'Come, little monk. A shot of Merofynian rum is what you need.' Jakulos dragged Fyn upright. Fyn tried to pull away, embarrassed, but Jakulos wouldn't let him go.
'It's what you do when it counts that matters,' he told Fyn.
Fyn blinked to clear his vision, surprised to hear such wisdom from a man he had thought a bluff, brainless oaf.
Jakulos led him over to the steps, where they sat to share a bottle of Merofynian rum while they watched the transfer of stolen treasures. Wiry little Bantam perched on the steps and Jakulos handed him the bottle without comment.
Bantam took a long gulp then wiped his mouth, eyeing Fyn with calculation that verged on suspicion. 'Cap'n's mighty pleased with you, little monk. He tells me you disarmed a man with your bare hands.'
Fyn shrugged. 'Abbey training.'
Bantam held his eyes for a moment, letting Fyn see that he was not so easily won over, and then nodded to the bundles of all shapes and sizes that were being carried across the gangplanks. 'And he's pleased with this plump cargo. The spoils of war from Rolencia will make us sea-hounds rich. Better in our pockets than King Merofyn's, eh?'
'As long as we fill the hold of the Wyvern's Whelp by the cusp of spring,' Jakulos muttered. 'I promised a girl on Ostron Isle I'd be back by then.'
'There's always a girl waiting for Jaku.' Bantam winked at Fyn, who felt an unexpected fellowship.
The weapons master would have said this was a normal reaction to escaping death. But by Halcyon, it felt good to be alive!
Jakulos nudged him. 'Don't hog the rum.'
Fyn passed it over. He would never have thought last midwinter - when he prepared for the race to win Halcyon's Fate - that he would end up a landless kingson, serving a sea-hound captain.
Now, why hadn't he seen this vision in the Fate? Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter had nothing to do with him.
Jakulos passed Bantam the bottle. He took a gulp.
'If the captain's pleased with me, will he take me back to Port Marchand?' Fyn asked.
Bantam shook his head. 'Our orders are to prevent as much of the spoils of war from reaching King Merofyn as possible.'
Fyn hid his surprise. It appeared either Captain Nefysto, or his mysterious benefactor, or both were Rolencia's allies. Even so, as soon as the Wyvern's Whelp returned to Ostron Isle Fyn would jump ship, and take passage back to Rolencia.
The ache of Piro's loss would never fade, but at least he could avenge her death. And to do this, he must help Cobalt find Byren.
Byren strode into the loyalist camp as though he hadn't been near death only five days ago, hale and hearty. Word of their approach had been passed on ahead by scouts and everyone had downed tools and come out of the caves to watch. So many people.
So many old men and women, and small children.
This was not an army. It was a liability. Who was he kidding? He could not go to the spar warlords with these people in tow. It would make him look weak.
And they all depended on him to protect them and win back their homes. His heart sank.
Hiding his despair, Byren grinned and waved, calling to people he knew from his many visits to Dovecote estate. The cook was there, a little slimmer, but just as competent. Byren blew her a kiss, knowing she would like it.
'Da!' Leif took off at a run, going to his father.
Florin laughed and ran over to hug her father, then stood on the other side of him as Byren approached.
'I left Old Man Narrows in charge,' Orrade whispered, 'rather than the survivors of your honour guard. He was more experienced.'
Old Man Narrows was perhaps forty summers, with iron-grey hair, and stood half a head shorter than his daughter. So she didn't get her height from him.
He greeted Byren cheerfully, 'Well, you're a sight for sore eyes, my king.'
Byren flushed and shook his head. When he replied, his voice ground deep in his throat, tight with emotion. 'Don't call me that. Until I send the last Merofynian home with his tail between his legs, and stand in Rolenhold's great hall where my father stood, I won't be worthy of that title.'
A cheer broke from the men behind Old Man Narrows and Byren recognised four of his original honour guard. He acknowledged them with a smile, praying he would prove worthy of their devotion.
'So be it,' Old Man Narrows said. 'What d'you want us to call you?'
'Byren will do.'
Florin's father nodded and turned to Orrade. 'Well done, lad.'
'I'd never have found him without Florin's help.'
Leif made a sound of protest.
'Or gotten back without Leif's help,' Orrade added, with a grin.
Chandler, Winterfall and the other two honour guard claimed Byren. He welcomed them each with a hug while someone handed around tankards of ale. They'd saved the banner Garzik had designed and now they unrolled it.
It gleamed bright against the snow. A rearing leogryf attacking a foenix on a black background. The loyalists cheered. Reminded of Garzik's loss, Byren blinked tears from his eyes.
For now, everyone was happy, buoyed up by his return. But soon they would realise the immensity of what he had to achieve. Without trained men-at-arms it was impossible to convince the spar warlords to honour their oath of fealty to his father.
When Old Man Narrows drew Orrade aside to consult him about something, Byren was reminded that his friend had established the hidden camp, and kept everyone fed and protected from discovery. He always knew Orrade's keen mind would take him far.
To the execution block, if Byren failed and the Merofynians captured them.
Byren felt a fraud, but he managed to grin and trade friendly insults with his loyal honour guard.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Orrade returned to tap his arm. Byren barely restrained the impulse to shrug him off. The honour guard had chosen not to believe Cobalt's slurs about him and Orrade. But if Orrade revealed his true feeling by so much as a look, they would turn against Byren.
Steeling himself, Byren turned to his old friend.
'Old Man Narrows tells me someone arrived yesterday. They've been asking to see you,' Orrade revealed. 'Come on.'
'Can't it wait? I still have to work out how many able-bodied men we have, and how many mouths we need to feed.' Sylion's luck. How would he feed all these children?
'I can count heads for you. But this person is important.' Laugher lit Orrade's dark eyes.
A smile tugged at Byren's lips. He fell into step with Orrade, climbing up, around the track. Who could it be? All his family were dead. All of Orrade's family were dead. 'Who -'
'Come on,' Orrade insisted, not about to give him a chance to speak.
They'd gone several steps when Byren came to a stop. 'It's Garzik, isn't it? He found his way up here...'
But he broke off, seeing the sudden grief in Orrade's thin face. 'Orrie, I'm sorry. I thought for a moment he was safe.'
Orrade shook his head, unable to speak.
Aware that they were unobserved, Byren pulled his friend into his arms. 'I'm sorry, Orrie, truly I am. I'd give anything to bring him back.'
'I know.' Orrade pulled away, and brushed the tears from his face. 'Come.' He swept Byren uphill and into a cave.
Eyes blinded by the change from light to dark, Byren could barely make out the outline of a shrunken old woman.
He blinked. 'Seela?' Surely not. Their old nurse was a plump little thing, with twinkling eyes.
'Byren!' She beamed.
A thin, care-worn version of his old nurse embraced him. Tears stung Byren's eyes. Seeing Seela, who had so often stood beside his mother, admonishing Piro to behave, made him all the more aware of their loss. He hugged her tighter.
'Enough,' she complained. 'You'll crack a rib.' She pulled back to look up at him. Light bounced up from the snow outside, reflecting on the roof of the cave. 'Let me look at you, my beautiful boy.'
'They're dead, Seela,' Byren whispered. 'I tried to save Lence, but I couldn't. Elina, Garzik, I failed them all...' He could n
ot go on, dropping to his knees.
As if he was still a little boy, she pressed him to her, whispering endearments. 'I know, love. Orrie told me. Elina -'
'I loved her. I was going to ask her to marry me.'
'Byren.' When she said it, his name held a world of sympathy. 'And little Garzik, lost too. Ah, he was a bright spark. But Byren,' She pushed him away from her, so that she could see his face. 'I bring good news. Piro lives!'
'What?'
Seela nodded, eyes brimming with happiness.
'Where?'
Seela's face fell. 'A noble Power-worker took her for his slave. I heard he's since sailed for Merofynia.'
This changed everything. He wasn't alone. Piro still lived. If so, maybe Fyn... 'And Fyn? Have you heard from him?'
Seela shook her head. 'No. But they haven't found his body.'
So there was hope. He had to hold on to that. And Piro was in Merofynia, enslaved.
'And Ma and Pa? I heard...' he couldn't bring himself to say it.
She let her breath out in a long sigh. 'Your father was killed under a flag of truce. Your mother tried to kill Cobalt. Took his arm off at the shoulder.'
Byren was amazed. He could not imagine his elegant, kind mother swinging a sword with lethal intent. But he was glad she had seen through Cobalt in the end. It meant she knew Byren had always been true. Again tears blurred his vision.
'Well.' It was too much. He had to clear his throat. 'Piro lives. And perhaps Fyn.' Although, now that he thought about it, his brother had never seemed the martial type, despite being trained as a warrior monk. Byren suspected he would have been happier as a scholar. He hoped Fyn had the ruthless streak he'd need to evade Palatyne and Cobalt. 'And Cobalt lives, you say?'
'He did when I left. Palatyne had appointed him his puppet ruler.'
'Not for long, if I have my way.' Byren allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he imagined confronting Cobalt. But that would not happen unless... 'If only I had a couple of hundred trained men at my back, I could approach the spar warlords. I can't go to them, looking weak.'
'I can bring you those men.' Seela pulled up a stool and sat opposite him, eager as a young girl. 'I brought five likely lads with me when I arrived. I can travel from one end of Rolencia to the other, whispering word of Byren Kingsheir, living in hiding -'
'I can't let you do that. If they catch you...' He shuddered to think what they would do to his old nurse. Neither her gender nor her age would protect her. 'I can't -'
'Byren,' Orrade cut him off. He'd forgotten his friend was still there. Orrade came over and dropped to his haunches beside Byren. 'Seela's right. She knows our people. The Merofynians won't expect a harmless old woman to be preaching rebellion. She can go into Rolenhold, right under their noses, and lead warriors back to us. Back to the camp, the retreat.'
He glanced from his old nurse to his childhood friend. They were ready to risk their lives for him, for the dream of Rolencia free from the Merofynian yoke.
He could not fail them. 'Very well. But don't call this camp a retreat. That makes it sound like we're on the back foot, running away. Call it something more positive, like...'
'The Leogryf's Lair. Garzik would approve of that,' Orrade said. 'And all our people know you as Byren the leogryf slayer. Rolencians can speak of the Leogryf's Lair without arousing Merofynian suspicion.'
'Excellent!' Seela beamed at Orrade. 'I told Myrella you were the smartest of your generation.'
He blushed and Byren grinned, unworried by the comparison. He'd always known he was cleverer than Lence, but not as clever as Orrade.
His friend sprang to his feet. 'Think I'll go check our numbers, see who has arrived. We've already set up a smithy to mend and make weapons.'
When he had gone Seela patted Byren's arm. 'You're a good boy, Byren. Your mother would be proud.'
Unable to speak, he hugged her and went outside. Everyone had gone back to their tasks. Somewhere, not far away, he could hear the dull clunk of a smithy's hammer. They would have to cloak that noise somehow.
He inhaled deeply, smelling onions and pork cooking. His stomach rumbled. At least with Dovecote's cook they would eat well. If they could find enough food.
Byren knew there were no guarantees in life. He might fall on the battlefield and never avenge his father and mother, but today he felt much closer to winning back Rolencia.
One day he would sit in his father's great hall and send an ambassador to Merofynia, to barter for Piro's life. One day, if Halcyon had protected him, he would find Fyn and they would be together again, the last of King Rolen's kin.
Read the final novel in King Rolen's Kin, the bestselling fantasy series from Rowena Cory Daniells and Solaris Books!
Now a slave, Piro finds herself in the royal palace of Merofynia, serving her parents' murderer. She must watch every step, for if her real identity is discovered, she will be executed. Fyn is desperate to help his brother, now the uncrowned king of Rolencia. Byren never sought power, but finds himself at the centre of a growing resistance movement as people flee Palatyne's vicious soldiers. Can he hope to repel the invasion with a following of women, children and old men?
Title
Indicia
World Map
Map of Rolencia
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Also from Solaris Books
The Uncrowned King Page 29