The Ursuper

'Our losses?'

'None dead. One injured.' Laughter lit Orrade's thin face and Byren felt an answering grin tug at his lips. 'He dropped a barrel of looted wine on his foot and broke it.'

'The barrel?'

'No, his foot.'

'Just as well.'

The others chuckled, as Byren meant them to. They were all pleased with the easy victory, but jumpy because they knew the real battle still lay ahead.

'What will you do now, Byren?' Feid asked. 'They say Rolenhold can't be taken by force.'

'It never has. Deceit opened the gates for Palatyne. Cobalt won't fall for that.' Byren was reminded of tactics lessons with Captain Temor. The old warrior's death was another he had to avenge.

'Word of Byren's return will spread,' Orrade said. 'The people will rise up and join us.'

'The Merofynians could sit in the castle and ignore us,' Bearclaw countered. He was from Unistag Spar and eager to prove his loyalty to Warlord Unace, by supporting Byren who had helped her gain leadership.

'I hope they do stay safe in the castle,' Byren said quickly. The secret to leading men like this was never to appear at a loss. 'It'll give me time to gather warriors, retake the abbey and wipe out any Merofynians not within the castle walls. In fact, they don't know we're here, yet and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Before Cobalt knows it, he could have lost Rolencia.'

'But he'd still be safe in Rolenhold,' Corvel muttered.

'If I were Cobalt, I'd ride out to do battle before you're at full strength,' Feid said.

'But Cobalt doesn't know we're here yet.' Byren knew Palatyne had left a third of the Merofynian army under Cobalt's command, plus Lord Leon's warriors had joined him. He was outnumbered three to one. 'And that's why I need a secure base to strike from.'

'Dovecote's overrun with Merofynians,' Orrade began, 'but — '

'The Narrows is empty,' Old Man Narrows suggested. 'And it's secure, surrounded by the lake and cliffs on three sides. The palisade on the fourth side would have to be rebuilt — '

'We've got the men to do that. Excellent.' Byren turned to Orrade. 'See how many horses we have. Take twenty or thirty good men and the Narrows family. Go prepare the tradepost for us.' That would get Florin out of his sight and, hopefully, out of his thoughts. 'We'll follow on foot.'

As the keeper and his family brought out breakfast, Byren noticed that Catillum had slipped out of the tap-room. He'd have to catch him later and ask his advice on retaking the abbey. Recapturing Halcyon Abbey would inspire the valley people, and it was an easier nut to crack than Rolenhold.

Fyn stood on the fort's gate-tower. Looking across the valley, he drank in his homeland. It was good to be back. To his right the sun had just risen. So far it only picked out the tip of Mount Halcyon and, much nearer, Rolenhold itself. The Rolencian valley lay shrouded in early morning mist, with only single spires and tall trees spearing the fog. It was all so peaceful.

But not for long.

'Your brother did well, but winning one battle doesn't win the war,' Bantam muttered. 'He has a long, hard haul ahead of him, before he can call himself King Byren the Fifth.'

Fyn shrugged. 'Byren's up to it. Before summer's over, you'll have good news to report to Nefysto.'

'How do you know we won't claim lordships, riding on your coat tails?'

Fyn laughed. 'You have salt-water in your veins, not blood. I can't see you settling down on dry land, Bantam. But as for Jaku here — '

'I plan to settle on Ostron Isle. I bear Merofynia no love after the way she treated me, and Rolencians bear me no love, after the way Merofynia began this war. No, it's Ostron Isle for me.'

Below him, barely visible through the mist, Byren's army was cooking breakfast. Soon they would pack their kits and march out. Fyn should find Byren and see what his plans were.

Footsteps on the wooden ladder told him someone was coming.

Feldspar climbed up. 'Master Catillum wants to see you, kingsheir.'

His former friend's gaze skimmed past Fyn, who wanted to explain, why he was keeping his distance, but then Feldspar would have to denounce him for associating with renegade Affinity. So he held his tongue and hardened his heart.

Fyn nodded. 'I'll be along soon. Where is he?'

'Behind the stables.'

Fyn turned away from Feldspar's disappointment and heard him go down the ladder.

'What does the mystics master want?' Bantam asked.

Fyn's hand went to his chest but the Fate was gone. Odd how he missed its warmth over his heart. 'I don't know. I've already returned the abbey's Fate.'

Had he somehow given away his association with the mage? He didn't think so. Bantam and Jakulos followed him down the ladder as he headed for the stables. They waited just out of sight around the building.

'You sent for me, mystics master.'

'Ah, Fyn.' When Catillum turned, Fyn was struck by how much worse he looked. He had always been thin and intense, now he looked positively gaunt. Was the master sickening from something? He hoped not. Catillum was the only master-level monk left alive. When they retook the abbey, he would be their abbot. 'There is something I must ask you, kingson.'

Fyn waited.

'You are torn by two loyalties now, the abbey and your brother. Byren Kingsheir intends to retake the abbey. Only you and I know about the secret passage. I don't want rough warriors traipsing through the goddess's Sacred Heart. I want you to leave this to me. Don't tell him what you know.'

'Of course.' It was none of his business, now that he had turned his feet away from the goddess's path.

'Very good. Thank you, kingson.'

The mystic master left and the sea-hounds joined Fyn.

At Bantam's raised brows, Fyn explained. 'Abbey business.'

Bantam did not look pleased.

Just then there was a commotion from the front of the stables, so Fyn headed around to see what was going on.

Through a gap in the crowd, Fyn saw Byren with the warlords. His brother laughed at something Corvel said, and the man's sons laughed along with him. These violent men respected his brother for the good-hearted warrior he was. But did Byren have the cunning to beat Cobalt, who according to Piro was both brilliant and devious?

There was always Orrade. As if his thoughts had conjured him up, his brother's best friend thrust through the horses and men to join Fyn.

'We looked for you at the war table,' Orrade said.

'I was speaking with Master Catillum.' Giving up the Fate had been hard, but being excluded from retaking the abbey brought home to him that he was no longer going to become a monk. Strange how much that hurt.

'I've set aside three horses for you.' Orrade's glance included Bantam and Jakulos. 'We're riding ahead.'

The mountain girl approached, with her travelling kit slung over one shoulder.

'Over here, Florin.' Orrade beckoned her, explaining to Fyn as she approached. 'We're making for Narrowneck. Byren is going to reinforce its defences and make that his base until he can take back Rolenhold.'

'Good idea.' Fyn nodded to Florin. He didn't know what Orrade saw in her. She was half a head taller than Fyn and could look Orrade in the eyes. Handsome rather than pretty, she moved and spoke with none of the unconscious grace that made Piro and Isolt so desirable.

Florin eyed the horse Orrade had selected for her. 'If I fall off this beastie and break my neck, I'm never speaking to you again.'

'You rode well enough the night we fled Merofynians in Waterford.'

'That wasn't riding. That was holding on for dear life!'

Orrade grinned, winked at Fyn and offered Florin a leg up.

She tossed her braid over her shoulder, slipped her boot into the stirrup and swung onto the saddle.

As Fyn mounted up, he heard her muttering under her breath.