A War
A Curse
A Deadly Mystery
Prince Eldred returns from the North plagued by the Noise, a distorted manifestation of the Bond filled with both great power and mortal danger, only to find his people preparing for war against ruthless invaders. As he seeks to prove his worth and fulfill his ambitions, he must restore the frayed bonds with his mercurial father. And always, he must walk a treacherous path where one step too many can turn the strongest ally into the most bloodthirsty foe. The kingdom, his honor and his life all hang in the balance.
A War
A Curse
A Deadly Mystery
Prince Eldred returns from the North plagued by the Noise, a distorted manifestation of the Bond filled with both great power and mortal danger, only to find his people preparing for war against ruthless invaders. As he seeks to prove his worth and fulfill his ambitions, he must restore the frayed bonds with his mercurial father. And always, he must walk a treacherous path where one step too many can turn the strongest ally into the most bloodthirsty foe. The kingdom, his honor and his life all hang in the balance.
Gray clouds pushed by overhead, dropping occasional bouts of rain as Eldred spied down on the castle and the adjacent city of Boarâs Tusk from where he sat on a nearby hill. He frowned as his fatherâs stronghold briefly disappeared behind a veil of mist. The castle was the nearest thing he had left to a home. He would have liked to join his parents down in the keep, he thought as he wiped a spatter of raindrops off his foreheadânice to be warm, nice to be fed. But he knew if he wandered down to the gate, the guards would kill him. It was a certainty. Not for cause, not from maliceâthey just couldnât help themselves.
The incident at Buxton had made it all clear. The town was the first civilized place he had visited upon returning from the north from the ill-fated expedition to kill the Dragon of Turicum. Oh, the dragon had died along with everyone but Eldred, Lord Kenelm and the vile Lord Ferris. But though he had lived, he had changed. He had taken physical damageâhis right cheek was plastered with pallid dead-looking skin, his left hand scarred and ugly. He hated this, but his other problem was of greater concern and greater danger. He had sought the Bond, the mystical link between the invincible Deiran warriors. He had only found the noise, noise which Lord Kenelm had told him had grown more irritating each day they had traveled south through the Eryx mountains.
In Buxton, he learned just how insufferable the noise had become for his fellow citizens. The Deiran warriors in the town had barely waited a minute before setting on him, chasing him into the hills and capturing his pack horse. He had no doubt they would have murdered him on the spot if his mount, Hobbie, hadnât proved himself the faster horse. He reached up and poked his finger through a hole in the back of his leather jacket where a veruta thrown by one of the enraged warriors had caught him in the shoulder. The spear had only caused him minor injury, but the fine blue and gray coat Sammanus had given him was punctured beyond repair.
What if Iâm also beyond repair? thought Eldred glumly. But he remained sitting, watching the castle, watching and waiting until finally she appeared riding out of the gate with her escort. âFive blessed days,â he grunted, rising to his feet and beckoning Hobbie. Mother used to go riding everyday, or so her letters had said. Those had often been the only words he had received from her during his childhood at the Academy. She had been distant then; now she was nearly unreachable.
Eldred made a quick descent down an overgrown game trail to the location he had scouted along the bank of the River Clyde. He glanced to his right at a long stand of trees, a mile in length; trails ran on both sides. How well would they think, he wondered. He counted on them being mindless with rage. In the worst case, he could just flee. But then the opportunity would be lost. He idly scratched Hobbieâs neck. âJust donât lose your footing.â That would be the end of both of them.
As he waited, he reached into a saddle bag and pulled out a rumpled green riding hat with purple cloud sparrow feathersâsupposedly the finest sort of Maldavian riding hat. She should recognize that even if she didnât recognize himâhis face. She had given him the hat on a better day, the day four years ago on his fourteenth birthday when he had passed the Maldavian vision trials.
They were finally coming into view on the left with his mother tucked safely in the midst of her five escorts. Eldred watched them ride, peeking out between two leafy bushes. Of the men, he only recognized Pounder, his favorite of his fatherâs podmen. Pounder rode at the front, wearing his normal genial face. Eldred felt his shoulders growing tense as he waited for Pounderâs expression to change.Â
At two hundred yards, Pounder squinted and started to look around. At one hundred yards, he grimaced; a definite grimace. The question flashed in Eldredâs mind. How close should he let them get? Hobbie was amazingly fast, but he would be starting from rest. âBe ready, friend,â whispered Eldred. The men looked angrier with every stride.
At fifty yards, Eldred nudged Hobbie and shot out in front of the men waving the hat over his head. âItâs me, Mother. Wait here!â he shouted. Hobbie turned right, and the race was on. The men closed the distance quickly as Hobbie started his sprint on the slick wet grass. Too close, too close, the thought rattled in Eldredâs mind. Pounder was only twenty feet back and screaming with rage. Two of the men had their swords raised, and one of the others threw his veruta, which narrowly missed Hobbieâs rear. But the plan was working. The men were in hard pursuit and Ghyslaine had pulled her horse up, watching the chase with a befuddled expression.
Eldred chose the trail to the right of the trees and slowed Hobbie, lest he leave his pursuers too far behind, but he was still charging fast. Pounder chased, shouting obscenities. Two men followed close behind him, then another came on in frenzied haste. Eldredâs stomach dropped as the last man went left. Why did he do that? Eldred urged Hobbie on. He could just ride off. He probably should. He wasnât even sure she recognized him. She hadnât called out or waved.
âIâll cut your face off!â shouted Pounder.
âKill him!â called one of the others.
âMake him bleed!â cried a man waving his sword.
Eldred hunched over Hobbie as the trees flew by, only a minute from the turn. He had to choose. Would it be straight on to safety, or turn left and face a crazed warrior on the other side of the trees. Would she even still be there? He could die for nothing. Turn left or straight onâhe could be dead in three minutes. Turn left or straight on. Eldred exhaled a shuddering breath. He needed it. He had to have it. He urged Hobbie left; the horseâs hooves slid on the grass, but he kept his footing. Then he was away, letting Hobbie show his speed as he left the screaming riders in the distance.
Eldred spotted the man almost at once, coming to rest on his horse five hundred yards away. The man looked up with anger and confusion dancing across his face. He was out of range of the noise and recovering, but that would change in a moment, change for the worse. Eldredâs heart began to thump. Pounder and his crew of maniacs had just made the turn. Eldred was between them now. It all came down to Hobbie.
Hobbie sped towards the man, aiming to pass him on the left, behind his horse. At first, he just stared at Eldred and his pursuers with his mouth open. But then, as the noise filled him, his eyes changed and his lips curled in a snarl. He turned the horse towards Eldred and kicked it hard. The man was coming for Eldred.
Eldred emitted a low groan. He wanted to draw his own sword, to throw his veruta, but the man was senseless because of Eldredâs mental noise. To kill him seemed wrong. And the plan, it wouldnât work if this man died. He was sure of that. He urged Hobbie further left, looking for a sliver of room along the tree line. There might be enough. There had to be.
âYou Motherless dog!â yelled the man as he closed.
Eldred dodged the low hanging boughs as best he could, knocking one acorn laden branch up over his head. Hobbie was vaulting over the bushes and somehow increasing his pace.
The man shot towards Eldred, brandishing his sword. Eldredâs stomach twisted into a knot. The man was there, right there, starting the fatal swing at Eldredâs neck. Eldred lurched forward in the saddle, and then the man was gone, both horse and man crashing into the small trees that marked the edge of the stand.
Eldred patted the back of his neck, feeling for blood, but he had only caught the wind of the manâs sword, not the steel.
âCurse you! Iâll gut you!â shouted the man.
Pounder shouted in the distance as well, but Eldred could not make out the words.
They were all behind him now. Soon they would be out of the noise. What would they do then? In any case, their horses were spent and would never catch him. Eldred laid his hand on Hobbieâs neck, and the great horse slowed a step. âYou did it,â said Eldred.
Now it was up to her. He spied her as he came around the final trees. She was still seated on her horse. Eldred recognized her mount; it was Adelet. Goodâone of the younger horses she favored. Some of Motherâs mounts were long in tooth and lacked speed.
Eldred waved the feathered hat again, gesturing back towards the castle. âRide, ride, Mother. We need to talk, and they are coming.â
She cringed, looking past him at the distant pursuers.
âMother, itâs me. Itâs Eldred! Ride with me so we can talk!â shouted Eldred.
She looked back at him, and her blessed eyes changed. She recognized him, but she still looked frightened.
He was closing in, only fifty yards now, slowing lest he just fly past her. âPlease, Mother. Ghyslaine! This is our only chance to talk.â
She set her chin and turned Adelet, who started off in a canter. Hobbie came alongside on her right.
âWhat are you doing?â demanded Ghyslaine.
Eldred looked back. His pursuers were out of the noise, but still chasing. âOnly whatâs necessary, Mother. Only whatâs necessary.â
Ghyslaine shifted in her saddle, craning to see the right side of his face. âWhat happened to you?â
Eldred sighed and shook his head. âNo time for that; barely time for anything.â
A tear formed in the corner of her eye. âI do not understand.â
âIâm cursed, Mother. Cursed to all Deiran warriors who have the Bond. I have what Lord
Kenelm called the noise. It makes warriors go crazy, mad with fury. You just saw its effect. They would have butchered me if they had caught me.â
âHow did this happen?â
Eldred crinkled up his face. âI donât rightly know. This isâitâs my version of the Bond, I think. Thatâs what they said anyway. It came aboutâit happened when I took some of their medicine.â
Ghyslaine frowned. âWho are you talking about?â
Eldred groaned inwardly, trying to avoid that name. âThe citizens of Turicum.â
Ghyslaineâs eyes went wide. âYou mean the Wretcheds? They did this to you?â
âTheyâre notââEldred gave his head a small shakeââreally wretched. They call themselves the Sun People.â
Her face grew red. âThey must pay for this. This cannot go unanswered. I will tell your fatherââ
âItâs not important,â interrupted Eldred. âThey only did what they had to do. I was injured, near death. But now, I do need something from you.â He trailed off, looking ahead. They were coming up on the castle.
âWhat is it you need, son?â
Eldred took a breath, phasing his request in his mind. âIâll come back tonight, to the castle gate at nightfall. You must have Father there and convince him to come out to meet me by himself. Iâll be out from the wall; youâve seen I canât get close. He must come meet me so I can speak to him. He must come alone.â
Ghyslaine looked back at her escort, following in ragged pursuit. âTell me,â she said with a note of urgency. âJust tell me now. What is it you need to know from him?â
Eldred pointed ahead. âThe castle approaches, Mother. If I get too close, theyâll come buzzing out like a swarm of bees. Just do as I ask. It may be the last thing I ever ask of you.â
âNo, do not say that.â She leaned out to put her hand on his side.
âIâll be there tonight, Mother. Make sure Father does as I ask. And have them keep the area clear. If there are any warriors out, theyâll kill me.â
Her tears were running freely now. âHow has it come to this?â
Eldred shook his head and pulled up Hobbie, letting Ghyslaine ride ahead. He did not like upsetting her, but it was necessary. He turned on a side road off to the left headed into the forest. Even if Pounder and his men followed, they could not catch him. He had passed the message. He was that much closer to his goal.
The Crooked Ladder had decent to good prose, solid character work and complexity that is well executed and displayed via interactions and story progression. The world building is decent but a little bare bones, with the more interesting elements only emerging in the latter half of the book. The story progression is smooth and well paced but it failed to really capture my interest for the first 30 to 40% of the novel, and the reason for that ties into the book's one major flaw: plotting.
The plot of the narrative is far from bad, the latter half of the narrative once they reach the mansion is very enjoyable, but it makes no space for its own protagonist. For one reason or another, Eldred is almost entirely denied agency through the course of the narrative. He is not absent of personal goals, but the actual tangible events and progressions of the narrative have only distant bearing on those goals. Which would be fine, except he also has almost zero agency in the events that do transpire, being reduced largely to a witness in every major plot point. He often passively affects the plot, but rarely actively is allowed to propel or alter the narrative. There are reasons for this is the second half of the book, which is partially why that half works better, and those reasons are well executed, providing a compelling conflict between a desire to act and scenes of peril against the inability to do so. But the first half of the narrative is characterized by events and characters Eldred barely cares about and has little to no agency with, and so resulted in a series of events I had little to no investment in.
There are some other minor qualms I have with the book, some of which can't be expressed due to spoilers, but ultimately The Crooked Ladder has a weak start and a strong finish.