Lynn Flewelling - Hidden Warrior

Reining in at the town gate, Tharin called up to the guards on the wall, “Open in the name of Prince Tobin, lord of Atyion. The prince has returned!”

“Ero is under siege by Plenimar,” Tobin told the startled sentries as soon as they were inside. “Spread the word. Every warrior must prepare to march back with me. No, wait!” he called as the man was about to run off. “The women, too; any who wish to fight for Skala are welcome under the banner of Atyion. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my prince!”

“Tell everyone to assemble in the castle yard.”

“Well done, Tobin!” Arkoniel murmured.

They raced on through the town, only to find the drawbridge still raised beyond the castle moat. Tharin cupped his hands around his mouth and hailed the guard, but there was no answer.

Ki shaded his eyes and squinted up at the men on the wall. “Those are Solari’s men.”

“Open in the name of the prince!” Tharin shouted again.

Presently a man leaned over the battlement by the gate head. “I have Duke Solari’s orders not to admit anyone from Ero, on account of the pox.”

“Son of a whore!” Ki gasped.

“Open at once for the prince or be hanged for a traitor!” Tharin bellowed back in a voice Tobin had never heard him use before.

Arkoniel was calmer. “These are serious matters, fellow. Fetch your master to the walls at once.”

“Solari can’t do this!” Ki exclaimed hotly as they sat waiting. “This is Tobin’s land, whether he’s of age or not.”

“The man who commands the castle commands Atyion,” Tharin muttered, glaring across the moat.

“Brother was right,” Tobin told Arkoniel. “He told me a long time ago that Solari wanted Atyion for himself.”

The sun sank another hour in its course as they fretted outside the gates. A crowd of armed townspeople gathered at their backs while they waited. Word of the situation had spread. Tharin found several sergeants among them and ordered runners sent to the outlying steadings to raise the knights. Arkoniel sent others for the town priests.

Two women emerged from the crowd and bowed deeply to Tobin. One was clad in old-fashioned armor. The other wore the white robes and silver mask of the Illioran temple.

Even with the mask, Tobin recognized her and bowed. “Honored One, Lady Kaliya.”

The priestess bowed, and displayed the many-colored dragons on her palms. “I’ve long dreamed of your coming, though I did not expect you so soon. Atyion will not forsake the rightful heir.”

Tobin dismounted and kissed her hand. “I won’t forsake Atyion. Did you know?”

“That it would be you? No, Highness, but I am most pleased.” She bent her head close to his, and whispered, “Daughter of Thelátimos, welcome.”

More priests arrived. Arkoniel and Kaliya took them aside, speaking quietly. Tobin shivered as he watched them. One by one, they all turned and silently saluted him, hands to their hearts.

Presently Solari appeared on the parapet, and called down, “Greetings, Prince Tobin. I regret the poor welcome you received.”

“Don’t you know what’s happening in Ero?” Tobin shouted back. “They sent messenger birds yesterday. The city is under attack!”

Astonishment rippled through the crowd.

“Yes, I know,” Solari shouted. “But Atyion must be protected from plague at all costs.”

“That ain’t right!” someone in the crowd yelled.

“Even at the cost of her rightful lord’s life?” Tharin shouted back. “Solari, this is Rhius’ son, and he’s here by the king’s order! Your own son is there in Ero with him.”

“Other pigeons have outdistanced you, Tharin, and my news is fresher. Lower Ero is lost and the king is trapped on the Palatine. They’ll all be dead before you can get back.”

“Traitor!” Ki screamed, brandishing his sword.

Solari ignored him. “Skala must be defended and Atyion is the greatest stronghold left. She must be led by a seasoned general. Give over your claim, Prince Tobin, and I will adopt you as my heir. Let the priests witness my pledge.”

“I will not!” the Illioran priestess cried, and was echoed by the others. “I send the traitor’s curse upon you!”

“You have other sons, Solari,” Arkoniel replied. “Even if we believed you, how long would Tobin survive among them with all this to gain?”

“Not a fortnight!” a woman cried out in the crowd behind them.

“Someone shoot that traitor!” someone else called out.

“Storm the walls!”

“Hang the bastards! We’ll never bend knee to ’em!”

Ki dismounted and went to Tobin. “Could you send Brother after him, Tob?” he whispered.

Somehow, Arkoniel heard and hissed, “Never ask that again, Ki. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He rode to the edge of the moat and raised his right fist in the air, clutching his crystal wand. The failing daylight struck fire through it. “Hear me, all you in the castle, and you here behind us.” His voice carried like a battle cry. “I am the wizard Arkoniel, once the pupil of Mistress Iya. You knew us as the hearth friends of Duke Rhius. By his own hand, we have also been the protectors of his only child and heir, who stands here like a beggar at his own gate!

“Solari claims he’s shutting out the plague. Has he ever done such a thing before? No, only now that he believes Ero lost. Know this, people of Atyion. These years of plague and death are the curse of Illior that King Erius brought down on the land. With the complicity of the people, he usurped the throne from Skala’s rightful heir. Princess Ariani, daughter of Agnalain, mother of Tobin—she should have been queen!”

“He speaks the truth,” Kaliya cried, displaying both palms in official sanction of his words. “Her child stands before you now, untouched by plague or famine. Prince Tobin’s holdings—Atyion, Cirna, Alestun, Middleford, Hawk’s Lee—all of them and their people have been spared. Did you never wonder why? I tell you now; it’s because Ariani’s blood runs true in his veins! Unknowing, Tobin has been your true protector, blessed by Illior and all the Four.”

The rumble grew to a cheer, but there was no response from the castle. Tobin looked around nervously. Despite the goodwill of the crowd, he felt very exposed. Solari’s archers could be looking down their shafts at them that very moment. “Now what?” he asked Tharin.

Kaliya stepped close and grasped his stirrup. “I promised you my help long ago. Do you recall?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you’ve never come seeking it. I offer it again. Give your battle cry, Scion of Atyion. Good and loud, now!”

Something in her voice gave him hope. Tilting his head back, he shouted, “Atyion! Atyion for Skala and the Four!”

Ki and the others took up the cry, and the crowd joined in fiercely, waving kerchiefs, shawls, and weapons of every sort. The sound rolled over Tobin like thunder and sang in his ears like wine.

Kaliya held up her hands for silence. “There. Do you hear that?”

The cry had been taken up inside the castle walls. “Atyion for Skala! For the Four!” It swelled to a roar, and was soon punctuated by the unmistakable clash of steel against steel.

Tharin bowed to the priestess with a grim smile. “Well done, my lady. Atyion knows her master’s voice. They’re fighting for you, Tobin. Call to them.”

“Open the gates!” Tobin cried, but there was no reply.

They mounted and sat their horses tensely, watching the drawbridge. The sun fell another hour before the sound of fighting ended and they saw a new flurry of activity above the gate.

Some sort of struggle appeared to be going on. It was brief, and ended when a man was tossed screaming and flailing from the battlements with a noose around his neck. His cries were cut short as the rope fetched taut and snapped his neck. The green silk robe he wore was as rich as a king’s; costly embroidery caught the sun as the body spun slowly at the end of the hangman’s rope.