The King's Bastard (5 page)

But it was the more recent return of Palos that people remembered. During the rule of Byren's grandfather, a group calling themselves the Servants of Palos had sought to overthrow King Byren the Fourth. Their treachery had weakened Rolencia, inviting invasion from Merofynia and ultimately to the deaths of Byren's grandfather and uncle. At barely eighteen Byren's father had become king and defeated the Merofynians. In the first years of his reign he hunted down the remaining Servants of Palos, executing every last one, no matter who they were.

'You can't be a Servant of Palos,' Byren protested. 'You're loyal to -'

'Of course I am. This has nothing to do with the Servants of Palos.'

'Then why wear that hated symbol?'

'Don't you see? Palos was a great warrior. His followers loved and respected him, even though he was a lover of men.' Orrade sat forwards, one hand reaching for Byren, who pulled back. 'Byren?'

He did not know what to say. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he made sure the ulfrs were not creeping up on them.

Orrade's hand dropped, his face bleak. 'You despise me.'

Byren stared. Orrade looked no different, but he was, and every moment they'd ever shared flashed through Byren's head, tainting their friendship. He fixed on the most recent thing. 'Why did you offer to come with me to hunt the lincis?'

'To keep you safe. The king's forest is a dangerous place, especially this close to midwinter.' Orrade shook his head. 'Then you went and saved me!'

And suddenly it didn't matter. He was still Orrade.

Byren frowned at the chain and its damning symbol, resting on Orrade's vest. 'You should take that bloody thing off and throw it away.'

'Pretend to be something I'm not?' Orrade countered, temper rising.

'If your father knew he would disown you!'

'I know. He never speaks my brother's name,' Orrade admitted.

When Lord Dovecote discovered his eldest son was a Servant of Palos, he had turned him over to the harsh justice of young King Rolen. 'But it doesn't matter now. I'm going to die and I cannot die with a lie on my lips.' His unseeing eyes searched for Byren. 'I -'

The heavy pad of fast approaching paws made Byren look up. An ulfr, large as a small pony, charged their position.

'Down.' He shoved Orrade flat, aimed and threw his last good spear in one movement. The beast staggered, skidding on its side in the snow. But another came in from the other direction.

Byren plucked the makeshift spear from Orrade's hands, wedged the end with his foot and took the impact of the beast's leap on the spear point, guiding it over them, out into the ravine. The ulfr's weight and momentum tore the spear from his hands, taking the weapon with it as it fell. The beast's whine of pain still hung on the air as Byren spun to face the rest of the pack, empty-handed but for his eating knife.

Across the remains of the flickering flames the pack leader gave voice to another howl. To Byren it sounded like an exultation of victory.

'Save yourself. I'll divert them,' Orrade urged, lurching to his feet. He shoved Byren to his knees and, blind and defenceless, stumbled through what was left of the fire, heading towards the ulfrs with a cry of challenge on his lips.

'No!' Byren sprang upright and charged after him, knowing he would be too late. Even as he ran an ulfr leapt for Orrade.

Thunk.

An arrow took it high in the ribs. The beast whined but still collided with Orrade, knocking him down.

Thunk
...
thunk
. More arrows followed.

Stunned. Byren stared as arrows blossomed in grey-furred thighs and bellies. Beasts fell whimpering and yelping. Their leader stared at Byren and uttered a strange whine, and the rest turned tail, slinking into the trees, leaving at least six dead and the wounded trying to crawl after them.

'Orrade?' Byren ran to him, leaping over a dead ulfr.

Orrade was trying to roll out from under the body of the one that had brought him down. Byren dragged him clear.

'You still here, Byren? Thought I told you to run,' Orrade muttered. 'What happened?'

'I don't know. Halcyon sent help.'

'Byren? Orrade?' Garzik called, as he darted through the trunks, a hunting bow strung and notched with an arrow. Behind him came half a dozen warriors wearing the Dovecote crest, the feather and the sword. Unlike most of the lords, the thirty-year peace had not made Orrade's father disband his estate's defences.

'Garza!' Byren laughed. 'What're you doing here!'

Garzik grinned. Seeing no more targets he returned the arrow to the quiver and released the bowstring, slinging the bow over his shoulder. 'Hunting an ulfr pack that's been troubling our farms on the foothills.'

'The howls led us to you, Byren Kingson,' the old Dovecote captain explained as he approached.

'With not a moment to spare, Blackwing!' Byren confessed.

Garzik grinned. He was obviously Orrade's brother, with the same thin frame and wiry strength but, at fourteen, his cheeks were still rounded and showed no sign of sprouting a beard. 'Now, will you take me raiding with you, Byren?'

The captain caught Byren's eye, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

'Ask again this time next year,' Byren temporised.

Garzik went to argue, but the Dovecote captain overrode him, pointing to the estate's only remaining Affinity warder, old Wispowill, who was standing over a dead ulfr and making the signs. 'Go help the monk. He has to settle the ulfrs' Affinity, now that it's been released on their deaths. Then dispatch the wounded ulfrs, and retrieve the arrows.'

As Garzik went off, Captain Blackwing gestured to half a dozen warriors, boys like Garzik or men in their fifties and sixties. 'Look what I'm left with, babes or grandfathers. All the able young men have been lured away to the ports where trade with Merofynia and Ostron Isle has made the lucky ones rich as lords. What are you two doing here, Byren?'

'Long story. The ulfr pack got between us and the rest of my men.' That reminded Byren. 'Winterfall and the others are up at the village with the new tin mine. They expected us back tonight. If you take your men up that way the villagers will help you hunt out the pack and you can tell Winterfall we're safe. But beware the new seep.'

'Seep? That explains the ulfr pack. Wispowill can deal with a seep...' He broke off with a frown, as he spotted two fourteen-year-olds struggling with an ulfr carcass. 'Here, that's not the way to go about it!'

Byren watched him march off. They'd keep the skins, but the carcasses would be left for forest creatures to scavenge. No self-respecting person ate Affinity-touched meat.

While the others set to work skinning the beasts, Byren knelt next to Orrade. His hand slipped under his friend's vest to close over the symbol of Palos.

Orrade's hand caught his arm. 'Why...'

'I'm hiding it.' With a tug, Byren broke the chain, shoving the pendant into his pouch. 'You'll be stripped and cleaned for the healer.'

'How'd Orrie hurt his head?' Garzik said as he returned and dropped to his knees beside Byren. 'Was it raiders or beasts?'

'Nothing so exciting, a falling branch!' Orrade told him.

His brother's face fell.

Byren laughed. 'Help me get him home, Garza. But first, did you bring any food?'

'Of course -'

'Good,' Orrade muttered. 'I could do with a hot dinner.'

Byren grinned and stood up, hauling Orrade to his feet. His friend went to move, tripping over a dead ulfr. Garzik caught him, laughing. Then the laughter died on his lips, as Orrade's sightless eyes sought the source of his voice.

'Halcyon save us!' The boy turned to Byren. 'Orrie's blind!'

Hearing this, the Dovecote captain came over, his gaze going straight to Byren who lifted his hands helplessly.

'It was the blow to my head.' Orrade touched the lump behind his right ear gingerly. Below the hasty bandage, matted blood made his long black hair a tangled mess. 'When I came round I had a pounding headache and I couldn't see.'

Byren sought Blackwing's eyes, hoping the experienced campaigner could offer him some hope, but there was only sympathy in his gaze. Byren felt sick to his stomach.

Garzik's face went white. 'What will Father say?'

'He'll say he's glad his son's not dead!' Captain Blackwing told them. 'Then he'll call for his healer. Prepare some hot food, Garza.'

While the lad built a cooking fire, Blackwing took Byren aside. He glanced to the Dovecote brothers, who were crouched by the fire adding chunks of salted meat and spices to the pot. 'I can send a couple of men back with you -'

'You'll need every man you have until you get to the village. Garza and I can manage, we're heading away from danger.'

'Hmmm.' Blackwing considered this. 'We're not far from the Ridgetop Farm. They can loan you a horse and sled -'

'I can skate. I'm not useless.' Orrade raised his voice. 'If Byren leads me, I can skate.'

'Of course you can,' Byren said. He and Blackwing exchanged looks. 'Can we borrow skates from you?'

The canals followed the lie of the land, weaving through the valleys. In midwinter, they formed frozen roads between the major settlements.

'Certainly.' Blackwing studied Orrade, who had to feel around to find wood to feed the fire. The captain lowered his voice to a whisper. 'Are you sure you can manage, kingson?'

'We'll tie him between us.' Byren said. 'He'll be fine.'

And he was, for a while. They travelled overland, reaching Topaz Lake in the hour before dawn, and strapped on their skates. Fortunately for Byren, they were basic skates - a bladed sole, with straps - so he could tie them around his large boots. From Topaz they followed the shoreline, skating northeast to reach the canals, and wended their way south to Dovecote stronghold.

They were skating three across when Orrade lost his balance. He sprawled on his belly, taking them with him. They laughed and lay there panting on the ice which reflected the brilliant stars. Then Byren realised Orrade was the only one not laughing.

'You all right, Orrie?' he asked, scrambling over to him.

'Sorry.' His friend struggled to sit up. 'It's my head... thumping fit to burst.'

'Can you keep going?' Byren asked.

'Of course I can. I'd do anything for a warm bath and bed,' Orrade said, but his smile was strained.

Byren hauled him upright and they skated on.

The second time Orrade fell, skidding full length on the ice, Byren slewed his skates side-on and came to a stop before he was jerked off his feet. Garzik did likewise, looking to Byren.

'We can build a sled and pull him,' Byren answered his unspoken question.

When they bent to help Orrade, he reared up on his knees like a startled deer. 'Quick, off the canal. They're almost upon us!'

The panic in his voice made Byren spin around. He saw no one on the lake, but a bend obscured his view along the shore.

'Hide!' Orrade lunged, his movements taking him towards the bank by chance.

'What -' Garzik began.

'Help him,' Byren urged.

They guided Orrade to the bank, but that wasn't enough. He began to climb it. 'We have to get out of sight, over the lip and lie in the snow.'

'Why?' Garzik muttered.

Then Byren heard the unmistakable, almost silent scissoring sound of many skate blades on ice. He ploughed up the slope, dragging Orrade with him. They rolled over the lip of the bank, lying flat on the snow with Garzik between them.

Peering over the lip, Byren watched a band of thirty silent, armed warriors surge around the bend. They were travelling so fast that they went past in a matter of heartbeats, which was lucky because the frantic scramble up the slope had left tracks that led right to where Byren and the others hid.

'Raiders, but which warlord sent them?' Garzik muttered in the silence left by their passage. 'Rejulas of Cockatrice Spar is closest, yet they did not wear cockatrice cloaks or carry his symbol.'

'True, and why would he send a raiding party over the pass into Rolencia's valley when he could attack the easier prey in the high villages?' Byren wondered aloud. There were other reasons why Rejulas would not attack which he could not share with his friends just yet. 'Why travel at night in total silence when a raid is meant to be noisy and frightening?'

'Because this is no ordinary raid?' Garzik guessed. 'I wonder where they were going?'

'Or coming from. This close to dawn they should be headed back over the Divide.' Byren whispered slowly. 'Orrie. What do you...'

He broke off. Garzik lifted onto his elbows as they both stared at Orrade's ominously still body.

'Orrie?' Byren rolled his friend onto his back and tore off his glove to check Orrade's pulse. It beat steadily under the pad of his fingers. 'Out cold again.'

'He saved our lives. They would have killed us quick as look at us,' Garzik whispered. 'How did he know they were coming?'

How indeed?

'Must have felt the vibration when he hit the ice,' Byren guessed.