Hidden Warrior

by Lynn Flewelling

  Nikides nodded. “No one wants to say it yet, but Ero is lost.”

  The rain had stopped at last and the clouds were breaking up and scudding west. Patches of stars showed through, so bright they cast shadows. Illior’s crescent hung over the city like a sharp, white claw.

  Food was brought out from the palaces and temples, but the Companions had little appetite. Wrapped in their cloaks against the cold spring night, they sat on the stairs and sharpened their swords, awaiting orders.

  Tired beyond words, Ki finally gave up and put his back against Tobin’s, resting his head on his knees. Caliel and the remaining Companions sat with them, but no one felt like talking.

  We wanted battle, and we got it, Ki thought dully.

  Lynx had moved off by himself and sat staring at a nearby fire. Nikides was grieving silently for Ruan, too, but Ki knew it wasn’t the same. A squire was pledged to die for his lord. To fail in that was to fail in everything. But it wasn’t Lynx’s fault; it had been madness on the walls.

  How much comfort would that be for me, if I’d lost Tobin? he thought bitterly. What if that arrow had hit him in the throat instead of the shoulder? What if Iya hadn’t shown up when she did? At least then we’d all be dead together.

  As Ki watched, Tharin emerged from the darkness and went to Lynx, draping a blanket over the younger man’s shoulders. He spoke quietly to him, too soft for Ki to hear. Lynx drew his knees up and hid his face in his arms.

  Ki swallowed hard and rubbed at the sudden stinging behind his eyelids. Tharin understood better than any of them how Lynx felt right now.

  “What will happen to him?” Tobin whispered, and Ki realized he’d been watching, too. “Do you think Korin will let him stay a Companion?”

  Ki hadn’t thought of that. Lynx was one of them, and one of the best. “Not much for him to go home to. His father’s a lord, but Lynx is the fourth son.”

  “Maybe he could be Nikides’ squire?”

  “Maybe.” But Ki doubted Lynx would welcome such an offer just yet. He hadn’t just been loyal to Orneus; he’d loved the drunken braggart, though Ki had never understood why.

  In the pavilion behind them the generals were still talking with the king. The Palatine was eerily quiet, and Ki could hear the steady drone of prayer in the Temple of the Four; the smell of incense and burnt offerings seemed to permeate the air. Ki looked up at the cold sliver moon, wondering where the gods had been today.

  The wind shifted soon after, carrying the smell of smoke and death up from the harbor, and the faint sound of enemy voices singing.

  Victory songs, thought Ki.

  A touch on his shoulder startled Tobin out of a doze.

  It was Moriel. “The king is asking for you, Prince Tobin.”

  Ki and Tharin followed silently, and Tobin was glad of their company.

  Tobin could smell brandywine and healing herbs on the king from ten feet away, but his uncle’s eyes were sharp as he motioned for Tobin to take a stool at his feet. Hylus, Rheynaris, and Niryn were still there, and Korin, too. All of them looked grim.

  Erius extended his left hand for Tobin’s and looked into his face so intently Tobin suddenly felt afraid. He said nothing, listening to the rasp and hitch of the king’s breathing.

  After a moment Erius released him and sank back in his chair. “Pigeons were sent out this morning to the coastal cities,” he whispered hoarsely. “Volchi has been worse hit by this pox. They have no one to send. Ylani can raise some men, but the garrison there is small to begin with.”

  “What about Atyion? Solari must be on his way by now.”

  “There’s been no reply,” Hylus told him. “Several birds were sent, but none has returned. Perhaps the enemy intercepted them. Whatever the case, we must assume Solari has not heard the news.”

  “You must go, Tobin,” the king rasped. “We must have Atyion’s might! With the standing garrison, Solari’s men, and the surrounding towns, you might be able to raise three thousand. You must bring them, and quickly!”

  “Of course, Uncle. But how will I get there? The city’s surrounded.”

  “The enemy doesn’t have enough men to completely hem us in,” Rheynaris told him. “They’ve concentrated their main force along the eastern wall and at the gates. But they’re stretched thin between, especially on the north and west sides. A small group could get out. My scouts found a likely spot near the northwest wagon gate. We’ll lower you through a murder hole. You’ll have to find horses once you get outside.”

  “What do you say, Tharin?” the king asked.

  “Assuming we can find fresh mounts along the way, we could be there by midday tomorrow. But the trip back will be slower, with so many marching. It might be three days before we get back.”

  “Too long!” Erius growled. “Force march, Tharin, as we did at Caloford. If you don’t, there’ll be no city left to save. Ero is the heart of Skala. If it falls, Skala falls.”

  “How many should I take with me?” asked Tobin.

  “The fewer the better,” Rheynaris advised. “You’ll be less likely to be seen.”

  “Even less so if they go dressed as common soldiers,” Niryn said.

  Tobin gave the wizard a grudging nod. “Tharin and Ki will go with me.” He paused, then added quickly, “And my guardsman, Koni. He’s one of my best riders.”

  “And me! Take me!” his other men clamored from the shadows outside the pillars.

  “I’ll go.” Lynx shouldered his way past the others and strode over to kneel at Korin’s feet. “Please, let me go with him.”

  Korin whispered to his father and Erius nodded. “Very well.”

  “And me!” Lutha cried, struggling through the press.

  “No,” Erius said sternly. “Korin must take my place in the field tomorrow and needs his Companions around him. There are too few of you left as it is.”

  Abashed, Lutha bowed low, fist to his chest.

  “That’s it, then. You four accompany Prince Tobin,” Rheynaris said. “I’ll see that you have plain garments and an escort to the wall.”

  Erius raised his hand as they turned to go. “A moment, nephew.”

  Tobin sat down again. Motioning him to lean closer, Erius whispered, “You’re your father’s son, Tobin. I know you won’t fail me.”

  Tobin caught his breath, unable to look up.

  “No false modesty now,” Erius croaked, misreading him. “I’m going to say something now that I shouldn’t, and you’re not to repeat it, you hear?”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  “My son—” Erius leaned closer, grimacing in pain. “My son is not the warrior you are.”

  “No, Uncle—”

  Erius shook his head sadly. “It’s true, and you know it. But he will be king, and tomorrow he faces the enemy in my place. Hurry back with those reinforcements, then stay close to him, now and always. It will be you standing in Rheynaris’ place when he wears the crown, won’t it? Promise me, Tobin.”

  “Yes, Uncle.” The memory of his mother’s face the day she’d died made the lie come easier. But as he hurried away to change clothes, he could not meet Korin’s eye.

  Korin couldn’t hear what his father was saying to Tobin, but something in his father’s expression troubled him. His unease deepened when Tobin would not look at him.

  “What’s the matter, Father?” he asked, going back to the king. “Don’t worry, Tobin won’t fail. And I won’t either.” Kneeling, he held out his hands for the sword. “Give me your blessing, Father, that I may lead as wisely as you.”

  Erius’ grip tightened on the hilt and his eyes hardened. “You’re overly hasty, my son. Only one hand wields the Sword of Ghërilain. While I have breath in my body, I am still king. Be content with proving yourself worthy of it.”

  Only Niryn was close enough to hear the rebuff. Korin saw the wizard’s faint smile and swore revenge. “By the Four and the Flame, Father, I won’t fail you.”

  Erius placed his left hand on Korin’s head. “By th
e Four and the Flame, I bless you. Keep Rheynaris with you and listen to his counsel.”

  Korin bowed to the king and strode away. Rheynaris followed, but, still stinging from his father’s harsh words, Korin stubbornly refused to acknowledge him.

  With Rheynaris’ scouts to guide them, Tobin and his small force hurried on foot through the deserted streets. His own guard and a dozen of the king’s armed men came with them to the north wall, but they met no resistance. The houses were shuttered on all sides. No light showed.

  Climbing to the hoarding, they looked out through the arrow slits and noted the scattered watch fires below. The main concentration was along the harbor, but Tobin could see a chain of such fires scattered up the coastline, as well.

  The land beyond the walls was flat, with little cover. The moon was down, but the stars gave enough light to make out the pale line of the high road.

  In order to move quickly, Tobin and the others had left their heavy armor and shields behind. Clad in plain coats of studded leather, they wore their scabbards strapped on their backs and carried their bows in their hands.

  “Here, Prince Tobin,” one of the scouts whispered, lifting a trapdoor over a murder hole. It was a dizzying drop, fifty feet or so. Rheynaris’ men readied the ropes they’d brought.

  “I’ll go first,” Tharin whispered. Passing a knotted loop over his head, he tugged it securely up under his arms and sat down with his legs over the edge of the hole. He gave Tobin a wink as three brawny soldiers lowered him through.

  Tobin lay on his belly and watched as Tharin reached the ground and melted quickly into the shadow of a nearby hedge.

  Lynx went next, then Koni and Ki. Ki gave him a sickly grin as he slid off the edge and disappeared with his eyes squeezed shut.

  Tobin went quickly, not giving himself time to think of the open space below his boots. Reaching the ground, he cast off the rope and ran to join the others.

  Tharin had already taken stock. “We’ll have to stay clear of the road. They’ll be watching that and it’s bright enough for them to see us moving. There’s nothing to do but run for it and hope we find horses soon. Make sure your arrows are tamped.”

  Tobin and the others checked the wadded wool stockings they’d stuffed into their quivers to keep the shafts from rattling.

  “Ready,” said Ki.

  “All right, then. Here we go.”

  The first few miles were harrowing. The starlight seemed bright as noon and cast their shadows across the ground.

  The steadings closest to the city had been overrun. They were not burned, but the livestock had been taken and the inhabitants slaughtered. Men, women, and children lay where they’d fallen, hacked to death. Tharin didn’t let them linger there, but hurried on to the next, and the next. It was several miles before they got north of the Plenimarans’ path of destruction. The steadings beyond were deserted, their byres empty. The farmland between was open fields, with only a few hedges and walls to shelter behind.

  At last they spotted a sizable copse and ran for it, only to be greeted by the unmistakable twang of bowstrings as they neared the trees. A shaft sang by Tobin’s cheek, close enough for him to hear the buzz of the fletching as it passed.

  “Ambush!” Tharin cried. “To the right! Get to cover.”

  But as they ran that way swordsmen leaped out to meet them. There was no time to count, but they were outnumbered. Tobin was still reaching for his sword when Lynx let out his war cry and hurtled past him to charge the nearest swordsman. Men closed in around him as his blade found steel.

  Then the others were on them. Tobin dodged the first man who reached him and swung a crushing blow across the back of his neck just below his helmet. He went down and two more leaped at Tobin. “Blood, my blood,” Tobin whispered without thinking, but Brother did not come.

  Tobin fought on, flanked by Tharin and Ki. He could hear Koni shouting behind him, and the clash of steel off to his right told him Lynx was still standing.

  The blood sang in Tobin’s ears as he met each attacker and drove him back. They were strong, but he held his own until there was no one left to fight. Bodies littered the ground around them and he saw others running away.

  “Let them go,” Tharin panted, leaning on his sword.

  “You all right, Tob?” Ki gasped.

  “They never touched me. Where are the others?”

  “Here.” Lynx strode out from the shadows under the trees, his blade black to the hilt in the starlight.

  “That was a damn fool thing to do!” Tharin shouted, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him angrily. “You stay close next time!”

  Lynx yanked free and turned away.

  “Leave him alone,” said Tobin. “He acted bravely.”

  “That wasn’t bravery,” Tharin snapped, glaring at the sullen squire. “If you want to throw your life away, you wait until we have the prince safe in Atyion! Your duty is to Prince Tobin now. Do you hear me, boy? Do you?”

  Lynx hung his head and nodded.

  Tobin looked around. “Where’s Koni?” No one else was standing.

  “Oh, hell!” Tharin began searching through the bodies. The others did the same, calling Koni’s name. The fallen men all wore the black of Plenimar and Tobin didn’t think twice about sticking a knife in the few still moving.

  “Koni!” he called, wiping his blade on his leg. “Koni, where are you?”

  A low moan came from somewhere to his left. Turning, he saw a dark figure crawling slowly in his direction.

  Running to him, Tobin knelt to examine his wounds. “How badly are you hurt?”

  The young guardsman collapsed with a groan. The others reached them as Tobin gently turned him over. A broken arrow shaft protruded from his chest just below his right shoulder.

  “By the Light!” Tharin leaned in for a closer look. “Who the hell is that?”

  Tobin stared down in dismay at the fair-haired youth wearing Koni’s clothes. His chest was soaked with blood and his breath came in short, painful gasps. “I don’t know.”

  The young man’s eyes flickered open. “Eyoli. I’m—Eyoli. Iya sent me. I’m—mind clouder.”

  “A what?” Ki drew his sword.

  “No, wait.” Tharin knelt by him. “You say Iya sent you. How do we know that’s true?”

  “She told me to tell Prince Tobin—” He grimaced, clutching at his chest. “To tell you that the witch is in the oak. She said—you’d understand.”

  “It’s all right,” Tobin said. “Back in Ero, she told me to keep Koni with me. He must be a wizard.”

  “Not—not much of one.” The stranger let out a weak chuckle. “And even less of a fighter. She told me to stay close to you, my prince. To protect you.”

  “Where’s Koni, then?” Tharin demanded.

  “Killed, before the gates went down. I took his place and caught up with you before you were cornered at that inn.”

  “He’s dead?” Grief-stricken, Tobin turned away.

  “I’m sorry. It was the only way to stay with you. She said stay close,” Eyoli gasped. “That’s how she knew we were trapped. I sent word.”

  “Does she know where we are now?” asked Tobin.

  “I think so. She must not have been able to get out.”

  Tobin looked back at the burning city. There was no question of waiting for Iya now.

  “How badly is he hurt?” asked Ki.

  “The arrow and a sword cut to his side,” Tharin replied. “We’ll have to leave him.”

  “No!” cried Tobin. “He’ll die out here alone.”

  “Go, please!” Eyoli struggled to sit up. “Iya will find me. You must go on.”

  “He’s right, Tobin,” said Tharin.

  “We’re not leaving him to die. That’s an order, do you hear me? He helped save all of us today. I won’t leave until we’ve done what we can for him.”

  Tharin let out a frustrated growl. “Lynx, go find something for bandages. Ki, water bottles and cloaks. We’ll wrap him well and l
eave him in the trees. I’m sorry, Tobin, but we can’t do better than that.”

  “I’m sorry to leave you a man short,” the wizard whispered, closing his eyes. “I should have told you—”

  “You did your duty,” Tobin said, taking his hand. “I won’t forget that.”

  Ki came back with the cloaks and bottles, as well as several bows. Dropping them beside Tharin, he said, “What do you make of these?”

  Tharin picked one up, then another. “They’re Skalan made.”

  “They all were, every one I saw. Swords, too, as much as I could make out.”

  “Indeed?” Tharin set about cutting the arrow from Eyoli’s shoulder. The wizard clutched Tobin’s hand, trying not to cry out, but the pain was too much for him. Ki put a hand over his mouth and muffled the cries until Eyoli fainted. Tharin bandaged the wound, then picked up the bloody arrowhead and examined it closely for a moment. “Ki, Lynx, bundle him up as warm as you can and find a good hiding place for him in the trees. Leave him all the water you can find. Tobin, come with me.”

  Tharin went to the nearest body and began feeling over the dead man’s chest and back with his hands. He let out a low grunt, then did the same with several other bodies. “By the Flame!”

  “What is it?”

  “Look at this,” Tharin said, sticking a finger into a rent in the dead man’s tunic. “Put your hand in it and tell me what you feel?”

  “There’s no wound. He died of this sword cut to his neck.”

  “The others were the same. And Ki’s right about the weapons, too. These are Skalans in Plenimaran clothes.”

  “But why attack us?”

  “Because they were ordered to, I’d say. And ordered to make it look like we were killed by the enemy.” He got up and hunted around for a moment, returning with a handful of arrows. They had thick shafts, with four-vane fletching rather than three. “Skalan bows, but Plenimaran arrows. Easy enough to come by after the fighting we saw today.”

  “I still don’t understand. If we don’t get to Atyion, the city will fall!”

  “It had to be someone who knew we were going to Atyion, by what route, and when. And know it in time to have this set up.”