'Up the stairs!' Fyn sent them to each side of him, up the terrace steps, while he leapt onto Byren's cage. Swinging his weight onto the roof, he peered over the balustrade across the table top.
Piro was pinned by the Utlander, his staff to her throat, but Tyro was coming to his feet, taking each step forwards as though he ploughed through a thigh-high snowdrift. The Utlander backed away. Fyn could feel the waves of Affinity coming off them with such force that it made the hairs on his body rise and his teeth ache. This was a battle Fyn was not trained to fight.
He looked for Byren. Palatyne's spar warriors filled the terrace. Orrade, Bantam and Jakulos fought to reach Byren.
Just to Fyn's right with his back to him, Palatyne stood, legs planted on the table, laughing as his warriors closed in on Byren.
Fyn was halfway onto the table when Palatyne noticed him and went for his head. He only just managed to scramble across and hit the terrace tiles in a crouch.
He gulped in a breath.
'Fyn! You took your time.' Byren grinned, chest heaving.
He glanced over his shoulder, fearing Palatyne would attack them from behind, but he was content to let his spar warriors do his killing.
Fyn cursed. The sea-hounds were still making their way up the stairs. Twenty spar warriors filled the terrace, avoiding the Affinity battle at the far end.
'I should have executed you when I had the chance, Byren Kingsheir!' Palatyne roared. 'Now the little brother turns up. Good riddance, I say. All King Rolen's kin will be dead by sunset. Kill them both!'
Two of his spar warriors charged Fyn. He dodged and cut past them, opening a path for Orrade and the two sea-hounds to join them. They broke through the warriors' defences, coming to Byren's side.
Fyn poised on the balls of his feet, ready to attack, but Palatyne's warriors pulled back, glancing to their leader.
A shout from the far end of the terrace heralded the arrival of the rest of the sea-hounds.
Palatyne's warriors turned, swords lifting as they prepared to fight on two fronts.
'We'll mop up these warriors, Fyn,' Byren yelled. 'Then I'll go after Palatyne!'
Grimly, Fyn put his shoulder to his brother's. 'Watch our backs, Bantam.'
With Orrade on one side of Byren, and Fyn on the other, they confronted the enemy. The spar warriors charged. In the mad melee Fyn saw Jakulos grab two men by the shoulders and crack their heads together. Orrade took a man down. Fyn saved his neck, cutting down another who was about to run him through from behind. The odds were getting better.
'Fyn!' Isolt screamed. 'Watch out.'
Isolt? He'd left her on the ship. He glanced over his shoulder to find she'd scrambled up onto the table from Byren's cage.
'Freezing Sylion, Isolt!' Fyn began.
Something whistled towards his head. He ducked instinctively, avoiding a sword to his head. The warrior recovered and swung for Fyn's throat. He threw himself sideways, tripped over an injured man and fell heavily on one knee. The impact sent his sword flying. The spar warrior closed in for the kill.
Behind the warrior's head and shoulders, Fyn saw Isolt pick up a jug of wine and throw it. The pottery smashed on Fyn's attacker.
The unconscious man fell across Fyn, knocking the air from his chest. The fight seemed to have moved on, leaving him like a beached whale. As he lay there gasping, he looked up at Isolt, two body lengths away on the royal table. Why had she followed him? She'd been safe on the ship.
She stood on the table with her wyvern at her heels, closing on Palatyne.
'So you came back to your husband?' Palatyne leered.
'Husband? Never. You are a barbarian warlord who dreams too high!'
'Where I come from a wife who runs away can expect a beating!' Palatyne lunged.
'Loyalty!' Isolt cried and dropped to her knees. The wyvern leapt over her, going straight for Palatyne's throat. The force of the wyvern's attack drove him off the end of the table onto the terrace. Fyn heard the thump as Palatyne hit the ground, then a terrible scream and the crunch of his bones. A hush fell and Fyn imagined the crowd drawing back, horrified.
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
