Byren grimaced. 'You think I'm too soft, Orrie?'
'I think you're too good-hearted. And I'm not convinced Lence is Rejulas's captive.'
This was what Byren feared. 'You saw the trick Cobalt pulled, presenting those rings and the poem to blacken my name — '
'I saw. But ask yourself this, why is Lence so ready to believe what Cobalt tells him?'
Byren shook his head. 'If I can just explain — '
'Here.' Orrade radiated an intensity of purpose as he unfastened the borrowed sword. His breath plumed in the cold-cellar's chilly air.
'No.' Byren didn't want to leave Orrade unarmed. 'What will you — '
Orrade held up the Old Dove's sword, the one Byren had seen fall on the floor near Palatyne's chair. 'Rifkin retrieved it for me. Come on, I want to get this over with so we can save Elina before…'
He did not bother to finish but headed for the door. Byren caught his arm.
'What?'
In that instant Byren saw the consequences of going for Elina now. Palatyne would put up a fight which would alert his warriors. In no time at all the place would be swarming with armed men. The townspeople and Dovecote's servants would not get away. Winterfall wouldn't have time to light the warning beacon. His followers would be captured. They'd all be executed. There was no alternative. 'We can't save Elina yet. We don't want to trigger the alarm.'
'But Palatyne will…' Orrade shuddered. 'I can't let that happen.'
Byren couldn't stop the thought of Elina's slender body trapped under Palatyne's. A flash of rage ignited him. He repressed it, driving it down deep inside. 'No, Orrie, we — '
'What of Elina?'
Yes, Elina… Byren's stomach churned. He forced himself to ignore it and go on. 'Elina's the Old Dove's daughter. As long as we get her out of here, she will understand.'
Orrade cursed, tore his arm free and shoved past.
Byren caught him by the jerkin, swung him up against the door and pressed his forearm to his throat. Orrade gasped, fingers prying at Byren's arm.
'She's m'sister!' he ground out.
'And I love her!'
'It's not right!'
Frustration swept through Byren. The gods knew, he would give his own life for Elina's if he had to. 'Would you let your own people down to save Elina? She wouldn't thank you.'
He gave Orrade a moment to digest this.
'I don't like it any better than you,' Byren admitted. 'But this is the right thing to do. I know it is.'
Even as the words left his mouth, he recalled the old seer's seemingly senseless babble about right being a matter of perception. Shocked, he released Orrade and stepped back. Who was he to say what was right? He shivered.
Orrade stared, as if he had never seen him before.
'Very well,' Byren told him. 'Do what you think is right.'
Orrade straightened his jerkin and went to grab the door latch. He hesitated, the struggle clear on his face. He agonised until, finally, the fight went out of him. 'Sylion take you, Byren!'
'May Sylion take Palatyne into his cold embrace,' Byren whispered. 'I'll see him dead before dawn.'
'That's no comfort for what Elina's going through,' Orrade snapped and again his hand went to the latch, but he stopped himself.
Unable to sit still, Byren paced. It was too cold to sit.
Palatyne was right, this was agony. No matter what his logical mind told him, he couldn't stop his imagination.
He caught Orrade studying him. 'What?'
His friend's smile held a great deal of anger mingled with admiration. 'I was wrong. You are strong enough to make the hard decisions.'
Byren said nothing. Was he as hard as his father, Rolen the Implacable? He would not have thought it. He never wanted to have to make this kind of decision again. Elina might understand, but would she ever forgive him?
Curse Palatyne. Curse his pet Power-workers.
That reminded him of his experiences playing Duelling Kingdoms. 'Be on your guard, Orrie, Palatyne has two renegade Power-workers with him, a barbaric Utlander and a noble called Dunstany. They may sense your Affinity and try to use it against us.'
'You knew?' Orrade stared at him. 'How long — '
Byren shrugged. 'I suspected almost from the start.'
Orrade sank onto a barrel, his shoulders hunched. 'At first I thought I was imagining it. But then it began to add up. I had a vision of a manticore with Cobalt's head before we were attacked by them, but it was so bizarre I thought I must be going mad. If I hadn't refused to believe it, I could have warned you. I should have warned you about Rejulas.' He lifted a tortured face to Byren. 'While we were hiding in the barn at Narrowneck I had a nightmare… a cockatrice entered the yard and spat poison at the barn door, setting it alight. I refused to admit — '
'Forget it.' Byren shrugged.
Orrade sprang to his feet, confronting him. 'Why don't you hate me? Why don't you denounce me?'
Byren laughed. 'You're a lover of men. If that didn't worry me, why should your Affinity worry me?'
Orrade tensed as if he'd been hit, then he went strangely silent.
Just when Byren was about to demand what was wrong, Orrade retreated to sit on his barrel, contained, quiet and… seething. He said nothing while the minutes crept by. The cold settled over them. Meeting here had been a good idea. The ice slabs lining the walls stopped their voices from travelling, but now the chill crept into their bones.
Byren looked away from his friend. He didn't see why he should apologise to Orrade for speaking the truth.
A cold half-hour later the cook came to report that the Merofynian servants were locked in the wine cellar and all of their people were out of the keep, fleeing into the forest. 'There are two guards at the door of the blue chamber, one of Palatyne's men and one of Rejulas's.' Her eyes glinted. 'I don't think Palatyne trusts the Cockatrice warlord or vice versa!'
Byren grinned and slapped his thighs to get his blood moving. 'Thank you, may the goddess be with you. Give Winterfall the signal. It's time to light the beacon.'
She bustled away, as efficient in battle as she had always been in the kitchen.
'Rejulas first?' Orrade asked, coming to his feet stiffly. He stretched and stamped his boots.
Or Lence? Byren wondered. At least he could kill the Cockatrice warlord with a clean conscience. But he had to try to convince Lence. 'My brother first.'
They slipped out of the cold-cellar and took the servants' stairs up the back way to the long corridor which led to the best bedchambers. To their left was the lord's bedchamber and opposite it, the royal chamber where Byren's parents stayed when visiting. These opened onto the mezzanine balcony which overlooked the great hall. To their right were the rest of the bedchambers.
Byren peered around the lintel to the right. Lit by a single lamp, two warriors stood at the entrance to the blue chamber, giving substance to the fiction that Lence was a captive. If it was fiction.
The cook was right, one guard wore the amfina surcoat and the other, the cockatrice cloak.
Byren made a soft noise in his throat. Both warriors stiffened. He made the same noise again. They looked at each other. Finally Rejulas's man headed towards the dark stair well, his boots making soft thuds on the polished wood.
Orrade waited, knife ready. Byren pinned the man's arms as soon as he stepped into the stair well, covering his mouth. Orrade drove the knife up under his ribs, straight into his heart. Byren eased the body to the floor, even as the life left him.
They waited. But Palatyne's man was not going to risk his life to investigate the Cockatrice warrior's fate. Instead, he moved towards the overlord's door, passing on the far side of the dark stairwell opening.
Byren lifted his knife, aimed and threw. The man had time only to register surprise before the knife took him in the throat. Though Byren darted out across the hall to catch him, he hit the floor with a soft thud.
Byren retrieved his knife, wiped it and hurried to the door of the blue chamber. Orrade did not follow.
He glanced over his shoulder to see his friend standing in the hall, torn.
'Go, save her,' Byren whispered. Elina would think he had failed her again, but he had to see Lence.
Orrade's expression cleared. 'Don't be misled by Lence's lies. I believe he's already tried to kill you once.'
Had he? Byren wondered. Or had it been a slip of the tongue? After all, how could Cobalt have led the manticores to their camp, when it was almost certain he had no Affinity?
Byren thrust the door open.
Lence turned, shielding a flickering candle. He stood unarmed.
'Byren?' His gaze flicked to the naked sword blade and back to his face. 'You're free.'
Byren's shoulders relaxed and his sword tip dipped a fraction. 'Lence, you mustn't believe the things Cobalt said. I haven't betrayed you. The rings were for mother and father's Jubilee. The poem was for Elina, not Orrie.'
His twin shrugged. 'He said you'd say that.'
Byren closed his eyes in frustration.
A mistake. When he opened them Lence had snatched the poker from the fire place. The end glowed menacingly as he raised it between them.
'If you'd only listen, Lence,' Byren pleaded.
His twin's gaze flickered behind Byren. A floor board creaked.
Byren spun just in time to side-step Rejulas's attempt to run him through.
Something hard struck the back of Byren's head, making him stagger and drop to one knee. Lence had hit him? He couldn't believe it.
Rejulas turned his blade, swinging it for Byren's throat. Byren fumbled as he lifted his sword to deflect the strike.
'No!' Lence diverted the stroke so that the blade sang as it slid down the length of the poker.
'Why not?' Rejulas snarled.
Byren lurched to his feet, backing away until the fireplace was behind him. His sword came up between them. Rejulas was his enemy but Lence had saved his life. Why?
'Thought better of it. Can't risk giving the alarm,' Orrade said as he padded into the chamber. On seeing Byren's predicament he froze, weapon ready.
'Shut the door,' Lence ordered. 'We don't want those Merofynian lordlings overhearing.'
Byren's heart soared with hope.
Rejulas cursed softly as Orrade closed the door.
'Byren?' Orrade whispered. 'What's going on here?'
'Yes, Lence?' Byren echoed. 'What's going on?'
'I'm claiming my birthright,' his twin explained. 'Using the Merofynian army as my tool.'
Byren blinked. 'Lence, Merofynia has invaded Rolencia. Unless we stop this overlord everything we hold dear is going to be destroyed, everyone we love is going to die. Palatyne — '
'I'm not Palatyne's captive.' Lence almost looked sorry for Byren. He nodded to the Cockatrice warlord. 'I'm Rejulas's captive, but only for as long as it suits me. We've hatched a plan, Rejulas and I.'
No one lowered their swords. Rejulas edged closer to Lence so that he confronted Orrade. 'Tell them, kingsheir.'
'I have it on good authority that the Merofynians despise their king and fear his overlord,' Lence said softly, reasonably. 'They were planning to invade Rolencia so — '
'They made overtures to me,' Rejulas laughed. 'Expected me to betray Rolencia.'
'Merofynia is ripe for invasion. I know for a fact that the people would welcome Queen Myrella's heir,' Lence continued, his voice gathering strength. 'When Father refused to even consider invading — '
'Did you tell him they were massing an army, that they'd approached the warlord of Cockatrice Spar?' Byren demanded.
'We didn't know that at first.' Lence nodded to the warlord. 'Rejulas — '
'I was sitting in the Three Swans, having been rejected by your vixen of a sister, thinking I'd be better off accepting Palatyne's offer, when Lence came in,' Rejulas explained. 'And I was just angry enough to tell him so!'
'Luckily, Illien was with me,' Lence said. 'He saw how we could use Palatyne against his own king. We're going to let the Merofynian army wear itself down taking Rolencia. Then Rejulas will reveal his true loyalty by releasing me, and together we will crush the crippled Merofynians and take back what should have been mine,' Lence revealed, scorn threading his voice as he went on. 'And you, you came in so slobbering drunk you did not see any of this!'
Byren closed his eyes, remembering the scrap of paper with its hastily drawn map and army movements. He had thought Lence was planning how to defend Rolencia, when he had really been planning how to defeat their father!
He couldn't believe it. 'I don't — '
'That's why you will never be king,' Lence told him. 'All along, everyone thought you were the clever one and I was second best — '
'That's not true!' Byren protested.
'But you're not clever in the ways that matter,' Lence ignored him. 'I set this up. I'll have the crowns of both Rolencia and Merofynia as their saviour and rightful ruler — '
'What of Father?' Byren protested. 'He's the rightful ruler of Rolencia.'
'Father…' Lence's voice faltered. 'He was a great king once, but he's been making bad decisions — giving up the right to rule Merofynia, refusing to invade, forcing me to marry this Merofynian cow, not seeing what you really are…'
Byren's heart faltered as Lence fell silent, staring at him, seeing things Byren could not.
'I'm not a Servant of Palos, Lence,' he whispered, mouth almost too dry to talk. 'Believe me, there is no conspiracy.'
'Of course you'd say that. Illien warned me to harden my heart against you of all people.' Lence's eyes glistened with tears but underneath anger grew. 'You — '
'What of Rejulas?' Orrade asked suddenly, gesturing with his sword to the warlord. 'What do you get out of this trickery, warlord?'
Rejulas nodded to Lence. 'My king has promised me Piro and overlordship of all the spars as a reward for loyalty.'
'Loyalty?' Byren snorted.
'That will never work,' Orrade argued, edging one step closer to Byren. 'The spars will never accept — '
'They will send their best warriors to support King Rolen. There'll be nothing but the old and children left, no one to object to me as overlord.' Rejulas smiled. 'Palatyne employed a similar ploy to become overlord of Merofynia's spars.'
'In fifteen or twenty years the spars will grow a new crop of warriors. They'll revolt,' Byren insisted. 'Lence, how can you turn on Father like this?'
'Father had his chance. He threw it away. He could have been King Rolen the Great, ruler of the known world!'
Byren shook his head.
'Illien was right.' Lence lifted the poker tip. 'He said you did not have the breadth of vision to see.'
'Illien?' Byren felt sick to his stomach. Illien had long since ceased to be the youth he admired and become Cobalt, the bane of his life. 'What's his reward for advising you?'
'He'll be my Grand Vizier. I'll need someone to govern Merofynia in my absence.'
'And what of Ostron Isle?' Orrade mocked. 'Do they figure in your plans?'
'Of course.' Lence failed to see the mockery. 'Ostron Isle will pay me homage as their High King, as will the city states of the Snow Bridge. They dare not resist. I will be King Lence the Great.' He focused on Byren. 'I'm only completing what King Rolence the First began.'
Byren swallowed. Lence and his conspirators had expanded the game of Duelling Kingdoms to carve up the world. They were mad. 'What of Mother and Fyn?'
'Fyn will be abbot and support me, if he knows what's good for him,' Lence said. 'As for Mother, she denied me Merofynia. She only ever had eyes for you. Don't deny it!' He overrode Byren's objection. 'As for you — '
'What of Elina, Lence?' Orrade asked quickly, edging another step closer to Byren, who realised he was manoeuvering so they could protect each other's backs. 'My sister is innocent of any wrongdoing. Palatyne has her right now. You don't want him raping her. With your influence you could suggest she retire to Sylion Abbey. She'd be safe there.'
Lence tilted his head, giving this some thought. 'No… she's been too arrogant. If Palatyne swives her she'll be doubly grateful when I come to her rescue.'
Molten fury poured into the pit of Byren's stomach racing up his spine into his brain, clouding his vision, making it hard to breathe.
'I'm not a love-blinded fool like you,' Lence told him. 'She's been leading us both on, playing us off against each other for years.'
'That's not true.' Byren's hand tightened on his sword hilt.
'Enough, Lence,' Rejulas snapped. 'Kill them before the Merofynians wake.'
Suiting his actions to his words, Rejulas leapt for Orrade with a strike that should have skipped over his blade and plunged straight through his throat, but Orrade deflected and side-stepped neatly. They eyed each other warily.
Byren searched Lence's face. How had his twin grown into this stranger?
'I know I have to kill you, brother,' Lence grimaced. 'But who would have thought it would be so hard?'
'It doesn't have to be this way,' Byren whispered. He knew that as soon as Orrade and Rejulas struck out at each other the ring of steel on steel would bring the Merofynians running. 'We can still escape, return to father and defeat Merofynia.'
Lence shook his head as though Byren was a foolish child.
Meanwhile, Orrade circled Rejulas, both stepping as light as cats, deadly as manticores about to strike.
'Why do you want Piro?' Orrade taunted Rejulas. 'She's already turned you down once!'
The Cockatrice warlord grinned, a cruel smile lighting his handsome face. 'I want her because I intend to make her sorry.'
'You'll be the one who's sorry,' Orrade countered. 'Or didn't Lence tell you about her Affinity?'
Rejulas's gaze flew to Lence. 'Aff — '
In that instant, Orrade lunged, running him through. Rejulas dropped his sword. Sagging to his knees, he stared up at Orrade in disbelief.
'Piro would have been the death of you,' Orrade told him. Then he pulled his blade free and turned to Byren. 'I had to kill him quietly.'
Byren grinned and shook his head. 'You — '
Lence scooped up the blade Rejulas had dropped, lunging for Orrade's belly. Only his quick reflexes saved Orrade. On the back foot, he retreated. Byren darted around behind Lence, kicked his knee out from under him and disarmed him as he fell. Lence's sword skittered away across the floor.
Orrade stamped on it, flicked his boot under the hilt and kicked it up, catching it in mid-air. It was a trick they'd practised when they were Garzik's age.
On his knees, Lence stared up at Byren.
'Kill him,' Orrade urged. 'Now.'
'I can't.' Byren would not prove the seer right.
'Then I will.' Orrade strode forwards.
'No!' Byren reversed his sword, bringing the pommel against his twin's head. Lence slumped to the floor.
'You should cut his throat,' Orrade whispered.
'If I was the sort of person to give up on him, I would have given up on you by now,' Byren muttered.
Orrade's mouth dropped open.
A muffled shriek of despair came from the next room, the Royal Chamber.
'Elina!' Byren shoved past Orrade, running for the door.
Byren cursed himself for delaying so long. What horrible act was Palatyne committing on Elina?
He thrust the door open and stopped. Orrade barrelled into him. By the light of two tall stands holding lamps on each side of the bed, Palatyne held Elina, his knife under her chin. Naked, her pale skin gleamed through hip-length black hair and tears glittered on her cheeks, but her eyes held a fury that would never surrender.
Palatyne appeared to be naked but for the knife. 'Ah. So that was your plan, vixen!'
'My plan was to slit your throat!' she hissed. 'But you sleep like a cat.'
'Amfinas never truly sleep, one head is always awake,' Palatyne told her.
'But you are only a man,' Byren countered.
'You know nothing of Power-workers!' Palatyne spat.
Elina whimpered as he pressed the blade into her flesh. A single trickle of blood ran down her slender throat, over the rise of her breast.
Byren's mouth went dry with fear. 'You won't hurt her.'
'Why not? I've already had her.'
'Release Elina and we may let you live,' Byren bluffed. 'My men are already lighting the warning beacon. King Rolen will be here by dawn with more than enough warriors to crush your advance party.'
'King Rolen is in Rolenhold waiting for a signal and that won't come. I destroyed the beacon fire.' Palatyne countered. 'Drop your weapons.'
Orrade cursed under his breath.
'No!' Elina cried. She elbowed Palatyne in the ribs, ducked under his arm and leapt across the bed, long hair flying. Before anyone could move she'd grabbed the lamp, tipping it so that burning oil flew in an arc across the bed. Drops hit Palatyne's naked shoulder, neck and face. He screamed, beating at the stinging spots. Flames licked up the velvet bed curtains, across the sheets and covers.
The door from the hallway swung open. Lord Dunstany stood there, his staff in one hand, a robe hastily thrown over his nakedness. Merofynian lordlings jostled behind him, frightened, fascinated. The Utland Power-worker shoved through them, cursing fluently.
'Kill them!' Palatyne roared.
Elina gave a cry of despair and flung the other doors open, running onto the mezzanine balcony.
'Elina, no,' Byren called, fearing she meant to jump to her death. With warriors blocking the corridor she would be trapped, unable to reach the stairs. He cast one glance to Palatyne, who was hastily dragging on his breeches, and ran after her.
'We'll be trapped.' Orrade ran at his side, sword in hand.
But Elina had already swung one long leg over the balcony. As Byren watched she grabbed the embroidered emblem and lowered herself over the drop.
'Clever girl!' Orrade said, following her.
Byren heard footsteps, turned, blocked Palatyne's attack and avoided another stroke from one of three lordlings who jostled to kill him. The nearest died on the edge of Byren's blade, but even as he fell another stepped into his place.
Without looking, Byren placed his left hand on the rail and leapt over, reaching for the emblem. It screeched as it tore, falling with him. But it was enough to absorb his momentum and Orrade helped steady him as he landed on the floor below, only a body length from the dove aviary. He had a glimpse of dead birds amidst feathers and blood as Elina hugged him. Wearing Orrade's shirt, which revealed her long thighs, she looked every bit the Old Dove's warrior daughter. Byren hugged her fiercely, wondering if she would still speak to him if Orrade ever revealed how they'd delayed rescuing her.
'Hurry,' Orrade urged, pulling them towards the far doors and the terrace. 'They'll be down the stairs in a moment.'
Byren backed up with Elina at his side. 'You two get out. I'll hold them. I'll meet you at the water-wheel.'
'We still need to light a warning beacon,' Elina protested. Pulling away from him, she ran to the fireplace and stood on tiptoe to grab the firestone. Before Byren could stop her, she ran to the other stand and tossed the first firestone up to join its mate. Byren had never seen two firestones meet. They exploded in a ball of blue-white fire. The wall hangings burst into flames, hungrily racing up to the vaulted ceiling above.
The force of it flung Elina back off her feet. Byren and Orrade ran to her, dragging her to safety. Byren could feel the heat beating on him from three body lengths away.
'Elina, are you all right?' Byren turned her hands over to reveal her burnt palms. 'Oh, Lina.'
She managed a smile.
'Here they come,' Orrade warned.
Byren looked up to see Palatyne, the Utlander and his warriors race through the door under the mezzanine into the great hall. He caught Elina by the arm, hauling her to her feet and thrust her towards Orrade. 'Take her. Get out.'
But when they turned to face the great doors he saw the Merofynian servants had escaped the wine cellar and cut them off.
'The cook should have cut their throats,' Orrade whispered.
Seeing their predicament, Palatyne laughed and lowered his sword. 'Surrender and I'll let the girl live.'
'First man to come within range of my sword dies!' Byren raised the sword tip.
'Stay back. I have sent for archers, Overlord Palatyne,' Lord Dunstany called from the balcony above.
Byren cursed.
Palatyne smiled. 'Work your power on them. First one to make them suffer earns my gratitude.'
Orrade cursed under his breath. Byren gripped his sword tighter, ready for anything.
There was a moment's tense silence as both Power-workers sent out mental probes.
'Power-working is a lot like metal working, overlord. A smithy can't fashion a sword from thin air,' Lord Dunstany said. 'These three are without Affinity so there's nothing for me to work with.'
'Not so, Dunstany, I sense something,' the Utlander insisted.
'By all means expend your power on a hopeless task. It will only make me stronger,' Dunstany urged.
The Utlander glared at him.
'Byren, I think I can bluff the perfumed parasites between us and the door,' Orrade whispered. 'Those servants'll run at the first sight of blood.'
'Well, Dunstany?' Palatyne demanded.
'The archers will be here soon.'
'Useless Power-workers,' Palatyne swore. A nasty slow smile spread across his face and he left the mezzanine calling, 'Bring me the kingsheir.'
'What's he doing?' Elina whispered as they waited.
Byren did not know. But he suspected he would not like it.
In no time at all, the overlord strode into the hall as his men marched Lence over to stand in front of Palatyne. He looked groggy. There was blood on his shirt from the blow Byren had delivered to the back of his head.
'Give him your sword.' Palatyne gestured to one of the lordlings.
Lence lifted the weapon, blinking fiercely to clear his head.
'Now prove your worth, kingsheir. Kill them or die with them!'
'No, Lence,' Elina pleaded.
Byren's mouth went dry as his twin turned and strode towards him. He read determination in Lence's eyes.
No regret. No doubt. No last-minute signal.
Orrade swore. 'You should've killed him when you had the chance, Byren.'
'So, I'm a fool,' Byren muttered bitterly. 'The moment he attacks, charge the servants. Get Elina out of here.'
'Give me your hunting knife, Byren,' Elina ordered. 'It's long enough for me to use as a sword.'
He handed it over and wiped his palm on his thigh, sweating from the heat. Already the wooden panels were well ablaze.
Byren focused on Lence as his brother brought his sword around for a huge, two-handed swing. Lence always had preferred strength to subtlety, relying on his size to carry the encounter.
Byren ducked and deflected, but did not follow through.
'Fight me!' Lence roared. His blade leapt in an arc for Byren's throat.
Again, he deflected, staggering back two steps. He could hear Orrade yelling as he charged the servants. His sword arm throbbed with the impact of Lence's strike. Using his twin's momentum, Byren took his sword down and around in a classic deflection arc. The blades sang as they parted.
'Join me, Lence. Don't die a traitor.'
'You think you can better me?' Fast as a viper, Lence snatched a fallen chair, throwing it at Byren.
Dodging the chair, he lost his balance and went down on one knee. Lence bore down on him.
Byren knew he had waited too long. If he wanted to live he would have to prove the seer, right but he didn't want to kill his twin.
Something darted in front of him, taking the impact of Lence's strike. Fine black hair brushed his face, long legs. Blood on white linen.
'Nooo!' Lence cried.
Arms too weak to fully divert the blow, burnt palms unable to properly grasp the knife hilt, Elina dropped the hunting knife and buckled around the sword which impaled her.
Lence dropped to his knees. Byren caught Elina as she crumpled.
'Lina…' Lence whispered.
She clutched Byren's arm, eyes fierce. 'Burn Dovecote, burn them all, promise!'
He nodded. A great gout of blood burst from her lips and the life left her.
No. Not yet. Not ever. Byren lifted his face to Lence, who stared at Elina, stunned.
'I'm waiting, kingsheir,' Palatyne goaded. 'Where are those archers, Dunstany?'
'Delayed, it seems,' he said.
Lence stood stiffly, pulling his borrowed sword from Elina's body.
Byren came slowly to his feet, lifting his own sword.
The ring of metal on metal told him Orrade was occupied with the servants, as yet unaware of Elina's death.
Lence adjusted his grip on the blade. 'Down, Byren.'
The leogryf leapt all over again. Byren dropped. With a roar Lence charged past him, bearing down on the servants who battled Orrade. They took one look at him and dropped their makeshift weapons to flee.
Byren rolled to his feet, charging after Lence, who threw his weight behind the door, dragging it open.
'Go!' Lence shoved Orrade through, caught Byren's vest and shoved him as well. 'Go. I'll hold them. Seal the doors. Let the hall be our funeral pyre!'
Before Byren could protest, the door closed in his face and he heard the great bar drop.
'Elina!' Orrade tried to prise his sword in the crack between the doors, to lift the bar. 'Byren, she's still in there.'
'She's dead, Orrie. Died in my arms.' He indicated the blood down his vest. 'Her last wish was to burn the hall and everyone in it!'
'No. She can't be dead. She was right behind me.'
Byren did not answer. He ran to the first of the great bronze foenixes and judged the angle. Getting his shoulder under the bird's belly he shoved. It rocked on its base. He shoved again. The bronze was not solid, but still it was heavy. With a resounding thump it toppled, its head hitting the doors. The contents of its charcoal brazier spilled onto the ground.
'Watch it!' Orrade shouted, dodging burning coals.
Byren ran to the other bronze.
'What're you doing?' Orrade demanded.
'Wedging the doors closed so they can't escape the hall,' Byren panted.
'They can still get out the windows.'
'If they can get to them,' Byren agreed. 'Shut up and help.'
Orrade added his wiry strength. The bird toppled and hit the other door. More coals fell to the stones.
Byren jumped the bird's legs and ran to where Lord Dovecote was still impaled. Kicking the coals towards the old man's robes, he knelt and blew on them. They flared bright, greedy little flames licking up the cloth.
Orrade stared, panting. 'Father…'
'He would've wanted it this way,' Byren said.
Orrade nodded as he brushed tears from his face. 'And Lence?'
'Saved our lives. He's holding them back even now. Come on. Garzik and Winterfall will be waiting at the water-wheel.' He hoped. But he'd sent them to light a beacon which had already been destroyed, if Palatyne could be believed.
As they ran Byren glanced back over his shoulder. Flames leapt from the upper windows of the hall where the hangings had been burning strongly. Byren was not convinced everyone would burn, but the hall would and it would be their warning beacon.
Fierce tears stung his eyes.
Elina would be satisfied.