Caliel dismounted and pulled him to his feet, then turned to fend off the enemy. “Are you hurt, Kor?”
“No!” Korin quickly wiped the blood from his eyes. In the distance he could see Ursaris still mounted, trying to reach him but stymied by the crush of fighting. As Korin watched, a pikeman caught the man in the chest and he disappeared from sight.
Strangely, now that Korin was in the thick of the battle, his fear had disappeared completely. He’d held it at bay during the charge, but faced with all-out fighting, long years of training took over, and he found himself easily cutting down one foe after another.
Another woman wearing the colors of Atyion came at him, screaming a battle cry as she swung her sword. He lunged forward and caught her under the chin with the point of his blade. As she fell he caught sight of movement just behind her and saw Tobin again, this time no more than a few yards away. He glared at Korin and disappeared.
“There!” Korin cried, trying again to follow.
“What are you talking about?” Caliel cried.
Suddenly another storm of arrows hissed down on them again. Mago screamed and fell, clawing at a feathered shaft protruding from his chest. Alben seized him by the arm, trying to cover them both under his upraised shield. An arrow took him through the thigh, piercing the front of his hauberk, and he staggered. Korin reached down and snapped off the long end of the shaft. It was fletched with three vanes rather than four.
“Aurënfaie. That must be the reinforcements we saw. Alben, can you stand?”
“Yes. It’s not deep.” But he remained kneeling by Mago, holding his squire’s hand as the young man writhed in pain and the battle surged around them. Bloody foam flecked Mago’s lips and his breathing was labored and desperate. Air and blood bubbled from the sucking wound in his chest.
There was no question of getting him off the field, and if they left him, he would surely be trampled. With a sob, Alben stood and dispatched his squire mercifully with his sword. Korin turned his face away, wondering if he’d have to do the same before this day was over. Tanil was still beside him, wild-eyed and bloody. His mind might be weak, but his arm was not. He’d fought well.
The battle raged on as the afternoon lengthened. It was impossible to tell where Korin’s other generals were, except when he got a glimpse of them or their colors.
Tobin’s standard appeared and disappeared like a tantalizing apparition, and so did the young prince. Korin would make for him, only to look over his shoulder and find Tobin had somehow gotten away through the press. It was maddening how fast he moved.
“I want his head!” Korin yelled, catching another glimpse of him near the distant tree line. “After him! He’s making for the forest.”
Tamír tried to reach Korin but, try as she might, she couldn’t fight her way through the throng to his standard. Every time she got close it seemed to melt away.
“Korin’s outflanked us!” Lynx shouted to her. “And he’s set fire to the woods.”
Tamír glanced back and saw her rearmost line being split and smoke rising in the distance. “There’s no help for it. Keep pressing Korin!”
“Damn it, wait for the rest of us!” Ki yelled, hacking down a swordsman who’d lunged on Tamír’s right.
The Aurënfaie had turned to meet the horsemen who’d outflanked them. That left Tamír with her guard and Nyanis’ wing, while Kyman held off another regiment near the middle of the field.
On foot again, she stumbled over bodies, some dead, others crying out in agony as the battle raged back and forth over them. Those who couldn’t drag themselves away were trampled into the mud.
She and the rest of her guard were covered in blood and mire, impossible to tell if they were wounded or not. Nik appeared to be favoring his left arm, Lynx had a cut across his nose, and Barieus was staggering, but they stayed close around her, fighting fiercely. Her own arm was growing heavy and her throat burned with thirst.
The fighting was so thick that it was often difficult to know what part of the field they were on. As the afternoon drew on and the sky began to take on a golden tint, she found herself with one foot in the muddy, blood-tinged water of the stream. The dark line of the forest loomed ahead of her, and suddenly she saw Korin’s banner again, not twenty yards away.
“Ki, look! He’s going into the trees there!”
“Thinks he can hide, does he?” Ki snarled.
“To me!” Tamír shouted, brandishing her sword to show the way. “We’ll capture him in the woods and put an end to this.”
Chapter 52
Korin reached the edge of the forest and paused just inside the trees, heart pounding in his ears. He could smell smoke, but the flames were still far off.
“Korin, what are you doing?” Caliel panted, wiping blood and sweat from his face as he caught up.
“You can’t leave the field now!” Porion exclaimed in dismay as the rest of Korin’s guard and a score of men-at-arms gathered around to protect him.
“I’m not. I saw Tobin go in here.”
“Are you sure, Majesty?” Porion asked doubtfully.
Korin caught a flash of blue and white through the trees. “There! See? Come on!”
It was an old forest, with towering firs and little undergrowth. The ground was covered in fallen needles and carpets of soft green moss and mushrooms. Fallen trees lay everywhere, some with needles or leaves clinging to their branches, others weathered silver, shining in the green dusk like the bleached bones of fallen giants.
The fighting had already spilled into the woods, but it was scattered, with small groups battling among the trees. Their cries and curses rang out from all directions.
With Tanil and Caliel at his side, he ran after the banner, leaving the others to follow, leaping over logs and rocks and stumbling over the uneven ground. Korin wrinkled his nose as he ran; the air smelled of death and rot. A sickly odor seemed to enfold him as he pursued the shadowy figure ahead of him.
It was impossible to tell how many were with Tobin, but it didn’t appear that he had a large force.
He’s running away! Korin thought with grim satisfaction. He would redeem his own honor with Tobin’s shame.
Ki imagined enemy archers behind every tree as he ran with Tamír. It was much darker under the trees. The afternoon was waning and rain began to spatter down through the branches again.
“I’m not sure this is wise,” Nikides panted.
“He can’t lead a whole army through here,” Tamír replied, pausing to get her bearings.
“Maybe he’s running away again,” Ki offered.
“I don’t think so.” Tamír strode off again.
“At least let me go back for more people, Majesty,” Una gasped, holding her side.
“Maybe you’re—” Tamír froze, staring at something deeper in the woods.
“What?” Ki tried to make out what had caught her attention.
“I see him,” she whispered.
“Korin?”
“No. Brother.”
The demon was just visible through the trees, and he was waving to her. In the heat of battle, she’d forgotten all about him, but here he was and there was no mistaking his intent. He wanted her to follow him.
Ki caught her arm as she started off. “I don’t see anything.”
“He’s there,” she replied.
“It could be one of his tricks!”
“I know.” But she followed anyway. You are Skala, and Skala is you. You are your brother, and he is you.
Sword in hand, she broke into a run. Ki cursed aloud as he and the others raced to follow.
Korin burst into the clearing and stopped short. Tobin was there waiting for him, sitting on a large stone, face partially hidden by the cheek guards of his helm. It made no sense. He was all alone, without a guard in sight. They must have fallen behind somehow. Korin could hear the crackle of twigs and hushed voices coming from beyond the trees nearby.
Korin ducked back behind a large tree in case there were arc
hers waiting. “Cousin, have you come to surrender?” he called out.
Tobin raised his hands, showing that they were empty.
Too easy.
“He looks no more like a girl than you do,” Alben scoffed.
“Korin, something’s not right,” Caliel warned, frowning at the silent figure.
Tobin stood slowly and took a step toward Korin. “Hello, cousin.”
The pure malice in that voice shocked Korin. It didn’t sound like Tobin; the voice was lower, and hoarse. He could hear the creak and rasp of armor as Tobin undid the chinstrap of his helm and lifted it off.
Korin had never seen such naked hatred on his cousin’s face, or seen him so haggard and pale. His eyes were sunken and looked dark, almost black. This was the Tobin he’d seen in dreams.
Caliel gripped him by the arm. “Kor, that’s not—”
Before he could say more, the ambushers burst from the trees at the far side of the clearing and Korin heard a familiar voice shouting, “Tamír, come back!”
Ki and Lutha broke from the trees, hard on the heels of someone wearing Tobin’s tabard and helm.
“What in the name of Bilairy is it?” Porion gasped, catching a glimpse of the face under the helm.
It was Caliel who replied. “That is Tamír.”
“Look, it’s Tobin. And there’s Ki!” Tanil started forward, waving happily to them. “Where have you been?”
Korin caught him by the arm. “No, they’re our enemy now.”
Tanil’s eyes clouded with confusion. “No, those are your Companions.”
“Oh gods,” Korin groaned softly. “Cal, how can I—?”
“Tanil, look at me,” Caliel said, letting his sword fall. As the squire turned, Caliel punched him hard in the chin, and the boy dropped at his feet without a sound.
Damnation!” Ki exclaimed, racing forward to get in front of Tamír. Lutha and Lynx did the same, shielding her from attack. Korin was standing there in plain sight with Porion and Cal at the far edge of the clearing, well within bowshot. Ki caught glimpses of movement all through the trees on that side.
Tamír paid them no mind, staring instead at Brother, who was dressed in her clothes and armor. “You!”
The demon turned slightly to leer at Tamír. As always, the light struck him wrong, not touching him as it did the living. His black hair gave back no sheen. Ki swallowed hard, recalling what the Oracle had told Tamír in Afra. Something about her being him and him being her. They’d never looked less alike.
“What sort of trick is this?” Korin called. “Have you brought your necromancers after all?”
Brother slowly began to advance on Korin, hissing, “Son of Erius, I am not Tobin and I am not Tamír.”
“He’s going after him!” Ki whispered. If Brother killed Korin, this would all end.
“Brother, stop!” Tamír shouted. “Don’t touch him. I forbid you!”
To Ki’s amazement, Brother halted and glared back at her.
“This is my fight! Go away,” Tamír ordered, as she used to when they were all children.
Brother curled his lip at her, but faded away.
“What sort of trick is this?” Korin demanded.
“It’s me, Kor,” Tamír called back. “That was my brother, or would have been. He was killed to protect me from your father.”
“No!”
“It’s a trick, just as Lord Niryn said,” Moriel scoffed.
“You’re wrong, Toad,” Lutha shouted back.
“You!” Moriel’s shock was almost comical.
“You should know better about necromancy than anyone, after being Niryn’s lapdog. Where is your master, anyway? I’m surprised he’s let you off the lead, you ass-licker!”
Moriel’s expression was poisonous. “He wasn’t wrong about you was he, traitor?”
Ki glanced away and locked eyes with Caliel. He gave Ki a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Damn it,” Ki muttered, waving to him.
“Who are you really?” Korin demanded. “Show your face if you dare!”
Tamír pulled off her helmet and pulled back her mail coif. “It’s me, Kor, as I was meant to be. Caliel can vouch for me. Just ask him. We don’t have to fight anymore. Talk with me. Let me show you the proof—”
“Liar!” Korin spat back, but Ki thought he sounded uncertain.
“I must be queen, Korin, but you’re still my kin. Fighting you is like fighting my own brother. Please, we can make peace here, once and for all. I swear on my honor that you’ll have your rightful place at my side. I’ll grant amnesty to all who’ve backed you.”
“Honor?” Alben jeered. “What’s the word of an oath breaker worth?”
Ki clutched his sword as more swordsmen stepped from the trees behind Korin. “What the hell are you thinking, Tamír, just standing here like this? We’re outnumbered three to one at least!”
“He’ll listen to me, now that he’s seen the truth,” she replied softly. “He has to!”
* * *
Still rocked by the sight of the demon, Korin stared at this girl who claimed to be his cousin. “Tobin?” he whispered, warring against the evidence of his own eyes.
Her sudden, unexpected smile—Tobin’s smile—nearly undid him. “I’m Tamír, just as I wrote you. Lutha said you got my letter.”
“Lies!”
“No, Kor. Tobin was the lie. I am Ariani’s daughter. I swear it by the Flame and the Four.”
Korin could hardly breathe.
Nothing but a boy in a dress, Niryn’s voice whispered in his mind. Korin wanted to cling to that belief now as a sick feeling of certainty swept over him. If Tobin—if she—spoke the truth, then Caliel had been right all along. Niryn had lied to him and manipulated him. Cal had been ready to hang to make Korin see sense, and he’d nearly killed him for it.
“We can be friends again,” Tobin said.
“A trick!” Moriel insisted.
A trick! A trick! A trick! Niryn’s cold voice whispered in his memory.
Majesty, where are you?”
Tamír could hear Nyanis shouting in the distance behind them, louder than the sounds of battle still coming from the field.
“Here!” Una called back.
There were voices calling to Korin as well, and Tamír could hear others coming to reinforce him. There was going to be a bloody fight here unless she could make Korin believe her.
She kept her eyes fixed on him, like a hawk she was trying to tame. She knew him so well; she could see the way he was struggling with himself. Hope made her catch her breath.
By blood and trial, you must hold your throne. From the Usurper’s hand you will wrest the Sword.
No! she thought. It doesn’t have to be like that! I can make him listen! Brother brought us together so we could settle this. Smiling again, she held out her hand.
Korin, strike. You have the greater force,” Porion urged. “Strike now!”
“Yes! We can crush Tobin once and for all,” Alben whispered.
Caliel touched Korin’s arm, saying nothing, but his eyes were pleading.
Tamír dropped her helmet and pushed past Ki and Lynx. “It can end now, Korin,” she said, still holding out her hand to him. “Give me the Sword of Ghërilain and—”
Give me the Sword—
Korin went cold all over. He’d spoken those same words to his father, that night in Ero, and still burned with shame at the memory of how his father’s hands had tightened on the hilt and his eyes had gone hard. Only one hand wields the Sword of Ghërilain. While I have breath in my body, I am still king. Be content with proving yourself worthy of it.
Korin’s hand clenched around the hilt as all the old rage and guilt and sorrow came rushing back, drowning doubt, drowning love. “No, I am king!”
Tamír saw the fatal shift. She had just enough time to scoop up her fallen helmet and jam it back on before Korin’s men rushed her band. Only Korin hung back, and Caliel with him.
Tamír was not surprised to find herself facing Albe
n in the midst of the fray. There had never been much friendship between them, and she saw none in his eyes now as he closed with her. He’d always been a fierce match and Tamír was hard put to hold her own against him. She pressed him grimly, seeing no hint of remorse in his eyes as they slashed at each other.
The clearing was full of fighters now, leaving little room for fancy maneuvering. They hacked at one another like woodchoppers. At some point a dagger appeared in Alben’s left hand and he tried to stab her in the ribs as they locked hilts. Her mail held off the point, and she elbowed him hard in the face, breaking his nose. He staggered back, and she drove her knee into his groin, sending him to the ground.
“Tamír, behind you!” Ki yelled, fending off a man wielding a cudgel.
Tamír ducked as she turned and narrowly missed being struck in the head by Moriel.
“Demon bitch!” He kicked her hard in the knee to unbalance her and raised his blade to strike again.
Snarling in pain, Tamír staggered and brought the tip of her blade up to catch him in the throat as he came on, but Moriel sidestepped her awkward attempt.
Lutha appeared out of the chaos and sprang at Moriel, grappling with him and knocking him away from Tamír.
She left him to it and looked around for Alben, but instead found herself facing Caliel. He had his sword up, ready for an attack, but he didn’t move.
“I don’t want your blood, Cal.”
“I don’t want yours,” he replied, and she heard the pain behind the words as he raised his sword to strike.
Tamír raised her own to block it, but before their blades could meet she saw a blur of motion from the left and the flash of steel. Caliel’s helmet flew off and, empty-eyed, he crumpled to the ground. Nikides stood over him, clutching his bloody blade in both hands, chest heaving. “Tamír, behind you!”