The soldiers held Corin tightly as he struggled to move away. Balkor folded down the collar of Corin’s tunic, laid the blade against his neck, and cut.
“They tell me there is no antidote, so you see, I come out the victor no matter what happens. I also realized the resemblance between you and another friend of mine, and so I made some inquiries. The servants were full of good information.” Balkor grabbed a torch and held it up so that the other prisoner was fully illuminated. “Remarkable! Celyn, I do believe I’ve found your long lost son. What? I can see he didn’t tell you. How noble! Probably to escape telling you that he was my slave for years. I hope you got to know him again because he doesn’t have much longer in this world!” Balkor gave a cruel laugh.
Corin’s right leg gave out beneath him as he began to tremble uncontrollably. The soldiers holding him let him fall to his hands and knees. He put his hand up to try and stop the bleeding cut on his neck. A bolt of pain shot through him, leaving him gasping for breath.
“Rest easy, Hawk!” Balkor laughed again, satisfied, as he left the dungeons.
Celyn moved closer to the bars. “Corin!” he cried, helplessly watching as Corin pulled himself to the beaker of water.
Corin managed a swallow before he began coughing. He raised a hand to his mouth and wiped away spatters of blood. Pain racked him, and he huddled on the ground until it subsided somewhat. He moved slowly towards his father. Celyn grabbed his hand through the bars.
“Steady, Corin,” he said as another tremor racked Corin. “It’ll pass, breathe slowly, it’ll pass!”
“Father!” It was a relief to finally say the word. “It’s getting worse!” Corin groaned, leaning against the bars.
Celyn tightened his grip on Corin’s hand. “It’s all right, son. I’m here.”
* * *
Two hours before dawn, Martin and Trey went up to the battlements. They slowly walked the west wall. Trey heard the faint rasp of steel and whirled around, dirk in hand.
“Llewellyn! Put that oversized rabbit skinner up. It’s us!” he hissed.
“Sorry, sir.” Llewellyn grinned, sheathing his knife. “The sentries are taken care of. We’re on the walls.”
“Good. There are only five men in the guardhouse by the west gate,” Martin said.
Llewellyn leaned over the walls and gave a low whistle. Within minutes, four more men had climbed the ropes and stood on the wall.
“Any news on Lynwood yet?” Trey asked.
Llewellyn shook his head. “Not yet, we’re expecting Kieran any time now. Have you seen the captain?”
“No.” Martin pulled a knife from his belt with more force than was necessary. “Let’s get to the guardhouse. It won’t be long now.”
* * *
Morning sunlight streamed through the prison window. Corin sat carefully. It had been almost an hour since the last attack, and the pain had settled down to a steady throb. He didn’t dare move for fear of triggering another spasm. He watched the sun beams play through the window. It was strange to think that soon he would never see it again. He had cheated death so many times before, but the end had finally come, and he hoped that he had earned a place in Lleu’s hall.
His father sat as close as the bars between them would allow. Corin had told him the rest of their family was safe, but his only concern had been Corin for the last few hours. Something like panic twisted his gut as the purposeful tread of heavy boots filled the dungeon, stopping in front of his cell. Unexpectedly, one knelt by Corin and pulled his helmet and mask off to reveal Martin.
“Corin, are you all right?” Martin looked over the bruises on his face.
“I’ll be fine,” Corin replied, as much to reassure Martin as himself.
Trey also removed his helmet and crouched by Martin. “Can you use your scimitar? There will be fighting before today is done.”
“Lynwood Keep is ours again. The Hawk Flight and two score men of Clan Dyson are outside the castle waiting on the signal,” Martin said.
“I’ll do my best,” Corin said. He might get his wish to die in battle after all.
Trey grinned. “Good, I went through no end of trouble to steal your scimitar back.”
He and Martin pulled their masks and helmets back on as Corin tried to stand. He doubled over as the pain lashed through him and he began coughing. He wiped the blood away before Martin and Trey could see. But Martin exchanged a concerned look with Trey.
“Corin?” He took Corin’s arm in a worried grip.
Corin managed to straighten without help. “I’m fine.”
“Corin, are you sure?” Celyn asked.
“I’m not giving in yet,” Corin replied.
“King Celyn!” Martin exclaimed, and Trey hurried to unlock the cell.
“Leave it for now,” Celyn ordered. “I can’t help you fight.”
Trey persisted and swung the door open. He tossed the king the keys and a dagger. “Just in case,” he said.
Martin looped Corin’s hands together behind his back and helped him stumble from the cell.
A large scaffold had been erected in the middle of the courtyard. The main gates stood open, and a line of soldiers held the townspeople back. Ismail stood by Lord Balkor. Ahmed’s posture was too stiff as his hand gripped his sword hilt, and Emeth’s gaze swept the wall guards before settling on him. Corin gave them a small smile as he ascended the platform with Martin and Trey. An Argusian stood on the scaffold hefting a large ax.
“At last! Let today signal the end of the outlaws!” Lord Balkor proclaimed. His men raised a cheer, but the sound died on their lips as another cry rent the air. A wolf howled, wild and savage.
A figure stood on the walls above the main gates, broadsword in hand. The men on the walls turned, and Corin’s mind barely registered that they held Aredorian longbows.
The quick rasp of steel brought Lord Balkor’s attention back to the scaffold. Martin and Trey had cast aside their helmets and had drawn their swords that they had hidden beneath their cloaks. Corin freed his hands, and Trey handed him his scimitar.
That galvanized Lord Balkor into action. At his commands, his soldiers drew their weapons and moved to attack. The outlaws on the walls drew their bows and fired into the Calorins below. Raising a war cry, Corin, Martin, and Trey jumped from the scaffold into the fight. Their cry was echoed by Tristan and Dandin leading their men in from the east gate. Darrin fought his way down the wall steps to join them.
The battle raged, and the Calorins fell against the Northerners. Corin staggered against the scaffold as he pulled his sword free from his former opponent. In the brief respite he looked for a familiar figure, his eye finally lighting on Balkor. The lord shoved a Clansman away and strode off. Corin glanced up at the walls that were choked with fighting. Any entrance to the castle was blocked and Balkor’s destination became clear. The main gate stood open, the townspeople having fled long ago. Balkor cut his way towards it. A few more steps and he would be free.
Corin shoved away from the scaffold, forcing his feet into a run.
“Balkor!” His shout halted the lord in his tracks. Unwillingly Lord Balkor turned and saw Corin thundering toward him.
A small, confident smile flashed across his face as he readied his sword. Scimitars flashing, they clashed together, fury giving Corin the strength to fight. They strove against each other, neither losing nor gaining ground. Then Corin reeled back against the wall steps with blood pouring from a cut down his side.
He clung desperately to the steps to keep himself upright as pain washed over him.
“Can you feel the poison seeping through your veins? Eating away at you?” Balkor asked mockingly. “You cannot win.”
“You always underestimated me!” Corin gritted.
Pushing himself upright, he closed on Balkor again. Balkor was driven back. He swung his scimitar in an arc to bring down across Corin’s neck. Corin ducked the blow, and then gathering his sword up, he gave a great cry and plunged it into Balkor. He dimly saw Balk
or fall, and then his strength failed. His scimitar clattered to the ground as pain enveloped him, and he fell into darkness.
* * *
Ismail handed his sword to Darrin. All around, the surviving Calorins threw their weapons to the ground and placed their hands on their heads in a gesture of surrender.
“Allow me tae be the first tae congratulate you on this victory,” Dandin said.
“Thank you, but most of the credit goes to you,” Darrin replied.
“Och, we’re glad tae help. Some of Clan Gunlon should be arriving later,” Dandin said.
“They’ll be more than welcome,” Darrin said gratefully.
Under his orders, the prisoners were taken to the dungeons, and the servants willingly turned the great hall into a makeshift infirmary for the wounded.
Darrin stopped Ian as he went by supporting a wounded soldier.
“Have you seen Corin?” Worry was beginning to give way to panic.
Ian shook his head. “No, sir.”
Martin gave a strangled cry and pointed, but Darrin had already seen. He ran and crashed to his knees beside the crumpled figure lying by the gates. He wiped blood from Corin’s face as he held him. Corin’s eyes flickered open.
“Corin! Hold still, brother, we’ll get you patched up.” Darrin pressed a hand against his bleeding side as if that could do anything.
“It’s too late for me, I think. Balkor used a poison.” Corin’s breath came in hoarse gasps. “He said there’s no cure. I don’t have long.”
Darrin tightened his hold around his brother. “No! Corin, please! I don’t want to lose you again!”
“I don’t think I can fight it. Promise me you’ll finish what we’ve started.” Corin’s hand fumbled at his arm.
“I promise, and I won’t give up on you!” Darrin said fiercely.
Corin managed a smile, but Darrin could see the pain and fear in his eyes.
“You never have,” he said, then was overtaken by a bout of coughing. Darrin stared horrified at the blood as Corin lapsed into unconsciousness.
Martin ran to join them. “They’re bringing a stretcher. Liam will look after him as soon as he can.”
“Martin, take him to his old room,” Darrin said.
Martin nodded as he helped lay Corin on the stretcher. Tristan helped Darrin to stand.
“Where’s Trey?” Darrin asked.
“Inside. Liam’s working on him now.” Tristan replied shortly.
Darrin’s shoulders slumped at the frozen misery on Tristan’s face. “What happened?”
“I found him against the wall, cut up pretty badly. The worst bit was pulling the spear out of his hip.”
Darrin looked around at the courtyard. There was still so much work to be done. He wished the day was over so he could sleep and forget for a little while.
Chapter 20
Mera made her way up to the castle accompanied by Kara. The runner had arrived at her house in the early morning with a request from Prince Darrin. Once Mera had heard the report of the intended battle at Kingscastle, she’d packed everything she could carry and returned with Kara to hide in the outskirts of the town until the outcome was decided.
Now that the battle was safely over, Mera hurried to help with the wounded. Above the gate, the Calorin standard had been torn down and replaced with the banner of Aredor. A grey wolf ran proudly across the blue field. They paused for a moment to admire the sight and then passed through the gate. The courtyard and walls were still being cleared, and sentries paced behind the battlements.
Kara took the horses to the stable while Mera went inside the castle. She found Liam bandaging the leg of a young Clan member.
“Just start wherever you can,” he told her.
The hall was filled with Calorins and Northerners alike. Mera saw a Calorin soldier with a splintered arrow in his chest. Going over to him, she began cleaning the wound. The hours passed slowly until all had finally been cared for.
“Can you help with one more?” Liam asked Mera. She nodded and he led her up the stairs and through a corridor she recognized as the residence of the royal family.
“It’s the captain. Darrin said he’d been poisoned somehow. I’m afraid I don’t know much about poisons. I bandaged what I could, but I was hoping you’d be able to help him,” Liam said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mera promised.
“Thanks.” Liam opened the door. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”
Mera drew back the blankets covering Corin. His side had been bandaged, but around it, she could see numerous bruises and welts. Her attention was distracted by a cut on his neck surrounded by swollen and discolored skin. She asked for hot water and clean cloths. While she waited for Liam to return, she sorted through her remaining herbs and powders. Corin lay unmoving on the bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps broken only by sudden bouts of coughing.
Mera prepared a poultice for the wound on his neck. His skin was hot and dry to the touch. She washed and re-bandaged the other wounds he had sustained. Then she washed blood away from his face and neck, revealing more bruises and cuts. Mera worked tirelessly, preparing another poultice for his swollen left wrist.
As she finished, she went to the windows and pushed them open. The forest was a distant line on the horizon. The setting sun caught at the windows in a momentary flash, and then it was gone.
* * *
Darrin sat with King Celyn, Martin, Tristan, and Dandin in a small council chamber, discussing how best to divide their forces. Castle Martel on the coast and the southern half of Aredor still lay in Calorin hands. A knock sounded, and the guard entered followed by a stranger.
He was a few years older than Dandin and carried himself with a confident air. Long fair hair was pulled back with a leather band, and he wore the armor of the Clans—a leather tunic studded with steel plates. He carried a claymore under a purple plaid cloak. Like Dandin, his left arm remained bare and showed a rearing unicorn and a six-pointed star.
“Just in time! Lads, allow me tae introduce Colwyn, chief of Clan Gunlon,” Dandin announced.
Colwyn inclined his head. “I brought three score men with me. We’d be glad tae help in any way.” His accent was softer than Dandin’s.
“Thank you,” Celyn replied. “I’m afraid our hospitality is limited right now.”
“Och, not tae worry. With your permission, my laird, we’ll camp on the plain outside,” Colwyn said.
With the additional men, they were able to spread their forces more easily. As the council ended, Tristan excused himself to go check on Trey. Dandin and Colwyn went to see to their men, and Martin left to oversee the changing sentries. Darrin and his father were left alone. For the first time that day, they were able to talk. Slowly the conversation turned to Corin. Celyn wanted to hear more about his son, and Darrin willingly obliged.
It was late when they left the chamber. Darrin went to Corin’s room. Pushing the door open, he entered quietly. Liam sat half-asleep in an armchair by the bed, dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes.
Darrin dismissed him saying, “I’ll stay for a while, Liam. Get some sleep. We leave tomorrow morning for the coast.”
Liam nodded gratefully as he staggered to his feet. “Don’t stay too long, sire. You need rest as well.”
Darrin sat down in the chair, unbuckling his sword as he did. Corin lay still, laboring to breath. Pain flashed across his face as his body spasmed, caught in some nightmare.
* * *
He saw again the scene of the ambush. He ran to Castimir. Too late; he saw the sword stab into the young man. Then to his horror, he saw it was his hand that held the sword. It faded, and the lion attacked, but he was powerless to move. Its claws raked his side…on and on it went, he could not escape.
* * *
Darrin woke at dawn. He had fallen asleep in the armchair. He stood stiffly, having remained in his mail coat since the battle. He belted his sword on again. Corin showed no change since the night before. A flutter of wi
ngs at the window announced the arrival of Karif. The hawk perched disconsolately on the windowsill. Darrin turned back to the bed. He hated to leave, for he knew that it was probably the last time he would see his brother alive. He reached out and gently clasped Corin’s hand.
“Good-bye, brother,” he whispered.
“He’s dying, isn’t he?” Martin stood in the doorway.
Darrin couldn’t answer; his own anguished expression matched Martin’s. Martin came forward and stood at the foot of the bed.
“I didn’t think he would be taken away again so soon.” His voice caught as he looked down at his friend.
Darrin laid a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Come, it is time for us to leave.”
Martin nodded, blinking back tears, and followed Darrin from the room.
Shortly after, the Hawk Flight rode from Kingscastle accompanied by Clan Dyson and Clan Gunlon. Kieran rode with them, and Kara again traveled to the forest to bring news to the settlement. As she rode through towns and farms, she spread the tidings of the victories, prompting celebrations among the people.
Queen Elain and Amaura insisted on travelling back with her immediately. Kara happily guided them back through the forest to their home. Amaura was only a few years her elder, and they kept lively conversation on the way. Kara welcomed her companionship after spending two years in the Hawk Flight. Queen Elain often joined in, sharing their laughter as they celebrated their newfound freedom.
* * *
The castle was quiet; only two score men remained to guard it. With Liam gone, Mera took charge of the wounded and directed the few healers that remained. She checked on Corin often, becoming more worried as the day progressed. She changed the poultice on his neck, hoping to draw out the poison. Instead, the wound became worse, and the skin around it turned red and inflamed. She tried various treatments but to no avail. She could see him become weaker and weaker. It tore at her heart to see him lie there so far removed from the confident, cheerful young man she had seen in the forest.
The Rise of Aredor Page 29