The King's bastard cokrk-1

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  '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.'

  Orrade cursed, tore his arm free and shoved past.

  Byren caught him by the jerkin, swung him up against the door and pressed his forearm to his throat. Orrade gasped, fingers prying at Byren's arm.

  'She's m'sister!' he ground out.

  'And I love her!'

  'It's not right!'

  Frustration swept through Byren. The gods knew, he would give his own life for Elina's if he had to. 'Would you let your own people down to save Elina? She wouldn't thank you.'

  He gave Orrade a moment to digest this.

  'I don't like it any better than you,' Byren admitted. 'But this is the right thing to do. I know it is.'

  Even as the words left his mouth, he recalled the old seer's seemingly senseless babble about right being a matter of perception. Shocked, he released Orrade and stepped back. Who was he to say what was right? He shivered.

  Orrade stared, as if he had never seen him before.

  'Very well,' Byren told him. 'Do what you think is right.'

  Orrade straightened his jerkin and went to grab the door latch. He hesitated, the struggle clear on his face. He agonised until, finally, the fight went out of him. 'Sylion take you, Byren!'

  'May Sylion take Palatyne into his cold embrace,' Byren whispered. 'I'll see him dead before dawn.'

  'That's no comfort for what Elina's going through,' Orrade snapped and again his hand went to the latch, but he stopped himself.

  Unable to sit still, Byren paced. It was too cold to sit.

  Palatyne was right, this was agony. No matter what his logical mind told him, he couldn't stop his imagination.

  He caught Orrade studying him. 'What?'

  His friend's smile held a great deal of anger mingled with admiration. 'I was wrong. You are strong enough to make the hard decisions.'

  Byren said nothing. Was he as hard as his father, Rolen the Implacable? He would not have thought it. He never wanted to have to make this kind of decision again. Elina might understand, but would she ever forgive him?

  Curse Palatyne. Curse his pet Power-workers.

  That reminded him of his experiences playing Duelling Kingdoms. 'Be on your guard, Orrie, Palatyne has two renegade Power-workers with him, a barbaric Utlander and a noble called Dunstany. They may sense your Affinity and try to use it against us.'

  'You knew?' Orrade stared at him. 'How long — '

  Byren shrugged. 'I suspected almost from the start.'

  Orrade sank onto a barrel, his shoulders hunched. 'At first I thought I was imagining it. But then it began to add up. I had a vision of a manticore with Cobalt's head before we were attacked by them, but it was so bizarre I thought I must be going mad. If I hadn't refused to believe it, I could have warned you. I should have warned you about Rejulas.' He lifted a tortured face to Byren. 'While we were hiding in the barn at Narrowneck I had a nightmare… a cockatrice entered the yard and spat poison at the barn door, setting it alight. I refused to admit — '

  'Forget it.' Byren shrugged.

  Orrade sprang to his feet, confronting him. 'Why don't you hate me? Why don't you denounce me?'

  Byren laughed. 'You're a lover of men. If that didn't worry me, why should your Affinity worry me?'

  Orrade tensed as if he'd been hit, then he went strangely silent.

  Just when Byren was about to demand what was wrong, Orrade retreated to sit on his barrel, contained, quiet and… seething. He said nothing while the minutes crept by. The cold settled over them. Meeting here had been a good idea. The ice slabs lining the walls stopped their voices from travelling, but now the chill crept into their bones.

  Byren looked away from his friend. He didn't see why he should apologise to Orrade for speaking the truth.

  A cold half-hour later the cook came to report that the Merofynian servants were locked in the wine cellar and all of their people were out of the keep, fleeing into the forest. 'There are two guards at the door of the blue chamber, one of Palatyne's men and one of Rejulas's.' Her eyes glinted. 'I don't think Palatyne trusts the Cockatrice warlord or vice versa!'

  Byren grinned and slapped his thighs to get his blood moving. 'Thank you, may the goddess be with you. Give Winterfall the signal. It's time to light the beacon.'

  She bustled away, as efficient in battle as she had always been in the kitchen.

  'Rejulas first?' Orrade asked, coming to his feet stiffly. He stretched and stamped his boots.

  Or Lence? Byren wondered. At least he could kill the Cockatrice warlord with a clean conscience. But he had to try to convince Lence. 'My brother first.'

  They slipped out of the cold-cellar and took the servants' stairs up the back way to the long corridor which led to the best bedchambers. To their left was the lord's bedchamber and opposite it, the royal chamber where Byren's parents stayed when visiting. These opened onto the mezzanine balcony which overlooked the great hall. To their right were the rest of the bedchambers.

  Byren peered around the lintel to the right. Lit by a single lamp, two warriors stood at the entrance to the blue chamber, giving substance to the fiction that Lence was a captive. If it was fiction.

  The cook was right, one guard wore the amfina surcoat and the other, the cockatrice cloak.

  Byren made a soft noise in his throat. Both warriors stiffened. He made the same noise again. They looked at each other. Finally Rejulas's man headed towards the dark stair well, his boots making soft thuds on the polished wood.

  Orrade waited, knife ready. Byren pinned the man's arms as soon as he stepped into the stair well, covering his mouth. Orrade drove the knife up under his ribs, straight into his heart. Byren eased the body to the floor, even as the life left him.

  They waited. But Palatyne's man was not going to risk his life to investigate the Cockatrice warrior's fate. Instead, he moved towards the overlord's door, passing on the far side of the dark stairwell opening.

  Byren lifted his knife, aimed and threw. The man had time only to register surprise before the knife took him in the throat. Though Byren darted out across the hall to catch him, he hit the floor with a soft thud.

  Byren retrieved his knife, wiped it and hurried to the door of the blue chamber. Orrade did not follow.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see his friend standing in the hall, torn.

  'Go, save her,' Byren whispered. Elina would think he had failed her again, but he had to see Lence.

  Orrade's expression cleared. 'Don't be misled by Lence's lies. I believe he's already tried to kill you once.'

  Had he? Byren wondered. Or had it been a slip of the tongue? After all, how could Cobalt have led the manticores to their camp, when it was almost certain he had no Affinity?

  Byren thrust the door open.

  Lence turned, shielding a flickering candle. He stood unarmed.

  'Byren?' His gaze flicked to the naked sword blade and back to his face. 'You're free.'

  Byren's shoulders relaxed and his sword tip dipped a fraction. 'Lence, you mustn't believe the things Cobalt said. I haven't betrayed you. The rings were for mother and father's Jubilee. The poem was for Elina, not Orrie.'

  His twin shrugged. 'He said you'd say that.'

  Byren closed his eyes in frustration.

  A mistake. When he opened them Lence had sn
atched the poker from the fire place. The end glowed menacingly as he raised it between them.

  'If you'd only listen, Lence,' Byren pleaded.

  His twin's gaze flickered behind Byren. A floor board creaked.

  Byren spun just in time to side-step Rejulas's attempt to run him through.

  Something hard struck the back of Byren's head, making him stagger and drop to one knee. Lence had hit him? He couldn't believe it.

  Rejulas turned his blade, swinging it for Byren's throat. Byren fumbled as he lifted his sword to deflect the strike.

  'No!' Lence diverted the stroke so that the blade sang as it slid down the length of the poker.

  'Why not?' Rejulas snarled.

  Byren lurched to his feet, backing away until the fireplace was behind him. His sword came up between them. Rejulas was his enemy but Lence had saved his life. Why?

  'Thought better of it. Can't risk giving the alarm,' Orrade said as he padded into the chamber. On seeing Byren's predicament he froze, weapon ready.

  'Shut the door,' Lence ordered. 'We don't want those Merofynian lordlings overhearing.'

  Byren's heart soared with hope.

  Rejulas cursed softly as Orrade closed the door.

  'Byren?' Orrade whispered. 'What's going on here?'

  'Yes, Lence?' Byren echoed. 'What's going on?'

  'I'm claiming my birthright,' his twin explained. 'Using the Merofynian army as my tool.'

  Byren blinked. 'Lence, Merofynia has invaded Rolencia. Unless we stop this overlord everything we hold dear is going to be destroyed, everyone we love is going to die. Palatyne — '

  'I'm not Palatyne's captive.' Lence almost looked sorry for Byren. He nodded to the Cockatrice warlord. 'I'm Rejulas's captive, but only for as long as it suits me. We've hatched a plan, Rejulas and I.'

  No one lowered their swords. Rejulas edged closer to Lence so that he confronted Orrade. 'Tell them, kingsheir.'

  'I have it on good authority that the Merofynians despise their king and fear his overlord,' Lence said softly, reasonably. 'They were planning to invade Rolencia so — '

  'They made overtures to me,' Rejulas laughed. 'Expected me to betray Rolencia.'

  'Merofynia is ripe for invasion. I know for a fact that the people would welcome Queen Myrella's heir,' Lence continued, his voice gathering strength. 'When Father refused to even consider invading — '