Silence stretched. A log fell in the fireplace, sending spiralling ash up the chimney.
'I've never — ' Orrade began.
'You would if you'd heard the old tales,' Florin's nan snapped as she dried her hands. 'After his da and brother were killed by Merofynian Power-workers, King Rolen turned his back on everything to do with Affinity. He banned Affinity unless it served the abbeys, but that's like banning sunshine, unless it falls on the king's castle. Affinity rises where it will.'
Byren caught her wiry old hand. 'You can't tell anyone. I'll be hounded out of Rolencia.'
She studied him. 'Thirty years ago your father decreed all those with Affinity had to serve the abbeys or leave. But before that, for as long as there have been people living in Halcyon's rich valley, those with Affinity served their family and friends. They healed, they had visions of raids and sent out warnings…' She gave him a gap-toothed smile. 'And when King Rolen sent out his decree, they paid him lip service, because he was their king, but they kept to their old ways, especially here in the high country. You can't change the way things really are with a royal decree. We knew it would pass. Why, your very own grandfather, King Byren the Fourth, he had Affinity.'
Byren blinked.
'Why do you think he collected Affinity beasts?' she asked. 'You take after him, I'll warrant.'
'But I was tested at six like everyone else. I'm completely normal.'
She lifted one eyebrow. 'You hid in an Affinity seep, surrounded by ulfrs — '
'Can we come in now?' Florin's plaintive voice called. 'It's awful cold out here, Nan.'
The old woman sent Byren and Orrade a wry look. 'I'll say no more. But you think on what I've said.' She raised her voice. 'Hold your horses, lass. Don't want to make you blush. We'll just get him into bed.'
Businesslike, she finished stripping Byren, bathed the blood from his body and gave him one of her dead husband's night-shirts. It only came to mid-thigh on him.
As Orrade helped him into the tiny bedroom, which was behind the chimney, Byren grimaced. 'I might be healed, but every step I take tugs on my stomach muscles.'
'You can't expect miracles,' Orrade muttered, then laughed. And Byren joined him, because it was a miracle, an Affinity-induced miracle. But even laughing hurt.
Byren stretched out carefully, letting Orrade tuck him in as if he was a child. He caught his friend's arm. 'Thank you.'
'Rest for a day or two, then we'll take you back to my camp. Remember when Dovecote fell and you headed off to the abbey? I led the servants and villagers up into the foothills of the Dividing Mountains. Well, we…'
But Orrade's voice was already fading. Byren squeezed his hand. He thought he felt lips brush his forehead as he fell asleep and annoyance flared through him. Must tell Orrade not to touch him like that. It would give people the wrong idea.
Chapter Twenty-One
Byren woke with the sense that something was wrong. There was no sign of the others. Last night he'd slept with Orrade on one side of him and Leif on the other, while Florin and her nan slept upstairs in the loft. At least he'd been warm and the bed was free of bugs.
Now, alone in the bed, he could tell it was late afternoon by the light that came in the single, small window.
It irked him to lie abed for so long but his stomach, although healing, was still too tender to move freely. And he knew rest was the best thing for him.
As he'd dozed he'd grown familiar with the sounds of the cottage, the bleating of the long-haired goats, the barking of the dogs and the cackle of the chickens. Speaking of which, he could smell a pot of chicken and onion broth cooking on the hearth. His stomach rumbled and he looked forward to dinner.
The thump of running boots crossed the yard outside, entered the cottage and made straight for where he lay. Byren rolled onto his side and carefully levered himself up to sitting, feet on the floor. He reached for the pants the old woman had put out for him and flinched as his muscles protested.
Orrade charged into the tiny room. 'Good, you're up. Merofynians are coming up the valley, searching the farms. We have to go.'
In the main room he heard Florin and her nan packing food, preparing travelling bundles. Their haste was evident by their clipped, concise comments.
Byren grunted with annoyance. He hated being so weak. 'Need help getting my trews and boots on.'
Orrade guided his legs into the trouser legs. The pants were a bit short and tight around the waist.
'Eh, Florin's granddad must have been a funny shape.'
'Not really.' Orrade snorted softly. 'You're wearing Florin's breeches.' Businesslike, he dragged on thick woollen socks and laced up Byren's own boots. Just as well, with the size of his feet he couldn't have worn anyone else's.
Orrade helped him stand, dragged off the night-shirt and pulled a knitted vest over his shoulders, then a thick, high-country coat of sheep hide, with the woollen side innermost. Lastly, he placed a knitted cap on Byren's head. 'Now at least you'll look the part of a hill-man, if we're caught.'
Moving with great care, Byren shuffled out to the kitchen, where Leif waited, while Nan and Florin tied the travelling bundles closed.
Florin looked up. As she took in his careful stance, her strong face grew sharp with worry and the excitement faded from her dark eyes.
'He can hardly walk. How will we get away?' Leif asked, voicing what they were all thinking.
Florin tossed her bundle to her brother. 'I'll carry him on m'back. Orrie and I can take turns.'
'Halcyon will freeze over before I let a girl carry me!' Byren drove himself to straighten further, despite the deep ache in his belly. Unfortunately, his knees gave way and he would have crumpled if Orrade hadn't caught him, sliding his shoulder under Byren's.
'Don't stand on your dignity, lad,' the old woman told him. 'If you're found here, it'll be the death of all of us.'
She was right. Byren cursed. If only he had his strength. 'I can ride, if you tie me to the saddle.'
'We have nothing but an old mountain pony. Besides, they're watching all the trails out of the valley.' The old woman shook her head. 'We must hide you for now. There are caves up in the ravines. Florin knows the way. She'll guide you. Orrie will carry you if he has to. Leif can manage your things.'
The boy slung his own bundle, as well as theirs, across his shoulders, as if to prove her point. Byren felt inadequate and hated it.
'We don't mind. You led us when we trapped the manticore pride and killed them,' Leif said, his eyes alight with excitement, fixed on Byren's face. 'You killed a leogryf with your bare hands — '
'I had a knife,' Byren corrected. 'And this is not the same.'
'All of Rolencia is talking about how you walked into Halcyon Abbey after the Merofynians took it and dared them to catch you.'
Byren shook his head. 'That wasn't how it happened.'
'No?' The old woman pinned him with her clever gaze. 'But it is how they're telling it. The people of Rolencia need Byren Leogryfslayer. So swallow your pride, lad, and get out the back door before the Merofynians arrive.'
Chastened, Byren hobbled outside, leaning heavily on Orrade. He glanced over his shoulder to see Florin hug her grandmother in the back doorway.
Meanwhile, Leif beamed as though this was a great adventure, but Byren knew better. If they were caught the Merofynians wouldn't let the boy's youth stop their swords.
Byren blinked back tears of frustration and fury. He channelled the anger into empowering his weak body. Florin strode past, her long legs and easy stride propelling her swiftly across the ground. Leif took little skipping steps to keep up with her. Byren sucked in a deep breath, feeling the wound pull.
'Concentrate on escaping and getting better,' the old woman called after him. 'You can only fight one battle at a time.'
