Yesterday's Kings (20 page)

“I need no reward for helping a friend,” Cullyn said, and watched them gallop off through the snow before he returned inside to check on Laurens.

Who stared at him with glazed eyes and asked, “Where am I?”

Cullyn explained, and Laurens struggled to sit up. Cullyn pushed him back.

“Drak’s gone to the keep,” he said, “to take word to Lord Bartram.”

“I need to report.” Laurens struggled against Cullyn’s restraining hands. “I was in charge. I must report to Lord Bartram.”

It was an unequal dispute. Laurens was weak and feverish, and Cullyn could shove him easily back against the pillows. “Listen,” he said, “you’ve a hole in your side that will kill you if you get on a horse. You’ll bleed to death if you do.”

“But Abra’s taken by the fey folk, and I could not get her back. I must tell her father.”

“Drak will do that,” Cullyn said—even as he wondered if Abra had not gone of her own accord. “And you’d best wait here—until you heal.”

“I’ve a duty to Lord Bartram,” Laurens mumbled.

And then he closed his eyes and drifted into healing sleep.

Cullyn wiped his sweaty brow and saw him comfortable, then went out to check his animals even as he wondered at these strange events.

So Lofantyl had been captured and rescued—with Abra’s aid, it seemed—and then Abra had been taken across the Barrier into the fey country. He threw feed down for the pigs and forked out Fey’s stall—set fresh hay in the manager—and gathered eggs that he took into the cottage and set to scrambling, with bacon and what little bread he had left.

He fed Laurens as if the soldier were a pigling in his care, a deserted shoat that must be mothered and tended. Yet even as he watched over Laurens he had decided what he must do.

“T
HEY WERE NOT THERE.
We could not find them,” Amadis said. “We sought them long enough, but …” He shrugged and ducked his head. “Forgive me, my lord, but I believe your daughter is seduced and taken into the Durrym country. She’s gone away with the fey folk.”

“And perhaps,” Per Fendur said, “of her own choosing. After all—”

He closed his mouth as Lord Bartram glowered at him. “And the other patrols?”

“No word as yet.”

Then Drak came into the hall. He was hollow eyed and weary from his ride, and he swayed on his feet as he gave his report.

“So my daughter is taken away by the Durrym,” Lord Bartram said when Drak finished. “And Laurens lies wounded in this forester’s hut. What shall we do?”

He stared at Per Fendur, who said: “Does this not prove all I’ve told you? Do you want your daughter back, we must go to war.”

“How?” Bartram demanded. “The gods know, Drak has just told us there’s no way across the Alagordar. We are defeated by Durrym magic.”

“Save the Church finds a way,” Fendur said. “Trust me, my lord. And should we not speak with your master-at-arms, and also this forester? I wonder if they might not tell us the truth—surely more than they admit.”

“Laurens is honest,” Bartram said. “I cannot doubt him.”

“But the forester?” Fendur asked. “This … Cullyn. Is he trustworthy?”

“I don’t know him,” Bartram said.

“I’ve encountered him,” Amadis declared.

“And?” Fendur asked.

“A surly fellow, who dwells alone in the forest. Close on the margins of the river.”

“He seems friendly,” Drak ventured. “And surely served Laurens well.” He fell silent as Amadis glowered at him.

“Then perhaps we should question them both—in the name of the Church.” Fendur smiled, turning back to Lord Bartram as if Drak had not spoken. “After all, your beloved daughter is gone into the fey folks’ land—likely seduced by one of them—and should we not seek to get her back?”

“For that,” Bartram declared, “I’d sell my soul.”

“No need for such expedition,” Fendur said. “Only let us go talk with this forester, and with your master-at-arms—who seem to be in concert—and we shall have answers.”

I
APOLOGIZE
,” Lofantyl said as he helped Abra dismount. “This was not of my choosing.”

“No, but even so …” She looked around at a landscape that had nothing to do with Kandar. Here the woodland grew green, barely faded into autumn’s colors, let alone the snows that gripped her homeland. The sun was setting—she supposed the Durrym could not control that, but it seemed they commanded all else, as if they governed the seasons. For here they stood on bright green grass, with birds singing and the sun lowering slowly in the west so that long, hot shadows stretched leisurely across the glade. A brook babbled there, and the big Durrym horses drank thirstily.

“This is my land.” Lofantyl took her hand and led her to the stream. “I hope you like it.”

“Have I any choice?” she asked.

“I’d have courted you otherwise,” he said, “had that been possible.”

“Save it was not, and so you’re here.” Afranydyr came to them. Lofantyl favored his brother with a sour glance that Afranydyr ignored as he spoke to Abra. “You are taken, my lady. My hapless brother declares himself in love with you, and perhaps he is, but even so—you are come into Coim’na Drhu now, and shall not go back to your Garm land.”

“So I am kidnapped?” Abra touched the hilt of her belt knife and contemplated stabbing him. But Lofantyl set an arm around her.

“Afranydyr speaks bluntly,” he said, “for he’s a blunt fellow. But I do love you, and I think you shall enjoy your life here.”

“And do I not?” she asked. “Can I return?”

Afranydyr barked short laughter; Lofantyl smiled easily, drawing her closer. “Come see Kash’ma Hall,” he said. “And then decide.”

And without choice, she could only agree.

“I
MUST BE GETTING OLD.
Wounds never hurt like this before.”

Laurens eased upright, leaning on Cullyn’s shoulder.

“You were stuck through,” Cullyn said, “and bled like a butchered pig. It’s a wonder you’re alive at all.”

Laurens grunted what might be laughter and hobbled to the table, where Cullyn set him down. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“When you were younger?” Cullyn stirred the venison broth he’d set to simmering.

“Aye, perhaps that,” Laurens allowed. Then, “Have you any of that honey wine left?”

Cullyn laughed. “You’ve drunk most of it already.”

“Even so.” Laurens rubbed his bandaged side. “It does me good, no?”

Cullyn brought the flask and poured his friend a measure. Laurens raised the cup in toast and said, “Your health, my friend. I’d likely be dead were it not for you.”

“I’d do as much for anyone,” Cullyn said, embarrassed.

“But you did it for me,” Laurens replied. “And so I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” Cullyn returned.

“Save my life.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
, when the first thawing set in and the hard snow began to melt, Amadis and Per Fendur arrived with a squadron of twenty men.

They trampled Cullyn’s yard, setting his pigs to squealing and Fey to snorting anger. The chickens fluttered their wings and squawked alarm.

Cullyn went out to meet them, with Laurens limping at his back.

“I’d speak with you,” Amadis said to Laurens.

“And I with you,” Fendur said to Cullyn.

The thaw had set the trees to dripping and the squadron sat disconsolate and damp. Drak sat his horse with his head down and an embarrassed expression on his face. Amadis shook out his cloak and shoved past Cullyn. Per Fendur entered the cottage with an oily smile and shook the moisture from his black cloak when he stood before the hearth.

“You might have sent a healer,” Laurens said. “Were it not for Cullyn, I’d likely have died.”

“You lost Abra,” Amadis returned.

“I lost her?” Laurens gaped at his captain. “She was taken by the Durrym, and I did my best to find her. What did you do?”

“This matters not at all,” Per Fendur said, staring at Cullyn. “What do you know?”

“That Abra’s been taken,” Cullyn said as the priest’s black eyes bored into him. “No more than that.”

“But you consort with the Durrym.”

“No.”

“You deny that Lofantyl was your friend?”

“No!”

“A Durrym?”

“I knew him first for a friend,” Cullyn gasped, “and only after for a Durrym.”

“Our enemy,” Fendur declared. “Our traditional enemy!”

“He was my friend,” Cullyn said. “He offered me no harm, nor could I believe he threatened Kandar.”

“Heresy!” Fendur shouted, and turned to Amadis. “They must be questioned.”

“It’s a good day’s ride to the keep,” Amadis said.

“Then we’ll spend the night here,” Fendur decided, “and take them back tomorrow.”

Laurens looked at Amadis and asked, “Do you truly doubt me so much?”

Amadis blushed and turned his eyes away.

Per Fendur shouted: “Take them both away! Secure them.”

So they were dragged out of the cottage and thrown into the stable, condemned.

“T
HIS IS NOT RIGHT
,” Cullyn said.

“Right?” Laurens eased himself to a sitting position,
taking care to avoid Fey’s stamping. “What’s right got to do with it?”

Cullyn stroked Fey’s neck as he answered, calming the stallion for fear he’d trample Laurens. “You did your duty,” he said, “and what offense have I given?”