The King's bastard cokrk-1 Read online

  Worse, the warriors they'd fought alongside these last five years were obviously eager to swear allegiance to serve Lence, while all he had was a disinherited son and a boy who'd run away from his domineering father.

  Byren stiffened. He didn't mind being the spare heir — let Lence marry for political reasons — but he hated being second best.

  'Eh, Illien?' King Rolen passed Byren as he strode towards Cobalt and Lence. The youths parted respectfully and Cobalt turned to face the king.

  'We've got half an hour, come see Myrella. She'll be delighted…' Rolen broke off as his bad knee gave under him, causing him to lurch to one side.

  Only Cobalt's quick thinking saved him from falling. 'What is it, Uncle?'

  Byren tensed. Illien's father had never been formally recognised, hence the inverted crown on his coat of arms, so his son had no right to call the king 'Uncle'.

  'Sylion take this knee. It's never been right since my horse rolled on it,' King Rolen muttered, completely disregarding Illien's breach of protocol.

  'The healers — '

  'Have done what they can, but it stiffens up.'

  'Valens?' Cobalt beckoned a perfumed servant who, now that Byren had a better look, had to be fifty if he was a day. Surely that glossy black hair was not natural? 'My manservant has wonderful hands. He can massage away the stiffness. Let me make a gift of him to you, Uncle.'

  Valens bobbed down on one knee, head bowed. Byren saw his father blink in surprise. Having a personal manservant was an Ostronite custom.

  'But how will you manage, Illien?' Rolen asked, glancing to Cobalt's bandaged arm.

  He shrugged this aside. 'Please, let me do this for you. At least let him try.'

  Valens lifted his head. 'If I cannot get the stiffness out of your knee in ten days you may chop off my hands!'

  'Extravagant Ostronites!' Orrade muttered in Byren's ear.

  'Uncle?' Cobalt pressed.

  'Very well.' Rolen laughed.

  'I'm honoured.' Cobalt bowed. 'King Rolen, I must speak with you on another matter. I bring grave news from the elector.'

  Byren frowned as his father led Cobalt away. What could the Elector of Ostron Isle have to say? If it was important Byren would hear about it at the next war table meeting. He had enough on his mind without borrowing trouble.

  Byren lay absolutely still, breathing slow and deep, wary of giving his position away. They were lucky the village's hunters had been tracking the leogryf and were able to lead them straight to its lair. The beast was old and canny, and knew the mountains well, but it was the leogryf's age that was its downfall. Although its wings were broader than the greatest of eagles', it could no longer lift its weight, so its lair was not atop a lonely pinnacle, but deep in a cave off a narrow goat track high on the Dividing Mountains. The beast had been spotted dragging its kill to feed in the privacy of the cave.

  Shifting on the snow-covered rocks, Byren tried to keep his muscles limber. Who knew how long they would have to wait? Strange how he could feel bored and frightened at the same time. Not that he would ever admit to fear in front of Lence.

  He licked dry lips.

  Though old and weaker than it once was, the leogryf stood as tall as Byren's chest and, with one slash of its paw, could still disembowel a grown man or break his leg.

  It was too dangerous to get in close. Byren had argued that they should trap the beast and dispatch it quickly, but Lence had got the idea in his head that he had to kill it from close quarters. Both the hunt-master and the Affinity warder had tried to talk him out of this and failed.

  Byren adjusted his white fur coat, which blended perfectly with the deep snow. Focusing across the path to where his twin hid, Byren could just make out the gleam of Lence's eyes in the shadow of the rock crevice and a flash of white teeth as he smiled. In a way he was glad they were facing the leogryf alone together. Nothing had been right between them since Orrade had refused to reveal why he was disinherited. Cobalt was always at his twin's side, where Byren should have been.

  The track zig-zagged up behind Lence to the cave entrance, which was the only way in. Eventually the leogryf would come back to its lair.

  There was no breeze so they could not get downwind of the beast, but luckily its sense of smell was fading. To help disguise their own scents, Byren and Lence had scrubbed their bodies, aired their furs and rubbed dried heather on their skin.

  The rest of the hunting party were waiting further down the track watching the three different approaches, ready to warn them when the beast was spotted and drive it back this way if it tried to retreat.

  Not long now. The big muscles of Byren's legs trembled with tension. Waiting was always the worst. He had chosen to crouch on the extreme edge of the track. Behind him was a sheer drop into the ravine. Lence couldn't have done it. His head swam just looking at a drop like that, but heights had never troubled Byren.

  Just then, a distinctive bird's cry floated on the cold, still air. Byren tensed and caught Lence's eyes across the path. The lookout's signal. Lence nodded. The leogryf approached.

  Soundlessly, Byren strung his bow and selected an arrow, determined not to let the beast slink away wounded. It was better to kill it outright. If Lence's spear missed its mark, his arrow wouldn't.

  Heart beating like a great drum, he rolled his shoulders to ease the tension and fixed his gaze on the path. Like him, Lence would be preparing to meet the beast. But Lence's weapon of choice was the spear. There was no glory in killing from a distance.

  Winter coat white against the snow, the leogryf's fur almost cloaked its presence as it padded up the path, wings folded along its back, forming a shield. The angle was bad for a shot, too great a chance of missing the spot where the shoulder met the neck. Still, Byren could have attempted it, an arrow striking there would pierce the beast's lungs or heart, but he held back so that Lence could make his move.

  His brother would wait until the beast moved between them, then leap in to drive the spear in behind the foreleg, under the wing nodule. If the angle was right the spear would sever the spine, crippling the leogryf. Then Lence could finish it quickly and, tonight, the hunting party would celebrate his bravery around the feasting fire.

  Byren held his breath as the leogryf hesitated. Massive head down, it sniffed the snow suspiciously. Unable to make out their scents, it kept coming, moving into full view.

  Byren bit back a whistle of appreciation. They'd known from the size of the paw prints and the length of the stride that the beast was big, but knowing and seeing were two different things. Rearing on its hind legs this leogryf would be twice as tall as a grown man. Though hollow-boned, it would weigh more than him.

  Barely breathing, Byren waited as the beast prowled up the path. The moment its head passed them, Lence sprang from behind the rock, took aim and threw. But the leogryf reared back and Lence's spear missed, skittering across the snow not far from Byren.

  The beast spun to confront Lence, tattered wings lifting, revealing its back and providing a target for Byren. He could have put an arrow into the base of the leogryf's neck, but Lence had a second spear and Byren was not about to spoil his brother's chance of making the kill.

  Lence aimed and threw. This spear took the leogryf in the shoulder. It screamed in fury, staggering, then snarled and dropped to all fours, muscles bunching to leap.

  Byren sprang to his feet, aimed and let the arrow fly, but the beast chose that instant to spring. His arrow lodged in the muscle of a rear leg. Again, it gave that uncanny scream.

  The leogryf collided with Lence, its momentum carrying him to the ground.

  Lence did not stand a chance.

  Byren plucked another arrow, notched and drew.

  Thwang.

  The string broke.

  He'd waxed it only this morning, but there were no guarantees in life. Dropping the bow, he reached for his hunting knife. It was razor-sharp and as long as his forearm. He knew the others would be making their way up the track but they woul
d not be in time to save Lence.

  Desperate, Byren leapt onto the rock he'd been crouching behind and flung himself onto the leogryf's broad back. The half-raised wings collapsed under the impact.

  The leogryf released Lence and reared, trying to throw Byren. His thighs flexed, clamping around the beast's flanks. The leogryf writhed, wings struggling to beat, thick mane nearly blinding him. It was worse than breaking a horse.

  Byren buried his face in the leogryf's neck and held on with one arm, while reaching past the thick mane. He plunged the knife into the point where the leogryf's shoulder met the neck.

  The beast screamed again and rolled, tearing the knife hilt from Byren's hands and crushing the air from his chest. It sprang to its feet, rounding on him.

  He lay sprawled in the snow, facing certain death, unable to lift his head, unable even to catch his breath. He must not die like this!

  Yet he could not move.

  The beast took one step, then another, then fell to its knees and collapsed. Hardly able to believe his life had been spared, Byren scrambled to his haunches.

  'Lence?' he croaked, gulping great lungfull's of cold mountain air. His legs shook so badly he had to crawl, praying all the while to Halcyon for his twin's life, praying the beast had not managed to get its rear legs into his brother's belly and disembowel him, or torn out his throat.

  Chapter Six

  Lence lay on his stomach. He must have turned and tried to run. The thick fur of his winter coat was shredded from his shoulders to his buttocks. Only the many layers of cloth underneath had saved his back from being lacerated. Byren's knees ploughed through the fine white snow as he dropped beside him. 'Lence, speak to me.'

  His brother stirred and Byren rolled him over. Lence seemed unhurt, thrusting Byren's helping hands away.

  'I'm all right, just winded. Saw nothing but stars for a bit.' Lence grimaced and shrugged his massive shoulders. 'M'back feels like the beastie danced on it.'

  Byren grinned with relief. 'I guess he did.'

  Lence came to his feet easily enough, his gaze going to the fallen leogryf. 'So what happened?'

  Byren pointed to the wound as they approached the beast. 'I was lucky. My hunting knife found its heart.' He stepped around the body, onto the far side near the drop but, before he could retrieve his knife, he saw an impossible sight.

  A second leogryf stood poised on the high rock behind Lence, about to attack. Just as Lence spun to see what had startled him, the beast leapt.

  'Down, Byren!' Lence threw himself across the fallen leogryf, shoving Byren out of the path of the attacking beast. They both went down, sprawling in the snow. Byren's legs swung off the ledge. He felt the weight of his thick-soled winter boots drag him over and scrabbled for purchase on the slippery snow-covered rocks. Lence grabbed his arm. Byren clutched him. For a terrible moment he felt Lence begin to slide towards him, then Lence wedged his legs between two rocks and saved them. Relieved beyond measure, Byren swung his weight onto the ledge.

  Even as this was going on Byren was aware of the leogryf sailing over them. He rolled closer to Lence and looked up to see the beast's paws scrambling as it hung suspended in mid-air, wings battling to prevent its fall. Then it dropped. Its feral scream of fury echoed up the ravine walls.

  Byren wriggled around to peer down over the ledge's lip. He was in time to see the beast battling valiantly to prevent its fall, but its ragged wings were in even worse condition than the larger one. Unable to gain height, it was rapidly tiring. A vicious gust of wind drove it into the cliff face, stunning it. Then it tumbled out of control towards the jagged rocks below.

  Byren felt the impact in the pit of his stomach. That could so easily have been him.

  'Who would have thought there'd be a second one?' Lence muttered.

  'It was the female,' Byren said as he made the connection. 'Leogryfs mate for life. The male must have been bringing back its kills to share. We were lucky this time.'

  Lence sat up on his heels, careful not to look towards the ledge's edge. 'You saved my life. Again!'

  'Then you saved mine. That makes us even.' Byren grinned.

  'No. Not even. There was that time when — '

  'Doesn't count. You would have saved yourself.'

  Lence rolled to his feet, backing away from the drop. 'I owe you.'

  Byren would have argued but the others arrived. They came shouting and marvelling over the fallen leogryf. Seeing both brothers alive and well they cheered.

  Monk Autumnwind approached the beast to say the chants over it. The Affinity that had been released when it died had to be settled. It was best to be sure with matters of power. Before he could start, Nun Springdawn hurried over to join him. Her manner made it clear she thought it her business to make sure he went about this correctly.

  Byren hid a smile and turned to find the hunt-master inspecting the beast. He checked where the hunting knife was wedged then shook his head and laughed. Retrieving it, he wiped it clean and strode over to Byren. As if it was an honoured sword, he presented it to him, hilt first across his forearm. Byren took it and slid the knife into its sheath.

  Garzik bounded over to Byren demanding to know exactly what had happened.

  'Watch what you're doing.' Lence grabbed the youngster's arm, pulling him away from the edge. He caught Byren's eye with a shake of his head. Were they ever so heedless? 'Come over here, Garza.'

  Byren and Lence returned to the place where the others crowded around the leogryf. They were perched on rocks or struggling to get a glimpse of it, impeding each other on the narrow path.

  'Byren killed it with a single blow of a hunting knife,' the hunt-master announced.

  They cheered. Orrade clapped him on the back saying something but his words were drowned out as the others all shouted at once, demanding to know how he'd managed it.

  Lence raised his arms. 'He leapt on its back to save m'life.'

  They cheered again.

  'That's right,' Byren agreed. 'Then the beastie's mate would have killed me but for Lence's quick thinking!'

  'We heard the second one's scream,' the hunt-master said, shaking his head. 'I missed it. I — '

  'I should have suspected,' Autumnwind muttered, rising and dusting snow off his hands.

  'Yes. Leogryfs mate for life,' Springdawn said, as if this was obvious.

  'Don't worry,' Byren spoke quickly. 'The villagers missed it too.'

  While the others discussed this, the hunt-master turned to Byren. 'I've never seen a leogryf slain with a hunting knife. King Rolen the Third was the last man to kill one with a spear!'

  Byren shrugged. 'It was that or end up in the beast's belly.'

  'Trust Byren. He always has to go one better.' Lence slung an arm around Byren's shoulders, but his voice held a tinge of bitterness, reminding Byren that his twin had wanted the honour.

  As the men cheered he turned to Lence, worried. His brother's black eyes gleamed with laughter and rueful admiration.

  Relief eased the knot in Byren's belly. Today had proven the old seer wrong. Nothing would come between him and his twin. Nothing could. He caught Cobalt watching them and grinned. His older cousin returned the smile with a shake of his head which Byren took to mean that he and his twin were lucky to be alive. And didn't he know it.

  One of the hunt-master's apprentices returned Lence's spears and they set about tying the beast across them to carry it back to the village.

  'Now we know what your symbol should be,' Garzik told Byren, his eyes glowing.

  'What symbol?'

  'Your honour guard's,' Garzik explained. 'A foenix facing a leogryf!'

  Byren laughed. The men lifted him off his feet, onto their shoulders. Their cheers drowned all thought. Blood rushed through his veins. He'd faced death and come out the other side. Throwing back his head, he felt a great shout of laughter roaring up through him and let it out.

  Life sung in his veins.

  'Byren Leogryfslayer!' the men chanted. 'Byren Leogryf
bane!'

  At that moment he looked over to Lence, willing him to share this. Cobalt leant close to his twin, to make a comment. For a heartbeat his brother's eyes glittered strangely. Then the men spun Byren around so that he lost sight of Lence. He demanded to be let down and they released him, still shouting and laughing. Disoriented and disconcerted, he staggered a little.

  'One blow, straight to the heart!' Garzik crowed. 'With only a hunting knife!'

  'A lucky strike,' Byren protested. The men laughed and refused to believe him. Though he tried to contain the grin, he felt his lips pull back. After all, it was an achievement. Then Byren remembered his twin's odd expression. If Lence's spear had been thrown true it would have been him they lauded as the leogryf slayer. 'Enough of that.'

  But his protests fell on deaf ears. The rest of them, the sons of the kingdom's first families and the hunt-master's apprentices, congratulated him.

  'We'll take the leogryf back to the village to celebrate tonight,' the hunt-master announced. The Affinity warders would lead the village in making atonement to Halcyon, for they had killed one of her creatures. 'Then tomorrow, we head down to Rolenhold. Don't want to miss the midwinter feast!'

  The men agreed.

  Soon they were trudging back to the high mountain village, where the others told the story of how Byren had killed the leogryf with nothing but his hunting knife. The villagers were in awe of him and very relieved to be free of the beast. When they learnt that the male's mate had been hidden in the lair, they were horrified and apologetic. Byren assured them no harm was done and it too, was dead. They insisted on honouring the hunters with a feast and set about preparing it.

  All the while Lence's smile got tighter and tighter. No one but Byren seemed to notice and there was nothing he could do, for to turn down the villagers' feast would have been churlish. He had saved his brother's life and Lence had returned the favour. This should have been enough to settle his fears, but Byren was aware of a small kernel of worry growing within him, planted by the old seer.