The Usurper (36 page)

After everything he'd gone through to see justice done, Palatyne's death struck Fyn as ironic. To think the man, who had caused so much destruction, should be killed, not by one of King Rolen's kin, but by one of the goddess's Affinity beasts, as if she was setting the world to rights.

'Freezing Sylion, what a way to die!' Byren muttered as he cleaned his sword and sheathed it. He pulled the unconscious man off Fyn and hauled his brother upright.

Beyond him, Orrade and the sea-hounds chased down the last of the spar warriors, but Fyn had eyes only for Isolt. As soon as he was on his feet, he brushed past Byren, running to Isolt. He pulled her off the table, swinging her to the ground. 'What possessed you? You were safe on the ship. You could have been killed!'

She ignored him, trembling but triumphant. 'I did it, Fyn. I set him up. I knew my wyvern would go for Palatyne!'

She laughed unsteadily, tears glittering in her eyes.

Fyn wanted to shake her. No, he wanted to kiss her.

'Well done.' Byren clapped Isolt on the back. 'You have a cool head. Present me, little brother.'

It took all Fyn's resolve to release Isolt and turn her towards his brother. 'This is Byren, your betrothed.'

Isolt blinked, her lashes matted and damp with tears. 'King Byren?'

Fyn actually looked at his brother. He hadn't shaved for days, his hair was matted, he was covered in blood and he smelled. He looked like the worst Utland barbarian.

It was probably not the best time to introduce them.

Fyn turned at Piro's whimper of pain.

Chapter Thirty

Piro's head pounded as if two giants were trying to battle their way out of her skull. She was dimly aware that the Affinity battle had centred on her.

When she opened her eyes, flashes of light obscured her vision, flickering like the after-images of lightning. Bile rose in her throat.

She tried to focus on Tyro, willing him strength with every beat of her heart. The Utlander had found a way to stop her drawing on his Affinity, and now he sought to steal hers, while assaulting Tyro. She felt the Utlander's body tremble with the effort, but he did not falter.

She was fully extended, had no more to give Tyro.

And it was not enough.

Beyond Tyro, she could just make out her brothers and Isolt staring in horror, not daring to intervene. From the corner of her eye, she saw King Merofyn come to his feet, clutching the arms of his litter to steady himself.

And Piro realised, with so much of the Utlander's concentration focused on the battle with Tyro, he could not maintain his hold over the old king. But what could one sick old man achieve against Affinity of this magnitude?

Face contorted by manic fury, King Merofyn launched himself at the Utlander. 'Curse you!'

He barrelled into the Utlander, knocking him sideways. That was all it took for Piro to drop and twist out of the Utlander's grasp. She threw herself forwards, avoiding the poison tip. Tyro caught her and she turned to face their attacker.

Before the Utlander could straighten up, King Merofyn grabbed the staff, driving its poisoned tip into the old Power-worker's throat. The Utlander collapsed backwards, mouth open in a silent scream.

As King Merofyn staggered, falling to the tiles, Fyn and Isolt ran to him, helping him to his feet.

Meanwhile, Piro ran to the Utlander. Before she could reach him, the carved stone on the tip of his staff flared bright enough to blind her momentarily. She tripped, landing on her knees. As a rush of stolen Affinity poured past her, she felt her mother's essence. For one fleeting heartbeat, Queen Myrella seemed to touch her cheek in blessing, then she was gone.

Tears rained down Piro's cheeks. Her mother was free of the Utlander's trap.

When her vision finally cleared, she found Tyro, now in his Lord Dunstany guise, kneeling beside the Utlander to check his throat for a pulse.

'Dead.'

'Killed by his own trick,' Piro whispered, meeting Tyro's eyes. 'Why pretend to be Lord Dunstany? Everyone knows who you really are.'

'Not so. People see what they expect. Only you and the Utlander pierced my disguise.'

'Father!' Isolt's despairing cry made them turn. King Merofyn clutched his chest and gasped, his skin going grey as he staggered back to collapse in the chair.

'Dunstany?' The old king beckoned Tyro, clutching his vest, tendons straining. 'Watch over my daughter.'

Piro came to her feet, but looked away to give them privacy.

'Is there anything you can do for him, Lord Dunstany?' Isolt pleaded.

'There is nothing anyone can do for King Merofyn,' Tyro told Isolt. 'His heart has given out.'

Isolt choked back a sob.

Still looking away from them, Piro blinked fresh tears from her eyes. This time, when her vision cleared, she saw the nobles were gathered about three body lengths away on the terrace watching. Their many men-at-arms stood waiting for orders.

Fyn's sea-hounds drew closer to him and her brother Byren, fingering their sword hilts. Orrade joined them and it looked as if the fighting was going to erupt again.

'Tyro?' Piro breathed a warning.

He took in the situation.

'Time for something showy!' He grabbed Isolt's arm, pulling her away from Fyn, and onto the table top. From there, the anxious crowds below could also see them. Lord Dunstany held up his staff, an imposing figure in indigo robes.

Fyn blinked as the lightning, which had been flickering deep in the glowering clouds, suddenly lashed out, striking the orb on the tip of Lord Dunstany's staff. The flash bleached everything white and the crack of thunder was so loud many people screamed, falling to their knees, deafened.

The staff's orb glowed, illuminating Lord Dunstany and Isolt with otherworldly brilliance.

The wyvern howled in fear and left Palatyne's body. With a short burst of its powerful wings, it climbed into the air, landing on the table. Isolt lifted her arm and it went to her, nuzzling Isolt's hand for reassurance. The crowd marvelled.

Lord Dunstany pounded his staff on the tabletop, causing the globe to flare. 'Behold the true ruler of Merofynia, Isolt Wyvern Queen!'

The people applauded.

Fyn's heart soared. Isolt had been returned to her rightful place. She would make a fine, strong queen for Merofynia.

Lord Dunstany looked over his shoulder. 'Byren, quick, up here.'

Fyn's heart sank.

Byren leaped onto the table top. Only a few overturned goblets remained on the snowy white cloth and he kicked them aside. Lord Dunstany's glowing orb illuminated Byren's wild hair and his bloodstained, tattered clothes flashing on his sword's blade. He looked the warrior he was. What woman could not fail to love him?

Byren swept Isolt a courtly bow that would have done his mother proud. How he wished she could be here today to see her brother Sefon avenged.

Dunstany took Isolt's hand and Byren's, joining them. 'Palatyne's treachery has been revealed. King Rolen and his kin were not planning war on Merofynia. In truth, the king was planning to wed his heir to King Merofyn's daughter. Behold the heirs of Merofynia and Rolencia. From this day forwards may these two kingdoms live in peace!'

People cheered, throwing their hats in the air. Byren's spirits sang. He had come far to see his parents' plans for peace realised. His eyes stung and his throat grew tight. If only they could be here to see this. He ached for them, for the twin brother he'd lost and the people of Rolencia, who had suffered because of Palatyne's ambition.

In fact, his people still suffered because Cobalt still lived.

Byren would not know peace until he set his kingdom to rights.

Piro gasped as Byren dropped Isolt's hand and knelt on one knee before her. He lifted his head, dark eyes blazing from behind his matted hair. 'Isolt Wyvern Queen. I cannot marry you in good faith.'

Piro glanced to Fyn, where she saw hope dawn on his face only to be dashed as Byren continued.

'For my treacherous cousin sits on my father's throne, eating from his table, sleeping in his bed, oppressing the people of Rolencia. Only when I have restored my family's honour can I come to claim you.'

Isolt stiffened. 'But -'

'I know. We will need to rid Merofynia of Palatyne's treasonous supporters.' Byren jumped to his feet and beckoned Fyn. 'In my place I offer my brother to lead your army.'

Fyn's mouth dropped open.

Piro nudged him. 'Go on, everyone's watching.'

Fyn took three steps, accepted Byren's hand and was pulled up onto the table beside Isolt. Byren placed Fyn's hand on Isolt's.

'Place your trust in my brother, Isolt. Fyn is the most loyal of kingsons.'

'Oh, I do trust Fyn,' Isolt began. 'It's just that -'

'Good!' Byren turned to face the crowd, an arm sliding around each of their shoulders as he stood slightly behind them. Byren raised his voice. 'I name Fyn Rolen Kingson, Queen Isolt's general of Merofynia!'

Piro's heart went out to Fyn and to Byren, who had no idea what he had just done. Isolt's wyvern recognised Fyn and nudged his chest until he rubbed behind her horn nubs. The crowd took this as a good sign.

Byren looked over his shoulder. 'Climb up, Piro. I haven't forgotten you.'

Tyro steadied her as she climbed up between him and Isolt.

A mournful cry sounded from above. Piro's foenix circled, its heavy wings beating the air as it swooped low. The nobles and common folk whispered and pointed in awe. The bird spotted Piro and cried out again.

She went to lift her arm but Tyro whispered, 'No. If the foenix lands on your arm, you will be forever remembered as the rightful heir of Rolencia.'

Unaware of this, Byren gave a happy chuckle. 'Why, look, Piro. It's your foenix.'

Piro deliberately kept her arms by her side.

Byren whistled and the foenix landed on his forearm, settling in his arms. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd.

'This is a sign!' Lord Dunstany cried. A flash of lightning punctuated his words. Both the foenix and the wyvern cried out in alarm, settling at a touch from Byren and Isolt. 'Beware, Cobalt, Byren Kingsheir will soon sit on the throne of Rolencia!'

The crowd applauded as the first heavy spots of rain fell, hitting the hot stones of the terrace with a hiss.

The heavens opened with a roll of cavernous thunder, and rain plummeted onto the crowd. Byren laughed. He leaped to the terrace, turning to catch Isolt and swing her down. The wyvern leapt after her. Fyn joined them.

The nobles scattered. The Merofynian people picked up their baskets, held their blankets over their heads and ran for home. The sea-hounds headed back to the ship.

Byren called to Orrade. 'Come, drink a toast in the great hall.'

In bare moments, the terrace was empty of everyone except for Piro and Tyro. She had to shout over the drumming of the downpour. 'We should go inside.'

'Lord Dunstany isn't needed for now. I'm going back to Ostron Isle,' Tyro said. 'I'm sorry I deceived you with the amber, Piro. You are free to rejoin your family as Piro Kingsdaughter.'

She glanced back to the palace. If she returned, her brothers and Isolt would welcome her, but soon they would be planning her marriage to forge an alliance. If she went with them she would be a piece in the game of Duelling Kingdoms. Or worse.

'They know about my Affinity now and that it is much stronger than Fyn's. They'd want to send me to the abbess of Sylion.' Piro could not bear the thought of living closed in by the walls and rules of the abbey. She blinked rain from her eyes and looked up at Tyro. 'If I come back to Ostron Isle, will you teach me what you know?'

'If you come back with me you will be a player, not a piece.' His brilliant eyes examined her. 'Is that what you want, Piro?'

Suddenly she knew why her piece had no face. 'I will never be a piece on the mage's war table. I was meant to be a player.'

He nodded. 'Then let's go, before they come to take Palatyne's body away.'

It was over at last. She had a future, but she had lost her family to Palatyne's pointless war. Piro froze as a memory came to her. She pulled her hands from Tyro's.

'Why do you look at me like that? What is it?'

'You started this war. You told Palatyne that one of King Rolen's kin would kill him.'

He shook his head. 'I never meant to start a war. I could see Palatyne was set on conquest.' Tyro shrugged. 'I tried to divert him but I made a mistake. I told him that one day someone he had wronged would kill him, hoping that he would mend his ways. Instead he went to the Utlander and demanded to know who would kill him. It was the Utlander who said King Rolen's kin would be his downfall. So Palatyne set out to destroy your family, and in doing so, destroyed himself!'

Piro's head swam. Her parents and Lence dead, because of Tyro's meddling.

'Don't turn away from me, Piro,' Tyro pleaded. 'I'm not ready to fill Mage Tsulamyth's shoes but I must. It's hard to be alone. Come back with me.'

She found his dark eyes too intense. 'For now. Come on. We'd better get back to the ship.'

Tyro jumped down to the roof of the cage and turned to help her, but Piro leaped down beside him. They climbed off the cart and ran across the grass.

Byren had shaved and bathed. His long black hair was still wet, and hung down his back. He could feel the damp through his borrowed shirt as he stood to make a toast. When no one was looking, he grinned at Orrade, best of friends, then turned to face the feasting hall.

It was filled with the old king's loyal aristocrats, who jostled for seats at the tables. Servants had hurriedly transferred what was left of the feast into the palace.

'A toast. Peace and prosperity for Rolencia and Merofynia!'

'Peace and prosperity,' the people echoed.

Orrade met Byren's eyes and they both downed their drinks in one gulp, while the Merofynians sipped delicately.

Byren sat, thinking how different the people of Merofynia and Rolencia were. That reminded him that his people were suffering. He leant close to Orrade.

'Arrange our passage on a ship back to Rolencia, Orrie.'

His friend nodded and left the table.

Byren glanced to Isolt. She was such a pretty little thing, so reserved and thoughtful. He didn't know what to make of her. She made him feel large and clumsy. But it wasn't just her size, for Piro was not much bigger and he'd always felt comfortable around her. Which reminded him.

'Where is Piro?' Byren asked.

Isolt and Fyn glanced at each other.

'I suspect she has sailed for Mage Isle,' Isolt replied, with a secret half-smile.