King Breaker (22 page)

‘This way.’ Young Garyth led Fyn up the wharf.

The lad’s grandfather had lived long enough to see Lady Gennalla to safety before his heart gave out. Now the boy was all alone in the world, and eager to prove himself. After the things he’d seen during the spar attack, Fyn had expected the lad to balk but if he was afraid, he hid it well.

Fyn hoped he hid his own fear. He knew what they were up against. Spar warriors were a tough breed, and the warlord had to be even tougher to keep his men in line.

‘When they attacked, we fought to hold them off so everyone could board the yacht,’ Garyth whispered. ‘Fought to hold them off while we scuttled the fishing fleet.’

He gestured to the masts protruding drunkenly from the water. Unfortunately for Fyn’s plans, it was a cloudless night and the stars were bright enough to cast shadows. He had to trust to Garyth’s ability to get them close to the estate’s great house unseen, just as he had to trust to his knowledge of spar warriors and hope Cortigern’s men would still be in a drunken stupor.

In another day or so the warlord would rouse his warriors and do one of two things. They would attack the next village along the shore of the Landlocked Sea, where they would find enough boats to attack Port Mero, or they would pack up and go home.

At least Isolt was safe on the royal barge.

When she’d bid them good luck, she’d been dry-eyed... hard-eyed. If she feared for Fyn, she did not show it. If she loved him, even a fraction as much as he loved her, she had never shown it. Fyn told himself he was grateful for that.

‘Over here.’ Garyth led Fyn across to a low retaining wall.

Benetir Estate’s great house stood on a rise. Fyn glanced up the long straight road, cut into a succession of terraces. The road was bordered on each side by tall thin trees, dark against the stars.

Fyn checked behind him. Captain Aeran led the city-watch and the merchants’ men. They poured off the wharf and ran to join Fyn, crouching in the shadow of the retaining wall. The nobles ran the other way, to the far side of the road, and crouched behind the opposite wall.

Fyn had done the best he could with his divided men. Elrhodoc and the queen’s guards were happy to fight alongside Wytharon and Travany. While Garyth led Fyn and the city-watch around the back to the kitchen entrance, the nobles would wait at the front of the great house. Then Garyth would slip through to open the doors and let them in. If Fyn’s guess was correct, Cortigern’s warriors would be sleeping on the floor of the great hall. Both of Fyn’s forces would attack before the spar warriors found their weapons or their breeches. His men disarmed, Cortigern should be ready to listen to reason.

Fyn and Garyth made their way up the terraces, climbing the shallow steps.

They waited in the shadow of the very last wall for Captain Aeran and his men to catch up. Fyn could see the nobles moving into position on the other side of the road.

Peering over the lip of the last retaining wall, Fyn spotted a raised dais before the great house. Starlight revealed shattered statues of once-proud Affinity beasts. Some had been decapitated, while others had suffered broken wings and missing tails.

‘Barbarians!’ Fyn shook his head in disgust.

‘What, the statues? That’s the old lord’s folly.’ Garyth grinned, teeth flashing white. He saw Fyn didn’t understand. ‘His lordship tried to buy statues from Ruin Isle, but King Rolen wouldn’t sell, so he smuggled out drawings and had a stone-mason recreate them, complete with missing horns an’ wings.’ The lad shook his head. ‘Everyone thought he was mad. But then he held his son’s wedding in the ruins and it became all the rage.’

‘Everyone’s in position,’ Captain Aeran reported.

Fyn nodded to Garyth and the lad took off.

Back when the Merofynians had attacked at Narrowneck, there had been no time for Fyn to prepare. It had been a mad scramble. This time he was leading the attack, but he still felt unready as he followed Garyth along the side of the great house, past a verandah with many glass-panelled doors. This place was not built for defence.

They passed through the herb garden and climbed the kitchen steps. Inside, they found a lad of about ten scrubbing a big table by the light of a single lamp. He looked up, startled.

Garyth lifted his finger to his lips. ‘Where’s Cortigern, Lynos?’

‘In his lordship’s chamber. He took the Lady Sefarra and locked her in there last night. The screams...’ The boy shuddered.

Fyn put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right. We’re here now. Where are the other spar warriors?’

‘Sleepin’ off their wine in the great hall.’

Fyn hid his relief. ‘Lynos, can you lead my men to the great hall, then open the doors without waking Cortigern’s men?’

The boy nodded.

Fyn felt a moment’s compunction. If Lynos misjudged, he would be killed. But Fyn needed to get to Cortigern before the alarm was given. If the warlord felt vindictive, he’d put Sefarra to the sword. He turned to Captain Aeran. ‘I’m going—’

‘—after the girl. May Mulcibar guide your blade.’

Fyn nodded. It still seemed strange to associate the god of summer with war. His heart raced as Garyth led him up the servant’s stairs and into the corridor that led to the family’s bedchambers. If fighting started before he could reach Cortigern...

‘Here.’ Garyth stopped near a pair of tall doors.

‘No need to be heroes. We’ll try to get her out without waking Cortigern,’ Fyn whispered. ‘Then I want you to take her back to the wharf and signal the ship. The queen will send a boat for you. If you can’t get her down to the wharf, the pair of you are to hide somewhere safe. Understood?’

The lad nodded, but fingered a borrowed hunting knife. Fyn hoped Garyth wouldn’t have cause to use it.

Fyn drew his sword, then peered into the chamber.

It was lit by a single, smoking lamp. The girl was blocked from view beneath Cortigern’s massive shoulders and back.

Fyn slipped into the room. Cortigern’s weapons lay on a bedside chest, almost within reach. Creeping up behind the grunting warlord, he struck the back of his head with the hilt of his sword.

Cortigern collapsed, pinning the girl beneath him. Sefarra blinked and tried to scramble out from under him, but Cortigern was too heavy. Fyn went to help her.

‘Step back,’ someone warned, in thickly-accented Merofynian.

Fyn turned to find a second warrior had stepped naked from the bathing chamber. He held Garyth by the throat.

G
ARZIK WOKE TO
find Olbin crouched over him. The Utlander’s eager expression made Garzik’s heart sink. Now that he was a free man, he thought he’d be safe from this kind of unwanted attention.

Resentment burned in Garzik as Olbin pulled him to his feet and led him past sleeping Utlanders. Some lay in each other’s arms, ship-lovers, yet on land they had wives or girlfriends. Ship-lovers... Was this what the big Utlander offered? How could he say no, when he needed Olbin’s protection from Jost?

When the Utlander led him towards the reardeck stairs, Garzik was so relieved his knees shook. The helmsman grinned as if they shared a secret. Curious, Garzik joined Olbin at the stern rail. It was a calm night, and there was hardly a wave to disturb the star-silvered sea.

Olbin slung an arm around Garzik’s shoulder and pointed to a luminescent patch behind the ship. ‘There. See it?’

‘I do,’ Garzik whispered. ‘But what is it?’

‘You haven’t read of this in your books?’ Olbin teased with just a hint of resentment. ‘It’s a shade-ray. A big one.’

‘You mean a manta ray.’

Olbin shook his head. ‘Shade-rays house the souls of Utland warriors who die in battle at sea. They come to see us on still nights like this, drawn back to their people but never able to set foot on land again.’

Rusan joined them with his pipes. He played a sweetly haunting tune, bringing tears to Garzik’s eyes. Olbin wept unashamedly.

Garzik marvelled as the Affinity beast drew closer. ‘It’s huge. Why, it must be wider than the ship is long.’

Olbin nodded.

Garzik grasped the ship’s rail and the creature came closer still. It swam just under the surface, keeping pace with the vessel. He could just make its undulating wings. Along the edge of each wing were luminescent patterns like delicate lace, and more patterns ran down the centre of the creature’s back.

Rusan lowered the pipes, whispering a name Garzik didn’t catch. The captain gestured to the shade-ray. ‘We know the shade-rays by their markings. This is the founder of our settlement. He’s come to wish us luck.’

Garzik was not so sure, but he respected their beliefs. ‘He honours you.’

Olbin nodded, wiping tears from his cheeks. ‘We knew you’d want to see this.’

Chapter Eighteen

P
IRO WALKED THROUGH
a Rolencian festival surrounded by music and laughter. Banners fluttered in the sunshine. Carts trundled past laden with food and singing workers. To each side of her there were tents, and in front of the tents stood men-at-arms wearing their best ceremonial armour. They joked as they shared wine skins. She was home at last and everyone was happy.

Yet she felt an underlying dread.

At the top of the rise, two grand tents faced each other. A Rolencian banner hung before the tent on her right, the red foenix’s feathers picked out in gold thread. On her left was another Rolencian banner. Sun glinted on gold thread, blurring her vision. When it cleared, the banner had changed colour, turning blue...

An Affinity vision.

Was this the day Byren would marry his Merofynian bride?

Or was she seeing her mother’s wedding to her father? But that had taken place in the town square.

The blue banner stirred in the breeze, revealing leaping dalfino and an inverted crown that denoted a royal bastard—Cobalt’s banner.

Fear solidified inside her as Cobalt stepped out of the tent on the left. He adjusted the empty sleeve of his fine satin coat.

A drummer and two pipers emerged from the other tent, escorting a dozen pretty girls, ranging in age from five to seventeen. The girls all wore dresses in their family colours. Ribbons and flowers were threaded through their hair.

Cobalt offered his left arm to one of the girls. As she glanced up at him, Piro recognised herself.

She was the girl about to marry Cobalt?

Piro fought a surge of panic. She would never agree to marry Cobalt. Never!

Not even if he held both her brothers’ lives to ransom.

The musicians struck up a happy air, the girls sang and the bridal party walked down the long red carpet. The Rolencian people lined up, waving banners of red and blue.

Piro tried to run, but the smallest movement took incredible effort. Frustration filled her. The crowd cheered.

Roaring, Byren thrust through the gathering. He swung his sword at Cobalt, who ducked and ran. The girls shrieked and scattered. People fled. Red banners came fluttering down around Piro.

No, they were flames.

People screamed and fled as the fire took hold.

Byren searched the crowd, calling for Piro. Cobalt appeared behind him and swung his sword.

Piro sucked in a breath to warn her brother...

... and woke with his name on her lips.

She sat bolt upright in bed. After-images more real than the dimly lit Ostronite bedroom filled her head, and her heart raced as if she’d been running.

Last time she’d had an Affinity vision, she’d dreamed of wyverns chasing her through the castle. Seela had tried to convince her they were only nightmares and had dosed her on dreamless-sleep.

But the dreams had foretold the fall of her father’s castle. According to Siordun, her Affinity allowed her to sense moments of great change, when the future could take different paths. And he’d made her promise to tell him if she had another vision.

She must see him first thing tomorrow.

F
YN FROZE
.

‘Step away from the bed,’ the spar warrior ordered. ‘I swear I’ll wring the boy’s neck.’

Despite his terror, Garyth’s eyes held a calculating gleam. With a tiny shake of his head, Fyn tried to warn the lad not to do anything rash.

At that moment, Sefarra did something behind Fyn that distracted the spar warrior. Garyth drove his elbow into the warrior’s groin and ran.

The man crumpled.

Garyth made a strangled sound in his throat and pointed to the bed.

Fyn turned to discover the girl had used Cortigern’s own dagger to cut off his cock and balls.

Nausea swept through Fyn. Garyth dropped to his knees, retching.

No chance of a negotiating a peace with Cortigern now. Fyn cursed.

The spar warrior staggered to his feet, pale and sweating. Fyn charged, before he could reach his weapons.

The spar warrior snatched a vase from a side-table and brought it down on Fyn’s head. It shattered, shards flying everywhere.

Momentarily stunned, Fyn swung his sword and felt the flat of the blade connect. When his vision cleared, he found the warrior laid out at his feet, unconscious.

‘Why didn’t you kill him?’ Garyth asked, his voice raw from retching.

‘Halcyon’s monks value life.’ Fyn cut the curtain cords. He made the first loop of a sailor’s knot, grateful for his time on the
Wyvern’s Whelp
.

Garyth gasped and reached for Fyn, pointing to the bed again.

Naked and bloodied, her long dark hair dripping, Sefarra crouched over the warlord. She was trying to cut through his thick neck, but her knife had wedged in the man’s spine.

With a curse, Fyn finished tying up the unconscious spar warrior.

‘Sefarra!’ Fyn caught her arm.

She bared her teeth at him.

‘Sefarra
...
’

Abandoning the knife, she sprang at him, trying to claw out his eyes. He caught her wrists and tried to calm her, but nothing seemed to reach her.

She was as tall as him, and in this state she was surprisingly strong. In desperation, he shoved her away. She tripped and her head caught a glancing blow on the bed post. He winced in sympathy.