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 not 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
