Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (43 page)

Tirone met his gaze without tremor. ‘I thought it was time we met. Time I finally saw you in person, when I have already placed so much trust in you.’ He shrugged. ‘And I wanted to see what a sorcerer looked like with my own eyes.’

Robert listened to the list, believing not one word. ‘Now you’ve seen me, Sire. We have met. Was your trip worth it?’

Tirone’s gaze darkened. ‘What are you waiting for? Did you want me to come here, asking these questions of you myself? Is that what you need before you finally move? By Serin’s blood, Dunlorn! What must I yet do, what must any of us do, to have you make a stand against my nephew?’

Robert frowned again. ‘Has something changed?’

‘Tell me when you plan to move.’

‘No.’ Raising his hands to soften the response, Robert took a step forward. ‘Forgive me, Sire, but you know I cannot say.’

‘Why not? How could I possibly be a danger to your plans, eh?’ Tirone shook his head and looked away, barely containing his anger. ‘You try my patience with your evasions, your questions and your neverending request for trust.’

‘Have I failed you yet?’ Robert held his breath. So much depended on keeping this man content. If Lusara was to have any chance at survival, its relationship with Mayenne needed to remain peaceful. So far, Tirone had been willing to work with him, to keep his armies over the border and not react too quickly. ‘Sire, if something has changed, you must tell me if I am to—’

‘Tell me,’ Tirone began evenly, his gaze directed towards the valley below, ‘what do you know of my nephew?’

‘In what respect?’ Robert shook clear images of his most recent brush with Kenrick and the fate Helen had almost suffered because of him.

‘In respect of him marrying my daughter.’

‘What?’ The word was breathed with such horror that Tirone glanced back at him, a flash of fear in his eyes which was quickly hidden. ‘You can’t be serious! You would give your consent for Olivia to marry Kenrick? But—’

‘You prevaricate and dally,’ Tirone snapped. ‘I have lost two sons already and I have no desire to lose my last! If I let Kenrick have Olivia, I at least retain a chance my remaining son will live to his majority.’

‘You will condemn him to death, Tirone, you know that as
well as I do. Kenrick wants Mayenne, just as your brother did – only the boy at least has the sense to see he can get it with the loss of only three lives, rather than chance it on thousands. You can’t honestly be thinking of backing down now.’

‘Do you plan to move soon?’

‘Yes!’

‘When?’

Robert shut his mouth. He could say no more.

Tirone watched him without moving, then slowly nodded. ‘Very well. You have three months. If you have made no obvious move by then, I will make my own. Whether I give your King my daughter or take his country from him will depend entirely on you.’

‘How?’ Robert whispered in horror.

‘Either
you
neutralise the threat to my family and my country, or I will. The choice is yours. But I need to see some evidence that you
can.
I warn you,’ Tirone paused, his voice dropping, ‘the day my son is murdered is the day I declare war on Lusara and no amount of pleading on your part will stop it this time. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Sire.’ There was nothing more Robert could say. Assurances would not bring the man’s two dead sons back to life. ‘But I beg you, do not invade.’

‘You? Beg?’

Robert lifted his chin. ‘My country may appear weak and feeble, but my people will remember who gave Selar the army he used to conquer us. You may well create a greater hazard than the one you seek to allay.’

Tirone’s gaze narrowed. ‘That’s a pretty threat.’

‘No threat, Sire.’ Robert pulled his cloak around his shoulders and prepared to leave. ‘I know my people. All they want is a tangible enemy to fight and there will be bloodshed far greater than any your brother caused. If you value peace, don’t make the same mistake he did.’

When Tirone gave no response, Robert bowed once more. ‘I hope your journey home will be safe. Farewell, Sire.’ With that, Robert turned and walked around the barn, where he knew the soldiers waited with his horse.

Three months, or disaster would strike. From one evil to another.

At last the choice had been taken from him.

‘By the gods, Finn, it looks so forlorn!’

‘I was just thinking it looked better than I remembered – but I suppose there is a lot of snow on the ground. It’s bound to hide a lot.’

When Jenn said nothing more, Finnlay looked aside at her. She stood on the ridge overlooking her old home, absently stroking her horse’s nose, the pale afternoon light making her eyes dark and sad.

She travelled carefully in this part of the country. Too many stories already abounded about her supposed fate. She was unwilling to add to them. So she wore boy’s clothes, bound her hair up in a braid and either put a cap on her head or kept her cloak hood pulled up, as she did now. From a distance, her slight figure aided the illusion.

Over the years, he’d grown to see that this was perhaps her greatest skill, that of creating illusions. Before Finnlay had met her, she had travelled as a story teller, creating myths and legends for any who would listen. Now there were so many layers to her illusions, he wasn’t sure she knew where the truth ended and the lie began any more.

He turned back to the ruin which drew long faint shadows up to the forest beyond. The lake was iced over and clogged with weeds near the castle foundations, along the lines where tall proud walls had once stood. Odd piles of snow were scattered all over the place, covering the stones which remained. The keep, like a sentinel, stood alone in that pristine wasteland, dark and empty.

Hard to believe that this place had once been teeming with life, that on one day, fourteen years ago, it had been surrounded by Malachi in Guilde clothing under the orders of Nash. That Robert had succumbed to the will of the Prophecy
and used the Word of Destruction to flatten everything within half a league.

Hard to believe that so much time had passed since.

Unable to stop himself, his thoughts turned once more to Robert, as they had done every day since they’d parted in the shadows of the Goleth mountains a month before. The same questions still rattled through him, shaking him, leaving him more than restless.

What was he planning? When would it happen?

What
would happen?

He’d said nothing to Jenn. Of course, he’d told her of the rescue and assured her that Robert looked well and fit – but he couldn’t say more. He doubted she’d want to listen.

‘Are you sure this is such a good idea?’ he started. ‘Bringing Andrew here? Don’t you think it might …’

‘What?’ She breathed, turning towards him. ‘Might make him question the blind faith he has in Robert?’

‘Showing Andrew the power of the Word won’t do that. Why,
is
that what you want to achieve? Shouldn’t a boy be allowed to look upon his father with
some
faith?’

‘Please,’ she said wearily, ‘I can’t keep going over this. Can’t we just leave it alone for once?’

Finnlay didn’t bother to disguise his heart-felt frustration. ‘If you wish. Come on, we’d better move or we’ll miss them. I don’t want you standing around in this area any longer than necessary.’

*

This was not something Micah could play a part in, and yet still he watched, fascinated, as Andrew took his first look at Elita, the place where he’d been born, in all its dubious glory.

He asked little in the way of questions, just requesting a few details about which building had stood where.

Micah thought Finnlay was a little distracted – or perhaps he too was replaying those events that had brought them all to this place.

Here, Andrew had been born, and here, moments later, Robert had used the Word of Destruction. What was it
McCauly had said? If ever a birth had been marked by signs and portents?

Finnlay’s eyes rose, met Micah’s for a moment, then moved away. There was something there that made Micah frown, though he said nothing. But when Jenn began to lead Andrew down the path to the lake, Micah held back with a hand on Finnlay’s arm.

‘Is there something I should know?’

‘We need to talk, yes. Let’s go make camp while Jenn and Andrew relive old times, eh?’

Though there was a smile in Finnlay’s eyes, it did nothing to quell Micah’s unease. Still, he kept his silence as they journeyed down. As Jenn and Andrew mounted again and headed towards the keep, Finnlay led Micah around the other side of the lake to where the forest edged up against the crag. There was a layer of pine here, before the older trees of oak and ash. Finnlay took him deep into cover, finding a clearing not far from the narrow river just as the last of the light vanished.

Without a word, Finnlay tied up his horse and began scraping together firewood. Micah helped until they had enough for a warming blaze. He stood back as Finnlay used his powers to set it alight, then held his breath as the other man turned to him.

Finnlay reached into his jacket and drew out a piece of paper, folded several times. He half-held it out before saying, ‘I’m sorry, Micah. We … I didn’t want to just send this on to you. I thought it might be better coming from …’

Micah took the letter but didn’t open it. He couldn’t. His fingers simply refused to move. ‘Is it …’

‘It’s from your brother, Durrill. Your father …’

‘Hell,’ Micah whispered, turning away. In the flickering firelight, he opened the letter until it glowed orange from behind, enough to let him read. The words were clear, giving details and times and meanings, but none of it really sank in.

He’d tried. For most of his life he’d tried to make his father understand
why
he was here, working alongside first Robert and now Andrew. But David Maclean had been a man of strict
principles and Robert had failed every one of them. So, in turn, had Micah.

And it burned hard and deep inside him to know that his father had died disappointed in his youngest son.

‘I’m sorry, Micah,’ Finnlay’s soft voice drifted to him in the early dusk.

‘So am I,’ he replied, suddenly glad of that dark shelter.

Within it, he could hide from everything.

*

‘Are you sure it’s safe to go inside?’

Andrew paused on the threshold of the keep, peering in to the darkness beyond. His voice echoed against walls that felt leagues away. There wasn’t even so much as a single thread of moonlight to tell him where he was.

He felt a hand against his lower back. ‘Go on, just be careful where you put your feet. There’s a staircase to your right, leading up to the next floor, but it’s not so close you can trip on it. To the left, at the other end of the hall, is a doorway and short corridor beyond. My father’s study was that way, though it’s all gone now.’

Gingerly, Andrew put his foot into the great hall, listening intently for other sounds, ones that shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t the darkness that scared him exactly, but more the … history of the place.

He shivered.

‘Are you cold?’

Carefully, he reached out to his right, found his mother’s hand and held it. He could see very little, but he turned to her anyway. ‘Have you come back here since it was all destroyed?’

‘Yes, once. Four years ago, on my way to Maitland to visit you.’

‘How does it feel?’

He heard her breath catch. ‘How does what feel?’

Andrew took another few tentative steps forward, without letting her hand go. ‘You had such a … strange life as a child.’

‘No stranger than my life as an adult.’

He smiled at the laughter in her voice. ‘You were three when
you were abducted by Nash and taken to live in Shan Moss at an inn which has long since burned down. And then, fourteen years later, you met up with Finnlay and Micah and Duke Robert and became a sorcerer and they brought you back here, and your father welcomed you?’

‘Yes.’ He could
hear
the smile in her voice, and that made him glad. ‘He was amazed and disbelieving – but he was also wonderful. Though I’d been happy with my life at the inn, Jacob made me feel loved and wanted – and that meant everything to me.’

‘Tell me about him.’

‘Let’s see if we can find the stairs.’ Jenn led him forward, stumbled briefly, then gently urged him to sit on the bottom step.

‘Are you sure it’s safe for us to be here?’

‘I know I’m not much of a Seeker, but I can tell at least that there’s nobody in the vicinity but Micah and Finnlay.’

Andrew settled then, feeling his mother sitting close by. ‘Tell me about Jacob.’

‘Well, he was strong, opinionated, well-read and proud of his family’s history. He insisted I resume my education, making me study every day to catch up all I’d missed out on. He valued books and history, and how both needed to be appreciated. His people loved him, admired and respected him. They were devastated when he was murdered.’

All suggestion of laughter had gone now and Andrew sat quite still, letting his mind fill in the blanks. ‘I was born just after that, wasn’t I? After the gate was brought down?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I wish I’d known him.’

‘I wish he’d known you.’

‘Would I have liked him?’

‘You would have adored him – and he would have been so proud of you. He wanted so very much to have a grandchild to carry on our House. He was often so frustrated being confined to that chair, dealing with the limitations of riding only short distances – and yet, he still managed to do so much with his life.’

Andrew turned to her, seeing something of her now his eyes were adjusted to the dark. ‘You still miss him, don’t you?’

She was silent for a long time and he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Then she said slowly, ‘Yes, I still miss him. There’s been many a time when I could have used his advice. And sometimes, I’d just like for him to … be around.’

Andrew leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. That brought a smile to her face.

‘What did he look like?’

‘Oh,’ Jenn remembered, ‘gruff, white-haired, strong. He had a way of looking at people that seemed to go right through them.’ She paused then, facing the hall neither of them could see clearly. Then she raised her hand a little, frowned in concentration and abruptly, the air before them shimmered, as though an invisible wall had appeared out of nowhere, glistening with icicles.