The Uncrowned King (33 page)

'What, you dead too?' Byren croaked, throat so dry it felt cracked.

'Idiot,' Orrade told him fondly.

Byren frowned. 'You're here, really here? I'm not hallucinating? How did you find me?'

'Another of those damned visions. I've been travelling non-stop for three days, praying to Halcyon I wouldn't be too late.' He blinked back tears. 'Sylion's luck, Byren. When I found you, I thought you were dead, you lay so still.'

'I am dying. Stomach wound.' As he moved his hand from the wound, he heard his friend hiss in consternation.

'So much blood.'

When Byren tried to focus on Orrade's face, the glare defeated him. But Byren didn't need to see him to sense his friend's fiercely protective nature.

What would it have cost him to acknowledge Orrade's unwanted love? He'd been furious because it complicated their friendship. He'd been selfish. This was his last chance. 'I'm sorry, Orrie. I didn't deserve you. Kiss me before I go.'

'Kiss you?' His friend snorted. 'Not when you stink like a day-old ulfr carcass.' Then he denied his own words, pressing his lips to Byren's. His were hot, as were his tears and the puff of his breath on Byren's face.

It was a kiss of love that demanded nothing and gave everything. Orrade pulled back. 'Now, let's get you out of this stinking seep.'

'Seep?' Byren blinked.

But Orrade had already sprung to his feet. 'Florin, over here!'

'Florin?' A protest died on his lips. He'd thought they were alone. 'Florin's here?' The daughter of Old Man Narrows, from Narrowneck tradepost, she'd helped them kill the manticore pack. Last time he'd seen her, she'd come to Rolenhold to report the Merofynian invasion. Cobalt had denied her. Byren tried to sit up and failed.

'Wait. You'll injure yourself. Wait for Florin.' Orrade dropped to his knees again. 'She insisted on coming with me. And just as well, she knows these foothills like the back of her hand. Her nan's cottage is not far from here. We'll take you there.'

Byren wanted to ask more, but he was exhausted. He must have passed out because, when he came around, he was lying on his back, strung between two stout poles, pines passing him, their tips spearing high into the clear, ice-blue sky.

It was all a dream. He was still on the sled, being dragged by the brigands.

No, because that person carrying the end of the poles was no brigand.

'Florin?' His parched mouth hardly formed the word.

She smiled and called. 'He's awake, Orrie.'

They lowered the makeshift stretcher and knelt next to him. 'How d'you feel?'

'Thirsty.'

Orrade glanced to Florin, then back to him. 'Can't give you a drink, not with a stomach wound.'

Byren grimaced and tried to swallow. His throat scraped. 'Water.'

Eyes closed in pain, he felt something press to his lips, opened his mouth and... blessed liquid settled on his tongue. He swallowed, tasting watered wine.

'Not too much.' Florin pulled it away too soon.

'What happened? Was there a fight?' Orrade asked.

Byren licked his lips. 'Brigands. They were going to turn me over to the Merofynians for a bag of gold. Stabbed me, so I couldn't run. Said the mystic healers could save me. But the ulfr pack came and killed them. Saved me.'

'He's delirious,' Florin whispered.

Byren wanted to object, but even that required too much effort. He was vaguely aware of the sled moving again.

Next time he woke it was late and they were manoeuvring inside a hill-crofter's cottage. He smelt barley broth and goats.

An old woman, Florin's nan, fussed over him as he was lifted onto her kitchen table. Meanwhile, a boy's high-pitched voice demanded to know what was going on. Leif, Florin's little brother. He struggled to open his eyes.

'We're at Florin's nan's,' Orrade told him, unnecessarily. 'She's a herbal healer. Hold on.'

Byren nodded. They'd do their best but he needed more than a herbalist. If his blood loss was anything to go by, he needed the touch of a great mystic. 'Thirsty.'

'Soon.'

Lamps were lit, water heated, cloth torn and herbs crumbled into hot water. He smelt the astringent, piney aroma of rosemary.

'Florin, take him outside,' the old woman ordered.

Who? Oh, the boy. Leif protested. The adults ignored him.

'But I can help you, Nan,' Florin insisted.

'I won't leave him,' Orrade said with quiet certainty.

Byren forced his eyes open in time to see the old woman send Florin and her little brother off with a nod.

Then Florin's nan turned to him. Gingerly, she cut away the material covering his wound, peeling it back from his skin. Blood had made it stick. His pants felt stiff with dried, caked blood.

She made tut-tutting sounds under her breath as she worked, passing each piece of ruined clothing to Orrade. 'Burn it. He smells like a day old ulfr carcass.'

'That's what I told him.' A laugh edged Orrade's voice, but underneath it Byren could hear fear.

As the old woman worked, Byren wished he could lift his head to see the extent of the wound, but he couldn't do more than watch her and Orrade as they stood beside the table.

Once his chest was bare, her fingers fumbled with the laces on his breeches. Byren was overcome with an urge to hide himself from Orrade, something he would never have thought of. It was absurd, considering the girls they'd shared.

Luckily, the old woman peeled back his pants only enough to reveal the wound low on his belly. Then she took a warm cloth, dipped in herbal water to sponge him clean. He ached with deep pain, but there was no sharp stinging sensation. In fact, the cleansing felt soothing.

The woman gave a soft hiss of surprise as the wound became clear. 'When did you say this happened?'

'Last night,' Byren answered. 'They did it to stop me running. How... how bad is it?'

The old woman exchanged looks with Orrade, both appeared stunned, so it had to be bad. Perhaps that was why he felt no fresh pain. He was beyond help.

Wordlessly, the old woman took Byren's hand and placed it on his belly. Gingerly, he felt smooth skin and a ridge of scar tissue.

No, that wasn't right. He tried to sit up, grunting with pain. Orrade helped him, supporting his weight. Byren starred at the fresh pink scar on his belly. 'It - it -'

'Looks a week old, not a day.' The old woman washed her hands and turned to them. 'I'm no fool, boys, don't insult me with lies. Orrie, you and Florin came rushing through here late last night, in a mad hurry to reach the kingson. You described where you would find him and I told you how to get there. You'd had a vision.'

Orrade nodded slowly. 'I never had them before this midwinter, but I took a blow to the head and I've been -'

'It's my fault,' Byren revealed. 'Orrie nearly died. He would have died. There was clear fluid coming from his ears and eyes,' He reached up to clasp Orrade's hand where it supported him and met his eyes. 'I never told you, I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to let you go. An old woman came by. Even without a scrap of Affinity I could tell she reeked of it. I begged her to save your life. She said she could, but you would never be the same. I told her go ahead. I couldn't let you die and she did save you, only you were blind...'

Orrade swallowed audibly. 'The blindness passed. But the headaches, they come on me whenever I have a vision. Sylion's luck, Byren, I'll have to leave Rolencia. Your father -'

'My father's dead.' He squeezed Orrade's arm. 'And I say stay.'

'And so you should. You're the pot calling the kettle black.' The old woman's voice was sharp. 'You've healed yourself of a mortal wound, Byren Kingson. That's a mighty useful kind of Affinity.'

'I don't know anything about healing,' Byren protested. 'I couldn't -'

'I found him in a seep,' Orrade confessed. 'Could that have done it?'

'Affinity is untamed power.' The old woman shrugged. 'It has to be guided.'

'The ulfr pack,' Byren whispered.

Both turned to him.

Byren frowned as everything fell into place. 'Look on my back, up here.' He gestured and Orrade helped hold him forwards while they lifted his shirt away to study his ribs.

'A new scar,' Orrade muttered.

'Looks old,' the woman said.

'No, Orrie's right. It's new since he saw me seven days ago, yet it looks old.'

'What's this got to do with an ulfr pack?' Orrade asked.

'I was bleeding from that wound. It had pierced my lung. Thought it was only a matter of time. Plus I was being hunted by Merofynians and the ulfr pack. I took shelter in a seep. I'd no choice. My only hope was that the ulfrs would prefer the seep's Affinity to me. They did. They lay down around me... Eh, Orrie, I thought of you as I lay there, surrounded by Affinity beasts, warmed by them. One of the bitches whelped a cub. The pack did something to help her, they whined and made a strange vibrating sound, deep in their chests. It was a bit like a cat purring.'

Byren shook his head in wonder and worked his tongue in his dry mouth. The old woman offered him a sip of watered wine. He swallowed and nodded his thanks.

'And this time?' Orrade prodded.

'This time the brigands had me and the ulfrs...' Byren hesitated, not sure even now if he could believe it. 'They came after me. They took down the men. I didn't see it. They'd thrown a blanket over my face. When the blanket was pulled off me, I was surrounded by ulfrs. The leader chewed through my bonds, led me to the seep. They all stretched out with me and began that odd whining-purr again.'

'Well...' Orrade said. 'That explains the stench.'

Byren barked a laugh that ended abruptly.

Silence stretched. A log fell in the fireplace, sending spiralling ash up the chimney.

'I've never -' Orrade began.

'You would if you'd heard the old tales,' Florin's nan snapped as she dried her hands. 'After his da and brother were killed by Merofynian Power-workers, King Rolen turned his back on everything to do with Affinity. He banned Affinity unless it served the abbeys, but that's like banning sunshine, unless it falls on the king's castle. Affinity rises where it will.'

Byren caught her wiry old hand. 'You can't tell anyone. I'll be hounded out of Rolencia.'

She studied him. 'Thirty years ago your father decreed all those with Affinity had to serve the abbeys or leave. But before that, for as long as there have been people living in Halcyon's rich valley, those with Affinity served their family and friends. They healed, they had visions of raids and sent out warnings...' She gave him a gap-toothed smile. 'And when King Rolen sent out his decree, they paid him lip service, because he was their king, but they kept to their old ways, especially here in the high country. You can't change the way things really are with a royal decree. We knew it would pass. Why, your very own grandfather, King Byren the Fourth, he had Affinity.'

Byren blinked.

'Why do you think he collected Affinity beasts?' she asked. 'You take after him, I'll warrant.'

'But I was tested at six like everyone else. I'm completely normal.'

She lifted one eyebrow. 'You hid in an Affinity seep, surrounded by ulfrs -'

'Can we come in now?' Florin's plaintive voice called. 'It's awful cold out here, Nan.'

The old woman sent Byren and Orrade a wry look. 'I'll say no more. But you think on what I've said.' She raised her voice. 'Hold your horses, lass. Don't want to make you blush. We'll just get him into bed.'

Businesslike, she finished stripping Byren, bathed the blood from his body and gave him one of her dead husband's night-shirts. It only came to mid-thigh on him.

As Orrade helped him into the tiny bedroom, which was behind the chimney, Byren grimaced. 'I might be healed, but every step I take tugs on my stomach muscles.'

'You can't expect miracles,' Orrade muttered, then laughed. And Byren joined him, because it was a miracle, an Affinity-induced miracle. But even laughing hurt.

Byren stretched out carefully, letting Orrade tuck him in as if he was a child. He caught his friend's arm. 'Thank you.'

'Rest for a day or two, then we'll take you back to my camp. Remember when Dovecote fell and you headed off to the abbey? I led the servants and villagers up into the foothills of the Dividing Mountains. Well, we...'

But Orrade's voice was already fading. Byren squeezed his hand. He thought he felt lips brush his forehead as he fell asleep and annoyance flared through him. Must tell Orrade not to touch him like that. It would give people the wrong idea.

Chapter Twenty-One

Byren woke with the sense that something was wrong. There was no sign of the others. Last night he'd slept with Orrade on one side of him and Leif on the other, while Florin and her nan slept upstairs in the loft. At least he'd been warm and the bed was free of bugs.

Now, alone in the bed, he could tell it was late afternoon by the light that came in the single, small window.

It irked him to lie abed for so long but his stomach, although healing, was still too tender to move freely. And he knew rest was the best thing for him.