King Breaker (31 page)

Olbin came running up the steps to the reardeck.

Garzik prepared to hand over the helm, but Olbin shook his head, went to the rear rail and studied their pursuers. He strode back to Garzik. ‘They’ll catch us before we reach Mulcibar’s Gate.’

Then, to Garzik’s amazement, he laughed.

Rusan came up the steps at a run. ‘How many?’

‘One... no, two sea-hounds on our tail,’ Olbin reported.

Garzik stole another look over his shoulder. A second sleek vessel was making for them, tacking to get the right heading.

‘We can’t outrun them,’ Olbin said.

Rusan judged the distance, the wind and their comparative sails, then strode over to Garzik, who relinquished the helm.

‘Arm everyone,’ he told Olbin.

‘Even Jost’s—’

‘
Everyone
,’ Rusan barked. ‘Or we’ll all be dead before this day is out.’

Olbin caught Garzik’s eye and they made for the steps.

‘Wynn?’ Rusan called.

He turned.

‘You did well.’

Garzik nodded. Apart from the pain in his throat, he was happier than he had a right to be.

Down on deck, he found bloody patches but no bodies. They’d already thrown the dead overboard. Five captured Utlanders lay face down on the deck, their arms tied behind their backs. Vesnibor was one of them.

Garzik cursed. Why had he disarmed Vesnibor instead of killing him? Because his father’s master-at-arms had prepared him for life as a Rolencian noble, not as an Utland barbarian.

Olbin released Jost’s supporters and the five climbed to their feet. ‘Arm yourselves. There’s a pack of sea-hounds bearing down on us.’

Garzik tucked his knife in his belt, strapped another to his thigh and buckled the short sword around his waist.

They made good time, and by mid-morning they were approaching Mulcibar’s Gate on their starboard side, but the first of the sea-hounds was almost within bowshot. From the look of it they were aiming to board them on the starboard side. And the second sea-hound vessel was rapidly gaining on them.

The Utlanders made obscene gestures, shouting savage challenges at their pursuers.

Garzik studied the ship’s position in relation to the inner headland. Surely they were going too wide around Mulcibar’s Gate? He climbed the steps to join Rusan at the helm.

The nearest of the two sea-hound vessels was so close he could see their pursuers’ faces as they crowded the ship’s side.

Garzik was right. Rusan was taking his ship wide.

‘Come here.’ Rusan took his hands and placed them on the wheel. ‘Keep us wide. Feel that?’

Garzik nodded. He could feel the tide sweeping them towards Mulcibar’s Gate and into the passage where the water funnelled between the two headlands.

‘Keep this bearing for now,’ Rusan told him.

‘We’re too wide,’ Garzik croaked.

Rusan smiled grimly. ‘Trust me.’

Then he walked to the rail and looked down onto the middeck. Olbin ran up to join him. Rusan issued quick instructions. As Olbin glanced at their pursuers, then Mulcibar’s Gate, Garzik wished he could hear what was being said.

Rusan drew his short sword. Lifting it above his head he shouted to his raiders on the middeck. ‘We sailed into the hot-landers’ jaws, now those jaws are closing on us. But we’re going to give them something to remember us by. Are you with me?’

They cheered.

A rush of noise came from behind them as the sea-hounds hurled insults at them. A glance over Garzik’s shoulder revealed sea-hounds swinging grappling hooks as their ship approached on the starboard side, between the Utlanders and the inner headland.

He held his position at the helm, held the ship on its course. The sea-hound deck was lower than theirs and he saw the helmsman, gripping the wheel with fierce determination, judging their ships’ comparative speeds.

Grappling hooks swung through the air and made fast against the Utlander ship. Almost right away, the two ships shuddered as their timbers met. The moment the ropes were made fast, eager sea-hounds leapt aboard.

Rusan returned to take the wheel. ‘Protect me.’

Garzik nodded. There was fighting on the middeck. He glanced behind them. The other sea-hound ship was bearing down. They didn’t have long before they were attacked on both sides.

A sea-hound pounded up the steps to the reardeck. Garzik met him with a blow and a kick that send him falling back to the middeck into the melee.

The two ships plunged through the waves, driven by the force of the retreating tide. Garzik checked the second sea-hound ship. It was less than a bowshot behind them, coming up on their port side.

They were approaching the passage now, but Rusan had changed their bearing. He was edging closer to Mulcibar’s Gate, to the billowing steam where the sea met the molten rock.

While Garzik was distracted, an old sea-hound had run up the steps. The grizzled warrioraimed a blow at his head. Diverting the strike, Garzik stepped in and drove his short sword into the man’s belly, before shoving his attacker over the rail onto the middeck. The sea-hound hadn’t expected such swordsmanship from an Utlander.

A second sea-hound approached Garzik. He was no older than Byren, handsome, better dressed than the rest and confident.

They traded blow for blow as Garzik backed up, watching for his chance to slip under the sea-hound’s guard. They ended up shoulder to shoulder, swords locked at the hilt.

Garzik caught a glimpse of Rusan turning the wheel sharply and felt the ship respond.

‘Be ready to tell Olbin to cut us free, Wynn!’ Rusan yelled.

And he understood. Rusan meant to drive the enemy’s ship onto the molten rock. In that same instant the sea-hound understood and his eyes widened with horror.

Below the surface, the rocks would tear out the side of the sea-hounds’ ship.

Garzik grinned.

The sea-hound sprang back, cast Garzik one last look then leaped over the rail onto the lower deck of his ship. He yelled orders, calling his men off the Utland ship, but they were too intent on the attack. In desperation, the sea-hound captain joined his helmsman and they both tried to turn their ship, but Rusan’s merchant ship was the heavier vessel.

‘Now, Wynn!’ Rusan yelled.

Garzik ran to the rail, shouting for Olbin to cut their ship free, but the big Utlander was in the thick of the fighting and did not hear. Garzik jumped the rail and landed on the deck. He ran to the nearest rope, hacking at it.

He was on the second when Olbin cut the third. Not a moment too soon, as the sea-hound ship struck the rocks. The timbers shrieked and both vessels shuddered.

The impact caused the sea-hound ship’s masts to crack with a sound like thunder. Everyone staggered, some fell to their knees.

Two of the masts fell onto the molten rock. Greedy flames consumed the canvas and ropes, racing along the masts and onto the deck. The helmsman struggled to free himself from tangled ropes and sails. Garzik couldn’t spot the captain and wondered what had become of him.

All this Garzik saw at a glance as Rusan’s ship plunged past the stricken vessel. Funnelled by the headlands, the tidal waters drew their ship along into the passage.

The Utlanders cheered as panicking sea-hounds jumped overboard.

In a matter of heartbeats, the Utland ship was past Mulcibar’s Gate and free of attackers, leaving the sea-hound vessel burning fiercely. The second sea-hound ship bore down on the burning vessel, which had been swept off the rocks and now swung sideways across the entrance to the passage. Garzik imagined the second helmsman trying desperately to avoid collision.

A rending of timbers filled the air, as the second sea-hound vessel rammed the first.

A delighted, derisive cheer rose from the Utlanders. Olbin caught Garzik in a hug and kissed him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

B
EFORE LUNCH,
F
YN
went to check on Cortomir. Since Rhalwyn was only a little more experienced than Cortomir, it was somewhat a case of the blind leading the blind. But things had gone well so far. Over the last two days, both the boys and the beasts had settled into their new quarters. Isolt seemed to be the one having the most trouble adjusting.

As Fyn stepped out onto the crescent terrace, he spotted the two Affinity beasts at the base of the stairs leading to the first-floor verandah.

‘Not, like that, like this,’ Cortomir told Rhalwyn. They stood halfway up the stairs on the landing.

He held a large tin platter. ‘Throw it high, with spin. Like this, Rhalwyn.’

Flashing in the sun, the dish travelled out across the terrace then over the lawn. Both the wyvern and the foenix ran after it, leaping into the air. Wings beating, they strove to reach the platter. The wyvern shouldered the foenix aside, catching the dish in mid-air. The boys cheered loudly.

Fyn jogged along the terrace and climbed the stairs to the landing, just as the wyvern landed on the balustrade with her prize.

Cortomir accepted the platter and congratulated her. Then Loyalty swooped down to land on the terrace below, where both beasts waited eagerly.

‘Can I have a look?’ Fyn asked, holding his hand out for the platter.

‘It’s gotten a bit chewed up,’ Rhalwyn admitted. ‘But it’s an old one so I didn’t think anyone would mind.’

Fyn tested the weight of the platter before throwing it in a long, graceful curve.

Both beasts scrambled to catch the dish. This time the foenix used his sharp claws to pluck it from the air before the wyvern could beat him to it.

‘Who invented with this game, Cortomir?’

‘Da showed me.’ The spar lad shrugged. ‘Dunno who showed him.’

The foenix returned with the platter, then both beasts waited, ready to play again. This time Rhalwyn threw it and the wyvern and foenix almost collided, jaws snapping, claws flashing. Fyn winced.

Rhalwyn turned to Fyn. ‘Will the queen be coming today?’

‘Probably. She’s having lunch right now.’ Fyn headed back into the maze of corridors.

He found Isolt eating lunch on another terrace that looked out over the Landlocked Sea. Sweet smelling flowers spilled from terracotta pots. Lady Gennalla, her daughter Sefarra and grandson Benowyth shared the queen’s table, while musicians played softly and half a dozen servants waited discreetly. Fyn would have happily consigned them all to the Utlands for a moment alone with Isolt.

Isolt saw him and smiled. He thought there was a special welcome in her eyes just for him, and he felt his pulse quicken.

One servant set a place at the table, while another offered Fyn a tray of pastries. He listened while Lady Gennalla and Isolt discussed the logistics of their family’s return to Benetir Estate. They were concerned for the seven-year slaves who worked in the estate’s sorbt mine.

The servants arrived with another course and Lady Gennalla leant close to Fyn, lowering her voice. ‘Sefarra’s not thinking clearly.’

Fyn glanced to Sefarra, who was staring, stormy-eyed, across the Landlocked Sea.

‘First she refused to dedicate herself to Cyena, and now she doesn’t want to come home. You must convince her.’ Lady Gennalla flushed. ‘Isolt has been kind, but there’s no reason for Sefarra to stay in the palace. She’ll never get a husband now that she’s ruined.’

‘Then it’s lucky I don’t want a husband,’ Sefarra said, proving she had excellent hearing. ‘I keep telling you I don’t want to get married. I want to join the queen’s guard.’

Fyn winced. Captain Elrhodoc would never accept Sefarra.

Lady Gennalla sent Fyn a silent plea.

‘I’m the right age for a squire.’ Sefarra turned to Isolt. ‘Let me go into training to serve you, my queen.’

Isolt sent Fyn a silent plea.

‘Lord Protector?’ Sefarra fixed hard eyes on him. He knew what she was capable of. She would never be the girl her mother remembered. Perhaps she had never been that girl.

Even if the nobles had welcomed her back, he doubted she would have been satisfied as the wife of a lord.

‘Well?’ Lady Gennalla urged Fyn to speak.

Compared with this, defeating a spar warlord was simple. Fyn drew breath.

Just then an altercation caused them all to turn.

‘I’ll see the queen, thank you very much. And you’d better not try to stop me.’

There was a scuffle. Fyn jumped to his feet as an iron-haired man sent two of the queen’s guards flying, then strode across the terrace towards them.

‘It’s the bay lord,’ Isolt whispered to Fyn. Coming to her feet, she raised her voice. ‘How nice to see you, Lord Cadmor.’

‘They haven’t told you, I knew it!’ Cadmor cursed roundly.

Despite his grey hair, he’d had no trouble dealing with Captain Elrhodoc’s men. Fyn stepped in front of Isolt.

Lord Cadmor looked Fyn up and down, amused. ‘So this is King Rolen’s pup? Favours his grandmother. Hope for your sake he’s as sharp as she was.’

Fyn flushed. He hadn’t known his grandmothers. Recollecting his manners, he gave a formal bow. ‘Lord Protector Merofyn at your service, Lord Cadmor.’

‘
Captain
will do. I come bearing bad news, Queen Isolt.’ He glanced to the others at the table and jerked his head towards the edge of the terrace.

As soon as they reached the rail, Cadmor gave his report. ‘Utlanders sailed into Mero Bay, bold as brass, and attacked a merchant ship.’

‘Utlanders?’ Isolt turned worried eyes to Fyn. Just when they thought the kingdom was safe from threat. ‘But it must be a hundred years since—’

‘Ninety-two, to be precise. My grandfather dealt with them then. This time my grandson gave chase. He managed to lose his ship and half his crew, and get himself burned to boot.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Isolt said. ‘Will he be all right?’

A smile broke across the bay lord’s face. ‘He’ll be fine. Bless you for asking. Maybe next time he won’t be so hot-headed. The Utland captain was a canny one, he lured—’

‘There you are, my queen.’ Captain Elrhodoc hurried over to join them, gold braid and silver buttons flashing in the sun. He gave the bay lord the slightest of nods. ‘Cadmor.’

‘Elrhodoc.’ Cadmor looked him up and down. ‘I see you take after your father. He never did have any—’