book title

The towers of Caermund stood dark against the pink of the dawn sky. Elodi slowed Sea Mist to a trot. She patted his steaming neck, pleased he had matched the pace of the First Horse finest beasts. They had completed the long journey in under four days and deserved a well-earned rest. An outrider had met them the previous evening with the latest news on the ship. Mund’s knights had tracked the wayward vessel as it continued to meander up and down the coast. But it had anchored off Caermund the night before and had not moved since. The crew had made no attempt to make landfall, convincing Elodi the ship’s purpose was to bring the plague south. They could not succeed if the knights put them to the sword the moment they landed. A secluded inlet to put a small boat ashore would suit their purpose — two or three carriers would be sufficient to spread both fear and the plague.

The sound of the waves breaking on the sea cliffs, reminded Elodi of her room in Calerdorn. She stood in her stirrups as the horses approached the land’s edge. There were few places to put even a small boat safely ashore outside of the ports of Mund. Thankfully, it appeared the knights’ presence had prevented a landing, but why had the ship come so far south when the estuaries of Amman and Emryst offered easier access? She imagined the poor souls clinging to life onboard, infected with some foul disease brought on by the dark arts of the Ul-dalak. But one that progressed slow enough for the voyage, so as not to kill them before they had completed their grim mission. And perhaps the crew could be protected by the same art of the apothecaries. Yet, if they could capture one of the crew alive, the healers could determine the concoction and make an antidote.

Elodi brought the First Horse to a halt. She dismounted and stood at the edge of the cliff. She let her farsight take her out to sea beyond Caermund, but all she saw was the white horses racing to the shore atop of the waves driven on by the breeze.

A horse approached. ‘Lady Harlyn!’ A rider pointed out to sea. ‘The ship sailed south in the early hours. We have reports it’s dropped anchor off Frescove.’

‘That lies at least ten leagues from here.’ Elodi nodded to the sweating horses. ‘We shall let them rest here for the morning, then head south. Have you anything more to report on the vessel?’

‘Nothing I’m afraid. At your request, we sent out boats but dare not get within shouting range and risk infection. But that means we can’t get close enough to see who sails her. We could get a craft of archers within range, but we don’t want to set fire to the ship and sink the poor blighters if we’re wrong.’

‘I understand your dilemma.’ Elodi looked out to sea. ‘Perhaps I can help you. I shall ride south and see if I can solve this riddle from the shore.’

The ship remained anchored half a league off the small fishing port of Frescove. The locals had told Elodi of an inlet to the south favored by smugglers. And now she stood on the low cliffs overlooking the cove, Elodi was certain this was the spot they would come ashore. The captain of the town’s reserve pointed to his archers on the opposite side of the inlet. ‘I reckon we’d get several rounds off before they could get out of the boat, ma’am.’

‘Thank you, that is reassuring.’ Elodi took a few paces closer to the edge. ‘Now please, Captain. Could you give me a few moments alone?’ The captain nodded and withdrew. She turned to the sea. The ship lay close to the shore but was barely visible to the naked eye in the dark waters as the evening closed in. She did not need her farsight to determine the state of the passengers on the ship; she could sense the anguish from where she stood. But Elodi had to know for certain if they carried disease. Her vision blurred as she skimmed across the calm sea. Her body swayed as she slowed and her farsight arrived at the ship. The vessel was indeed poorly made, and compared to the ancient Celestra, looked barely seaworthy even to Elodi’s untrained eye. She gasped. The deck was strewn with bodies. Some moved, but Elodi could see they were sick, starved and close to death. These were innocent folk, undeserving of the dire predicament imposed upon them. Could they be treated? A cloaked figure stumbled across the stricken souls on the deck. Their bent frame clambered over the taffrail and took a seat on a small craft lashed to the side. The occupant struggled with the ropes but managed to lower the boat to the sea. Elodi could not see the rower’s face, but it was obvious they were very weak and anxious of making even the shortest journey across the water.

Elodi stepped back and let her eyes adjust. The captain stood close by. She pointed. ‘One is coming ashore. A man I believe, but very frail.’ The boat moved slowly towards them as the rower labored to maintain a straight line in the current.

The captain cleared his throat. ‘Shall I instruct my archers to let loose a warning, ma’am?’

‘No wait.’ She held out her hand. ‘May I borrow your lantern?’

He nodded. ‘Certainly, ma’am. But you can’t be thinking of going to greet him?’

‘That I am. If they intended to spread a plague, I would have thought more would come. And surely, they can see our lights. If it were my wish to infect the realm, I would have waited until the dead of night. I shall go and meet him but maintain a safe distance. You wait with your archers, Captain. I’ll wave my lantern should I wish you to… intervene.’

Elodi made her way down the rocky path to the pebble beach. She walked out to the shore as the boat grounded. The man climbed out, staggered, then fell into the water. Elodi’s heart went out to him, but she stopped herself from going to his aid. He recovered his footing and took hold of the rope. But the task of pulling the craft onto the beach proved too much. He gave up and dropped the rope. Elodi waited with her hand on her sword. Yet she doubted the poor soul could take many more steps as he slipped and stumbled on the wet stones.

Elodi called out. ‘Stop right there. Please do not take another step.’ The man straightened as best he could, but his wet cloak looked too bulky for his thin body to support. She shuffled a little closer and held out her lamp. ‘You have landed in Mund, Ward of Farrand. I am Lady Harlyn, leader of the Armies of the Five Realms.’ As she said the words, they sounded hollow, perhaps insignificant for the situation.

The man lifted his head and coughed, bending double as pain wracked his feeble frame. Elodi took a breath. ‘State your purpose. Twelve archers have you in their aim. State your purpose or return to your ship and leave these shores never to return.’

He coughed once more. Then stood and lifted his hood. He squinted and croaked. ‘Elodi? Is that you?’

She stared and took another step. Damp, gray hair clung to his head. The light from her lantern reached his face. He was painfully thin. His eye sockets were so deep she could barely make out his eyes. But she knew him. ‘Bardon?’

The man nodded and sagged to his knees. His arms hung limp at his sides as all his strength deserted him. He sobbed. Elodi rushed to him as he fell into her arms. Tears streamed down her face. ‘You survived! You’ve come back.’ But Bardon could not answer. He slumped against her, weighing little more than a child. Elodi gaped at his gaunt face. He appeared to have aged twenty years since the moment she had bade him farewell at the Menon Gate. Back then he had stood strong and tall, looking the right man to command the Elites. Yet now, he lay in her arms looking like a sick child wearing his father’s robe.