Trial of Fire (34 page)

For the first time in his life, he embraced it in return.

*

Finnlay had to admit he was impressed. After living in the Enclave for so long, dealing with the efficiencies of Martha and her fellow councillors, he’d grown accustomed to seeing things well-organised, but this was something else again: a complex pattern so finely balanced as to be almost poetic. And his own brother had devised the entire thing by himself.

He read as he rode, keeping a good hold of each page, tucking them inside his cloak if it looked like the wind was playing up. When he had questions, he’d direct them to Owen or Payne and if he had suggestions to make, Deverin would nod and repeat them to himself until he was sure he’d remember them. It took him the better part of the morning to read through the summaries, and an afternoon to finish debating them. By nightfall, he was confident he had a good grounding, certainly enough to carry on without instruction.

It was the most amazing feeling: to be part of this gathering of men, this little army heading towards a goal all of them feared but none would run away from. Only Andrew seemed unhappy, though he did his best to hide it. Finnlay wanted to talk to him, but the boy had thrown up a wall around himself, smiling at everyone and saying little.

If this army was the avalanche, then Andrew was surely the snow driven down the mountain.

At the tavern, Finnlay collected a plate of food and sat down beside Patric. They’d talked a little that morning, but it had been nine years since Finnlay had seen him; they had a lot of ground to cover. He couldn’t help looking over at Patric’s young friend, Joshi, who sat on the other side of the table, eating in peace, disturbing nobody. Finnlay admitted to himself that he was burning with curiosity, but this wasn’t the time to indulge in such things.

‘You must be sick of the saddle by now,’ Patric said, using a finger to ensure he had food on his spoon. He brought it to his mouth, ate and began chewing, smiling as he did so. ‘I would think Andrew would feel that too.’

‘Yes, well, I don’t want to think about that.’

‘You know,’ Patric said, wonderingly, ‘I can’t believe you’ve got three children now. And Jenn’s Jaibir! And finding the Calyx – Finn, that’s so much more than I expected. So much has happened. I know John tried to fill me in, but he knew only the things from court, and what he’d read in letters from Murdoch – but you, you were there at the Battle of Shan Moss, weren’t you? You saw Robert fight with Nash?’

The memories were all still so strong. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘And Jenn stopped it, didn’t she? She split them up, and Nash survived?’

‘He did, and it took him nine years to regenerate from his wounds.’ Finnlay sighed. ‘What are you going to tell Robert?’

Patric laughed. ‘And what would you do if I told you?’

Groaning, Finnlay rolled his eyes, realising belatedly that Patric would not see it. Joshi did however, and smiled a little at his expression. It was the first time Finnlay had seen the young man smile. ‘Look, Patric, I know you’ve come a long way, but—’

‘But you can’t wait a few more days for me to tell Robert in person.’

‘You don’t know he’ll be at Elita to meet us.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be? I’m sure he’s managed to get away from those Malachi, and he knows you brought Andrew to Bleakstone. Therefore he would know to meet the Bishop at Elita. Sounds very straightforward to me. No, it’s nothing that can’t wait until we meet up with Robert.’

‘But you said it was urgent.’

‘It is.’ Patric put another spoonful of food in his mouth and began munching, still with a grin on his face. Finnlay flicked a look at Joshi to see him quickly hiding his own smile.

‘Fine,’ Finnlay grunted. ‘Have it your own way.’

*

Micah stoked up the fire again, putting on more logs. The old mill was awfully cold and Robert wouldn’t stop shivering. Satisfied, Micah returned
to his side and picked up another makeshift bandage. It had taken him more than an hour to wash off all the wounds, the blood and dirt caked on him. Now he was dressing all those he could, thankful Robert hadn’t woken up yet.

His body was a mess. The first look had almost turned Micah’s stomach, and even Gilbert had looked away. Micah couldn’t tell if Robert would survive. He’d seen worse wounds, deep, horrible wounds, and Robert had survived all of them. But this time, his mind had travelled as well, as though to stay and suffer with his body had been too much.

As he wrapped the injuries, he saw the fine print of boots on Robert’s thighs, on his chest, but he had found no bones broken, and the cuts were all small – all but the old wound on Robert’s left side, the one Selar had given him all those years before. He couldn’t think about why, in nine years, it hadn’t healed.

Who knew Robert better than he did? But he had not known that Robert would banish him. The thought had never occurred to him, mostly because he’d believed there was no way Robert would ever find out that Sairead was Malachi. But then he had, and Micah’s whole world had fallen apart.

‘Why do you do this?’ Sairead spoke from the doorway. Her hair was down, her face a little flushed as though she’d just woken. ‘Isn’t he going to die?’

‘I don’t think so. The wounds just look bad. He won’t be able to move for a few days, though. And after that—’

‘What after that?’

He couldn’t speak. How could he tell her what he was thinking without hurting her?

‘You blame me that he was taken?’

‘No, of course not.’ He finished wrapping the last bandage then pulled the blanket over Robert’s shivering body. He gathered the rest of his things together and put them away, then he washed his hands in the rest of the water, tipping it out through the open window. Once he’d completed his tasks, he found Sairead still there, waiting for him, her eyes dark and serious.

‘I don’t blame you,’ he repeated. ‘I blame myself. None of this should have happened. If I’d had the courage—’

She came up to stand close to him, placing her hands on either side of his face. ‘You know you cannot change the past. You must not hate yourself for what’s gone. You no longer have that luxury, not when you will soon be a father. Please, Micah, leave him and come to bed.’

With a sigh, he kissed her softly, then caught her hands, steering her to the door to the other room. ‘You go and get some rest. I’ll stay with him, in case he needs something.’

‘What can a man like him need?’

‘In case he wakes.’

She gave him a small smile. Then she was gone and the door closed softly behind her.

*

Pools of colour surrounded him, but the brightness was fading. He could move, but he no longer wanted to. His body was encased in thick mud, viscous and sickly. It slowed everything down, even his breathing.

This new nightmare smelled different too: of old hay, and familiarity, of pine and fresh moisture in the air. There were shapes in the darkness, urging him to return, to embrace the light, to give back what he’d taken, but he ignored them all. He was not going to be fooled again. Trust was too thin, the consequences too wide to avoid.

He understood now what it was he’d been running from all these years. Finally he understood the nature of the demon inside him: he had seen it in the men who’d come to him with it blazing in their eyes. All these years he’d been fooled, but no more: as long as he stayed here, inside the demon, he was immune to its hate.

And so was the rest of the world.

*

‘Is he any better?’

Micah looked up as Gilbert carried a bulging saddle-bag into the room. In his other hand he held a loaf of bread and two large carrots.

‘He still hasn’t woken up, but I think his sleep is more restful now.’

‘And the bleeding?’

‘Has stopped at last. I was getting worried.’

‘Well, it’s been two days. He should be awake by now.’ Gilbert put the food on the small makeshift tables they’d made and drew off his cloak. ‘Where is Sairead?’

‘Bathing down by the rock pool.’

‘What are you going to do once this is over?’

Micah sighed, though he didn’t want to. ‘I don’t know. I wish I did.’

‘You should take your wife to Karakham, like any good husband would do. Let her live in comfort for the next months. Be a father to your son.’

‘Son?’ Micah turned back to look at Robert, and the awful bruises purpling one side of his face. Micah’s father had disowned him because he’d chosen to serve this man. What kind of father would he be with such an example to follow? ‘I could as easily have a daughter.’

‘Ah, Micah, you are such a fool.’

He stood and washed his hands in the water he’d brought from the stream. ‘What do you want from me? You think I should forget who I am,
what I am? What I’ve spent my life doing? All because I fell in love with a Malachi? Would you? If that’s so, then why are you here, Gilbert?’

The older man watched him for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll go and find some more firewood. Call if he wakes.’

*

The last time Aiden had seen Elita had been with Robert, almost ten years ago, when they’d come here asking rebel lords for help to fight Selar’s invasion of Mayenne. The place had changed little; it looked to be even more of a ruin than ever before. As then, he couldn’t help but picture it as it had once been: a large and prosperous castle jutting out into the lake, where hundreds of people lived and worked. But then Robert had come, chased by Malachi, and he’d used the Word of Destruction, flattening everything within half a league, leaving nothing of the castle but the main keep. All else was a mess of ruined rock scattered across a barren landscape.

‘It was beautiful once.’ Finnlay was staring out at the same view. They were both sheltered within the forest, but the lake and the ruins and escarpment above were compelling.

‘I’m sure it was.’ Aiden put his hands behind his back. ‘Perhaps one day Andrew will rebuild it.’

‘Possibly.’

‘You don’t sound convinced.’

At that, Finnlay frowned and looked back the way they had come, although their camp was invisible from here. ‘I don’t know. That boy …’

‘What about him?’ Aiden held his breath. He’d been watching Andrew and for the journey here, had deliberately kept his distance. Andrew seemed too easily overwhelmed, and very unsettled. Only returning to Lusara had given him some of his confidence back. ‘I would appreciate it if you would be candid. I’m sure you understand my concerns.’

‘Of course,’ Finnlay said. ‘I share them.’

‘Does Robert?’

‘Robert keeps his own counsel – as usual.’ With a sigh, Finnlay spread his arms. ‘Andrew is a wonderful boy. He’s kind and honest, tries so hard at everything, is more willing to help than anybody I’ve ever met, and if you ask him to do something, he won’t settle until it’s done. He’s got a fine mind, but some days he’s reluctant to use it. Since I first met him, I’ve done all I can to get him to develop his powers, even just to wake up his Senses, but while he seems to understand what I’m saying, there is this wall between him and success. He’s had the best teachers, I’m sure he knows more about sorcery than any boy his age – and yet, still nothing.’

When Finnlay stopped, Aiden looked back once more to ensure they were alone. ‘Will he need such powers to fight Kenrick?’

Finnlay’s eyes returned to Elita. ‘Yes.’

‘How is Robert with him?’

‘Oh.’ Finnlay’s expression shifted a moment, and then settled, as though he were putting his mind around a completely different question. ‘Robert drives him like a slave master, but never with cruelty. Andrew just idolises him, would bend over backwards if Robert asked him – and yet, Andrew battles valiantly with him about his part in all this.’

‘Robert asked him?’

‘I believe so – but Andrew’s answer all along has been no.’

‘No?’

‘He doesn’t want to kill his own cousin.’

‘I see.’ Aiden folded his arms and leaned up against a sturdy sapling. With his eyes steady on Finnlay, he asked softly, ‘And do you think there is any love there, between father and son?’

Finnlay didn’t react immediately, but then turned a look of feigned puzzlement on Aiden, who saw through it instantly, giving him the confirmation he hadn’t realised he’d needed.

‘I’m sorry, Bishop, I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

For a moment, Finnlay stared at him hard, and then he swore. He came closer and whispered, ‘You can’t say anything to either of them! Damn it, Father, how did you know?’

‘Father John told me.’

‘And how many others are going to guess? If the people know he’s Robert’s son, that he’s a b—’

Aiden held up a hand. ‘Never say that! By church law, Andrew was born within the sanctity of marriage – he is not illegitimate and therefore there is no bar him taking the throne.’ When Finnlay raised his eyebrows in surprise, Aiden shrugged. ‘I did some research, just to make sure.’

‘Then you expect others will notice the resemblance?’

‘No, I doubt it. You need to know it’s there to see it. And you say Robert has no idea?’

‘None. If he did, I doubt he’d be going to all this trouble to put his own son on the throne.’

‘No, of course he wouldn’t.’ The silence grew between them.

‘So,’ Finnlay said eventually, ‘do you think you can help with Andrew?’

‘Are you expecting a miracle?’

Finnlay laughed. ‘Well, you are a priest. You’re far more qualified than me.’

‘A miracle would require a saint.’

‘Well, that definitely leaves me out.’

Aiden could only laugh as well. Miracles were not his forte – daily life was hard enough as it was. ‘Can you go back and see if you can ask Father John to join me? He knows Andrew well. I’d like to talk to him.’

‘Of course.’ With a wave, Finnlay disappeared down the track and Aiden turned back to the view. None of the others had said anything so far, but he knew they would. They’d all given Robert their oaths, and nothing would change that, but he could see their questions in their eyes. Andrew was not the boy they’d been hoping for, and certainly not the potential King Lusara needed. All of them had made the effort to speak to him, and while he’d been polite and nice, there had been no spark in the boy, no sign there was anything more than what was visible on the surface. Aiden could almost taste the disappointment in the air.