The King's bastard cokrk-1

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  'Melt some snow, heat some food,' he told himself. Somehow, he had to stay awake all night after trudging through the snow all day. As long as the fire held out they would be safe.

  He hoped.

  Byren glanced up. Stars filled the dark bowl above him with an effervescence of light. He would be able to tell the time by the progress of the wanderers, oddly coloured stars which travelled in erratic loops across the heavens.

  Turning to face the night he checked on their enemies. Now and then he caught glimpses of fire-bright eyes reflecting back at him and knew the ulfrs waited, silent and grim for the first chink in their defences. Taking the large branch, he split the end and wedged his hunting knife's hilt in the gap, securing it. Tying off the cord, he used his teeth to be sure the knot was tight. The makeshift spear was not a thing of beauty but it was better than a hunting knife alone. It would be strongest driven straight on. The cord binding it to the branch would work loose with too many slashing strikes. Now he had three spears and all he had to do was keep watch.

  He glanced at Orrade. 'Trust you to snore your way through the night, leaving all the watches for me.'

  There was no answering snort or smart reply. Byren felt a stab of fear and guilt. If Orrade died old Lord Dovecote would be devastated and Elina would be heartbroken. His own heart sank for he had intended, once Lence's betrothal was announced, to tell Elina how he felt. The proud tilt of her chin came to him, making his body clench. How he wanted her.

  He gripped the spear shaft and vowed he'd bring Orrade home safe and then he'd ask her. Have to get her a betrothal gift, something special. Perhaps he could give her the lincurium pendant. No, the wife of the kingson could not outshine the wife of the kingsheir. He had to give Lence's betrothed the pendant.

  If he got through tonight — no, when he got through tonight, he would make his way to the fortified farmhouse, borrow a sled and take Orrade to Dovecote Keep.

  Byren added another branch to the fire and imagined their arrival, the family rushing out to help carry Orrade inside, Lord Dovecote old and frail now, Elina concerned for her brother, grateful to him and Garzik… Byren winced. Fourteen-year-old Garzik adored his big brother. Garzik had been begging to go on raids with them for the last year.

  They were all depending on Byren.

  He stirred up the fire and watched the night.

  Much later, the crack of a branch collapsing into the fire startled him. Byren woke with a jerk and sat up, dismayed to find the fire had burned dangerously low. Worse, a medium-sized ulfr was only three body lengths from him, creeping in low on its belly.

  He leapt to his feet, snatched a brand from the fire and yelled to startle it. The beast spun on its haunches, retreating to the forest of bare trees.

  A single large ulfr with a thick winter coat watched him unblinking from the tree line. It was bold enough not to retreat. He snatched a rock and hurled it. The ulfr sprang nimbly to one side, opened its jaws in a silent laugh then melted into the shadows. A moment later he heard it howl and the others answer.

  He suspected he had just seen the pack leader. Like wolves, a male and female pair led each ulfr pack, dominating the others with their cunning and strength.

  Byren felt shaky and sick as the surge of fear drained away, leaving him exhausted. He hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep. Weariness still dulled his mind.

  Concentrate.

  Build up the fire.

  'That you, Byren?'

  Silently, he gave thanks to Halcyon and darted around the blaze to kneel next to Orrade. 'How d'you feel?'

  'Wonderful!' he said, but his eyes were firmly closed and he frowned fiercely.

  Byren grinned. 'No, really. How do you feel? You've been out for ages.'

  'Head's thumping fit to burst. But I'll live.'

  'Just as well. Elina would never forgive me if anything happened to you.'

  Orrade chuckled, then moaned as even this hurt him. 'Where are we?' He pried open one eye then closed it again, the effort too much. 'What happened and how'd we get away from the lincis?'

  For some reason Byren didn't want to mention the old seer. 'Drove it off, but a falling branch clipped the back of your head. You're lucky your skull's thick.' Best to keep him talking. 'We're trapped, Orrie. An ulfr pack have pinned us on the edge of a cliff.'

  'Build a fire.'

  Byren blinked. Orrade's face was in the shadow of Byren's body, but ruddy fire light gleamed on his friend's hands where they clutched the cloak to his chest.

  Fear settled in the pit of Byren's belly. The old seer had said Orrade would never be the same. Had she meant he'd be blind?

  Like a three-day-old kitten, Orrade forced his eyes open and peered around. 'No stars to aid us tonight, just when we could have done with — '

  'Orrie, the stars are bright enough to cast shadows and, if I move, you'll feel the fire's heat on your face.'

  Those sightless eyes travelled to his face, following the sound of his voice. It was uncanny, but he was still blind.

  'Byren?'

  He heard the fear in Orrade's voice, the unspoken don't leave me.

  'I am going to get you out of this, then I am going to take you home. You hear me, Orrie?'

  His friend said nothing.

  'You hear me?' he repeated. 'I am not going to fail you.'

  'I know,' Orrade whispered.

  Byren licked dry lips then glanced back to the tree line where the ulfr pack watched and waited. He had made a promise, but he didn't know how he was going to save his friend.

  Orrade shifted on the hard rock. 'Could you have found a more uncomfortable bed?'

  Byren grinned. Thank Halcyon, there was nothing wrong with his friend's wits. They spoke of this and that. It was easier to stay awake with Orrade conscious. Even so the night dragged.

  Not long after midnight, when Byren reached for more wood, he found their supply dangerously low. He tried not to stare into the flames and destroy his night vision while he rebuilt the fire, but he had to look at what he was doing.

  'Byren?' Orrade whispered, waking from a doze.

  'Who else?' he countered.

  Orrade grinned weakly. 'How goes it?'

  'Just building up the fire.'

  'How's the wood holding out?'

  Byren glanced to the depleted pile.

  'That bad, eh?' Though Orrade could not see him, he seemed able to read Byren's silences. He lifted onto his elbow, then levered himself to a sitting position with obvious effort. Only the boulder at his back seemed to hold him up.

  Byren rubbed his jaw, feeling the prickle of unshaven skin. 'I could venture out to gather more — '

  'That would be madness.'

  He was right.

  'Then I'll bring the fire in closer.' Byren began adjusting the wood.

  'You stand a better chance on your own,' Orrade said. 'Leave me.'

  Byren didn't even bother to reply. He stretched what was left of their fuel in an arc and set it all alight. With the fire burning in a semi circle the wood would run out faster, but it meant he had a smaller area to defend. And, when the fire did burn out, the hot coals might slow the ulfrs.

  Shading his eyes, Byren stared into the tree line. The leader was watching him again, waiting. The beast seemed to know he could afford to wait. Byren wished his bow was not at the bottom of the ravine.

  'What do you see?' Orrade asked.

  'Mangy, winter-starved ulfrs,' Byren lied. Taking the three spears across his knees, he crouched next to Orrade.

  Time stretched.

  'If I were truly brave I would roll off the edge and you could save yourself,' Orrade muttered, rising to his knees and crawling around the boulder, feeling with his hands for the lip of the ravine.

  'Don't say that. Don't!' Byren jerked him back, holding him so tight he could feel Orrade's muscles trembling.

  His friend protested and pulled away. The hollows under his high cheekbones starkly defined his grim face.

  Byren felt frustrated, helpl
ess. 'We're going to get out of this, Orrie.'

  His friend nodded once, but it was clear he wasn't convinced.

  For a long while they were silent and the fire burned on, while the wandering stars crawled with deliberate slowness across their allotted paths.

  Eventually, Byren shifted, easing his muscles, preparing for the worst. The ulfrs had begun to close in, their eyes glowing beyond the fire's semi circle.

  He lifted one of the good spears and picked his first target, the male that had nearly crept up on him before. The distance was too great for an average man to throw but Byren was not an average man. Silently, he thanked King Rolence the First, who had bequeathed his descendants with unusual height.

  The ulfr watched him, watched his eyes, not the spear.

  When Byren went to throw it crouched, presenting a smaller target. Sylion take it, the beasts were too clever.

  Byren swallowed.

  The massive pack leader padded out from the tree line, lifted its head to reveal white fur on its chest and gave voice to that dreaded howl. Fear prickled across Byren's skin.

  The rest of the ulfrs echoed their leader.

  In the moment that the first, smaller male was distracted, Byren threw his spear with all his strength and training. It took the beast high in the shoulder. The impact threw the ulfr off its feet as its howl became a whine of pain. The others ducked and whined as if in sympathy, slinking back to the trees.

  'You got one!' Orrade struggled to his knees, adjusting the cloak.

  'They'll attack again,' Byren warned. He crouched and felt for Orrade's shoulder, thrusting the makeshift spear into his hands. 'If any of them get past me, deal with them.'

  'How? I won't know where they are until their jaws close on me!' Orrade's voice dropped and he tugged on Byren's arm drawing him closer still. 'I'm going to die but I don't care as long as you live. I want you to know that I love you. I've always loved you!' He smiled ruefully as if he could see Byren's startled expression. 'And you've only ever had eyes for my sister!'

  'But… the girls we've shared — '

  'Meant nothing.' Orrade reached into his vest and pulled out a chain. On the end swung the symbol of the archer. 'I have foresworn women just like Palos.' Palos was a semi-mythical warlord whose feats with the bow had not been matched since. He'd almost united Rolencia in a time before King Rolence. His exploits were legendary.

  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.'