ever had eyes for my sister!'
'But… the girls we've shared — '
'Meant nothing.' Orrade reached into his vest and pulled out a chain. On the end swung the symbol of the archer. 'I have foresworn women just like Palos.' Palos was a semi-mythical warlord whose feats with the bow had not been matched since. He'd almost united Rolencia in a time before King Rolence. His exploits were legendary.
But it was the more recent return of Palos that people remembered. During the rule of Byren's grandfather, a group calling themselves the Servants of Palos had sought to overthrow King Byren the Fourth. Their treachery had weakened Rolencia, inviting invasion from Merofynia and ultimately to the deaths of Byren's grandfather and uncle. At barely eighteen Byren's father had become king and defeated the Merofynians. In the first years of his reign he hunted down the remaining Servants of Palos, executing every last one, no matter who they were.
'You can't be a Servant of Palos,' Byren protested. 'You're loyal to — '
'Of course I am. This has nothing to do with the Servants of Palos.'
'Then why wear that hated symbol?'
'Don't you see? Palos was a great warrior. His followers loved and respected him, even though he was a lover of men.' Orrade sat forwards, one hand reaching for Byren, who pulled back. 'Byren?'
He did not know what to say. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he made sure the ulfrs were not creeping up on them.
Orrade's hand dropped, his face bleak. 'You despise me.'
Byren stared. Orrade looked no different, but he was, and every moment they'd ever shared flashed through Byren's head, tainting their friendship. He fixed on the most recent thing. 'Why did you offer to come with me to hunt the lincis?'
'To keep you safe. The king's forest is a dangerous place, especially this close to midwinter.' Orrade shook his head. 'Then you went and saved me!'
And suddenly it didn't matter. He was still Orrade.
Byren frowned at the chain and its damning symbol, resting on Orrade's vest. 'You should take that bloody thing off and throw it away.'
'Pretend to be something I'm not?' Orrade countered, temper rising.
'If your father knew he would disown you!'
'I know. He never speaks my brother's name,' Orrade admitted.
When Lord Dovecote discovered his eldest son was a Servant of Palos, he had turned him over to the harsh justice of young King Rolen. 'But it doesn't matter now. I'm going to die and I cannot die with a lie on my lips.' His unseeing eyes searched for Byren. 'I — '
The heavy pad of fast approaching paws made Byren look up. An ulfr, large as a small pony, charged their position.
'Down.' He shoved Orrade flat, aimed and threw his last good spear in one movement. The beast staggered, skidding on its side in the snow. But another came in from the other direction.
Byren plucked the makeshift spear from Orrade's hands, wedged the end with his foot and took the impact of the beast's leap on the spear point, guiding it over them, out into the ravine. The ulfr's weight and momentum tore the spear from his hands, taking the weapon with it as it fell. The beast's whine of pain still hung on the air as Byren spun to face the rest of the pack, empty-handed but for his eating knife.
Across the remains of the flickering flames the pack leader gave voice to another howl. To Byren it sounded like an exultation of victory.
'Save yourself. I'll divert them,' Orrade urged, lurching to his feet. He shoved Byren to his knees and, blind and defenceless, stumbled through what was left of the fire, heading towards the ulfrs with a cry of challenge on his lips.
'No!' Byren sprang upright and charged after him, knowing he would be too late. Even as he ran an ulfr leapt for Orrade.
An arrow took it high in the ribs. The beast whined but still collided with Orrade, knocking him down.
Stunned. Byren stared as arrows blossomed in grey-furred thighs and bellies. Beasts fell whimpering and yelping. Their leader stared at Byren and uttered a strange whine, and the rest turned tail, slinking into the trees, leaving at least six dead and the wounded trying to crawl after them.
'Orrade?' Byren ran to him, leaping over a dead ulfr.
Orrade was trying to roll out from under the body of the one that had brought him down. Byren dragged him clear.
'You still here, Byren? Thought I told you to run,' Orrade muttered. 'What happened?'
'I don't know. Halcyon sent help.'
'Byren? Orrade?' Garzik called, as he darted through the trunks, a hunting bow strung and notched with an arrow. Behind him came half a dozen warriors wearing the Dovecote crest, the feather and the sword. Unlike most of the lords, the thirty-year peace had not made Orrade's father disband his estate's defences.
'Garza!' Byren laughed. 'What're you doing here!'
Garzik grinned. Seeing no more targets he returned the arrow to the quiver and released the bowstring, slinging the bow over his shoulder. 'Hunting an ulfr pack that's been troubling our farms on the foothills.'
'The howls led us to you, Byren Kingson,' the old Dovecote captain explained as he approached.
'With not a moment to spare, Blackwing!' Byren confessed.
Garzik grinned. He was obviously Orrade's brother, with the same thin frame and wiry strength but, at fourteen, his cheeks were still rounded and showed no sign of sprouting a beard. 'Now, will you take me raiding with you, Byren?'
The captain caught Byren's eye, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
'Ask again this time next year,' Byren temporised.
Garzik went to argue, but the Dovecote captain overrode him, pointing to the estate's only remaining Affinity warder, old Wispowill, who was standing over a dead ulfr and making the signs. 'Go help the monk. He has to settle the ulfrs' Affinity, now that it's been released on their deaths. Then dispatch the wounded ulfrs, and retrieve the arrows.'
As Garzik went off, Captain Blackwing gestured to half a dozen warriors, boys like Garzik or men in their fifties and sixties. 'Look what I'm left with, babes or grandfathers. All the able young men have been lured away to the ports where trade with Merofynia and Ostron Isle has made the lucky ones rich as lords. What are you two doing here, Byren?'
'Long story. The ulfr pack got between us and the rest of my men.' That reminded Byren. 'Winterfall and the others are up at the village with the new tin mine. They expected us back tonight. If you take your men up that way the villagers will help you hunt out the pack and you can tell Winterfall we're safe. But beware the new seep.'
'Seep? That explains the ulfr pack. Wispowill can deal with a seep…' He broke off with a frown, as he spotted two fourteen-year-olds struggling with an ulfr carcass. 'Here, that's not the way to go about it!'
Byren watched him march off. They'd keep the skins, but the carcasses would be left for forest creatures to scavenge. No self-respecting person ate Affinity-touched meat.
While the others set to work skinning the beasts, Byren knelt next to Orrade. His hand slipped under his friend's vest to close over the symbol of Palos.
Orrade's hand caught his arm. 'Why…'
'I'm hiding it.' With a tug, Byren broke the chain, shoving the pendant into his pouch. 'You'll be stripped and cleaned for the healer.'
'How'd Orrie hurt his head?' Garzik said as he returned and dropped to his knees beside Byren. 'Was it raiders or beasts?'
'Nothing so exciting, a falling branch!' Orrade told him.
His brother's face fell.
Byren laughed. 'Help me get him home, Garza. But first, did you bring any food?'
'Of course — '
'Good,' Orrade muttered. 'I could do with a hot dinner.'
