The Spear Of Irinden: Three Crowns, #3

By David Heyman

The risk of dying from a goldfish attack is low, but it isn't zero.

The sole survivor of a hunt gone horribly wrong, Yeveka is forced to ally with Maran. While potentially a deranged mystic, he claims to have knowledge of a weapon lost to history - her first glimmer of hope for getting the revenge she so desperately desires.
After setting off on a wild journey through space and time, she is left with a few pressing questions; Has Maran eaten one too many 'special' mushrooms? Does the spear really exist? Will the magical homicidal goldfish finish what it started?
The magic and mayhem continues in book 3 of the Three Crowns!

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Heyman
• Release date: Mar 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201984052

David Heyman

David Heyman David Heyman is a writer based in Shizuoka, Japan. Originally from London, he moved to Japan to teach English after living in Wales for fifteen years. When not educating others about the glorious (read as confusing) English language he finds time to write. While in Japan he met his wonderful and supportive wife and now spends most of his free time with her either gardening or generally being geeky together. For more information about future books from Synthetic Minds Press, author interviews and exclusive short stories, you can sign up to our monthly mailing list at https://www.getrevue.co/profile/minds_press

Book preview

Chapter 1 - A Golden Beast

Five strangers huddled around the open fire within the ramshackle tavern; each was a grizzled survivor of various trials and clad in the furs of their kills. Mostly they just wanted to keep themselves warm during this unusually bitter erdoris. Despite the holes in the roof, the Old Crone was the most hospitable place in the village. They were also keen to get a little closer to the sixth member of their group, who had promised a tale beyond their imagination. They had been friendly, though dismissive, of her claims at first, but on seeing her missing arm, severed at the elbow, their curiosity got the better of them and she began to spin her tale.

This would be the last time I saw my kin alive and I do not tell you this story lightly, but it must be told where I can. Her voice was deep, with a pleasant melodic quality to it. She glanced at the small audience to make sure she had their attention before continuing.

It was the last hunt of the season, and we were all hoping for something big to tide us over the cold after-passes coming. All in all, it had been a pretty good season, and our lodge hall was filled with meat and fish as proof of it. Six of us went out that pass, determined to get a prize that would draw the Laider’s eye and the jealousy of the other packs.

Were you chasing gellen? one of the men asked as she paused again.

She said she wanted a prize, ya daft sod. Who’d be after one of them? I’d wager it was a mellox. Those buggers can put up quite a fight if you don’t take them down fast, said another, jovially slapping a massive hand on the back of the first who had spoken.

Yeveka waited for them to finish their bickering before she continued, her left arm resting on her fur-clad knee. They soon saw her eagerness to continue and fell back into silence.

It’s true, a mellox would have been a good catch, but our lodge had already seen two brought back, and we thought we could do one better. Tell me, have you heard of the sarradon?

The men glanced across at each other, seeing if any among them knew of what she spoke. When it became clear that they did not, she described the beast.

It’s a rare thing indeed to see one since they live under the frozen lakes of Boltash, ten passes ride to the weir of here. Long powerful bodies, with a mouth full of teeth sharp enough to punch through the ice and drag its prey back down into the icy deep. There’s enough flesh on one of those to feed everyone here for a demi-cycle or more. That’s what we were after. We came across something else.

She paused again, reaching down for her cup, still half full of warm brown ale. After drinking deeply, nearly finishing it off, she called out to the barman for another. The stocky man, whose face was mostly hidden by his beard, nodded before turning away to pour the fresh drink.

Boltash isn’t too far from my lodge, two passes on foot at most, and we made good time since the snow had recently settled. On the way, we shot a couple of woodeyes and had them for dinner, but aside from those small birds, the forest was strangely quiet, even given the season. That should have been our first warning, but we continued on anyway. We were not the only hunting lodge around there and had others travelled through before us, we figured they might have scared off the larger beasts.

Her fresh drink was brought over, and the old one given away after she finished off the last dregs and handed a couple of coins to the barman. Smoke rose up from it and she breathed it in deeply, relishing its warmth.

It was late in the pass when we arrived, the sun was behind us and the frozen lake took on a red hue from the fading light. It was quite beautiful, truth be told. Absolutely useless for us to hunt on though, so we made camp and waited out the after-pass. We already imagined the glory we would reap from this kill, boasting about which of us would make the final blow. It must have been an avum into sunup when we first heard the sounds of the ice breaking. It was a slow sound, creeping ever closer as the thick layers were gently pushed apart by the force of whatever it was that was coming towards us.

She glanced around at her small audience again, making eye contact with each man for a moment. She noted with some satisfaction that they were all leaning in a little bit closer to hear her story now, their drinks apparently forgotten by the fire.

Garvak, my lodge brother, was on watch at that avum, and he called out to us. It was the only time I had ever heard panic in his voice. We rushed out of our tents, weapons in hand, to see what had startled our brother. Yet, out on the ice there was nothing to be seen. Then it dawned on us; Garvak was also missing. It had taken us only a handful of avarium to get ready, so even if he had been running somewhere we should have been able to see him. Then Turuva glanced down and found a path. Garvak had been standing where we were now, his boot prints still visible in the snow. Yet, just further out, small indentations marked the surface and led from where we stood back out to the lake. The marks were too small to be Gavak’s prints, and there was no sign at all that there had been a struggle. However, these were the only clues we had, so we followed the markings down to the lake. There were five of us now, and Turuva took the lead, using the butt of her spear to test out the way as she went. It wasn’t long before we all heard the telltale thud as we reached the ice, still hidden under the snow. Three or four steps away, the trail stopped dead. There was still no sign of Garvak or whatever had taken him, and we were left standing over the lake.

She took another gulp of her ale and poured a little out onto the dirt floor. It drew the attention of the others to their own beverages, and they did the same.

We formed a loose circle and started to test out the ground around us, slowly moving away from the path. Mennor soon shouted that he had found the cracks in the ice, and by the time I had looked around to acknowledge him, he too was gone. There had been no noise, no warning. Where I knew my brother had stood, there was simply nothing.

Yeveka drank and poured out another finger's worth of ale to her fallen brother. Dutifully, the others followed suit.

Even in our state of despair, we had enough sense to approach slowly, spears down and ready. It would not catch any more of us unaware. Turuva and Herrika were to my left, while Karron was on my right as we approached where Mennor had stood. There was a hole there now, barely big enough for me to have fit this tankard into. Herrika dipped her spear tip into the water, though what she hoped to find that way, I will never know. She tried to pull her spear back, yet found it stuck fast in the water. She pulled on it once more before something pulled back, dragging her down to the ice and over the hole.

Yeveka had to stop for a moment to gather her thoughts and rein in the building fury. Her hand was shaking a little, and she clenched it into a fist.

Then we saw it. A small golden fish. Perhaps as long as the end of your spear. She gestured towards the man in the middle, his hunting spear bound to his back. The others looked over at him for reference, and then all eyes were back on Yeveka. It burst through Herrika’s body where she had fallen over the hole and as it descended, I swear to you, I saw its mouth open and swallow her whole before smoothly dropping back into the water. In the blink of an eye, they were both gone.

Another finger of ale was poured out by all. Some of the men called for fresh drinks, and Yeveka waited for silence to return before continuing.

That was when our nerves broke. The three of us began to run back to the tents, our feet barely holding us up as we skated across the ice. Ahead of us, the ice cracked and another hole opened up. We tried to move around it, but it was difficult to stop at such speeds. Karron was the next of us to fall, unable to move away from the new hole. As he skidded over the opening, the fish emerged. The creature devoured my brother from the legs up, with its mouth opened impossibly wide.

More warm ale splashed over the cool ground.

Turuva and I made it to the false bank, and with our feet supported by the snow, we were able to move more surely now. We didn’t stop running until we had reached the tents. I am not ashamed to say that my sister and I howled out our anger and despair into the wind. Distracted with our grief, it had not come to mind that while the thing that slaughtered us now was a fish, something had first dragged our brother down to the lake. Then we heard it. A crunching noise as something moved over the snow. Looking behind us, to our horror, we saw the fish jumping over the snow. Each time it landed a little closer to us, then used its tail to launch itself forwards. My sister shouted such obscenities at it that I would be embarrassed to repeat them, but, spear in hand, she approached it, likely presuming that a fish out of water would be harmless. As she threw her spear, the fish leapt towards her, mouth opened impossibly wide as it swallowed the weapon whole. I reached out to try and pull my sister away but was too slow. The little golden fish took both her and my arm as it flew by me, landing in the snow a spear’s length away. I screamed out in shock, and then in surprise when I found that there was no pain. Before the fish could leap again, I ran. How long I ran for that pass I could not tell you, but I ran until the last of my strength left me, and I collapsed into the snow of the forest floor.

Yeveka poured out the remains of her second drink in honour of her fallen sister and called for another.

When I woke, I was lying on some furs near a fire. I later learned that two strangers had come across me and had set up camp to tend to my wounds. The first thing I did was to look down at my arm. Sure enough, it was as you see it this pass, and the proof I hold of my tale’s truth, bar the unjust demise of my lodge kin.

How did you not bleed out after losing your arm like that? the man to her right asked.

A fair question, and one I asked of those who found me. They had treated me for the early signs of freezing sickness where my skin had been resting on the snow, but they hadn’t done anything to my arm beyond that. Whatever that thing was, I think it sealed the wound with its bite. That’s why there was no blood staining the ice on the lake.

There was a general muttering from the men as they weighed up her answer. Yeveka was used to such a response, as this was by no means the first time she had told this story, and sipped from her fresh drink while she waited for them to finish their deliberations.

One of the shorter men, sitting between the two others on her left, spoke up. What do you think it was? That such a small fish could eat a person whole seems, well, like a sick joke, to be honest.

Yeveka deliberately made eye contact and held it with him until he looked away. There was always at least one who doubted her, and truthfully she couldn’t blame them for their doubt. She would too, had she not lived through the experience herself.

I swear to you, by Erdas and Obas, that thing could only be a devil. Nothing born of Innar could do what it did, and in all my travels, I have never met another who has heard of its likeness.

This is why you left your lodge behind? asked a man to her right.

In part, yes. Despite the wound it gave me and knowing what I will have to face again, I still seek a way to destroy it.

The group around the fire fell silent, some contemplating her words while others drank. While she hoped that they believed her, all she really needed from them were legends from their own lodges and to give honour to her fallen kin. Any hint of a tale that might give her a way to return to Boltash and destroy the beast would be welcome news. She would chase the old legends to the ends of Innar if she had to, though hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Well, if it’s as vicious as you say it is, good luck to you, one of the taller men finally said. The others chimed in with their own well wishes but offered nothing in actual information.

After thanking them for listening to her tale, she stood and made her preparations to leave, gathering her hunting spear and sizable black leather pack, swinging the whole thing onto her back with practiced ease. She didn’t have the money to stay in the tavern and preferred to sleep outside anyway. Bidding the innkeeper farewell as she opened the creaking wooden door, she stepped out into the chill air of the after-pass. As she left, a hand came down on her shoulder and her reactions instantly kicked in. After dropping the spear, her good arm came up, holding on to her attacker as she rolled him over her shoulder and threw him to the ground in front of her. When he was down, she drew her knife, ready for his next move.

The man wheezed as he struggled to get his breath back and held his arms up in a gesture of surrender. Cautiously, she returned her knife to its sheath on her belt and stepped back from him.

Sorry to startle you. He breathed in deeply before speaking again. Didn’t know your name but wanted to get your attention.

What do you want of me? she asked, still keeping her distance from the prone man and ready to act again if he tried anything she didn’t like the look of.

He sat up in the snow, brushing the white powder off his arms. I couldn’t help but overhear your story. Think I might know someone who would want to talk to you about it.

And why would that be?

Some would say they are as crazy as you sound, with your tiny murderous fish.

The change in Yeveka’s expression was enough to make him quickly add, Not me, of course. He sometimes comes around here and tells stories like your own. Perhaps he knows of something you can use?

Though her scowl softened with the news, she was wise enough to not be excited by the possibility. She had spoken to plenty of mystics and other less sound of mind individuals. None had been able to help her.

If you promise not to throw me on the ground again, I can show you where he usually lives.

What do you mean ‘usually’? Yeveka asked.

"Sometimes he wanders off into the woods. No one knows why. He comes back after a few passes at most, though, and then we