The Usurper

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  Piro glanced to the arch - could they swim for it?

  Isolt made a dash, clicking her tongue for the wyvern. A man confronted her. The wyvern reared on her back legs, roaring. The skin on Piro's arm's lifted in primal response.

  The first man grabbed Isolt as she tried to duck under his arm. Loyalty leapt for him. A second man stepped in front and slashed at the wyvern, who squealed in pain and writhed in mid-air, falling with a splash into the pool.

  Isolt screamed. Her captor covered her mouth. She bit his hand, and he cuffed her over the head, stunning her. His companion hefted her over his shoulder.

  Piro jumped on his back, knocking him sideways. He almost fell in the pool. Someone grabbed her from behind, pulling her off him. She tossed her head back into his face, heard a satisfying crunch of bone. Her feet were off the ground and she swung them hard, connecting with her captor's shins. He grunted in pain. They already had Isolt in the boat.

  Piro strained to break free. 'Isolt!'

  Then she was flying through the air, thrown like baggage. She hit the ground and rolled to her feet. Turning, she found the men were all in the boat. They rowed past her, aiming for the low arch. They were leaving her behind.

  Piro took a running leap and jumped, landing in the boat. It tipped alarmingly. Someone slammed their hand on her back, driving her down into the belly of the boat. She lay amidst the men's boots next to Isolt, who was pale and silent, blood seeping from her nose.

  Down here Piro felt a hum of power. It set her teeth on edge with its wrongness. As they passed under the grotto's arched entrance, the power rose until her temples throbbed with each heart beat.

  And just as suddenly it passed. They were out in the Ring Sea, stolen from under the mage's protection.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Fyn continued up the steps after giving Piro a few moments to reach the grotto. He'd only climbed five treads when he met Tyro coming down. Fyn was dressed to travel, and the agent was no fool. He would try to stop him. Fyn's hand reached for his sword hilt.

  Tyro's gaze went to the weapon, then to Fyn's face. 'Is this how you repay the mage?'

  'Let me pass,' Fyn warned, fingers closing on the hilt.

  Tyro lifted his hands and Fyn felt the agent's Affinity rise. He knew himself outmatched. Still, one quick strike before the Power-worker could infiltrate his abbey-trained Affinity wardings, and it would be over. Luckily the weapons master had taught him how to draw and strike in one motion.

  'I won't let you take her into danger,' Tyro said.

  Fyn's fingers relaxed. 'You seem to know what's going on, but your spies don't know everything. I just told Isolt I would not take her with me. She hates me now.' He felt weary. 'Let me pass.'

  Tyro lowered his hands. 'Then pass. I told Captain Nefysto to take you to Merofynia, when you were ready. Everything you've done has been according to my plan.'

  Fyn frowned and his cheeks flamed as he realised his subterfuge had been for nothing. He drew breath to reply but, before he could, a terrible roar echoed up the stairwell.

  'Freezing Cyena, what was that?' Tyro said.

  'An attacking wyvern.' Fyn shuddered, the memory fresh in his mind.

  The wyvern squealed in pain. Isolt screamed.

  Fyn turned and ran down the steps with Tyro at his heels. If that wyvern had attacked Isolt, he'd kill it himself.

  As Piro screamed Isolt's name, his stomach twisted in knots. Fyn leapt the last five steps, did not feel the impact as his shoulder crashed into the far wall. Rounding the bend, he came to an abrupt halt in the empty grotto.

  No, not empty.

  The wyvern floated face down in the pool, its blood staining the water. Fyn looked for Piro and Isolt's bodies but did not find them.

  'Where are they?' Tyro said. Fyn felt the agent's Affinity build. 'My wards have been breached. I fear -'

  At the sound of his voice the wyvern lifted its head and whimpered.

  'Help me.' Fyn unbuckled his sword and plunged into the pool, reaching for the wyvern.

  Tyro dropped into the water next to Fyn.

  'I feared the wyvern had turned on Isolt,' Fyn confessed. 'But I was wrong. It was trying to protect her.'

  Tyro nodded, and grunted with effort as they dragged the Affinity beast onto the broad stone lip of the grotto pool. The agent tugged his shirt off, packing it in the wyvern's wound, murmuring gently to the beast as she whimpered again.

  Feeling useless, Fyn sensed waves of power roll off Tyro. The agent knelt, his head bent, lids lowered. As Fyn watched, Tyro's eyes moved rapidly under his lids and he grimaced as if in pain. When he straightened and looked at Fyn, his expression was hard.

  'Palatyne's a cunning brute. He sent the Utlander to retrieve Isolt. The Utlander knew his power would trigger my wards, so he sent ordinary men in a boat with just enough power to reveal the grotto's disguised entrance.'

  'You know this how?'

  Tyro glanced to the Affinity beast. 'I skimmed the wyvern's memory.'

  'What of Piro?'

  Tyro looked down, then winced. 'She jumped into the boat to be with Isolt.' His voice caught. 'Brave, foolish girl.'

  'That sounds like Piro. The little...' He could not go on, his throat felt too tight to speak. Water sloshed in his boots as he stood. 'I'll take the Wyvern's Whelp, intercept them -'

  'Wait,' Tyro ordered. 'We cannot leave this beast to bleed to death. I must help her. Wyverns heal remarkably fast.'

  'You heal her. I'm going.'

  'This time I'm going with you, Fyn. Isolt and Piro are safe enough for now. They won't be in danger until they reach Merofynia, and then Palatyne's plans are to wed Isolt, not execute her. He still thinks Piro is Isolt's maid so, as long as she keeps her head down, she will be overlooked. We have time to prepare. This is too important for the mage to send anyone but me.'

  Fyn nodded reluctantly.

  Tyro gave him a wry smile. 'I need your help. I exhausted myself dipping into the wyvern's mind to learn what happened here. I need to draw on your Affinity to help her. I'm not a true healer, the best I can do is hasten the healing. Are you willing to lower your walls, or are you still blinded by your abbey training? Am I just another renegade Power-worker to you?'

  Fyn grimaced. 'Having seen how Master Catillum died, I know evil is in the man, not in the power.'

  'I'm sorry, Fyn.'

  He shrugged this aside. Now that he was reminded of Feldspar and Joff, he sent a silent prayer to the goddess to watch over them. He hoped they'd survived the attack on Narrowneck. 'Let's get started.'

  Together they sealed the wyvern's wound and made her comfortable. Then they packed, taking both the wyvern and the foenix with them to board the Wyvern's Whelp. Captain Nefysto was not keen on carrying a wyvern, even a half-grown, wounded one. But Tyro invoked the mage's name and he acquiesced with wry grace.

  Piro crossed the Merofynian captain's cabin. It was beautifully appointed, with brass fittings, stained-glass windows and polished wooden cabinets, but it was still a prison.

  All the while, she felt the Utland Power-worker watching her. So far she had played the maid, shielding her Affinity from him as she had done back in Rolenton, when she'd been Lord Dunstany's slave.

  The roll of the ship's deck changed, telling her they were on the open sea. Piro adjusted her step, returning to the bunk with a bowl of cool water to sponge Isolt's face. Her friend had just woken, pale and nauseous.

  Isolt tried to lift her head, winced, dropped back and rolled her face towards the Power-worker. 'How is my father, Utlander?'

  He sighed and shook his head sadly, but Piro could sense his malicious triumph. 'The old king has lost touch with reality. He is haunted by night terrors, claims wyverns stalk him through the palace corridors. He leaves the running of the kingdom to Duke Palatyne.'

  'And what is to be my fate?' Isolt asked, her voice low and determined.

  'I'm taking you back to your loving betrothed,' the Utlander said. His eyes held mockery.

/>   Isolt turned away from him. 'I look forward to seeing my father.'

  'Show Duke Palatyne proper gratitude, girlie, he holds both your life and your father's in his hands,' the Utlander told her sharply, then he left them alone, locking the door after him.

  Piro sat on the bunk next to Isolt, and squeezed her hand.

  'Is it safe to talk?' she mouthed.

  Isolt made a rude noise. 'What could we say that would interest men of action? We are mere females, prizes to be married off!' Tears filled her eyes. 'They killed my sweet wyvern!' A sob escaped her, and another.

  'I know. I know.' Piro hugged her, rubbing Isolt's back until the crying eased. Then Piro lowered her head so that her lips were near Isolt's ear. 'It looks like we are going to Merofynia without Fyn's help.'

  Isolt nodded, and whispered, 'I thought we were safe on Mage Isle.'

  'That's what Tyro thought, too,' Piro said, glancing resentfully to the locked door. She caught Isolt's eye. 'Someone's listening.'

  Now her Affinity helped her. Why hadn't it warned her of the kidnapping? Of course, the Utlander had cloaked his intentions. Besides, she had been focused on Isolt and Fyn's plans.

  'I'm glad they came for us after Fyn had left,' Isolt whispered. 'He would have died trying to protect us.'

  'He will come for us. Nothing will stop him.'

  Isolt nodded, her cheeks flushed with colour. Satiny black eyes met Piro's, as Isolt deliberately raised her voice. 'I'm glad you are with me, Seela.'

  Piro squeezed her hand. It was lucky Fyn had insisted his rescue of Isolt back in Merofynia should look like a kidnapping. Now, even if they suspected, no one was sure if Isolt had changed allegiances. 'You must be happy to be going home, kingsdaughter.'

  'Oh, I am,' Isolt agreed. 'If the Utlander's men had only told us they were coming to take me home, I would have jumped into their boat!'

  Piro smiled.

  Fyn walked the wyvern around the deck. She seemed to enjoy the sun and sea air, and was picking up after only three days despite the severity of her wound.

  'Never thought I'd see the day we carry a wyvern as a passenger!' Bantam muttered.

  Fyn smiled at his grumbling. 'Careful. You'll hurt her feelings.'

  'Is it true this Affinity beast tried to save the kingsdaughter's life?' Jakulos asked, scratching the wyvern behind her horn nubs. She tilted her head, eyes closing as she enjoyed the sensation.

  'Loyal as they come.' Fyn scratched her throat.

  'I always suspected Nefysto was serving the mage,' Bantam admitted. As they crossed the midship, Bantam paused and nodded to the captain's open cabin door, where they could see Nefysto and Tyro consulting the maps. 'Should have jumped ship and signed on to an honest sea-hound who was out for nothing but profit. This playing of Kingdoms will be the death of us.'

  'At least we have the mage backing us up,' Jakulos said.

  'So speaks a man who knows nothing of Power-workers!' Bantam said and spat over the side.

  Fyn winced, the memory of his confrontation with the Mulcibar mystic still fresh in his mind. 'Jaku is right. If we have to work with renegades, the mage is the most powerful and, more importantly, the most honourable.'

  Byren hung from the bars of his cage, doing chin-ups, legs bent so he could rest his full weight on his arms. It was the darkest part of the night and he was too cold to sleep. It had rained earlier, and consequently he was soaked through, despite his cage being hung from the lowest branch of a giant linden tree. Half a body length below the cage, starlight glinted in puddles of rain water.

  Different street urchins, or the same one in different costumes, had slipped him food each day, and Duke Palatyne had been too busy to taunt him. As long as Byren did not take a chill, he would be ready when the moment came to break out.

  A scurry of movement at the courtyard entrance caught his attention. As he watched, the figure crept from the wall shadow to the linden tree's shadow, then to his cage.

  'Byren?'

  He knew that voice. 'Orrie?' Too overcome to speak, he reached through the cage, clutched his friend and pulled him into a hug. 'I thought you'd drowned.'

  'Can't drown me. I was born with a caul...' Orrade broke off and pulled back a little, though he didn't release Byren. 'Father didn't want it known, didn't want to give me up to the abbey.'

  'Wasn't Nun Willowtea the midwife?'

  Orrade nodded. 'When I was born Father had already lost three sons.'

  Byren laughed softly. He never would have guessed the Old Dove capable of convincing an abbey healer to break the law. 'So you would have developed Affinity eventually?'

  'Something would have triggered it. Listen, Byren. Cobalt has attacked the spar. So far Feid's held him off at the pass fort but what's left of your army are captives on Foenix Spar. I'm here to get you out.'

  'What of Florin? Is she safe?'

  'I don't know. She -'

  'Who goes there?' a guard demanded. Torches flared as a dozen guardsmen hurried from their posts.

  Orrade spun around, knocked the man to the ground, darted between two others, then ran straight up the right-angle bend in the courtyard wall like a monkey. He'd always been nimble, but that was remarkable.

  'What was that?' someone asked, after making the sign to ward off evil.

  'An acrobat, nothing more,' the leader of the guards snapped. 'Don't just stand there. Go after him.'

  Several guards ran out the courtyard, while the leader raised his torch so that he could see Byren's face.

  'So your men came for you? Don't get your hopes up, pretender. Duke Palatyne has the palace and its courtyard tied up tighter than an Ostronite merchant's purse. Nothing gets in and out without his say so.'

  'Then who was that?'

  'A performing monkey, something to keep my men on their toes.' He spat. 'They'll be even more vigilant after this. Go back to bed, your majesty!'

  And he walked off laughing, calling to his men to sweep the courtyard and surrounding streets.

  Byren huddled to keep warm. He was not disheartened. Orrade lived... more than that, he was here. Orrade would help him escape. All they needed was a diversion to set him free.

  Piro waited with Isolt in the ship's cabin as their vessel docked with the morning tide. Isolt had been supplied with clothes suitable for her station and Piro was dressed as befitted the future queen's maid.

  If they could just escape, they'd run to Lord Dunstany's residence. His servants could hide them.

  The Utlander and half a dozen warriors arrived to escort them off the ship. There was no chance to escape as they were led to a waiting carriage and the Utlander climbed in with them. Isolt's features settled into her Merofynian court face. With her high forehead, plucked brows and tilted back eyes, she was beautiful as a porcelain doll, and she gave nothing away.

  The carriage swayed when it turned a corner. They could hear the noises of the city stirring. Piro felt Isolt stiffen.

  'This is not the way to my father's palace.'

  'No. It is the way to your betrothed's townhouse. You told me your dearest wish was to see him upon landing,' the Utlander informed her.

  Isolt said nothing, her lips compressed. Piro wondered if there was some way she could get a message to Dunstany's servants.

  The carriage rolled through arched gates into a private courtyard. As the carriage door opened, Piro climbed out and looked up to see a four-storey building, all faux columns and windows. Servants scurried to let Palatyne know they were there.

  The Utlander marched straight in, his half-dozen warriors escorting them. Glorious artifacts littered Palatyne's mansion. Paintings, carpets, statues and golden plates were stacked on tables and floors as if the owner had collected trophies and never had time to sort them.

  Isolt and Piro exchanged uneasy looks. Ahead of them, the Utlander scurried down a corridor. A servant threw open a tall door to reveal a long room, patches of early morning sunlight glistening on the marble floor. Palatyne was seated at a table breaking his fas
t with honeyed mead and hot beef. Despite the silk dressing gown and aristocratic setting, there was no mistaking his spar origins, as he tore into the meat with strong white teeth, grease dripping onto the mahogany table. Without a word to the girls, the Utlander took a seat at the massive table. No one offered them a seat, or food.

  Piro hovered a step behind Isolt, who squared her shoulders as though determined not to be brow-beaten.

  'I see you have returned with my little bird,' Palatyne greeted the Utlander, clearly pleased. 'We will have to make sure the cage doors are secured this time.'

  'Rescuing the bird was easier than I thought. On his own isle the mage thought himself invincible,' the Power-worker boasted. 'A mistake I would never make.'

  Palatyne downed his tankard and called one of the warriors over, paying him off with a bag of gold. As soon as the man and his companions left, the duke called an unsavoury-looking man from the room beyond and whispered something to him. He nodded, following the other warrior out.

  Piro and Isolt exchanged another uneasy glance. They both suspected the warriors would not live to tell how they had kidnapped Palatyne's reluctant bride. The duke did not want to be the laughing stock of Merofynia.

  'To my bride and her trophy maid.' Palatyne came to his feet, lifting a fresh tankard. 'Welcome home, my pretties.'

  Isolt gave him a distant, queenly bow. 'I thank you, Duke Palatyne. Without your help I might never have escaped the mage. My father will be most grateful.'

  'I heard Mage Tsulamyth presented you to the elector as his companion, not captive,' the duke countered. To Piro he appeared amused by Isolt's tone, but if he were truly secure in his power, he would not feel the need to assert his authority.

  'The mage is a great Power-worker. I did not dare to make a move while I was in his clutches,' Isolt replied swiftly. 'I wish to see my father. I have been most concerned for his health.'