King Breaker (38 page)

Fyn joined Neiron, Elcwyff and Captain Elrhodoc, who were congratulating themselves on freeing Neiron’s estate from spar hands.

‘As soon as I let Wythrod know Nevantir Estate has been secured, he’ll march his men north,’ Fyn said. ‘Lead your men west to meet him, Neiron. If you encounter the spar warlords on the way, don’t engage. Wait for Yorale to bring his army into position.’

Neiron grimaced. ‘I’m not—’

Voices cut him short. Isolt was descending the grand staircase, accompanied by the abbot and abbess. Fyn noticed that Neiron’s sister was not with them.

Nerysa had been captive for six days. As soon as he’d reclaimed his great house, Neiron had sent men to find her. When she was delivered to him, he’d announced that her betrothal to Yorale’s heir had been annulled and sent the girl to her chamber. Upon learning of this, Isolt had gone upstairs, hoping to convince Nerysa to come down, to no avail. Clearly Neiron’s sister was not made of the same stuff as Sefarra.

Leaning on his cane, Dunstany went to meet Isolt. Neiron, Elcwyff and Captain Elrhodoc all hurried over. Fyn hung back to watch.

‘I’m sorry, Lord Neiron,’ Isolt said. ‘Your sister has chosen to dedicate herself to Cyena Abbey.’

‘I will see that a suitable donation is made to Cyena,’ Neiron told the abbess. He turned to Isolt. ‘You must stay. I plan a great feast to celebrate the recapture of my estate.’

‘Nerysa does not have much to celebrate,’ Isolt observed. ‘If
you
were to ask her, she might come down to eat with us.’

‘She’s better off where she is.’ Neiron grimaced. ‘Besides, knowing what those barbarians did to her, I can’t bring myself to look on her.’

Fyn stiffened and was about to protest when movement out near the smouldering funeral pyre drew his eye. There Isolt’s wyvern rose on her hind legs as she tore a strip of meat from a charred forearm. Fyn winced.

Isolt had brought the Affinity beasts ashore because the people of Nevantir Estate expected to see the wyvern at her side. They did not expect to see the beast devouring men, not even dead enemy warriors.

As the foenix landed not far from the wyvern, Loyalty snarled, her tail lashing, wings flexing. Resolute bristled, head crest raised, leg lifted to lash out with his poisonous spur. Fyn’s heart raced as the two beats squared off to do battle.

Then, as though an agreement had been reached, the wyvern and foenix lowered their hackles and settled down to feed.

Fyn drew in a ragged breath. This had to be stopped, and quickly. He caught Dunstany’s eye and jerked his head towards the funeral pyre.

Dunstany frowned, then strode over to join him. ‘Take the Affinity beasts back to the ship. I’ll bring Isolt. We’ll skip the feast and set sail for Wythrontir Estate. With a good wind, we could be there by evening.’

Leaving Dunstany to extricate the queen, Fyn went through an empty door frame and past the busy carpenters.

Nevantir House was built overlooking a long bay. A few masts poked from the water here and there. Someone had scuttled the estate’s fishing boats, rather than let the invaders capture them. Many outbuildings had been burned, but the formal gardens were relatively untouched. Beyond the gardens, the estate’s workers were repairing fences and salvaging trampled crops.

Reaching the copse of birch trees, Fyn slipped between their white trunks. Even though a slight breeze was blowing, he found the stench of roasted flesh hard to stomach. He approached the feeding Affinity beasts with caution. How was he to convince them to leave such a feast?

He clicked his tongue and beckoned.

Both beasts lifted their heads, observed him with intelligent but inhuman eyes, then returned to eating. Fyn shivered. Even Isolt could not have summoned them right now.

Beyond the blackened heap of bodies, he spotted movement. An old man and a boy had finished repairing a fence and were heading his way.

In desperation, Fyn summoned his Affinity, weak though it was. He felt the tingle of awareness move over his skin, as scents and colours became richer; it only made the bonfire smell more putrid.

Holding out his hands, he focused his Affinity. With Piro it came naturally, but with him it took concentrated effort.

Loyalty dropped a thigh bone and came over to investigate what Fyn offered, and the foenix followed.

‘Look, Pa, Affinity beasts!’

Fearing the beasts might lash out at strangers, Fyn was careful to maintain the flow of his power. Heart racing, muscles trembling, he let Loyalty and Resolute sniff his hands. The moment they started to lick his skin, he moved off.

They followed him all the way down to the wharf and along to the ship, where he led them below deck, down to the hold. Exhausted, he sank to his knees and let them nuzzle his hands. Now he could feel the beasts actively drawing Affinity from him.

Judging the distance to the hatch ladder, he didn’t think he could slip away and secure the hatch without them escaping. Gritting his teeth, he settled in to wait.

A shiver shook him. Who would have thought the day would turn so cold? He huddled down, and still Resolute and Loyalty drew on his Affinity.

Dimly, he heard the queen’s party return to the ship, and the farewells from those on the jetty. He was so exhausted he couldn’t call out, couldn’t stop the beasts feasting on his Affinity, couldn’t even lift his head.

B
YREN LAY ON
the litter, listening to the sounds of Rolenton Square. Through the muslin curtains, he could see vague shapes passing by, and wondered if that was what it was like when Orrade’s vision faded. Luckily, his friend’s sight had returned within a day. But even though Byren’s knee had healed, he’d had to spend the rest of the voyage confined to the cabin as he was still supposed to be suffering from the blackspot fever.

‘Put the litter down here,’ Orrade ordered. ‘And be careful not to bump my poor uncle. He’s not a well man.’

Byren groaned convincingly. Cobalt’s men were looking for Byren the Leogryf Slayer, not a sickly fever victim.

Orrade opened the curtain, his eyes gleaming with laughter. ‘Hold on, Uncle. I’ll be right back.’

As much as he hated lying vulnerable on the litter, Byren figured he was safe from prying eyes. Even so, it was a relief when he heard Orrade’s voice. ‘Here he is, Milliner Salvatrix.’

The curtain was drawn back and a thin woman with silver hair inspected Byren. Her eyes widened. ‘The blackspot fever, and me with a dozen orders to fill before the wedding, but I can’t turn away my sister’s only son. Bring him in.’

Byren was helped out of the litter and hustled under the sign that proudly displayed the royal seal. He was rushed through the hat maker’s shop, past her workroom and into a passage. All the while, the milliner kept up a stream of complaints about the inconvenience of caring for sick relatives.

Salvatrix led them into a storeroom stacked with supplies and indicated the trap door. ‘One of you will have to lift it.’

Orrade stepped forward.

‘I won’t forget your help,’ Byren told the milliner. ‘And don’t worry. We’ll go as soon as we rescue m’sister.’

Salvatrix nodded to Orrade. ‘Lord Dovecote told me. I haven’t had a reply from the mage. We’ll just have to improvise. The wedding will be held the day after tomorrow. The royal party are already camped at Narrowneck, and we ordinary folk will head out first thing tomorrow. Your sister didn’t order a new hat, so I won’t get a chance to warn her. The ceremony will be held on the tip of Narrowneck, where everyone can see. This is your chance to confront Cobalt and—’

‘Confront him?’ Byren frowned. ‘Cobalt’ll be surrounded by—’

‘Nobles and merchants, who have been cooperating with him for the sake of their wives and children. But I know for a fact many of them are loyal to you, or would be if they had the choice.’

Byren rubbed his jaw.

Orrade swung the trap door open. ‘Cobalt’s sure to have Narrowneck under guard. How will—’

‘Many of the nobles have ordered new hats for the occasion. I’ll need delivery boys.’ The milliner’s eyes twinkled, then she sobered. ‘Have you heard about Dovecote Estate, my lord?’

Orrade stiffened. ‘What about it?’

‘Cobalt declared you a traitor and awarded your estate to the leader of the Merofynian captains. He’s rewarded all the captains. They’ve sworn allegiance to—’

Orrade grimaced. ‘When I think of my people forced to serve—’

Someone knocked on the storeroom door, calling for the milliner.

‘Go below. I’ll send a change of clothes and food,’ Salvatrix said and hurried off.

Byren descended the ladder, being careful not to put too much weight on his injured knee. Orrade followed, jumping the last few steps.

A small high window let in just enough light to make out barrels, boxes and bales stacked to the cellar ceiling.

Orrade blew on his hands to warm them. ‘We’ll slip into Narrowneck and rescue Piro before Cobalt realises.’

‘I don’t know... According to the milliner, most of the nobles are loyal to me. I want to confront Cobalt and make him—’

‘You can’t kill him on his wedding day. You’d be branded a dishonourable coward!’

‘He’s forcing my sister to marry him. When the nobles see—’

‘They’ll be surrounded by Cobalt’s men and the Merofynian captains he’s bribed. The nobles aren’t going to risk their wives and children. And we haven’t made contact with your honour guard yet. No, it’s better to get in quick, save Piro and get out.’ Orrade clasped Byren’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. One day, all of Rolencia will know Cobalt’s true nature, and they’ll welcome your return as their king.’

‘When that day comes, Orrie, the first thing I’ll do is help you reclaim your estate.’

L
ATER
—F
YN DID
not know how much later—he heard Rhalwyn’s frightened voice and felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He drifted off again only to awaken to the abbot’s concerned voice, ordering sailors to carry him to the queen. Fyn was vaguely aware as they carried him.

‘Put my lord protector here.’ Isolt sounded worried, and he wanted to reassure her, but everything took too much effort.

‘Rhalwyn found him with the Affinity beasts,’ Murheg said. ‘No one could rouse him. If only my mystics master was here.’

‘Affinity injuries can be life threatening,’ the abbess whispered. ‘I fear—’

‘Leave us.’ Dunstany’s deeper voice cut through the chatter.

As soon as the door closed, Fyn felt a soft hand on his forehead. ‘Fyn, can you hear me?’

He tried to speak, but it was too much effort.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Isolt asked. ‘He was fine back at the estate. Why—’

‘The Affinity beasts found the funeral pyre.’ Dunstany said. ‘They were helping themselves to the spar warriors’ remains—’

Isolt gasped and made a strangled sound of disgust in her throat.

‘Exactly. I sent Fyn to take the beasts back to the—’ Dunstany broke off with a curse. ‘I should have realised the only way he could get them to leave the feast was to offer a feast of another kind.’

‘Affinity? But Fyn’s power is only mild. Is it like blood loss? Can you die of—’

‘Move back. Let me try something.’

Fyn felt a strong hand grasp his and a rush of power poured into him. It made his heart race. He gasped and his eyes flew open. The lamp light made him wince.

Isolt knelt on the other side of the day-bed. ‘Fyn?’

‘I’m sorry—’

‘No,
I’m
sorry,’ Dunstany said. ‘Your Affinity was dangerously low. I didn’t think it through.’

‘No harm done. I’m fine now.’ Better than fine. Feeling invigorated by the transfusion of power, Fyn swung his legs off the bunk. ‘And I lured the beasts away from the funeral pyre before anyone saw them eating—’

‘They ate human flesh!’ Isolt sprang to her feet looking pale and nauseous. ‘Now they both have the taste for it. When Loyalty killed Palatyne, it was in my defence. But this...’ She wrung her hands, unable to go on.

‘This doesn’t make them man-eaters.’ Fyn took her hands in his. ‘Does it, Dunstany?’

‘They scavenged the remains of a funeral pyre. It’s not as if they hunted a living person,’ he muttered, as if thinking aloud. For the first time, Fyn thought he sounded like Siordun, and not Lord Dunstany. ‘I’ll have to do some research.’

‘Ask the mage,’ Fyn said. ‘He’ll know.’

Dunstany nodded and looked away.

‘I hope you’re right, Fyn.’ Tears glittered in Isolt’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to have Loyalty put down.’

He wanted to reassure her, take her in his arms and... He cleared his throat. ‘I should let everyone know I’m on my feet again.’ Before Elrhodoc decided the young queen was in need of a new lord protector.

‘They know you have Affinity now,’ Dunstany warned.

‘They always knew I was one of Halcyon’s monks.’

‘But not all monks have Affinity. Now that they know you do, they can use it against you. There are still a dozen Power-workers in the port. King Merofyn asked them to cure him, and they’ve hung around ever since, peddling their futures and cures to rich merchants and gullible nobles. I wouldn’t trust any of them.’

‘I’ll be all right. The monks taught me how to defend myself.’

‘Wait here.’ Dunstany slipped out of the queen’s cabin.

Isolt looked to Fyn. ‘When they brought you in all cold and pale...’

Fyn wanted to hear more. Had her heart turned over? Did she love him even half as much as he loved her?

He took a step closer.

‘I want you to have this, Fyn.’ Dunstany had returned with a ring. ‘It’s set with a black gem but it’s the same kind of stone as this orb.’ He held his staff in both hands and concentrated. ‘Watch.’

Fyn felt power gather as the staff’s orb flared into life. A bright silvery radiance filled the cabin.

‘Beautiful,’ Isolt breathed.

‘Now you,’ Dunstany said, as the light faded.

‘My Affinity—’

‘Is not strong. I know, but if you can focus, the stone will help concentrate power. Try it.’

Fyn accepted the ring. Right now Affinity coursed through his body. He concentrated and tied to drive it into the ring. The power flowed freely and smoothly, almost as if the Affinity beasts had forged channels when they’d drained him.