'Orrie, where are you?' His teeth chattered so badly, he bit his tongue. 'Orrie…'
Refusing to give up, Byren swam in larger and larger circles. At last, he neared the shore. Dawn sunlight lit the trees. Orrade must have made it this far. Maybe he was already ashore, trying to escape the Merofynian search parties.
That had to be it, because Byren could not have stayed in the water any longer and lived. He was half-numb already.
As he waded out onto the shore he felt the mud under his feet. Like an old man, Byren struggled upright and stumbled through the reeds into the trees. Long shafts of dawn sun speared through the trunks, offering no warmth as yet. He wanted to yell Orrade's name, but dared not. He could still hear the roar of the fire.
He leant on a trunk and tried to think. So cold. Had to keep moving. His heart thundered with exhaustion.
No, it was a horse galloping. Several horses came through the trees towards him, flashing in and out of shafts of sunlight. Shouts. 'We have him.'
Who? Orrade?
No. Him. They circled around behind.
Byren spun, staggered.
'Lord Leon. We have him. Over here!'
It couldn't be. It was.
Byren weaved, trying to escape. Big, sweating horse flanks cut him off. He lurched and turned.
Something hit his head. He went down to his knees.
Someone jumped off their mount to stand in front of him. Caught his hair, jerked his head. Lord Leon's sneering face. Byren knew he was a dead man. It didn't matter. He'd failed Orrie.
'Not so proud now, eh, king?' Lord Leon said, breath heavy with ale.
'Cobalt's… sacrificed your warriors, b-burned them up,' Byren told him, the words chopped to pieces by his chattering teeth. 'What of your uncle?'
'Dead. He led the attack.'
Byren saw satisfaction in Lord Leon's black eyes. His uncle's death meant Leon was warlord of Leogryf Spar. What manner of man sent his own kin to their death?
'Do your men know you sacrificed — '
A fist slammed into Byren's face and the world went away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Piro sat up in bed, a cry on her lips. Her heart raced. In her mind's eye she still saw the wyvern with its gleaming green eyes laughing at her as its companions dragged Fyn and Byren away.
'What is it?' Isolt asked.
Pale dawn light fell across the foot of Isolt's bed where her pet wyvern slept. Loyalty lifted her head like a curious puppy and made a soft, interrogative sound. Isolt crawled up her bed to rub the beast's head reassuringly.
'A bad dream,' Piro confessed. 'I was with Byren and Fyn. We were running away from something. It caught them and now it's coming for me.'
'It could be a nexus point,' Isolt said. 'Piro, you must tell the mage.'
Piro hugged her knees. Tell the mage? What good would that do? There was no mage, only a half-trained apprentice, not much older than Byren.
And that half trained apprentice had entrapped her essence. In all this, who could she really trust but herself? She'd have to…
'Piro?' Isolt prodded. 'What are you up to?'
'Nothing.' She had promised not to reveal Tyro's secret, and the goddess knew he did not deserve her loyalty, but… she could not bring herself to destroy Isolt's faith. For once, her friend did not look haunted.
'I hate being trapped here. I've finished Fyn's jerkin and now I can't give it to him until he comes back.' Isolt gave an odd little laugh and sprang off the bed, pacing the room. Loyalty followed her, making soft worried noises.
Piro's foenix woke up then flew across the room to land on the head of her bed. She sat with her back to the headboard and he climbed into her lap for a cuddle. 'There, there, boy. There's nothing to worry about…' But she feared there was.
Isolt spun to face Piro. 'You've got Affinity. Could this be a warning for your brothers?'
Piro hugged the foenix. He made a purring sound as though sympathising with her.
'It's possible,' Piro admitted. 'But I don't know. I had dreams of wyverns prowling Rolenhold for ages before Palatyne captured the castle and finally made it come true.'
'We must warn them.' Isolt lit a candle, shielding its flame. 'The mage can use the Fate Fyn wears to contact him. It will be faster than a messenger bird. Come on.'
'Yes… but we'll go to Tyro.' Piro pushed the foenix aside and swung her legs off the bed. The cold floor made her toes curl. 'The mage is old and grumpy and we don't want to wake him.'
Isolt accepted this without question.
They hurried down the dark hall with the wyvern and foenix following. Piro rapped on Tyro's bed chamber door. 'It's us. Wake up. It's important!'
After a moment, Tyro opened the door, blinking in the light of Isolt's candle. His chest was bare and his hair hung down his back, tousled from sleep. It was the first time she had seen him looking vulnerable and Piro forgot what she was going to say.
'Piro's had a dream and we think it's a nexus point,' Isolt announced. 'Tell him, Piro. He can decide if we should wake the mage.'
Tyro caught Piro's eye. 'By all means, tell me, Piro.'
She did so, finishing with, 'If you use the Fate, you can contact Fyn, see if he is all right — '
'And warn him!' Isolt insisted.
Tyro hesitated.
'Use the Fate,' Piro urged.
'Now,' Isolt added.
Tyro smiled. 'Very well.'
He pulled on a pair of slippers and tugged a shirt over his shoulders, reminding Piro that she and Isolt wore nothing but their silk nightgowns. It didn't matter. Tyro saw them only as annoying game pieces, which he had to shelter until they could play their parts in the Duelling Kingdoms.
Tyro borrowed Isolt's candle to light a lamp and adjusted the wick. 'Come with me.'
He led them through the quiet corridor. Far away, Piro heard the servants stirring in the kitchen. The smell of baking wafted up the stairwell as they entered the war table room. Her stomach grumbled.
'Stir up the fire, Piro,' Tyro ordered.
She crossed the floor and knelt on the hearth tiles, adding fresh kindling and stirring up the coals.
If Tyro contacted Fyn and there was nothing wrong, she would feel silly, but at least her brothers would be warned.
She turned and joined Isolt, who was sitting cross-legged on the brilliant Ostronite rug in front of the fireplace with her wyvern's head in her lap. Piro sat stroking her foenix for reassurance. Isolt met her eyes, impatient with the delay.
Piro glanced past her. Tyro was over near the war table. 'What are you — '
He joined them, holding up a piece. 'It's Fyn.' He sat down. 'I'll use it to help me focus.'
'I can help you find him,' Piro offered, recalling how Tyro, while playing Lord Dunstany, had inadvertently drawn on her Affinity back in Rolenton.
'No need. Fyn wears the Fate. Its power will draw me to him.' Tyro closed his eyes.
Piro watched him, his face lit by the glow of the fire. The lamp had been left near the war table and the room
