Read Too Many Princes Online

Authors: Deby Fredericks

Too Many Princes (58 page)

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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In the corner of his eye, Brastigan could see Oskar frowning at his slow progress. Inside himself, he grinned. It was a familiar boyhood ritual, tweaking his brothers. In truth, he didn't know how to talk to half of them without it.

Calitar must have seen Oskar's displeasure, too. He quietly growled,

Quit fooling around.


What fun is that?

Brastigan smirked back at him.

He stopped when he came to Habrok. Of all the sons, Habrok looked most like Unferth, so square and solid. Their eyes met, and Brastigan felt his jaw tremble. Habrok pulled him close in a crushing hug, pounded his back with numbing force. For some reason, Brastigan breathed easier afterward. He turned to face Oskar with a confident showing of teeth.


I have returned, my good brother!

Brastigan trumpeted, taking up Oskar's own words on their parting. The new king didn't seem to recognize the satire.


Welcome, Brastigan,

he said, a smooth purr of satisfaction.

Well met, indeed. You have been away too long.

Brastigan might have agreed with that, but he couldn't bring himself to take Oskar's side in anything. Instead, he bowed with a mocking snap and spoke the words he couldn't avoid.


It looks like there have been some changes. Where is our father, pray tell?

Oskar's face, under the crown, twisted in an exaggerated display of surprise.

Alas, did you not know? Our dear father is gone. He passed peacefully in his sleep.

Oskar bent his head for a moment.

It was a convincing show, and yet... Brastigan felt his throat tighten again. He knew Oskar too well. Alustra's son felt no grief over his father's death. No, he was well pleased with this turn of events.

Brastigan forced a similar expression of sorrow.

My deepest condolences to Queen Alustra.

That slight should have sent Oskar into fits. It certainly sent a flurry of dismay among their brothers. Yet, again, Oskar didn't seem to notice the barb.


I shall tell her of your sympathies,

he answered smoothly.

But you have been carrying out our father's wishes as well. Tell me, Brastigan, how fared your quest? What did the Lady of Hawkwing House seek from you?

There was so much to say, but those were all confidences he had meant to share with Unferth. Maybe he could tell Habrok or Calitar about Lottres, about the girl. Never Oskar.


If you want the whole story, I'll need ale,

Brastigan said with humor he didn't feel.

Lots
of ale. The short of it is, we went to Hawkwing House. We met the witch. We ducked griffins. We went to Altannath. We fought the Silletsian army. They're all cursed, by the way. We...


Cursed?

Habrok interrupted.


Just the kind of tale I'd expect from you, Brastigan,

Leolin snorted.


I'm not making it up!

Brastigan told him.

We called them bone men. They look like men, but they're not. They're some kind of monster.

Leolin snorted again, rolling his eyes, and Sebbelon said,

Brastigan's no liar.

Brastigan nodded gratefully to Sebbelon, who was only a little older than he.


Tell us more,

Habrok said.


As near as we could tell, they're what's left of the Urulai,

Brastigan admitted reluctantly.

Tall and straight and dark, like me, but so skinny they were like walking bones. They're dead, you see. Yet they walk. They're pretty fast, abnormally strong, but not too smart. Luckily, they have lousy weapons and no armor to speak of.


Black magic?

Calitar asked grimly.


The evil of Sillets,

Brastigan agreed.

They don't die. You have to hack their arms and legs off to stop them coming at you. We lost a couple of men figuring out how to handle them. Oh, and they do burn. Problem is, there could be thousands of them. Nobody knows how many warriors were captured in Urland.

The soldiers in the room stirred restlessly, glancing among themselves to see who believed Brastigan's tale. The princes looked worried, but Oskar didn't seem interested in the enemy forces.


You said you went to Altannath,

he asked with quiet intensity.

What did you do there?


Oh, we set the dragon free,

Brastigan said with mocking good cheer.

That was what Yriatt wanted us for.


Indeed,

Oskar murmured. He sat back, eyes lowered in thought.

More nervous glances passed among the men, and anxious murmurs. Brastigan grinned tightly, remembering his own reaction.


Don't worry, he's on our side. The dragon, I mean,

Brastigan told them.

They headed for Carthell, to see if Johanz needs help. Our squad came home, soon as the witch said we were done.


Is Lottres with them?

Axenar asked.


Oh.

Brastigan rolled his eyes.

That's another long story, but, yeah. He's with the witch and the dragon. There are also some Urulai—live ones,

he smiled without humor,

holding Carthell Cleft against the enemy. We had to give up on Glawern, I'm afraid.

As one, Unferth's sons relaxed. Brastigan realized they had been waiting to hear if another of their number was gone.


I thank you for this crucial information,

Oskar said smoothly.

We shall use it well. It is good to know you carried out our father's commands on your journey.

Brastigan frowned at his condescending tone. As if Brastigan had known Sillets would invade and taken it upon himself to go jaunting off anyway. It was just like Oskar to dismiss what he had
d
done. After all, you couldn't have anyone else in the spotlight.


It wasn't my idea to go on that fool quest,

he snapped.

I did what I was told because I'm loyal. Loyal to my home. As long as I have breath, I'll fight for Crutham!


Hear, hear!

Calitar cried.

A spontaneous cheer went up in the hall. Brastigan was left feeling the fool, but he raised his hands in mockery of Oskar's grand posing. Then Brastigan turned to Habrok. He laid his hand on Victory's hilt.


You just tell me where to go, and I'll be there,

Brastigan proclaimed.

We'll chop those bone men to bits, and feed them to our hogs!

Habrok returned a crooked smile.

Now I know our kingdom is safe.


Well spoken,

Oskar interrupted. Brastigan noticed he hadn't been clapping as loudly as many others.

Well said, indeed, Brastigan.

It had to gall Oskar to flatter him. Oh, he made a good show, but Oskar hadn't missed that Brastigan offered his sword to Habrok first. Oskar was good at hiding his malice, but Brastigan knew they still loathed each other as much as they ever had. In a funny way, it was almost comforting. Lottres was gone, and Unferth was gone, but he could still rely on Oskar's hatred.

The new king smiled through his teeth and said,

You must be weary from your long journey. You may retire now, and rest. I will provide you the ale another time, and you will tell me all about your adventures.


I await the day,

Brastigan lied with great sincerity. He bowed, covering his disgust.

He continued bowing, turning in a circle to acknowledge each of his brothers. Some smiled at the display, some frowned, and Sebbelon aimed a mocking kick at his backside.


Go on, you fool,

Sebbelon chuckled.

Get out of here. You smell like a horse.

Brastigan did as he was told, but he didn't hurry. In a way, he felt he was leaving the last of his father behind.

Unferth was dead. No longer would he sit on the throne and wear the golden crown. A despised sibling had taken his place. No amount of ale could ease the bitter sting of that knowledge.

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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