King Breaker (67 page)

‘Travrhon?’ Lord Travany frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Ulfr Spar attacked. They over-ran our defences, we—’

‘You abandoned our estate? How could you bring shame on the house of Travantir?’

Travrhon flushed. ‘I had women and children to think of, Father. We only just made it to the boats. What’s more’—his gaze shifted to the queen—‘I saw smoke from Benetir Estate. They’re under siege.’

The chamber erupted.

Camoric grabbed Fyn’s arm. ‘We must go to Sefarra’s aid.’

The Benetir captain tried to talk tactics, and at the same time, Isolt left her throne and pleaded with Fyn to save her cousin. It seemed all he had done since becoming lord protector was fight to keep the kingdom intact.

With the aid of his servants, Istyn struggled over to join them. He was concerned for his wife and daughters. The only one who wasn’t directly threatened was the captain of Geraltir Estate, whose lands backed onto the Snow Bridge. He was sixty if he was a day, and he watched with sympathy as Fyn tried to reassure them all.

Fyn’s mind raced. Three out of five spars had come over the Divide within a few days. Did this mean the spar warlords had put aside their rivalry and mounted a concerted attack on Merofynia?

‘You said we’d be safe when you executed the warlord’s son!’ Travany shouted across the table. ‘But you brought this on us!’

‘Not only is he a murderer, but he’s led us into war with the spars!’ Neiron gestured to Fyn. ‘Call yourself lord protector? I call you—’

‘Now is not the time for posturing and politicking.’ Fyn cut him off. ‘This could be the spar invasion Palatyne planned. All of you must look to your own estates!’ He caught Isolt around the waist and lifted her down from the dais. ‘There’s no time to lose.’

And he swept out with his supporters. At the door to the war-table chamber he confronted Travrhon. ‘Do you want to save your estate?’

‘Of course.’

‘Will you free your seven-year slaves to do it?’

His mouth dropped. ‘I forgot... I hope they’re safe. Yes, I’ll free them. I heard about the bargain Lady Sefarra struck. It seems fair.’

‘Good, come with me.’

Fyn strode down the corridor issuing orders. He sent Lord Istyn back to his estate to see if he could evacuate his non-combatants. Camoric volunteered to find enough boats to transport their men across to Benetir Estate. Hearing this, Travrhon offered the boats he’d used to save his people and the two of them went off together.

Fyn turned to the captain of the city-watch. ‘By rights, Camoric should stay here with the queen, but Sefarra’s in danger. Can I entrust Isolt’s safety to—’

‘No Fyn, I’m coming with you,’ Isolt protested.

He took her by the shoulders. ‘Three out of five spar warlords have attacked. This in an invasion. Stay here.’

‘The palace is not defensible,’ Captain Aeran objected.

Fyn beckoned Murheg. ‘If the worst happens, take shelter in Mulcibar Abbey.’

‘I won’t be there,’ Murheg said. ‘I’ll be with you. And Neiron’s second cousin is the next-highest-ranking—’

‘The queen can come with me, back to Cyena Abbey,’ the abbess said.

Satisfied Isolt would be safe, Fyn left before she could argue.

F
LORIN HAD KNOWN
Piro only briefly during the manticore attack on Narrowneck, but they’d faced danger together and that revealed a person’s true worth. She liked Piro. Even so, she wasn’t happy about remaining behind while Byren sailed off to confront a spar warlord... It made her stomach churn with fear for him.

‘Feeling better?’ Piro asked.

‘Yes,’ Florin lied.

They walked along the terrace, in front of the great house, looking east across the Landlocked Sea. The setting sun illuminated a mountain of dark menacing clouds out over the water. Lightning flickered in their depths.

‘The storm will stir up the sea. I’m glad Byren sailed last night,’ Piro said. ‘He’s lucky he doesn’t get sea-sick. The last time I was caught in the storm, I threw up for days—’

Florin stumbled to a flower pot and emptied her stomach.

‘Sorry.’ Piro rubbed her back. ‘My mother was always telling me to mind my tongue.’

Florin wiped her mouth, disgusted with herself. ‘I should be better by now.’

‘Maybe it takes a couple of days to adjust to the air at sea level.’

‘I never adjusted to the air on the Snow Bridge.’

Piro shrugged. ‘You might have caught something while you were there.’

‘That must be it.’ Florin felt relieved. ‘The food was strange. Quite a few of Byren’s men developed stomach problems.’

‘You’ll feel better with some rest,’ Piro told her kindly, but Florin noticed how her eyes went to the windows of Lord Dunstany’s chambers, and she knew Piro was thinking of the old lord who would not get better.

‘You’re very fond of Lord Dunstany.’

‘Y...yes.’

Florin sympathised. She’d lost her father, but Piro had lost father, brother and mother. Florin slid her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders and turned her to face the Landlocked Sea. ‘Where’s your foenix?’

‘I had to leave Resolute with Isolt’s wyvern for company. I miss him terribly.’

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Florin frowned. The light was fading fast, and it was hard to tell, but she thought she’d spotted a sail heading towards them. It couldn’t be Byren, returning so soon. ‘Who’s that?’

Piro frowned. She ran back to the front door to speak with a servant, then returned to Florin. She stared out to sea. ‘If only I had a farseer.’

A dozen servants arrived with makeshift weapons. Florin watched with growing consternation.

‘You should go inside, kingsdaughter,’ the house-steward urged.

‘It’s only one boat,’ Piro said. ‘What if it’s a message from Fyn or Byren?’

She went down the steps. Everyone followed, and more armed servants joined them. They crossed the lawns, heading towards the jetty. By the time they reached it, the boat was almost within hailing distance.

‘The deck’s so crowded. They could be fleeing an attack,’ Florin guessed.

‘They fly the Istyntir symbol.’ Piro cupped her hands. ‘What happened?’

A dozen voices answered.

‘Istyntir taken and the great house burned...’

‘Wythrontir surrounded...’

‘Smoke coming from Nevantir...’

‘Captain Orwen of the
Sweeping Ospriet
,’ the captain identified himself. ‘Yours is the first estate we’ve seen not under attack.’

‘What of Yoraltir?’ Piro yelled.

‘There was smoke. I have my lord’s wife and five daughters on board. We claim sanctuary in the name of Cyena.’

‘Of course.’ Piro turned to the steward, speaking softly. ‘Fyn and Byren need to know. Send a message. Tell the house-keep to find suitable chambers for the Istyntir women and their people.’

Soon the jetty was crowded as the old, the injured and women and children disembarked. Lord Istyn’s wife seemed lost, as if she had taken a blow to the head. The eldest daughter took charge.

The youngest of the five girls appeared to be about ten and the eldest might have been twenty. They were as alike as peas in a pod.

As Florin helped the injured and the frail into a cart, she felt no surge of triumph. Once she had hated the Merofynians for what they had done to her home. Now she hated war. It was such a waste. No one really won.

F
YN STUDIED THE
brooding sky. They’d set sail at dusk, hoping to make the crossing before the storm struck. Flashes of lightning lit the clouds from within, reminding him of his mother’s tales of boats lost on the Landlocked Sea.

He glanced over his shoulder. The flotilla had spread out. He turned to Camoric. ‘Will the storm hold off long enough for us to reach Benetir Estate?’

‘We’ll be cutting it fine.’ Camoric smiled slowly. ‘You mean to attack under the cover of the storm!’

Fyn felt an answering smile tug at his lips. Now that he was taking action, a weight had lifted from him. ‘The sentries will be huddled in their seal-skins and the drumming rain will cover our approach, but if the storm strikes before we get there the fleet will be scattered.’

‘You’re taking a gamble.’

‘Life is a gamble.’ Fyn shrugged. ‘We’ll shelter in the same bay as last time and go over the hills to Benetir estate. The spar warriors laying siege to the fortified great house will be trapped in the open between us and the house.’

‘What if the warlords have made a coordinated attack and they’ve taken all the other great houses and fortified them?’

‘Then we’ll lay siege to all the great houses, around the Landlocked Sea.’ He wished he had a pair of pica birds so that he could stay in touch with Byren.

A laugh reached them from the men huddled on the deck. Fyn’s ex-slaves and Camoric’s men talked softly, or prayed, or slept—or tried to.

Fyn left the rail. ‘I’m going to study the map.’

But below deck, he sensed Affinity and went to the forward cabin. Taking a lantern, he opened the door to find Isolt curled up with Loyalty on one side and Resolute on the other. Both Affinity beasts stirred and lifted their heads, eyeing him. Isolt slept on oblivious, making him smile.

Not for one moment did Fyn consider turning back. In fact, he was pleased she had defied him.

He closed the door and let the queen sleep.

Chapter Fifty-Five

G
ARZIK WAS TIRED.
They’d been sailing for two days straight, taking turns at the tiller. Now, as they approached the settlement headlands, a stiff breeze filled the canvas above him. He adjusted the single sail while Luvrenc turned the rudder, watching the sea. The skiff picked up speed like a horse nearing the stables at the end of a long ride.

‘I bet we’re the first ones back!’ Luvrenc crowed.

Five skiffs had set off to circumnavigate the island. The race was a regular event which gave the young lads and beardless a chance to polish their skills while competing for the accolades.

Garzik glanced to Ilonja, who sat in the prow. ‘Can you see any of the other skiffs?’

She shaded her eyes. ‘Nothing yet.’

‘The best three skiff teams will race to Dalfino Island and back,’ Luvrenc told Garzik.

‘You can reach another island in these boats?’ The skiffs were small, barely bigger than rowboats. ‘What about Affinity predators, storms? Vultar’s renegades?’

‘We don’t set sail if a storm is coming. We take bows and arrows to fend off Affinity predators. And the Isle of the Dead is in the opposite direction from Dalfino, we’d have to be unlucky to run across renegades.’ Luvrenc considered. ‘Now that you mention it, the elders mightn’t let us go this year. I hope...’

They were through the headlands now, and the long narrow bay opened before them.

‘I can’t see any other skiffs, but a ship has returned!’ Ilonja announced. ‘It’s Captain Cvetko’s.’

Luvrenc grinned. ‘He’ll be spitting mad when he hears how Rusan sailed into Port Mero!’

But that wasn’t why Cvetko was spitting mad. This was the first he’d heard of Vultar’s attack, and he was all for sailing to the Isle of the Dead to confront the renegade. Garzik could hear the shouting from the jetty as they anchored the skiff and waded ashore.

‘Just our luck,’ Luvrenc muttered. ‘We’re the first skiff back and no one notices because of Cvetko.’

Garzik slipped through the gathering, with Ilonja and Luvrenc on his heels.

‘How could you let him sail in here, rape our women, steal our stores and abduct our oracles, Rus?’ Cvetko demanded. He was older than Rusan, around thirty, and so angry that spittle flew from his lips. ‘What will the other settlements say?’

‘We did not shame our people,’ Rusan said. ‘We burned one of Vultar’s ships. He only just escaped.’

‘Why didn’t you follow him and—’

‘We’d lost most of our beardless,’ Lauvra told him. ‘Only Rusan’s ship was here, and half his crew were hunting a manticore pack. The elders decided we would wait until midsummer to mount a counter strike.’

‘We’ll hold a war council when all the captains return,’ Feodan said.

‘What of Hedvig and Dragutin?’ Cvetko asked. ‘What did they say about this?’

‘They don’t know. When they get back, we’ll—’

‘How can we even hold the midsummer celebration without the oracles?’ He turned on Rusan. ‘How could you let this insult pass?’

‘We had to protect our people. They’re saying Vultar has gathered all the Northern Dawn renegades. He had two ships when he raided here.’

‘And you burned one. How many renegades can there be?’ Cvetko jumped onto a bale and raised his voice. ‘I say we strike a blow for the Wyvern People. I’m not a ballless wonder like the Rolencian king, hiding in the mountains while his cousin steals his kingdom. Vultar will regret taking our oracles!’

Cvetko’s men cheered, but the majority of the settlement looked to Rusan. Garzik couldn’t hear for the roaring in his head. Even the Utlanders knew of Byren’s humiliation. Yet here he was, trapped at the end of the world when he should have been at Byren’s side.

Ilonja nudged Garzik. ‘Ask her about the race now.’

Lauvra was speaking with her brother and sons. Cvetko had jumped down from the bale, and it looked like one of his men was telling him something important, something to do with Rusan and Olbin, by the way they were glancing in the brothers’ direction.

Garzik shook his head. ‘It isn’t a good time to—’

But Luvrenc had taken matters into his own hands. He approached the settlement’s leader, reaching for his aunt’s arm. ‘Will the race to Dalfino Isle go ahead? Wynn says because of Vultar’s threat, the elders will stop it. How can we beat the others, if—’

‘Hush, lad.’ She turned to her sons and brother. ‘Cvetko needs to be diverted. Attacking Vultar now could bring his ire down on us before we’re ready. Cvetko always was a hot-head. When he calms down—’

‘What’s this my man tells me?’ The other captain strode over. ‘Rusan sailed his ship into the hot-landers’ port?’

Rusan shot Lauvra a look before he answered. ‘And sailed out again with a full hold.’

‘They’re saying you destroyed a sea-hound ship, too.’