‘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.’
Rusan nodded. ‘Drove it onto Mulcibar’s Gate. Last we saw, it was in flames.’
‘The goat-boy has come a long way!’ But the captain didn’t sound pleased. ‘Next you’ll be declaring yourself king of the Wyvern People!’
Olbin laughed outright. ‘We’re not hot-landers!’
Cvetko glared at him, then fixed on Garzik. ‘So this is the slave who betrayed his people?’
‘Wynn is no slave,’ Rusan stated. ‘He earned his freedom the night Vultar attacked. And he earned it again when we sailed into the hot-landers’ jaws.’
‘But all that’s old news,’ Feodan said, slinging an arm around Cvetko’s shoulders. ‘Tonight we must feast and hear of your raids.’
Cvetko’s men agreed. Feodan drew the other captain aside, asking about his adventures, and Rusan followed his lead.
‘Goat-boy?’ Garzik asked Ilonja.
She glanced to Lauvra who answered. ‘When Cvetko made captain, Rusan was only eleven and looked after the goats. Now Rus out-shines him. All the captains strive to outdo each other. Friendly rivalry is good, but I hope Cvetko doesn’t feel he has to...’ She ran down and hurried off.
THREE MORNINGS LATER, Garzik understood her fears. Ilonja came running into the long-hall just as they were waking.
‘Cvetko’s gone to teach Vultar a lesson!’
Garzik rolled to his feet and checked the circle of unmarried raiders sleeping around the hearth. Sure enough, none of Cvetko’s crew were there.
Everyone ran out of the hall. Dawn mist lay on the bay but they could plainly see Cvetko’s vessel was missing, as was...
‘He’s taken my ship!’ Rusan swore. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘The thieving nennir!’ Olbin reached for his sword, and realised he was unarmed.
‘I’ll have his balls for this!’ Rusan muttered and grabbed Feodan’s arm. ‘Loan me your ship.’
‘Rus...’ Lauvra put her hand on his shoulder. ‘You would hunt down and murder our own people? Think! It would tear the settlement apart.’
‘He should have thought of that before he stole my ship, the thieving renegade!’
‘Cvetko would never turn renegade. Not when he has three children, with a fourth on the way,’ Lauvra said. ‘I’ve sent for his woman. Urzabet will know what Cvetko and his brothers are planning.’
‘Lauvra’s right,’ Feodan said. ‘I’d bet my ship he’s not going after Vultar. Only yesterday I spoke with him about the dangers of bringing Vultar’s raiders down on us before we’re ready, and he agreed to wait until midsummer.’
‘Then why did he steal my ship?’
‘He hasn’t stolen your ship, only borrowed it,’ Urzabet announced. Cvetko’s woman had been escorted by several beardless. She brushed off their hands and smoothed the material over her swollen belly. Her pretty mouth twisted with contempt. ‘You think you’re so smart, Rus. You think you’ll be the one to lead the raid on Vultar. Well, you’re wrong. It’ll be Cvetko. He’s gone to Ostron Isle. He’s going to sail into the Ring Sea and bring back two shiploads of bounty, and another hot-land ship. Don’t worry, you’ll get your precious ship back.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘But you won’t get to lead the raid on Vultar, because Cvetko will return triumphant. And he’ll return without losing half his crew!’
Garzik glanced around, noting who supported Cvetko’s wife. Truly, Byren’s mother had been right. The higher you rose, the more enemies you made. He felt the tension build. Was the settlement going to tear itself apart over this?
He glanced to Lauvra, looking for a signal.
‘Urza...’ The iron-haired woman shook her head sadly. ‘We need all the ships and warriors we can muster if we are to defeat Vultar. Cvetko should have consulted with the elders before taking Rusan’s ship. Now he’s sailed off to use exactly the same ploy Rus used. The hot-landers will be on their guard. You should have advised him against it.’ She paused to let this sink in. ‘We can only hope he and his men return by midsummer, ready for the raid.’
AS PIRO GUIDED her horse towards the stableyard gate, she spotted a pica bird circling the old northern tower of the great house.
‘We can go riding later,’ she told Florin.
‘We don’t have to.’
‘Yes, we do. I need the fresh air and you need to get over your fear of horses.’
‘I’m not afraid of horses. I don’t like them. That’s different.’
Piro smiled as she swung her leg over her mount and dropped to the ground. ‘I’ll get the message and meet you in Lord Dunstany’s chambers.’
Florin opened her mouth to argue, but Piro took off across the stableyard.
There had been no word from Siordun. It was true the ordinary people feared the mage, but Lady Death was no ordinary woman. If the meeting with the leader of House Nictocorax had been straightforward, Siordun would have been back by now.
And now trouble had flared up between the great merchant houses of Ostron Isle. Not so long ago, the streets had run with blood, as the families fought over who would be the next elector. She trusted Siordun to do all he could to keep Nefysto and Kaspian safe, but who was keeping him safe?
She ran into Soterro at the ba
se of the tower. ‘I saw the pica bird. What news?’
‘You have sharp eyes.’
‘Was it from Siordun?’
The steward shook his head. ‘Fyn.’
‘He’s back in Port Mero?’
‘No. He’s retaken Benetir Estate and plans to march to Travantir. He’ll send messages to Dunstany’s townhouse in Port Mero, and Young Gwalt will send a bird to us.’
Piro nodded. ‘If there’s anything Byren needs to know, we can send a rider.’ It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could manage. She thanked him, then ran across the courtyard and into the new great house.
Before she reached the passage to Dunstany’s chambers, she had to pass the corridor leading to the Istyntir women’s rooms. She paused at the corner.
When the family had arrived, the mother had been reeling from her son’s death, her husband’s collapse and the loss of their home, and she had never really recovered. It had been left up to the eldest daughter to see to the comfort of their people. Piro admired Isfynia’s fortitude, but she did not want to be trapped in another discussion about the invasion. Luckily the passage was empty, and she slipped by unseen.
When she reached Dunstany’s chambers, she ran through to the bedchamber, where she found Florin with the man she believed to be Lord Dunstany. Piro wished she could tell Florin the truth, but it was not her secret to reveal.
Propped up on pillows, Old Gwalt’s colour was a little better today.
‘Good news,’ Piro announced.
‘From Byren?’ Florin’s face betrayed her.
Piro was so surprised to discover Florin was in love with Byren, she forgot what she’d been about to say.
‘Is it from Byren?’ Gwalt asked.
‘No. As far as we know, Byren is still on Yoraltir’s estate.’ It had been three days since the Istyntir refugees had sought shelter, and Piro had sent a message to Byren via Captain Tomas the very next day. She climbed onto the bed. ‘Fyn has retaken Benetir Estate. He marches for Travantir.’
‘Where’s that?’ Florin asked.
‘We need our own war-table.’ Piro turned to Old Gwalt. ‘Do you have one, my lord?’
‘There is a bigger Duelling Kingdoms board. Tell Soterro to put it on the desk in the music chamber.’
Piro ran off to deliver the order. By the time she returned with Soterro and the board, Florin had helped Old Gwalt to the music room. He was pale and shaking from exertion. Piro found him a chair.
‘Growing old is a terrible thing,’ he said. ‘I only hope I can hold on long enough.’
Luckily, Florin did not ask what he meant.
Soterro had set up the game board. It was not to scale and Ostron Isle appeared much closer than in reality.
‘This will help us keep track of the spar invasion,’ Piro said, unpacking the pieces and putting them in position on the board. ‘This one can be Byren.’ She put a king piece on Yorale’s estate and selected the other king piece. ‘And Fyn can go here on Travantir Estate.’
There were five estates between them. She indicated the estates east of Yoraltir. ‘Thanks to the Istyntir captain, we know that these three estates have fallen. But we don’t know if Elenstir and Rhodontir have been attacked.’
Florin frowned. ‘It’s been four days with no word from Byren. We should have heard from him by now.’
There was a knock at the door.
Soterro returned to report, ‘Captain Tomas sends news. King Byren took Yoraltir great house and rides into the mountains to hunt down the warlord. He’ll go to Wythrontir next, to break the siege.’
‘Good. Now we know where he is.’ Piro moved Byren’s piece into the mountains behind Yoraltir’s estate.
‘How long did it take that message to reach us?’ Florin asked.
‘Good point.’ Piro looked to Old Gwalt.
‘Two days, if it came by horse.’
‘So he could already be on his way to Wythrontir Estate.’ Florin stared at the stylised map of Merofynia, as if it could tell her where Byren was. ‘I should be with him.’
‘Are you feeling better?’ Piro asked.
‘Yes.’
But she always said that.
CVETKO’S CONTEMPTUOUS WORDS had been the last straw. If Garzik didn’t help Byren win back Rolencia, he would never be respected. He’d just be some poor wretch who’d been enslaved by Utlanders. In fact, if he stayed too long, he feared the change to his eyes would be permanent. Then, when he did get home, they would see an Utlander instead of Lord Dovecote’s youngest son.
He knew Luvrenc and Ilonja would be heartbroken, and he hated leaving Olbin and Rusan, but over the last few days he had hidden weapons and supplies in his favourite skiff.
Now, in the dim light of dawn, he would set sail.
Maybe it was madness to cross the Stormy Sea in a three-man skiff, but he could lash the tiller while he adjusted the sails, and he knew how to navigate by the stars. All he needed was a little bit of luck.
And it did seem as if Halcyon was smiling on him, as he slipped down to the shore unnoticed. He passed the cradle that had been built to support Rusan’s new ship while it was being constructed. Feodan and Olbin had gone back to the high country looking for more timber. It made Garzik feel as if he was leaving things half-done. But Byren was his first priority.
He waded out to the skiff and leapt aboard, hauled up the anchor, set the sail and took the tiller, all the while praying no one would spot him and sound the alarm.
A slight dawn breeze filled the sail, and his skiff glided soundlessly across the bay. Above him, the rising sun warmed the western bank of the steep-sided fjord. He guided the skiff past the outcropping and turned her nose towards the headlands.
It was thanks to Rusan and Olbin that he dared this. They’d made a seaman of him, and he hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. Emotion made Garzik’s throat ache. He glanced over his shoulder for one last look at the settlement.
Rusan stood on the outcropping, watching him sail away. Garzik felt sick. He wanted to explain himself, but he dare not return. It had taken everything he had to turn his back on the Wyvern People.
Rusan did not raise the alarm. Instead, he raised his hand in farewell. Garzik returned the gesture and, when he faced the headlands, he could not see for tears.
BYREN CAME DOWN from the mountains with four hundred ex-slaves, every armed man from Yoraltir Estate and the head of the Amfina warlord. He paused where the path forked. If he went right, he returned to Yoraltir Estate, where he’d left Dunstany’s yacht. If he went left, he headed for Wythrontir Estate, which according to Piro was still under siege.
Was Florin well enough to join them?
He could sail back to Dunistir Estate, report in person and collect her. He wanted to see her so badly... The more distance he put between them, the better. He had to wean himself off his need for the mountain girl.
‘I’m sure Piro and Florin would like to hear from you,’ Orrade said.
Byren pointed to the path from Yoraltir Estate. ‘Does that look like trouble coming our way?’
‘It looks like a dozen men-at-arms led by a lordling.’
‘That’s what I said.’
Orrade grinned.
Byren stayed right where he was, while the lordling’s party came up the winding path. When they were within hailing distance, Byren shouted, ‘Who might you be?’
‘Yoromer, son of Lord Yorale. You’re Byren Kingsheir?’
Byren inclined his head slightly.
Yoromer returned the courtesy. ‘My father bids you welcome and asks you to join him at his table so that he may thank you for driving off the spar warriors.’
‘Tell you what...’ Byren undid his saddle bag and tossed it to the lord’s son.
Yoromer caught it and passed it to one of his men.
‘Give your father this, with my compliments, and tell him that I thank him for the loan of his men. Tell him I’m off to save his youngest son’s hide.’
Yoromer gaped. ‘You’re
riding for Wythrontir?’
‘It’s under siege. Didn’t you know?’
From his expression, he didn’t.
His companion opened the saddle bag, froze, and showed it to the lord’s son.
Yorale’s heir glanced to Byren, gathered the reins and turned his horse for home. The whole party rode off.
‘Did you enjoy that?’ Orrade asked.
Byren grinned. The Snow Bridge king was right. Sometimes a show of force was what was needed to keep arrogant lords in line.
‘What about Florin and Piro?’
‘I’ll send a message when I take Wythrontir Estate.’ And he would keep Florin at a distance.
Chapter Fifty-Six
THE FIRST DAY Garzik had sailed southeast, giving Dalfino Isle a wide berth. On the second day, the wind had shifted and ever since, it had been in the wrong quarter. He’d had to tack to make any headway.
He was exhausted.
The cry of an ospriet sounded far above and he shaded his eyes. The great bird flew over him, heading south-west. Garzik wished he had a farseer.
He turned the tiller and tacked to the west, with the rising sun behind him. Another ospriet flew overhead in the same direction. A flock of the Affinity birds was circling far above. Ospriets were lone hunters so for them to gather like this they must have spotted a feast. He should turn back before he became one of the dishes.
Expecting to see a school of scytalis, Garzik searched the sea. A black speck danced on the sun-speckled waves. He had a bad feeling.
Despite this, he held his course.
As he drew nearer, he made out a small rowboat. It was hard to tell if anyone was at the oars, but there had to be someone for the ospriets to be gathering.
Even as he thought this, a bird swooped down across the boat and two figures reared up swinging oars. Garzik’s heart raced as the defenders drove off the ospriet. Eventually, the ospriets would wear down the boat’s passengers and tear them apart with razor sharp beaks and talons. The predators’ harsh screeches reached Garzik.
He lashed the tiller in position. Keeping his attention on the beleaguered men, he removed his bow from its oilcloth wrapping, strung it and set the arrows within reach. Then he watched the distant boat, willing the men to hang on.
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