The Ursuper

'Pity Seela left so quickly. There's some things I'd like to ask her,' Orrade muttered.

But Byren was off on another train of thought. It wasn't that he had to convince the spar warlords he was the rightful king, but more he had to prove he was the most powerful contender for the title. 'Force is the only thing the spar warlords respect. If the other three don't stand behind me, they could wait for me to exhaust myself defeating Cobalt and his Merofynians, then march over the Divide and attack when I'm weakened.'

A whistling bird cry carried up the valley. Orrade tensed and scurried forwards to peer down at the trail.

'More loyalists?' Byren asked, joining him.

Orrade nodded and pointed. 'Fifteen men.'

Byren sighted along his arm. Each man carried a pack and they marched with their hoods drawn over their heads. Byren tensed. Was this the betrayal he had feared?

'Not our usual desperate families, fleeing Cobalt's bully boys,' Orrade said thoughtfully.

'If they aren't Merofynians foolish enough to try to infiltrate the camp, they're welcome.'

'They must have convinced Longarm they're genuine, else he wouldn't have sent them on. They look like fighting men. A few more of them and we could have a real army!'

Some army. With his twin brother, Lence, Byren had led larger strikes against upstart warlords.

'Come on.' Byren took to his heels, hearing Orrade's light footfalls behind him.

At the base of the lookout they met Florin and her brother coming down the track.

'We heard the signal,' she said.

Byren wanted to tell her to take her brother and head back to camp but, at that moment, the newcomers rounded the bend and looked up to see them. As the first man threw back his hood, Byren knew the face, although he could not place him.

'You don't recognise me, Byren Kingson?' the man asked, his smile flashing white against his beard. They all wore beards now. No time to shave.

'Should I?' Byren's hand went to his sword hilt. There were fifteen of them, but he had Orrade and twenty men within shouting distance. And Florin had her staff, a seemingly innocuous walking aid but deadly in her hands. Somehow he'd have to get Leif out of the way.

'The last time you saw me I had less hair. We all did,' the newcomer said. And, as the others dropped their hoods, he flicked back his cloak to reveal his withered left arm.

'Master Catillum.' Relief flooded Byren, followed closely by fear. Would the abbey mystics master sense Orrade's new Affinity and denounce him? Come to that, would he be able to sense that Byren had taken shelter in a seep and been infected by Affinity? Byren cleared his throat. 'And Halcyon Abbey warrior monks. Welcome!'

So few.

The mystics master bowed. 'At your service, kingsheir.'

'I thought none of the monks had survived. We'd heard — '

'That we were lured into ambush.' Catillum nodded. 'Some of us escaped. We've been hunted across Rolencia. The others will arrive in the next few days. I didn't want to draw attention to your hideout.' He paused. 'There are things you should know.'

'I know the abbey fell. I found out the hard way.' Byren had gone there to call on the warrior monks to help defend Rolenhold, only to find Merofynians held the abbey. He'd barely escaped with his life. 'Are you hungry?'

They grinned.

'Come this way.' How was he going to feed everyone?

Byren left the others in the cook's cave, sent Leif to fetch his father, then walked the mystics master back to Old Man Narrows' cave. Florin strode along beside them, either unaware or deliberately obtuse to the curious glance the mystics master cast her.

They passed the smithy, hammering away.

'You're well set up,' Catillum said, as the noise faded behind them.

'We've been here since Dovecote fell,' Orrade explained.

'Mainly old folks and children…'

'Everyone who can be is out patrolling, hunting for game, or at weapons practice,' Byren said. He gestured into the cave. 'We can be private here.'

Orrade led the way in and took his seat at the empty fire circle, as though he didn't have to worry about revealing his Affinity. Byren sat between him and Catillum, just in case proximity gave Orrade away.

A moment later Old Man Narrows arrived. Byren introduced him to the mystics master and he settled down next to Florin.

Catillum glanced to the cave entrance, as if waiting for someone else.

'What news?' Byren asked.

'Don't you want to wait for Fyn?'

'Fyn lives?'

'He's not with you?'

Byren shook his head.

The mystic let his breath out slowly. 'Fyn lives. Or he did the night we were ambushed. I haven't heard from him since. He kept his head when the abbey was attacked, led the youngsters out of Mount Halcyon, saved their lives and stopped the sorbt stones falling into the hands of the Merofynian Power-workers. You can be proud of him.'

'Fyn…' For a moment Byren could not speak. Then he cleared his throat. 'Where is he?'

'He set off to warn the king, that was before we knew the castle had fallen. I only contacted him the once and a renegade Power-worker severed the connection.' Catillum paused, his dark eyes worried. 'Fyn can't risk contacting me again. His best bet is to keep his head down and stay out of trouble.' The mystics master looked up, summoning a smile. 'He'll come to you when it's safe.'

But Byren was not so sure. What if Fyn went to Cobalt for help? Only Byren and Piro had seen through their cousin. Cobalt had turned Lence and his father against him. And Fyn didn't know what Cobalt had been up to. Their cousin could be very convincing. He might trick Fyn into betraying himself or Byren's whereabouts.

Short of sneaking into the castle and killing Cobalt, there was nothing Byren could do about this. And he had seriously considered assassinating Cobalt, before deciding it was too much of a risk.

Byren poked the ashes of last night's fire. For the time being there was nothing he could do for Fyn or Piro. He had enough troubles of his own looking after an army of loyalists. At least, now he had the mystics master's support, he need not fear Merofynian Power-workers. He did not want to die, as his grandfather and uncle had, in a battlefield tent, killed by unseen Power-workers.

'What news from the valley?' Orrade asked.

'The Merofynians ride across it like lords, taking what they want, searching for you, Byren. They maim all those unfortunate enough to get in their way. It's only a matter of time — '

'I know. I need to move over the Divide, onto Foenix Spar.'

'You haven't heard? The Merofynians have taken over Cedar tradepost and added to the defences, turning it into a fort. They've ordered forts built to block all the spar passes. You won't be able to retreat to Foenix Spar. It may already be too late.'

Orrade cursed softly.

'We can still escape,' Florin spoke up. 'We don't need to take the Cedar tradepost pass. I know a secret pass over the mountain. An old one.'

'There is no secret pass,' Byren said, even as he caught the look Old Man Narrows sent Florin and recalled her mother had been a mountain girl. 'My tutor made me memorise every pass and canal the length and breadth of Rolencia.'

She smiled. 'A king's son would be the last person to know about this pass. It was used to smuggle men and arms over the Divide back when the Foenix warlord was not on good terms with King Rolen's line. It's too steep and narrow for horses, or even donkeys. It takes the better part of two days to walk it.'

Byren grinned. 'What would we do without you, Florin?'

Chapter Seven

Byren stood back from the fire while the monks cooked the food they had brought with them. It would be crowded in Old Man Narrows' cave tonight. Tomorrow he would have to send the mystics master and his monks up the ravine to the higher caves.