The King's Bastard (64 page)

Palatyne grimaced with annoyance but released Elina. She dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. She was only a body length from Byren, yet he was powerless to help her.

'Yes,' Palatyne agreed. 'His suffering will add to my enjoyment.'

He strode towards Byren, a boot swinging for his head. Though Byren threw himself to one side, the tip caught him a glancing blow, sending him sprawling on the floor.

When his vision cleared, Palatyne had Elina's bodice in his hands. With one heave he tore it open and swung her around so that Byren could see her naked breasts. 'Look what I will be enjoying tonight!'

Though every man present stared at her she lifted her chin, staring past them all, her gaze defiant.

Byren's heart swelled with pride.

Palatyne fixed on Byren, triumphant. 'Take him away and lock him up.' He turned to the noble Power-worker. 'See, Lord Dunstany, your prophecy will not come true. I'll kill every last one of King Rolen's kin. They will not be my downfall. I make my own destiny!'

Lord Dunstany's reply was lost to Byren as they dragged him out of the hall, past the sullen, subdued kitchen staff and into the stable yard. Behind the stables, the road rose to the old keep with its warning tower, every window lit. As it loomed over Byren, despair welled up in him. How would Orrade reach him now? How would he light the beacon and save Elina?

He would never get to Halcyon Abbey to deliver his father's message and no one would ever know that he had died loyal to Rolencia.

'Drink, my lord?' a throaty female voice piped up.

The Merofynians stopped and turned around to see a pretty serving girl standing in the kitchen doorway. She held a tray laden with tankards and a steaming jug of mead.

'This is for them in the keep, but they've been guzzling all evening.' She nodded towards the warning tower, where men could be heard singing loudly off key. 'Want a sup?'

'Don't mind if I do.' The leader of their group strode back towards her, followed by the other four guards with Byren in the middle.

Byren noticed a familiar face peering out from behind the serving girl's skirt. Rifkin, the kitchen boy. As the honour guards grabbed themselves a tankard, the lad caught Byren's eye, holding his gaze with desperate but impenetrable meaning.

A body barrelled into Byren's back, driving him to his knees. The Merofynian groaned and collapsed beside him, blood dark as night, pooling on the churned up snow.

'Hold still,' Orrade whispered, grabbing Byren's arms.

His shoulders protested. Then he felt the blessed release as the pole was pulled out and the ropes fell off his hands. 'What took you so long?'

Orrade laughed and hauled him to his feet. Two bodies shot past them, locked in desperate combat.

Byren blinked recognising one of them. 'Winterfall?'

Orrade nodded. 'Eight of your honour guard. Chandler and Winterfall convinced them that you were wrongfully accused.'

Crack
. Mead showered Byren's left leg as the serving maid smashed the jug over the last struggling Merofynian. Young Chandler cut his throat, then cleaned his knife.

'We couldn't let you down,' he said.

Byren grinned and tried to massage feeling back into his hands.

'We're in luck,' Orrade whispered. 'Only Palatyne and his lordlings are housed in New Dovecote. His honour guard refused to sleep under the same roof as Rejulas's honour guard. Couldn't stomach traitors. So they've taken the old Keep and Rejulas's men have the town.'

Byren grinned. 'You've been busy.'

'Servants hear everything.'

'What of the townspeople?'

'Turned out of their own beds. They're sleeping in the servants' quarters in New Dovecote. Here's your hunting knife. It was all Rifkin could steal.'

'I'm obliged,' Byren said, slipping the knife into its customary place. If he were Palatyne, he would have Rejulas and his warriors killed the moment they were no longer useful. Anyone who could betray their sworn oath of allegiance was a worthless ally. 'Where's the healer and Affinity warder?'

'Willowtea's dead. The Affinity warder took a blow from one of Palatyne's Power-workers. They thought it had killed him but he was just knocked out. The cook hid him. Unfortunately he's too weak to help us.'

'Too bad.'

By the time Byren could use his fingers, they'd dragged the bodies away to hide them and Rifkin was raking the snow to disguise all sign of the skirmish.

Winterfall returned with a broken nose and a sheepish grin. 'I neber doubted you.'

Throat tight, Byren hugged him. 'Pack snow on that nose.'

As the maid took Winterfall off to apply the snow, Chandler said, 'You've eight more swords at your back.'

Eight honour guards, some of them mere callow youths, townspeople and servants... Byren ran his hand through his hair. They were vastly outnumbered; subterfuge was their only hope. 'We need a plan.'

'This way.' Orrade led them back into the new wing, through the kitchen and down a long hall where the able-bodied townspeople huddled. They touched Byren as he passed and whispered a welcome to Orrade and Garzik. Byren's bloodied honour guard impressed them.

Orrade led Byren into the cold-cellar. Great blocks of ice lined the walls to preserve food all year round. Amidst the frozen meat and stores, about two dozen men and half as many women waited, their breath steaming. Byren surveyed them by the light of the single lamp. He recognised stable lads, household servants and gardeners; most of the males were under sixteen or over sixty. At ten, Rifkin was the youngest.

Orrade gestured. 'This is all that remains of Dovecote's defenders.'

'Captain Blackwing?' Byren asked.

'Amongst the first to fall.'

'I'm sorry -'

'What should we do first, Byren?' Garzik asked. The boys of thirteen and fourteen had gravitated to him, eager to follow his lead.

Byren's heart sank. They were all going to die. He glanced to the old gaffer who used to look after the chickens. From his expression, it was clear he knew it too but he still clutched the garden scythe in his gnarled hands and waited for orders.

'Byren?' Orrade prodded.

'Right,' Byren muttered. 'We need to light the warning beacon. Is it prepared?'

'The Old Dove always keeps it ready,' the chicken keeper said.

'But the tower was the first place the Merofynians took over,' a stable lad piped up. 'It's full of them!'

'They're nearly all drunk,' the serving maid announced, eyes sparkling.

'We've been keeping them well supplied,' the cook explained. 'They think they're safe because no one knows the Merofynians are here except for Rejulas and his men.'

'Good.' With everyone watching him, Byren felt the weight of their expectation.

'We need to get Elina away from Palatyne,' Orrade said. 'He's taken the Royal Chamber.'

'I'll go save her,' Garzik offered, 'then kill Palatyne!'

'Let me go,' Winterfall offered.

Orrade caught Byren's eye. Garzik wouldn't stand a chance against a warrior of Palatyne's experience and Winterfall was not much better.

'No, I need you two to lead the youths. Dress as servants and sneak up to the top of the warning tower to light the beacon,' Byren told him. 'But don't do it until you get my signal. Once the beacon is alight the Merofynians will know we've risen.' He caught the cook's eye. 'I want to get the household servants and townspeople out into the forest and hidden before then.' He was thinking aloud. Seeing the fate of Lord Dovecote and his birds had convinced Byren that Palatyne would not hesitate to take his anger out on the servants, women and children alike. 'I want everyone hidden before we light that beacon. Just as well the tower guards are drunk.' He smiled at the cook and she blushed as if she was fifteen, not fifty. 'This will make it easier for Garzik and my honour guard to get past them to the top of the tower.'

But how would they get down again? And what about Rejulas's men in the town?

'Set fire to the town. It's wooden, it'll go up like tinder,' Orrade suggested, following the same train of thought. A dismayed mutter arose from the townspeople.

'While the town burns Rejulas's warriors will be too busy escaping with their lives to hunt down the townspeople,' Byren assured them.

Orrade nodded. 'I'll send some men into Doveton to prepare the fires. They can light them the moment the beacon is lit.'

'I'll go,' the chicken keeper offered. 'Take the stable boys with me.'

'What of Lence Kingsheir?' Rifkin piped up. 'He's being kept in the blue chamber.'

Byren felt his first surge of hope. Everyone looked to him. Did they suspect that his twin was a traitor? Why should they?

'I'll deal with Lence,' Byren muttered. If it came to the worst and Lence had betrayed them, he was anxious to save his family shame.

'We can deal with the Merofynian servants,' the cook volunteered. Half a dozen serving girls nodded eagerly. 'Not a warrior amongst them!'

'Good, but quietly,' Byren warned. 'I don't want Palatyne slitting Elina's throat.'

'Goddess forbid!' the cook cried, echoed by others.

Byren smiled. 'Mistress cook, you organise the household staff. Deal with the Merofynian servants then as soon as Palatyne and his lordlings fall asleep, grab food and blankets and lead the townspeople out. Hide in the forest tonight and tomorrow...' Where would they go? '...head into the Divide. That goes for all of you. Don't waste your lives trying to fight the Merofynians. Hide until it is safe to come down.'

They all nodded.

'What of Rejulas?' Garzik asked, rubbing his arms to keep warm. 'He betrayed King Rolen. His life is forfeit. Let me go after him. Winterfall can light the beacon.'

'Rejulas is in the Green Chamber,' the cook volunteered.

'I'll deal with Rejulas,' Byren decided. The last thing he wanted to do was place Elina at risk but his duty was to Rolencia. He fixed on Garzik. 'The beacon is most important. We must alert my father so he can muster Rolencia's defences.'

'What of Elina?' Orrade caught his arm. 'Let me go. I'll slip into Palatyne's chamber, cut his throat and -'

Byren nodded. 'When I give the signal. Once you have her, take her to Sylion Abbey. They'll protect -'

'Not the Divide?' Garzik asked.

Byren shook his head. He didn't know how many of them would reach the dubious safety of the Divide or how long they would be living like savages in the high country.

'If you think Elina will run from a fight you don't know her,' Garzik muttered.

He knew her. The problem was he loved her. 'Time to get moving.'

'Right.' The cook gathered her people and left.

As the last of the women filed out Byren caught Winterfall's shoulder. 'Watch over the young ones.' He didn't mention Garzik by name, didn't want to shame him. 'This won't be like weapons drill. Afterwards meet me at the water-wheel.'

Winterfall nodded then led the youths and the honour guard away. Byren watched them leave with their makeshift weapons, wishing he did not have to send them on this task.

As soon as they were alone Orrade turned to Byren, face grim. 'I'm coming with you when you confront Lence.'

Chapter Thirty

Byren grimaced. 'You think I'm too soft, Orrie?'

'I think you're too good-hearted. And I'm not convinced Lence is Rejulas's captive.'

This was what Byren feared. 'You saw the trick Cobalt pulled, presenting those rings and the poem to blacken my name -'

'I saw. But ask yourself this, why is Lence so ready to believe what Cobalt tells him?'

Byren shook his head. 'If I can just explain -'

'Here.' Orrade radiated an intensity of purpose as he unfastened the borrowed sword. His breath plumed in the cold-cellar's chilly air.

'No.' Byren didn't want to leave Orrade unarmed. 'What will you -'

Orrade held up the Old Dove's sword, the one Byren had seen fall on the floor near Palatyne's chair. 'Rifkin retrieved it for me. Come on, I want to get this over with so we can save Elina before...'

He did not bother to finish but headed for the door. Byren caught his arm.

'What?'

In that instant Byren saw the consequences of going for Elina now. Palatyne would put up a fight which would alert his warriors. In no time at all the place would be swarming with armed men. The townspeople and Dovecote's servants would not get away. Winterfall wouldn't have time to light the warning beacon. His followers would be captured. They'd all be executed. There was no alternative. 'We can't save Elina yet. We don't want to trigger the alarm.'

'But Palatyne will...' Orrade shuddered. 'I can't let that happen.'

Byren couldn't stop the thought of Elina's slender body trapped under Palatyne's. A flash of rage ignited him. He repressed it, driving it down deep inside. 'No, Orrie, we -'

'What of Elina?'

Yes, Elina... Byren's stomach churned. He forced himself to ignore it and go on. 'Elina's the Old Dove's daughter. As long as we get her out of here, she will understand.'