspeth. I will bet you half a Krùn you can’t hit a bird flying from twenty hands. And I’m not talking about a sparrow. I bet you couldn’t hit a crow!”

Elspeth turned on him with a fierce look. She gave a grunt but said nothing in response. Putting a few feet between them, she carried on walking. Ealian made faces at her back.

“Why do you do that?” Gialyn asked Ealian, while giving him his best sideways glare.

“Do what?” Ealian returned the gesture.

“Play with your sister, upset her. She won the contest fair and square,” Gialyn said. “So maybe she can’t hit a crow on the wing; shooting birds wasn’t part of the competition. And yes, maybe Vin could have won if he’d practiced more, but he didn’t, did he. Your sister did, every day, and
that’s
why
she
won.”

“I don’t see it’s any of your business, Re’adh.” Ealian gave him a resentful stare. He curled his lip and creased his brow, as if asking what right Gialyn had to question
him
. Yes, Ealian was definitely spoiled. The boy just couldn’t see what he was doing was wrong.

Of the two of them, Ealian
was by far the most pretentious—the gods knew Elspeth could be bad enough. Ealian had clothes any nobleman’s son would be proud to own and his own horse! He always had money to throw around, usually at girls. Gialyn was sure that was the reason some girls kept company with him. It always seemed to be the poorer girls; those with money of their own never looked at him twice. Elspeth, on the other hand, appeared not to care for such things. How ever misguided her motives, all she appeared to be interested in was honour and duty. Gialyn had always liked that about her.

“You should stop picking on your—”

“I don’t recall asking for your assistance, Re’adh.” Elspeth interrupted. “I can deal with my brother by myself. Or do you think I’m useless, that I need you to fight my arguments for me?”

Gialyn squirmed. “Ah… well, no I was… I was just—”

“Just, nothing,” Elspeth barked. “If I need your help, Gialyn, I will tell you. In the meantime, I expect you to tend to your own affairs.”

Gialyn could feel his face redden.
It was time for him to make a study of the trees, again.
Gods, why didn’t I listen to my father and keep my nose out of her business?

“Now you’ve done it,” Ealian said, laughing at Gialyn. “She will be like this for days.”

“I have not finished with you yet, broth—”

“ENOUGH!”

Gialyn, Elspeth, and Ealian jumped at the sound of Daric’s shout. Gialyn’s father was standing ten paces in front, feet apart, arms folded, with a disapproving scowl on his face. “You think this a game?” he asked, snarling. “Do you think we are going on a picnic, or to spend the weekend camping by the river?”

Elspeth squared up to him. “We were only—”

“I can see what this game is, Elspeth Tanner. I played it myself… when I was five!” Daric unfolded his arms, put fists on hips, and took a step forward. “At best, this journey is five weeks. If we hit weather, it could take seven. Either way, we are together until midsummer at the earliest. I tell you now,”—he paused and pointed at all in turn—“I will not have this constant childish bickering. It grinds at my teeth and burns at my guts. I will have your word it will stop from this moment on, or by the gods, I will send you back home and be done with you.”

For a second, Gialyn wondered if he meant him, too.
That hardly made it a threat, he wanted to go home.

“We will just take another path,” Elspeth said. She shuffled her feet and raised her chin defiantly, nodding towards the south, towards the Eurmac road.

“There is no ‘other path,’ unless you
want
to go south and take three months reaching Bailryn.” Daric starred at Elspeth, waiting for a response. None came.

Elspeth looked… puzzled.
Even though she didn’t partake of the finer things—clothes, jewellery, fine perfume, and so on—she was still an emissary’s daughter and expected a measure of respect. Gialyn thought it was quite humorous watching her fidget and struggle for words. Truth is, though, they were both spoiled and both held too much regard for their family status. A family status that—to a guardsman like Daric, well used to dealing with royalty—would mean next to nothing.

Daric eyed them both as if he now had the measure of the pair. “The Salrians are all but ten miles north, the south is blocked, the Rukin are six days southeast, and a wrong turn in the marsh will lead to our starvation. You will
not
become baggage for me to carry. You will help, and you will smile while doing so. Now, do I have your word?”

“Yes, sir!” Elspeth gave a sarcastic salute.

Daric sighed but accepted her oath with a nod—for now. Gialyn knew his father would always give folk one chance to prove himself.

“And what say you, Ealian Tann
er,” Daric asked. Ealian shook his head while raising his palms as though wondering what
he
had done to deserve this. Daric walked menacingly towards him. “I will have your answer, boy.”

Ealian raised his hands and took a step backwards. “Yes… uh… sir, yes!”

Gialyn surprised a smile, which quickly turned into a biting his lower lip when his father turned his attentions on him. Daric folded his arms and raised his chin.

“Sorry, Father. I promise.” Gialyn said. He looked down at his boots, and then quickly glanced at Ealian. The emissary’s son looked too annoyed to poke fun at Gialyn’s apology.

It was no good arguing
with Daric. Whether the quarrel was any of Gialyn’s fault or not, his father wouldn’t be lenient just because he was his son. He would have to be twice as careful as the Tanners were.

“Good
,” Daric said. “I do not expect to have this conversation again!” He gave a stern gaze, taking in all three of them.

*
  *  *

Daric kept his eyes on the three, even as he turned and resumed his place next to Grady—who had a smile on his face that wouldn’t settle. Daric’s friend bit his quivering lip and kept his eyes to the front.

“I thought that went well,” Grady said, laughing under his breath. “Did you get the troops in order, or are we in for a court marshal?”

“Don’t you start,
sergeant.
” Daric managed to raise a laugh yet was clearly annoyed. “I thought I would get at least three days before I had to make
that
speech. This is going to be a long couple of months.”

“Yes
, so it would seem,
captain
,” Grady said with a grin.

The two men continued along the path. With order now restored, Daric allowed himself a moment to breathe the fresh country air. It was an easy afternoon, warm but not stifling. The quiet footfalls and effortless breeze soon calmed his churning mind.
A moment’s peace,
he thought as he looked around at the scene. His heart lightened at the sight of it.

The grassland of the eastern Geddy region spread down almost to the southern horizon
—an ocean of green, peppered with splashes of colour provided by the many islands of Quaker Grass and Knapweed. At the far south, the Arandor Break, a creased ridge of rock that sprang up to the heavens, stood veiled in a blue-grey mist. Pulled from the ground by Ein’laig himself—so the locals believed—yet it was neither deep, nor particularly high; however, it was sheer and long and why nobody in the Geddy had a good reason to travel southeast.

North of the track, the patchwork grasslands of the Baralan Heath made up the full measure of land between the eastern road and the northland borders of An’aird Barath. The border ran along the base of the Speerlag Cliff—some eight miles to the north. The heath continued eastwards for the full sixty miles to the marshes of
Am’bieth. The Baralan heath was of little use to anyone—bar the occasional grazing goat—a sparse patch of land, too hard to farm and too rough for cattle.

In front of them lay the road—or rather the track—they would be following for the next three or four days. Sometimes it was the width of a cart, sometimes all but invisible. Its pitch undulated like a calm tide, occasionally rising slightly yet just as likely to fall. Overall, it was quite unremarkable. The track eventually settled in a circle and came around south back to Beugeddy once it hit the marsh—but that was still days ahead. Right now, Daric was content to stay in the moment and enjoy the peaceful sunny evening.

Of course, no sooner had he settled down to the peace…

“So why do you think they wanted to join us?” Grady asked.

“Sorry, err… what? Who?” Daric was away, daydreaming. “Ah, you mean the big man and his friend. They seem genuine enough to me, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Daric. I’m not so sure about them. True, they helped back there, but”—Grady scratched at his ear and creased his lip—“if I’m to travel with strangers, I would at least like to know
what
they are. He is no Surabhan.”

“That is the soldier in you, Grady. I choose to take him at his word, until otherwise proven wrong.” Daric squinted along the track to where the strangers were. “But I see your point
. They are a long way ahead.”

“Maybe they are sick of the children, too!”

“Then we would be in agreement over that much at least.” Daric shuffled his pack and took out his waterskin. “It may be just as he said, better to travel together.”

“Yes, but a stranger is one thing. That…
Arfael
is something else altogether.” Grady shook his head. He appeared unable to reconcile himself with such a mysterious creature.

Daric took the waterskin from his lips. “There is little of great wonder in Ealdihain, nor much more in the way of mystery in Bailryn, or the rest of Aleras for that matter. But
beyond
that, the Eastern Isles, Eiras, and Toi’ildrieg”—he counted off some of the strange places he knew on his fingers—“or the Northeastern Straits, who knows what may be out there? They say there is a ‘whole new world’ beyond the Culamar. We should not strike him as different. He may well be quite normal in some parts.” Daric took another sip of water. “If the truth be known, Grady, we know little enough of our own neighbours, beyond occasionally fighting with them. Nobody I know has travelled to Barath or north of the Speerlag or even beyond Monacdaire for that matter, to say nothing of the Eurmac Canyon.”

“You’re probably right,” Grady said. “Still, I will be sleeping with one eye open until they
earn
my trust.”

“That may well turn out to be a wise precaution,” Daric said. “Though, of the two, I’m more cautious of the other. Yes, the
big man
bothers me, but the other… He has a way with him, a mind that strikes a little too clear for my liking, a little too confident. It seems he is in control of… uh… I do not know. Most disturbing of all, I like him, which is never a good sign.”