Inheritance

by Simon Brown

  By now Kumul felt well enough to take his turn to look around the local area. His ribs were obviously not cracked after all. His side was still bruised, but he could move his arm freely, though with some pain. On the second night of their stay, the three men gathered to discuss their next move. “Between us, Kumul and I think we have devised the best way to get you to the Oceans of Grass and the Northern Chetts,” Ager told the prince. Lynan nodded for him to continue. “Twenty leagues to the north lies the Forest of Silona, a thinly populated and well-covered area that will protect us from prying eyes for the next stage of our journey. The forest is nearly sixty leagues long, south to north, and will take us several days to get through.”

  Lynan could not help notice Kumul’s grim expression. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Kumul sighed. “I have heard stories about this place.”

  “A soldiers’ tale,” Ager said dismissively. “Maybe, but most soldiers’ tales have a kernel of truth.”

  “What stories?” Lynan asked.

  “The forest is left alone by people who live nearby,” Kumul said. “It is a dark place, an old place, inhabited by foresters who have little liking for company. I have only seen it myself from a distance, and it still made my blood run cold.”

  “We’ve discussed this,” Ager said angrily. “We both know the real risks. The forest is our best chance to make up distance and time and still go undetected.”

  Kumul nodded resignedly. “I know. I have no other plan.”

  Lynan was distinctly unsettled by the conversation, but he told Ager to continue.

  “Once on the other side of the forest, we are fifty leagues from Sparro, Chandra’s capital. From there we can find passage on a boat going up the Barda River to the Ufero Mountains. After crossing the mountains we can reach the Strangers’ Sooq—the main trading town between the Chetts and merchants from the east.”

  “How many days will it take us to get to the Oceans of Grass if we go this way?” Lynan asked.

  Ager glanced at Kumul, the scars on the skin over his dead eye looking like crevasses in the wan moonlight. “We think it will take as long as four weeks. If everything goes well, we may cut that down to three. If things go badly, it could take as long as five or six weeks.”

  “Is time no longer of the essence, then?” Lynan asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course it is,” Kumul answered shortly. “But Ager and I agree it is the quickest way for us to get to the Oceans of Grass without being captured. There are safer routes, perhaps, but they would take several months.”

  “And, again, it is to be my decision?”

  “Yes.”

  “So if I insist we continue with the original plan, you will not argue with me?”

  “No, but we may not follow you. We can’t speak for Jenrosa, but at the moment neither can she.”

  “This leadership is a hollow thing, I think,” Lynan murmured bitterly.

  Ager pulled gently on one earlobe. “Your Highness, leadership is not hollow, it is two-edged; too many regard it as a privilege and not a responsibility. I’ve suffered too much at the hands of those who misuse it.” He looked up and saw Lynan’s expression. “No, lad, not your father, but I’ve served under other generals, not to mention a bounty of ship’s captains.”

  “I will follow your advice.”

  The two older men nodded solemnly.

  Jenrosa woke again that night. She was confused and did not have the strength to sit up without assistance. She ate willingly, listened patiently to Lynan as he described what had happened since the bear had struck her down, but fell asleep again before he could tell her about the change in their plans.

  “It’s all right,” Ager assured him. “There’ll be time to tell her everything when she’s fully recovered. When she wakes tomorrow, she’ll probably remember nothing of what you’ve told her tonight.”

  “But she’ll be all right, now, won’t she?”

  “Now that she’s climbed out of her deep sleep, I think so. I admit, I was afraid she would die on us without ever coming to. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  Ager lay back and closed his eyes. Lynan sat in the darkness of their makeshift shelter, Jenrosa’s head in his lap, listening to a chorus of frogs from the stream’s banks. He could also hear the soft footsteps of Kumul outside, restless as a tiger. Absently, he stroked Jenrosa’s hair and wondered what her life had been like before he and his problems had set it astray. Were her parents still alive? Did she have any brothers or sisters? Suddenly it was important for him to know.

  He was aware his feelings for Jenrosa had become stronger since their escape from the palace, but what those feeling were, exactly, left him confused. He had never before felt so protective about someone. He was attracted to her, but the emotion churning inside of him involved more than his desire to bed her.

  And what of her feelings for him? Her attitude had been standoffish, even resentful, and this hurt him. She said she did not blame him for her predicament, but there was no doubt it was his fault she was now on the run, her life in constant danger. However, he could not help being glad she was in exile with him, nor help feeling guilty that he should be the cause of her unhappiness.

  And her injury, he reminded himself. What if she dies? It would be his fault.

  He had no answers to his questions, and they filled his heart like a great leaden weight.

  The next day Jenrosa tried standing. She managed to walk a few paces before falling back into Lynan’s arms. Ager had been right about her memory, but Lynan patiently recounted everything a second time, adding the change in plan.

  “I wonder if I’ll ever get back to Kendra,” she mused aloud, and Lynan felt a pang of homesickness also. “I don’t have any choice but to go along, do I?”

  “The kingdom’s soldiers can’t look for us forever. When things quiet down, perhaps you can go back to a life in one of the cities or towns.”

  “But not Kendra.”

  Lynan shrugged. He did not know what to say.

  “I don’t know how fit I am to travel,” Jenrosa said, “but I’ll try not to slow you down too much.”

  “We can wait here for a day or two more,” Ager said, “but not much longer. We’re pushing our luck by staying in one place for so long. Eventually, some local will notice our smoke or stumble across our shelter.”

  “The most dangerous part of the journey will be from here to the Forest of Silona,” Kumul said. “It’s all open farming country, and we’ll stick out like trees in a desert. So rest well now, for when we start, we must move quickly.”

  They never got their extra day. The next morning, soon after the four had eaten a light breakfast, Lynan accompanied Jenrosa as she tried to exercise, intending to walk her to the ford and back. At first her feet were unsteady, but by the time they had reached the ford she was walking normally if more slowly than usual.

  “How do you feel?” Lynan asked her.

  “Like someone’s inside my skull trying to break out with a hammer. If I move too quickly, I think my head will explode, and all my joints turn to jelly. But I’ll survive.” She turned and smiled at him, touched by the look of concern on his face. “I hear you saved my life.”

  Lynan blushed. “It’s my fault you’re involved in any of this at all. The least I could do was stop you from being killed.”

  Jenrosa laughed at his words, then groaned and held her head between her hands. “Laughing hurts, too. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it…”

  There was a sound of approaching feet from the other side of the stream. Lynan glanced up, expecting to see Ager or Kumul. Instead, he saw an armed man dressed in stained brown leather and carrying a long sword. Lank, shiny black hair fell down to his shoulders, and wide brown eyes stared at them eagerly from out of a round, pockmarked face. The warrior gave a triumphant yell and charged the two friends, swinging his sword over his head.

  Both Jenrosa and Lynan reached for their daggers, but it was too late to do anything ef
fective against their attacker.

  The warrior was only two paces from them when Kumul charged into him, hurling him violently into the stream. Kumul’s momentum carried him forward and he tripped over the stranger, but he quickly scrabbled to his feet. He turned to face the warrior, but he was lying down in the water, unconscious.

  “Get back to the shelter!” Kumul roared at his two friends. “Tell Ager to hurry!” He bent down and retrieved the stranger’s sword.

  “Kumul—” Lynan began, but Jenrosa yanked hard on his arm.

  “For God’s sake, do as he says! Come on!”

  Even as Jenrosa spoke, four other men, dressed and armed similarly to the first, came running over the rise. They skidded to a halt when they saw Kumul standing astride the ford, their fallen companion at his feet.

  Lynan pushed Jenrosa away from him. “Go on!” he shouted. “Get Ager!” Without waiting to see if she left or not, he ran back to Kumul, stopping behind him because the ford was not wide enough for them to stand side by side.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Kumul hissed at him.

  “I’m not running away,” Lynan replied, sounding more determined than he felt.

  “And what do you think you’ll do with me between you and the enemy? Stab at them with your knife between my legs?”

  “If I have to.”

  “You’d better be bloody sure of your aim, lad,” Kumul said grimly.

  Having decided that four against two was reasonable odds, even if one of them was halfway to being a giant, the soldiers on the rise started moving forward.

  “Don’t be fools,” Kumul warned them, his voice almost paternal. “Do you really think any of you can take me on?”

  The four hesitated, glancing uncertainly at each other, but then continued their advance.

  “I wish I could brag with Ager’s conviction,” Kumul whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “I was convinced,” Lynan confided.

  Kumul laughed, and this made their opponents even more uncertain.

  “Hang this. We can’t afford to let any of them get away. Do you think you can take out one of them if I provide you with a sword?”

  “Sure.” Lynan’s voice sounded a little too high for his liking. “Maybe two.”

  “Just worry about one to start with.”

  The strangers arranged themselves into a line and were about to start across the ford when Kumul sounded his battle cry and charged forward, scattering them back, two of them tripping over. Kumul jumped over them to reach the bank, sidestepped to the right and swung his sword at the startled soldier in front of him, the blade cutting into the man’s head just above his left ear. There was a sickening crunch, a fountain of blood, and the man collapsed. Kumul picked up the man’s sword and threw it grip-first to Lynan.

  Lynan caught the gift and enthusiastically engaged the other soldier left standing, only to find his task harder than Kumul’s. His opponent was a better-than-average swordsman, and although Lynan’s training gave him the edge, he was used to the weight and feel of his father’s sword. His blade flickered and slid against his enemy’s in a search for an opening. He heard combat resume behind him as Kumul defended himself against the two remaining soldiers who had now regained their feet.

  Desperation fueled Lynan’s attack, and he found the extra speed he needed to parry a thrust from his opponent and send the point of his own sword into the soldier’s throat. The man gurgled and fell backward, his hands clasping hopelessly over his fatal wound.

  Lynan spun on his feet and charged into the melee around Kumul, screaming something he hoped sounded bloodcurdling.

  One of the enemy turned to face him but had to retreat under the barrage of blows Lynan directed against him. The soldier lost his balance and slipped forward, straight onto Lynan’s sword. Lynan twisted his weapon out from between the man’s ribs. By then Kumul had dispatched the last of the enemy, and stood panting over him, his arm covered in blood.

  “That was a good fight,” he said admiringly. “They were better than I thought they would be.”

  “Who were they?” Lynan asked.

  “More mercenaries. When they saw you and Jenrosa alone out here, they probably thought they’d have themselves a little easy money, and perhaps some fun with the woman.”

  “Will there be more?”

  “Almost certainly. They were probably a scouting party out to find a place to camp for their company, probably half a day behind. We’ll have to hide these corpses and get moving.”

  There was a sound behind them and both men turned quickly, swords raised.

  “You could have kept one for me,” Ager said. He was accompanied by an exhausted-looking Jenrosa.

  “They were too eager,” Kumul said matter-of-factly.

  “You’re wounded,” Ager observed, pointing to the big man’s bloody arm.

  “Kumul!” Lynan exclaimed in concern. He assumed the blood had belonged to one of the dead mercenaries. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did,” Kumul replied. “I said ‘That was a good fight,’ and then I said…”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” Lynan could not hide the exasperation in his voice.

  “It isn’t serious, your Highness, or I would have mentioned it.” He looked up at Ager. “I was a mite slow. My side’s still a little stiff.”

  “You may not think it’s serious, but you won’t be lifting a sword for a few days,” Ager said, carefully examining Kumul’s wounded arm. “Lynan, go to a sword bush by our camp and take Kumul with you. Pick some of the leaves and bruise them between your hands, then rub them vigorously into Kumul’s wound.”

  Kumul turned white. “Oh, no. I’ve had that done this to me before, when I received a cut to my left leg, and I still remember the pain!”

  “And you still have your left leg. Now go with Lynan.” Ager turned to Jenrosa. “And you need to rest. We’ll have to move on as soon as it’s dark, and you’ll need all your strength.” He surveyed the four corpses. “At least now we’ll all have swords.”

  “They’ll have had horses,” Kumul said. “We can’t use them ourselves if we want to remain unnoticed, but we can’t leave them wandering around here.”

  “I’ll lead them a couple of leagues farther up the trail,” Ager said. “Now go.”

  The three moved off as ordered. Lynan remembered the first mercenary, still alive but unconscious. He turned to warn Ager, in time to see him lift the head of the mercenary in question, stick the point of his dagger in the man’s throat and pull it with a savage stroke. There was a tearing sound, a great gush of blood, and that was it. Ager looked up and for a moment locked eyes with Lynan, and for the first time the prince saw loathing and pain in them.

  Shivering, Lynan turned around again.

  Chapter 15

  Areava was woken early by a messenger from Dejanus. He had someone in the Royal Guard’s office with information concerning Prince Lynan. In no mood to suffer the new constable alone, she had Olio roused as well. Dejanus’ guest, sitting on a stool and looking exhausted and sorry for himself, was a man dressed in the livery of a naval officer; the long red stripe on his jerkin’s sleeves indicated the rank of captain.

  When the queen and her brother arrived, the captain stood up so quickly the stool toppled over. He managed a salute. Areava could see that he was terrified. What had Dejanus been saying to him?

  “Your Majesty, this is Captain Rykor of the Revenant, one of the ships sent after Grapnel Moorice’s Seaspray.” Dejanus told her. He looked at the captain with barely disguised contempt. “He has a tale for you.”

  Areava nodded for Rykor to tell his story. In a nervous voice he told Areava and Olio about a small boat that had fled from his ship the previous day, and which had been wrecked against the rocky cliffs north of Kendra. His description of the events was sparse but left out nothing.

  “How many did you say were in the boat?” Areava asked the captain when he was finished. She glanced at Dejanus standi
ng behind the captain like a nemesis, brooding and threatening. For a moment Areava herself felt threatened by his presence, but then she heard Olio’s steady breathing behind her and she felt safer.

  Captain Rykor swallowed, cast his gaze down to his feet. “Four, Your Majesty. Three men and a woman.”

  “Did you recognize any of them?”

  “Not as such, Your Majesty. But the largest one had the build and look of the const… I mean… of Kumul Alarn.” He cast a frightened glance toward the new constable. “We were never close enough to see their faces.”

  “And there were no survivors,” Dejanus said, a statement and not a question.

  “No,” Rykor confirmed. “We waited for several minutes. No one survived. There were no bodies. The undertow there is horrific. If they are not… well, eaten… one or two of the bodies might wash up on the shores of Aman or Lurisia in the next few days.”

  Areava sighed deeply.

  “How did you find the b-b-boat?” Olio asked. “I thought you were sent after the Seaspray?”

  “Three warships were sent out, Your Highness,” Rykor answered. “Besides my own Revenant, there were Moonlighter and Windsnapper. My ship was out last, and my lookout saw kestrels above a boat northwest of our position, though he saw no actual boat at that time. I knew that both Moonlighter and Windsnapper each had the necessary speed to catch Seaspray, so I decided to follow the new sighting, just in case.”

  “As well you did,” Olio said gently.

  Areava nodded to Dejanus, who tapped Rykor on the shoulder. The captain saluted the queen and left.

  “I want patrols increased along that coast, both by sea and by land. If any bodies resurface or are washed up on the shore, I want them returned immediately to Kendra for identification.”