him not to attempt to use it again.
Fyn held his breath, as the quarter-master studied him.
'Utlanders!' the cry went up from the deck below. 'Ship to port.'
Bantam stood and searched the horizon. Fyn sprang to his feet. A dark silhouette rode the star-silvered sea, making towards them.
Bantam cursed and cuffed Fyn over the ear again. 'That's why I sent you up here. Not to practise heathen Affinity!'
Fyn gulped. They'd left the merchant crew alive, with a disabled ship to limp into port. From the stories he'd heard, Utland raiders would not be so generous. The raiders would slit their throats and toss them overboard. 'Can we outrun them?'
The quarter-master grimaced. 'She has three masts, like us. It'll come down to whose hulls are the cleanest.'
'Clean hulls?'
Bantam snorted. 'Oh, you're a landsman for sure. Barnacles, boy. They slow the ship's passage through the sea. The cap'n was going to put her into dry dock and have her hull scraped next time we made port.'
Fyn frowned. He had been hoping for better news. Night had fallen while he endured his visions. Now he stared across the sea at a threatening, dark silhouette. 'They're getting closer.'
'Aye. Looks like you'll have another chance to use your fancy abbey training, then we'll see if last time was a fluke.'
Fyn didn't bother to answer. He hated violence. It made him sick to his stomach. And violence was the one thing these sea-hounds respected.
Rolencia
'Someone's coming,' Byren hissed, stopping in the knee-deep, starlit snow to listen.
Nothing.
He glanced over his shoulder. Despite her age, Seela had kept up with them since leaving their hidden camp, high in the foothills of the Dividing Mountains. Her anxious eyes fixed on his face.
Behind her, Orrade brought up the rear. At Byren's warning, his friend froze in his tracks. Seela, after her initial wariness, took the chance to bend double and catch her breath. This was exactly why Byren had not been keen to send her out into the valley to recruit loyalists to the Rolencian cause.
Byren touched her shoulder. When she lifted her grey head, he put his finger to his lips.
She nodded and tried to breathe quietly. Byren felt guilty. He shouldn't have agreed to let her go, not that he could stop her. His old nurse had a mind of her own. And she was right, Merofynian warriors wouldn't suspect an old woman of sedition, probably wouldn't even notice her.
Unsure what had prompted him to call a halt, Byren tilted his head, listening. His gaze was drawn up, past the tall, snow-shrouded pines, up to the froth of sparkling stars. He was glad now that they hadn't paused to make camp, deciding rather to reach the loyalist farmhouse by midnight. If there were enemies travelling the foothills, he didn't want them coming upon him while he was unawares.
The silence lengthened.
Byren met Orrade's gaze with an unspoken question.
His friend shook his head. Orrade's recently developed Affinity visions came upon him in his sleep or as waking dreams, but they were invariably accompanied by headaches.
'Not a twinge,' Orrade mouthed.
Seela glanced from him to Byren, coming to her own conclusions. So much for hiding Orrade's Affinity.
The soft snort of a horse reached them, confirming Byren's fears. He turned to Seela. 'Go hide. Orrie and I will scout on ahead.'
Without waiting for her agreement he set off along the path, cursing the snow, which left clear tracks all the way back to their secret camp.
'Probably someone coming to join us,' Orrade muttered, following in Byren's footsteps.
They crested the rise, crawling on their bellies in the snow. Below, coming around the bend, was a boy of no more than thirteen. He walked as if half-asleep, hugging himself.
Six warriors rode behind him. Over their armour they wore Merofynian surcoats, the azure wyvern on a black background. In the starlight the wyverns appeared pale grey, but the warriors were still recognisable as invaders, loyal to the Merofynian king.
The first rider wore an expensive lincis fur cloak and held a chain, driving the boy before him like a dog on a leash.
Fury ripped through Byren. If there was one thing he hated it was a bully. He might be half-Merofynian but he despised their arrogance.
Byren frowned. It was the Power-worker and his little Affinity-slave all over again. Only, this time, there was no Affinty seep exuding power and the man holding the chain was not a renegade Power-worker but an arrogant man-at-arms.
Last time, Byren had used the Power-worker's own tools against him to free the slave, while avoiding a confrontation with the men-at-arms.
This time he was hindered by Seela, who was used to the comforts of castle life, so it would be just him and Orrade against six men. Lence would have welcomed the odds. Byren flinched, reminded once more of the loss of his twin.
No time to mourn.
Time for strategy. He and Orrade had both brought bows, hoping to snag something for the pot. Between them, they could drop a few of the men-at-arms, but there was the boy. Clearly, the Merofynians weren't above using him as a hostage. Byren cursed softly. How could he ensure the boy's safety?
'I know that lad,' Seela muttered.
Surprised, he turned to see her stretched out on the far side of Orrade. 'Seela, I told you to hide!'
She ignored him. 'That's young Vadik. We're on our way to his ma's farm. He wanted to come with me into the mountains to serve you, Byren. But his ma thought he was too young to get involved in war.'
'Looks like the Merofynians didn't agree.' Byren's voice ground deep in his throat, tight with anger.
'I should have insisted,' Seela whispered. 'But his ma didn't want to leave the farm. Her man was killed when the Merofynians invaded. She thought, with Vadik and his younger brother's help, she could get the spring planting done. Now — '
'The look-outs will spot them by midday tomorrow,' Orrade muttered. 'They'll lay an ambush, but one or two of those riders might get away, and take word back. We have to kill them, Byren.'
He had come to the same conclusion, but how could he save the boy?
'They're beasts, treating a child like that,' Seela muttered. 'Worse than Utlanders.'
Byren frowned. 'There's something odd about the way the boy's moving.'
Vadik stumbled and put out one arm to prevent his fall. The other, his right arm, ended in a bloody, hastily bandaged stump.
Orrade hissed under his breath.
Seela gasped in horror.
Byren blazed with fury. For a heartbeat he thought of nothing but rending and tearing those men to pieces. The force of his reaction shocked him. Truly feral, it made him wonder if his time with the ulfr pack had affected him on some basic level, bringing out the beast that lurked in all men.
No point worrying.
If he was to save the boy, he needed a diversion to draw the Merofynians' attention away from Vadik. If only the ulfr pack were still following him. Imbued with Affinity, ulfrs were long-haired wolves the size of ponies and, Byren had discovered, they were more intelligent than anyone gave them credit for.
If only they were here now, they'd spook the horses…
Of course!
'Orrie, go across the far side of the ravine, hide and give the hunting cry of an ulfr pack. Make it sound like a large pack. See if you can startle the horses.'
'What will you do?'
Byren fixed on the Merofynian leader. The beautiful cloak of silver-grey lincis fur patterned with leopard spots
