Rowena Daniells - The uncrowned King

Further into the hall she could hear men and women arguing over strategies to protect their investments. Orders still had to be filled and ships were currently under sail, their captains unaware of the situation at home. To hear the merchants of Rolenton talk, war was an inconvenience unless they could use it to turn a profit.

Smiling to herself, Piro ran up the stairs, only puffing slightly when she reached the fifth floor. Hanging over the balcony, she peered down past the busy square, past the sloping roof tops of the terraces towards the lake and the wharves. Some of the sled-ships were already being hauled across the frozen lake. While they still could, they were heading north-east for the canal that eventually linked up with Port Marchand, or west for the canal to Port Cobalt. Watching the ships was one of her favourite pastimes and she knew many of their captains by name. She could pick the fastest and recognise which great merchant house they belonged to.

There, that three-masted sloop looked like it was making ready to depart. She only hoped she would reach it in time.

Raising her eyes, Piro looked out across Rolencia, past the chimneys of the great houses opposite, past the town to the countryside. The air was still and thick like soup. She could hardly make out the beautiful, rolling snow-covered fields of Rolencia's rich valley. How could she leave her home behind? How could she live in cold, heartless Sylion Abbey?

She blinked. What was that shadow moving on the snow?

She blinked again, her vision crawling oddly. Surely it was mist in a hollow, nothing more. Rubbing her eyes, she wished for a farseer as she strained to make sense of it.

But instead of clearing, her vision grew blurred and she slipped into Affinity-induced Unseen sight.

It was not mist. It was a mass of white cloaked men, moving like a cloud's shadow over the fields, under cover of an illusion generated by renegade Power-workers.

The Merofynian invaders were less than an hour away!

Piro looked down into the seething square. There was no time for people to wait for carts to carry their belongings. If they did not go now, they would be cut off. She flew down the stairs, boots barely touching the wood.

Instead of running out into the thronging square, she ran into the bell-ringers' little nook, deep inside the tower. Far above her the ropes stretched impossibly high and light filtered down from the great bells.

Piro only hoped she remembered the right bell sequence for the warning. It was meant to be rung by a team of three, so she would just have to do her best. Leaping off her feet, she clutched the first rope and let her weight drag it down. A thunderous stroke echoed above her. Even as the rope rode up, she was reaching for the next one. This bell was pitched higher. Prompted by the old rhyme learnt as a child when her mother used to sing her to sleep, she rang the sequence, leaping from rope to rope. She was playing it too slow, but that could not be helped. People would recognise it and realise why she was ringing the warning.

'You, girly?' A plump merchant wearing the fashions of Ostron Isle confronted her. 'What mischief are you up to — '

'Merofynians an hour away, probably less,' she shouted to be heard.

'What nonsense!' The Ostronite merchant glared at her, secure in his ermine-collared cloak.

'Send someone up to the top of the tower if you don't believe me.'

A silver-haired woman entered, with three burly male servants at her back. 'What's holding… Piro Kingsdaughter, what are you doing here?'

'Markiza,' Piro gasped, letting the bell rope go. 'Is the markiz with you? You must get out of the town.' The Ostronite merchant stared at Piro. 'The kingsdaughter? The one that's wanted for treason?'

'The same. Servants, hold her,' the markiza ordered, ignoring Piro's warning. Three men thrust past the Ostronite.

'That was a misunderstanding,' Piro insisted. 'Today I've been sent to Sylion Abbey, ask Captain Temor. But there's no time. The Merofynians are just outside the town. Go to the top of the tower yourself, if you don't believe me.' Frustration made Piro stamp her foot. 'Would you hand everyone over to the Merofynians?'

'At least send someone to see,' the Ostronite merchant urged.

The markiza tapped one of her servants on the shoulder. 'Go to the top of the tower. Quickly now, and tell me what you see.'

As he hurried off, Piro tried to dart under the nearest man's arm and through the door.

The markiza caught her by the shoulder. 'Not so fast, kingsdaughter.'

The two servants held Piro between them.

'But I must warn Captain Temor!' Piro insisted.

'You're not going anywhere until I know what's going on,' the markiza told her.

Piro rolled her eyes.

A muffled shout echoed down the stairs.

'What was that?' the markiza called up the stairwell, thrusting the door further ajar.

'I see nothing but low-lying mist.'

'Because their Power-workers are cloaking them,' Piro snapped. 'That's why our lookouts didn't spot them.'

The markiza frowned. 'Then how could you — '

'I have Affinity. That's why I was being sent to Sylion Abbey.' Piro told the truth. It no longer mattered.

The markiza's eyes widened. 'If the Merofynians are at the gates — '

'I knew I should have left when I first heard the news,' the Ostronite merchant moaned.

Both Piro and the markiza ignored him. She nodded to her remaining servants. 'Help sound the warning bells.'

'I don't know the sequence, markiza,' the younger servant protested.

'I do. Set me down!' Piro shrugged free of the servants. 'I'll need two of your servants, markiza.'

'Take them.' She caught Piro's arm. 'Have you seen my son, Chandler? Last I heard he'd joined Byren Kingson's honour guard.'

Piro gulped. Clearly, Cobalt's accusations and her father's subsequent banishment of Byren had not reached the townsfolk and now was not the time to explain. 'Byren's honour guard set off three days ago. Chandler must be with him by now.'

'Set off for where?'

'Dovecote estate.' Right into the path of the invading Merofynians. 'I…'

'He will do what's right. He's a good boy. May Halcyon watch over him. May she watch over you, too, little Piro.' The markiza tapped the Ostronite merchant's arm. 'Now I must see to my family's investments. Come.' They hurried off.

Piro turned back to the servants. It took two sequences, but they caught on to the simple system. Soon the bells rang out their warning at the proper pace.

Piro's head pounded and her body thrummed with the effort of leaping and tugging on the great bell ropes. But she'd spent so much time hiding recently that it felt good to be active.

Byren lifted his head as the dreaded ulfr howl echoed across the frozen lake. Snow flakes kissed his face, falling lightly from low-slung clouds. Somehow he'd kept skating. He'd stuck to the lake shore, so he hadn't made good time. Had the snow been thicker he might have risked skating directly across the lake. But the Merofynians were after him. He had heard their hunting horns. Had he been organising this search he would have separated his men into small groups. They knew he was injured and, by now, they knew he was on foot. He hoped that they would be searching on the land but he would have had his men search the lake. So he had to assume his pursuers were just as canny.

Though desperate, he had deliberately avoided the farmhouse where he'd eaten breakfast, not wanting to bring trouble down on the family there. Hopefully, they had already packed up their things and headed for the nearest fortified town. So he was injured and alone, with half a dozen Merofynian search parties tracking him. His only advantage was that he knew the area intimately and they didn't.