Tears stung her eyes. She missed him. If he’d been here...
The new abbess would have probably colluded with Abbot Firefox to have him killed. She was glad Siordun hadn’t been with her.
Sinking onto the grass, she hugged her knees and stared out across the bay. Directly across from her, on the distant headland, stood Sylion Abbey. They’d betrayed her and she’d led Byren into a trap, when all she’d ever tried to do was help him. Now, with no one to see and judge her, she gave in to a fierce storm of tears.
Through her sobs, Piro thought she heard the cry of a foenix. She looked up to see it circling far above her. Resolute was with… her heart sank. If Byren was dead, then so was her foenix. Resolute had trusted her since the day he’d hatched and she’d sent him to his death. More sobs shook her.
When the storm of tears had passed, she looked up, but there was no sign of the wild foenix.
Sitting here was pointless, but where would she go?
Cobalt still ruled Rolencia and there was no way for her to get back to Merofynia or Ostron Isle.
She shivered despite the muggy heat, fighting the excess Affinity that coursed through her. Could you get sick from too much Affinity? She would have to ask the Affinity warder, but Springdawn had never liked her... What was she thinking? Her father’s castle had fallen and Springdawn was dead.
Piro pressed her hand to her forehead. She was delirious with Affinity fever.
A great down-rush of wind hit her as the wild male foenix landed less than a body-length from her. He folded his huge wings. The scales of his chest glistened like rubies in the sun. His crest rose and he turned his head side-on to observe her, just like...
‘Resolute?’ Piro came to her knees. Her pent-up Affinity surged through her body, sliding up her arms, making her skin tingle. Tears of relief poured down her cheeks as she opened her arms.
The foenix came to her, sank to his knees and swept his wings around her. His chest scales were wondrously smooth, like warm satin on her cheek. Sunlight glowed through the red feathers of his enveloping wings. She felt safe, as if she’d come home. Sinking her fingers into the fine downy feathers under his wings, she felt a rush of power roll from her into the Affinity beast, then return infused with the predator’s own power.
She’d bonded with her foenix. A soft crooning sound came from deep within Resolute’s chest. She’d never heard it before, yet it felt familiar.
Weariness swamped her. Resolute would protect her if she slept. She curled up under her foenix’s wings with his heartbeat against her ear and his Affinity enveloping her.
BYREN REACHED THE crest of the hill at midday. For some time, he had been thinking of calling a rest so his men could eat but he feared Cobalt’s army would make it across the bridge onto Steadford Estate before them. The new lord supported Cobalt, and Byren wanted to engage Cobalt before he could reach the lord’s castle.
As he’d hoped, from the crest he could see the broad river bordering Steadford Estate. The little township that made its living by offering accommodation to those who used the toll bridge appeared undisturbed. There was no sign of Cobalt’s army on the road that ran out of Tolton and across the rolling farmland before disappearing into the forest. Surely Cobalt could not have already crossed the bridge and made it into the woods?
Byren shaded his eyes. Starting from the bridge, he searched the road on this this side of the river, following it through rolling fields dotted with small farms. Again, no sign of Cobalt’s army until…
There, at the base of the steep hillside far below, he spotted Cobalt’s men.
‘We’ve nearly caught them,’ Wafin said, joining Byren. His face fell. ‘What if they cross the bridge? A small band of men could hold the bridge while Cobalt escapes!’
‘That’s why we have to hurry. We’ll trap them at the bridge. With their backs to the river they’ll have nowhere to run!’ Byren turned his horse. ‘You take the lead, urge them on.’
As Wafin rode on ahead, Byren rode back along the rows of marching Snow Bridge warriors until he spotted the military translator and told him the situation. Then he turned his horse and made for the head of the column.
At the crest, he saw the outriders and the leaders of Cobalt’s army following the winding road towards the bridge, which was still a good distance from them. If Cobalt was smart, he’d set up a rear-guard to delay Byren while his men crossed.
Driving his horse on, Byren began the descent. Halfway down, rounding a steep bend, he found Wafin watching from a lookout and rode up to join him while his men poured past.
The lad shaded his eyes. Menacing clouds gathered to the south, promising a storm, but the valley was still in sunlight for the moment. ‘The first of them have reached the bridge, but they’re not crossing, for some reason.’
‘Give me your reins. Climb that tree and see if someone has closed the tollgate.’
Wafin scurried up the tree, hooked a leg over a branch and shaded his eyes.
‘A band of men have closed the toll gate and are holding the bridge,’ Wafin yelled. ‘I bet it’s Chandler!’
‘I could kiss him,’ Byren laughed.
Wafin climbed down and mounted up again.
‘Stay here,’ Byren told him. ‘Give the Snow Bridge translator the news. I’ll ride ahead. We have them now!’
If Chandler could hold out.
Byren had no idea how many of Chandler’s men remained. But he put that thought from his mind as he rode down, shouting the news, urging the men on. This was his first piece of good luck since Merofynia had invaded—no, since his cousin Cobalt had returned to Rolencia.
On the valley floor, he caught up with his men and rode ahead, over rolling hills, past a worried farmer in his field, to the last rise before the bridge.
Here Byren sat in the saddle and watched as Cobalt’s stragglers ran up the road towards the bridge, where his cousin’s men had congregated, unable to cross.
The river was broad and swift and was inclined to flood the valley floor. No wooden bridge had withstood the regular floods for more than a few years.
Twenty years ago, Byren’s father had ordered the Royal Ingeniator to design a bridge. He had chosen two small hills roughly opposite each other, and built a bridge that not only spanned the broad river, but linked the hills as well. It had taken eleven years to build, and to cover the cost, a toll had been imposed on all those who used it.
On the far side of the river was Tolton. Built on the gentle slopes of the hill, it had serviced the army of men who built the bridge, and then it had serviced those who passed over the bridge. This side of the river, the hill had been quarried to build the bridge and the bank dropped away sharply.
Cobalt had used the sloping approach to his advantage, overturning the provision carts to create a barrier in a semicircle, and fanning his men out behind it. He held the high ground.
From here, Byren could see Chandler’s small band on the stone tower that housed the tollgate. Cobalt had overturned another cart just beyond the highest point of the bridge, and his men were attacking the tollgate from this position.
Byren hoped Chandler had enough men to hold the gate. What if the townspeople turned on them? What if Cobalt sent men to swim across the river upstream, and enter Tolton from the other side to attack Chandler from behind?
Byren took Wafin aside. ‘Find thirty men who can swim. Go back the way we came and make your way upstream around the bend in the river. Cross over and reinforce Chandler.’
As more of Byren’s men arrived, he divided them into three columns, sending some to the south and north of Cobalt’s men, retaining the third column for a central attack. With luck, he would be able to surround Cobalt’s army and crush them, though there was the concern that with Byren’s men spread so thinly, Cobalt’s Merofynians might be able to break through and make their escape.
Dark, brooding clouds blanketed the sky now, and the air was still with the promise of a storm. Despite the heat, Cobalt’s men worked feverishly
to build up their defences. They cheered as they overturned another cart, strengthening the barrier across the road.
Byren could see Cobalt now at the bridge’s entrance. Secure in the knowledge that he was beyond bowshot, Cobalt climbed onto the stone balustrade and stood directing his men.
As Byren surveyed the scene, he was astonished to see half a dozen riders come over the rise from the west. They weren’t his scouts. Cobalt must have sent them to look for a merchant boat, or anything to ferry his men across the river.
Cobalt’s scouts charged the western arm of Byren’s forces, who stood no chance against mounted men riding downhill at a full gallop. The first rank of his men dived out of the way. Where his men were more thickly packed, the horses ploughed through them. Mistaking the screams, shouting and clank of metal for the signal to attack, Byren’s men on the eastern side charged Cobalt’s position. With no choice, Byren led his force up the road towards the overturned carts.
FLORIN RODE AHEAD of the column with Orrade. He had asked her to come with him, but they had been riding in silence for a while now. She was hot and tired, and wished the storm would break.
‘You saved my life last night,’ Orrade said at last.
She shrugged.
‘You could have let me die and been a rich widow.’
She stared at him, shocked.
He laughed, then winced, his hand going to his bandaged head.
‘Are you sure you’re up to riding further? We could make camp.’
‘We go on,’ he said. With one arm in a sling and the bandage at a rakish angle on his head, he made her smile. ‘What?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s a pity that Byren’s not here to help heal you.’
‘The abbey’s healing master did what he could. But he would never have risen to become a master if the invaders hadn’t murdered most of the monks.’
‘To think of all that knowledge lost...’ Florin shook her head. She noticed Orrade’s expression. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t say “to think of all those lives lost.”’
She flushed. ‘Well, of course, I meant that as well. But I thought I didn’t need to state the obvious with you.’
‘My prickly mountain girl, you...’ He broke off and stood in the stirrups. ‘I knew it!’
They’d reached the crest, revealing the valley below, and the winding river which formed the border of Steadford Estate. From here they could see the two armies.
‘They’ve already engaged,’ Orrade cursed.
Fear for Byren made Florin’s heart race.
‘I’ll ride ahead with the Snow Bridge warriors,’ Orrade said. ‘You camp in the hollow behind us. When we’ve won, I’ll send a messenger. Bring the kingsdaughter, along with the abbot and abbess. They can declare Byren king and officiate the marriage.’
As Orrade turned his mount, she caught his arm. ‘I won’t be able to come to your rescue tonight.’
He gave her a wolfish grin. ‘Don’t worry about me, I still have to ride into Dovecote Estate, wipe out that nest of Merofynians, free my people and reclaim my home.’
He rode back along the column, shouting orders.
A few moments later, the Snow Bridge warriors marched past. Leading them were the four ursodon hornsmen.
‘You’re taking the ursodon horns?’ Florin was flabbergasted.
‘We’ve lugged them all this way. I might as well use them. Besides’—Orrade gave her a knowing look—‘why shed blood when intimidation will do the job!’
She shook her head as he rode off to go to Byren’s aid. What would Byren do without him?
What would she have done without Orrade?
‘PIRO?’
The foenix’s soft crooning almost drowned the words. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was or how much time had passed.
‘Piro?’
Resolute lifted his wings and nudged her. She rolled over to see Siordun kneeling about a body-length away from her on the grass, in a patch of afternoon sunlight. ‘Piro?’
She blinked. ‘How did you get here?’
Siordun gestured to the foenix, who had risen to his feet and was grooming himself. ‘Resolute came to the ship when he first spotted you.’
‘I thought you were in Merofynia.’
‘I was. I set sail hoping to get here for the midsummer’s ceremony, but missed it by a day. I spotted the Wyvern’s Whelp in Port Cobalt and...’ He gestured down the slope to Jakulos and several of the crew. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was safe to approach.’
‘Of course it’s safe.’ Piro rolled to her feet. Patches of grey floated in her vision. She swayed.
Siordun caught her. ‘You’re burning up.’
‘They shut me in Halcyon’s Sacred Heart. Can you get sick from too much Affinity?’
‘It appears you can. Why did they shut—’
‘Oh, Siordun, Byren’s dead...’ Sobs overtook her.
He let her cry. When she lifted her head he asked, ‘Who told you this?’
‘Cobalt.’
‘Did you see Byren’s body?’
‘No... You mean he lied?’
A smile tugged at Siordun’s lips.
‘Of course he lied!’ She felt like such a fool. ‘But the nuns really did betray us.’
‘Tell me from the start.’
When she’d finished, Siordun shook his head. ‘I should never have left you.’
‘I’m glad you did. Cobalt would have ordered you killed. Me, he...’ She shuddered.
‘Did he—’
‘He didn’t get the chance.’ A fierce anger rushed through her. Resolute lifted his head and raised his wings, giving voice. The cry echoed off the mountain behind them. Siordun glanced from her to the bird and his eyes widened. ‘Piro...’
‘Don’t you start.’ The fever swamped her, her vision swam and she swayed. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘Of course.’ He steadied her. ‘With any luck Byren will be sitting on your father’s throne by the time we reach Rolenhold Castle.’
But Piro had been thinking of going home to Mage Isle. The realisation stunned her. She grasped Siordun’s arm. ‘If Byren’s king, he’ll try to marry me off. I won’t—’
‘Don’t worry.’ Siordun’s dark eyes grew intense. ‘You won’t end up be a game piece.’
BYREN HAD BEEN leading skirmishes since mid-afternoon, and now they fought by the light of the burning carts.
The coming storm had brought an early twilight. Occasional flashes of lightning appeared in the underbelly of the low clouds. If the storm hit before he broke through Cobalt’s defences, they would be bleeding and dying in the mud.
Twice now, Cobalt’s men had broken through Byren’s encircling army and twice they had been beaten back. Byren was pretty sure some had escaped, but he did not have the men to spare to go after them.
At one point he’d seen flames in Tolton, but Chandler and Wafin’s men held the tollgate, just as Cobalt’s men held this side of the bridge.
Between the exhaustion and the leaping light of the burning carts, it was hard to tell who was an enemy and who was a friend, especially as there were Rolencians on both sides.
Byren would not put it past Cobalt to desert his army and flee, and that was why he had to make an end of this soon, before the storm broke. Having recalled his men to prepare for another assault, Byren mounted up and rode to address the enemy.
‘I know there are Rolencians in Cobalt’s ranks, and it grieves me to kill my own people,’ Byren shouted. ‘If you put down your weapons now and step beyond the barricades, I give my word you won’t be harmed. Think it over. Rolencians don’t kill Rolencians!’
‘You can talk,’ Cobalt shouted back. He’d hoisted himself onto the balustrade of the bridge and stood there in the torch light. ‘How can you lead heathen Snow Bridge warriors against good, honest Rolencians?’
‘King Jorgoskev is no heathen,’ Byren said. ‘He’s the first man to unite the city states of the Snow Bridge. He can put a thousand men on
the battlefield at a day’s notice, and I’ll marry his daughter when I sit on my father’s throne!’
‘That’s right. You always wanted to steal your twin’s crown!’
The way Cobalt twisted everything infuriated Byren. He drew breath to refute it...
At that moment, a horse galloped up beside Byren’s. He’d been so focused on Cobalt that he’d barely registered the pounding hooves. Orrade’s mount pivoted and reared as he held the reins with one hand. The other was in a sling, and a bandage had begun to slip over one eye.
‘Byren is the one true king!’ Orrade shouted. ‘He killed Palatyne and freed the Rolencian seven-year slaves. Now he’s going to kill Cobalt and free Rolencia!’
Byren’s men cheered. And even though they’d no idea what was being said, the Snow Bridge warriors cheered too.
Orrade winked at Byren. ‘You make the mistake of trying to argue sensibly with a liar. Keep it simple.’
‘I was offering the Rolencians who serve Cobalt the chance to walk away with their lives.’
‘Good. Men who have no hope will fight to the death. It was Comtes Merulo who said the battle is won or lost in the hearts and minds of men.’ Orrade stood in the stirrups to shout. ‘I bring six hundred fresh Snow Bridge warriors to support Byren. They’ll be here in a few moments. You have until they arrive to lay down your arms and surrender!’
A muttering swept through the defenders. They’d fought all afternoon. They were tired, hungry and thirsty. They’d seen the men beside them cut down, but they’d held on. Now they faced a fresh enemy.
‘Will it work?’ Byren whispered.
‘We’ll see...’
A glow came over the rise as the first ranks of Orrade’s Snow Bridge warriors approached, bearing flaming torches. They marched four abreast, and out front four men carried huge horns, supported on straps across their shoulders.
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