Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (48 page)

‘No aches and pains?’

‘Not really.’

‘Good.’

For most of his life, Andrew had heard stories about this man. Within the Enclave, Robert was nothing less than a legend, loved by some, feared by a few, even hated now and then. At Maitland, he was viewed with constant suspicion, and yet, no open hostility. At court, this man was a rebel, an outlaw with a very high price on his head – and yet there appeared no intent to capture him. His deeds, no matter how innocent, were retold in the light of treason, as though to ensure his reputation would be destroyed no matter what. And Andrew had heard stories of the rebel on the road when he travelled, in taverns and inns where, after a few ales late in the evening, some man would recount his part in the Battle of Shan Moss, or some such other skirmish Robert had fought in, and out
would come the story of the hero, of the brilliant general or the commander who knew the names of most of the men serving under him. And there would be tales told of his laugh, his sense of humour, the calm confidence and easy charm with which he dealt with others, no matter their station, without ever leaving out the darker side of the man, his powers, his skills as a swordsman: he was the kind of man one would be most unwise to make into an enemy.

Robert Douglas was a man of too many faces – and yet none of those Andrew had heard of matched this one. Not even Finnlay had told him anything he could use here, no hint as to what might be in store or how he should speak to a living legend.

Perhaps he shouldn’t try – maybe he should just wait for Robert to tell him. Suppressing a sigh, he got to his feet and put away the last pieces of cold rabbit he’d been picking at for breakfast. Since they were moving on, he began throwing handfuls of snow onto the fire, watching it melt and sizzle until only a dull wisp of dying smoke rose into the morning sky. Then he turned back to the man by the horses, watching as he carefully set and tested each girth strap, tied each saddlebag so it would not shake loose, felt for the lee in each bridle.

‘My mother will be worried about me,’ Andrew ventured after a moment. He didn’t want to upset anything, but he was concerned.

‘She knows you’re with me.’ This was followed by a short laugh. ‘Of course, that might only make her worry more.’

‘You said you’d kill me,’ Andrew blurted – then wished he hadn’t. His mouth was not listening to his mind’s caution.

‘Would you have taken me seriously otherwise?’

‘Did she know? My mother? That you were going to take me?’

‘No.’

‘Then won’t she be looking for me?’

‘I don’t know. I hope not.’

The smooth, connected answers and the unconcerned tone in Robert’s voice set Andrew’s teeth on edge. Robert didn’t
seem to give a damn who he hurt. ‘She’d try. I know she would.’

‘Perhaps. But I think Finnlay would stop her. Why? Do you want to be rescued?’

‘What would be the point? Micah would only turn me over to you again, wouldn’t he?’

Robert stopped at that, his hands still, his head turning until Andrew was caught in that deep green gaze, as though it ran straight through him. It only lasted a moment. Free again, Andrew opened his mouth to apologise, but … ‘He hates you, you know.’

Robert finished with the horses, then picked up his cloak, swinging it over his shoulders. ‘Come, mount up. I want to show you something.’

His face burning with shame again, Andrew tried to keep his voice level, make it look like he was trying to do anything but provoke this man. So he moved to his horse, picked up the reins and said, ‘Does it have anything to do with why I’m here?’

‘It has
everything
to do with why you’re here.’

*

Robert didn’t look back as he led the way onto the path. He kept his Senses alert, looking out for danger, or any other disturbance. These hills were largely uninhabited, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come across somebody, and Robert had no desire for
anyone
to see them now, especially together.

It felt strange being around the boy and, by the gods, it was hard to look into those blue eyes and not see Jenn. But after so many years of planning, the anticipation rippled through him, setting everything on edge.

He took a path up to the plateau. There was wind as usual, but only enough to ripple the heather. He came to a halt at the top of a gentle rise, where a rocky tor was almost buried beneath lichen orange and old, and where the sweep of the plain rolled away before them. Directly west was the huge shadow of Nanmoor, the mountain he had come to know as Omaysis.

Now he would have to be very careful.

He jumped down from his horse, watched the view for a moment, then said, ‘This is a dangerous place.’ He didn’t turn, said nothing else, but listened as Andrew fiddled with his reins a moment, then slid down to the ground. Slowly he walked forward until Robert could just see him from the corner of his eye.

‘Why is it dangerous?’

‘The land is not what it seems. It looks solid enough from here, but as you work your way east, there are sharp gullies invisible until you’re on top of them, and bogs you can’t see until you’re knee-deep in them. There’s mud here in spring, enough to bury a horse, and the weather can change so fast, you’ll think you skipped a season or two in a single hour.’

Robert looked once at Andrew, to find him staring warily out at the view. ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘No.’

‘This is Seluth Common,’ Robert looked down at the boy. ‘The battlefield where Lusara lost her freedom, where Selar crowned himself King and where my father died.’

Andrew’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. He turned back to the view, frowning, trying to imagine it, trying to see and hear things that had happened almost thirty years ago now.

Robert continued briskly, ‘Ten thousand men were killed on this battlefield alone. Another five thousand were wounded. This heather grows on the bounty of those men’s blood. You have read about it?’

‘Yes, but only the books Father John was allowed to give me,’ Andrew replied, apparently forgetting his previous quiet. ‘Mother said her father gave her another book, a secret history written by one of the surviving Lusaran lords, and it had lots in it about the Troubles and how Selar invaded, but it was lost at Elita when you …’

‘When I used the Word of Destruction and destroyed your mother’s home?’

Andrew’s cheeks turned a faint pink and he nodded, his gaze dropping to his feet. Robert let him find his own way then. He had to be patient.

‘How old were you?’

The question both surprised Robert, and pleased him. ‘When I used the Word?’

‘No, I mean … when your father died.’

‘Fifteen.’

Andrew’s eyes shot up, searching, curious and yet, not intruding – an odd combination at the best of times, now especially puzzling. Surely Finnlay would have told the boy all this?

‘What are you afraid of?’ Robert asked, leaving his horse and sitting on a cold rock.

‘Nothing,’ Andrew replied quickly. ‘Why?’

Robert allowed himself a small smile. ‘Are you afraid of me?’

‘No.’ Andrew’s gaze darted to him and away.

‘Not even when I said I would kill you?’

Again Andrew’s face reddened, but he didn’t hang his head, and Robert learned in that action a great deal about this boy he would make into a King.

‘He bled to death,’ Robert whispered, hoping Andrew would hear him over the wind. ‘My father. Just over there, where that patch of heather looks cut away. I never saw who dealt the fatal blow, but he’d taken wounds throughout the day. His men, Sir Owen Blanchard and Sir Alexander Deverin, did their best to shield him as he went down, but both received their share of cuts in the process. I was fighting close by and saw my father fall. I couldn’t get to him quickly enough. By the time I did, he was dead.’

Robert looked up to find Andrew watching him. ‘How do you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Did you hate him?’

‘No! I loved him. He was a great man.’

‘Then how do you do it? Talk about him like that? Without … feeling?’

‘By putting thirty years between myself and his slaughter, that’s how. Have you …’ He paused, not sure he wanted the answer to this question just yet, but Andrew seemed receptive.

‘What?’

‘Have you ever killed a man?’

‘No.’ Andrew blinked at him a moment, then looked around as though he needed something else to focus on. ‘Are you going to tell me why I’m here?’

‘That depends. Do you know what you are?’

‘What? What am I?’

‘The next King of Lusara.’

‘I …’ Andrew froze, eyes wide, mouth open. Abruptly, he sat down on the heather with a thud, his eyes still glued to Robert’s face.

Robert got up and pulled a flask of sweet wine from his saddlebag, pouring out a cup for each of them before returning to his rock.

‘Is that … I mean …’ Andrew paused, looked at his cup, then back up at Robert. Taking a brave breath, he said, ‘Did I do something wrong? Is this a … I don’t know … a punishment for something? Because, I really don’t know what you’re—’

‘You know your ancestry, don’t you? Four or five generations back? The House of Ross was founded by the younger brother to the King. Thanks to wars and plague and various other troubles over the decades, you are the last living male member of the Ross family. If it weren’t for the fact that your father was so close to Selar, I doubt you would have survived infancy.’

‘But that doesn’t mean,’ Andrew laughed a little, almost forcing it, ‘that I’m going to be King or anything. I mean, I don’t know anything about how to be a King and even if I did, what about Kenrick? He’s already got the throne and he’s going to be married soon, if he can get Tirone’s permission, and then I’m sure he’ll get an heir. Having royal blood that goes so far back … and well, making something out of that will only cause trouble and I don’t want—’

‘To cause trouble?’ Robert interrupted with a sigh. ‘Son, you’re going to do that sooner or later, whether you want to or not.’

‘Why?’ Andrew scrambled to his feet, offended. ‘I’ve never hurt anybody! I don’t
want
to. Why would I want to be King? I know Kenrick’s not the best King in the world but—’

‘He’s the
worst
kind of King.’

‘He’s my cousin!’

Robert took in the flushed face, bright eyes and stubborn stance of the boy almost more than the words he uttered. How much further dare he push this?

And how deep was his loyalty to Kenrick?

There was only one way to find out. Keeping his expression flat, Robert raised his hand, exerted just enough power to immobilise the boy, but leaving him speech. Then he moved closer, reading that surface betrayal so easily, but using it now, rather than ignoring it.

‘Move,’ he said softly, pacing a close circle around him. ‘Go ahead, move.’

‘I can’t. You’ve done that … that thing to me again.’ Andrew clenched his teeth and tried to keep his eyes on Robert as he circled.

‘It’s not that strong. If you try really hard, you can break free. Go ahead, I want to see just how determined you are.’

Andrew closed his eyes, effort flushing his face. Then he grunted, frustrated and irritated, watching Robert walk slowly around him. ‘I can’t move! You know I can’t! This is not fair when you’ve got powers and I haven’t!’

‘This isn’t a competition.’ Robert kept pacing, keeping his voice low, watching carefully for a crack, just one. ‘I promise you, if you keep trying, you will get free.’

‘But how can I when you’ve done this to me?’

‘So you’re just going to give up then, are you?’

‘You won’t leave me here for the rest of my life, so what’s the point in trying?’

‘So, you would rather wait for me to set you free than free yourself and be proud of the achievement?’

‘You said this wasn’t a competition.’

‘It isn’t. How can it be when you won’t fight me?’

‘I told you I don’t want to fight anyone!’

‘In that case, you should do what I tell you and get yourself free.’

Andrew let out a cry of frustration then, straining his entire body to free himself of a power Robert kept just high enough
to restrain him. ‘This is a test, isn’t it? There’s some sort of trick to this and I just have to work it out? Is that it?’

‘No, no trick involved. It just requires effort.’

‘No it doesn’t! I try and try and I can’t get free! You’re lying!’

‘Of course. But what is the lie and what’s the truth?’

‘How should I know? Why, everything you’ve said so far could be a lie!’

‘True. But equally, everything I’ve said might be the truth. How are you to know unless you test it yourself.’

‘Oh, so now this is a test for you? Is that it?’

‘Move!’ Robert snapped, raising his voice deliberately, shocking the boy into silence. ‘Arguing with me won’t set you free. Being clever won’t set you free. Being feeble won’t set you free, and nor will giving in.’

‘But …’ Andrew panted with the effort, his face red and straining, ‘it still doesn’t work! I still can’t move!’

‘No,’ Robert swooped down, whispering harshly in the boy’s ear, ‘you can’t. Because I won’t let you. And how does that make you feel, eh? You’re right, I was lying. I can keep you suspended here for as long as I want to and nothing, absolutely nothing you can do or say can change that. You won’t get free until I say so, so you’re my prisoner, and you are utterly, utterly powerless. So, tell me, Andrew,
how do you feel?’

Andrew fell silent, his struggles ceasing instantly. With dark eyes, he watched Robert step back, paid no attention to Robert’s gesture of release and, instead, remained exactly where he was.

The wind rose a little, blustering over the tor and whipping streaky white clouds across the sky, leaving darker, heavier clouds behind, promising more bad weather for the night. The horses, startled by a flock of birds squawking overhead, took a few steps away, then resumed their casual nuzzling for odd strands of grass amongst the heather.

‘What do you want from me?’ Andrew said finally.

‘The same thing you want from me.’ Robert replied. ‘I want you to set me free.’

‘But how?’

Robert caught the boy’s gaze with his own, holding it steady. Making sure. ‘Kill Kenrick and take his crown.’