Trial of Fire (46 page)

‘That’s as much my risk to take as yours, Robert. This is my country,
too. I would rather die fighting for freedom here than of old age in Flan’har.’

‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Robert whispered. ‘Just be careful – and take somebody reliable with you.’ He got to his feet, stepping carefully over the tree root. ‘Sleep well.’

‘You too.’ A brush of fabric, a cracked twig, and Aiden was alone again.

*

‘But, Mother,’ Andrew bit his lip and deliberately lowered his voice, ‘you
can’t
fight!’

‘Why not? I have combat skills. Finnlay made sure I was very well trained. I’m at least as good as he is. There’s no reason I shouldn’t fight.’

‘Except that Robert won’t let you.’

‘I don’t always do what Robert says.’

‘But you must!’ Again Andrew paused, looking around, but it seemed everyone else was either already in bed, or in small groups talking. He dropped his voice even lower. He said nothing of the dreams, nothing about what he saw when he closed his eyes at night. ‘Robert is the leader of this rebellion, Mother. You can’t challenge that.’

She raised her eyebrows at him, but her expression didn’t change. ‘And I’m the Jaibir. That doesn’t stop him challenging me whenever he wants to.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it?’

He opened his mouth, caught the look in her eye and shut it again.

‘I will fight, Andrew. You need to remember, this is my country too. You’re my son. Your claim to the throne comes through my blood. I was fighting for Lusara’s freedom for two years before you were born – and I did so alongside Robert. If he doesn’t want me to fight, he’ll tell me. Then we’ll discuss it.’

Andrew didn’t need to hear that discussion to guess exactly how it would go.

‘And what about you,’ she continued without missing a beat. ‘You fought yesterday. Robert said you fought well.’

He blinked at her, some part of him shutting a door. He couldn’t talk about it, not even to his own mother. Especially not her. Instead, he said the things he’d heard the other men say. ‘We won, that’s the main point. And we didn’t lose any men. Payne’s taking the gold, we’re off to another mission.’

‘I see,’ she nodded, her gaze a little penetrating, but she didn’t ask further. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m in need of some rest. And you?’

‘Robert wants me to get up early for more practice.’

‘Then go to bed now.’

Andrew smiled. No matter how old he got, nor how he fought to gain a throne he didn’t want, she would still be his mother, telling him when to go to bed. ‘Goodnight, Mother.’

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Goodnight, my love.’ With that, she lay down on her own bed, pulled the blankets over her and shut her eyes.

Andrew watched her for a moment, then turned for his bed as well.

He didn’t want to dream again – at least, not
those
dreams. But they came nonetheless, every now and then, when he didn’t expect them, when he didn’t know what to do with them. So now they were a little more vivid, but in truth, he barely remembered the details most of the time. All he usually recalled was that his mother was in danger, and that there was fire.

And when he wasn’t thinking, when he wasn’t talking, or doing anything else, he knew that fire terrified him more than anything else. The fire – and the face he could see inside it: his father’s face.

He lay back, searching for stars between the trees above, then rolled to his side. With his voice a soft whisper, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re here, Mother.’

And she replied, ‘So am I.’

*

They left their horses at the tavern, which was not as close to the mine gates as Andrew would have liked. As a result, they had to walk through the length of the ugliest village he’d ever seen anywhere. Like the surrounding countryside, it was devoid of trees, most of which had been cut down long ago to fuel the smelting fires. The houses here were made entirely of stone, with grey slate roofs and grey stone cobbles in the streets. With a metal grey sky above, it was hard to make out any specific features – until he spied the wall at the end of the village.

It spliced off a corner in the valley, with two round hills rising behind it. In the centre was a great wooden gate, solidly locked. It was only opened twice a day, to let the workers in and out, and once a week, to send off shipments of precious metal and to dump cartloads of leftover rock into the land behind the village. Only the Guilde yellow badge on the gate gave away who ruled here.

It was a cold morning, but they were without cloaks, so they’d look more like locals and not so much like strangers. Robert certainly greeted people in the streets like he knew them, and Andrew took that as an example, remembering that at least some of these people were prepared to fight the Guilde when the mine collapsed.

‘This way.’ Robert ushered him inside a cheesemaker’s, where it was even cooler and sheltered from the morning’s sun. No sooner was he inside,
however, than the shopkeeper waved them into the back. Robert moved quickly, making Andrew almost run to keep up. Without a word, they went through the back room and then into a stone corridor. They paused before a door and the shopkeeper pulled out a key to unlock it. He pushed the door wide then turned to Robert.

‘How long will it take?’

‘Not long. Can you be ready?’

‘Your Grace, we’ve been ready for years.’

Robert gave the man a grin, clapped a hand on his shoulder and headed through the door, leaving Andrew to hurry after him. Then the door was locked shut behind them and Robert brought a pale light to bear.

‘Let your eyes adjust, and be careful where you put your feet.’ Robert moved forward briskly and Andrew followed, his fingers trailing along the wall for balance. The tunnel was rough-hewn, with a ceiling so low Robert had to duck his head to keep from losing it. Inches of water and filth swirled around his boots, and every few steps he almost tripped over support beams that had fallen, or other detritus he didn’t care to think about. The further they went, the darker it got. They turned a corner, continued on for another dozen paces, then Robert came to a halt.

Andrew blinked. There was the smallest amount of light here, filtering down from a shaft above.

‘There’s a door up there I need you to get open. You’re the only one of us small enough to get through it.’

Andrew squinted up but could see nothing but the finest strips of light which blinded him to the rest of the detail. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you a little closer.’ Robert extinguished his own light and tilted his head back, stepping sideways as though tracing something.

‘How do you know where everything is here?’ Andrew whispered.

‘I used to own the mine, before Selar made me an outlaw and the Guilde claimed it as compensation. I worked here for a month, when I was your age.’

Then, right before Andrew’s eyes, Robert swung his arms, and jumped high into the air, further than he’d thought possible, and clung onto a beam crossing the shaft. He swung there a moment, then hauled himself up onto the beam. There was a few seconds of rustling, and then something hit Andrew’s face, making him jump.

A rope.

‘Quickly.’

Hand over hand Andrew climbed, until Robert caught his arm and pulled him onto the beam. He pointed up. The door was not far overhead, close enough for him to stand and reach, but it was a tight fit.

‘That small door is unlocked. You need to get through it and unlatch the larger one so I can climb up.’

‘Is there anyone on the other side?’

‘Damn it, Andrew, you should be able to Sense for yourself!’

‘But—’

‘Close your eyes,’ Robert hissed, ‘and imagine yourself on the other side.’

Andrew put his hand out to the wall and carefully stood up. The door was immediately above him, just waiting for him. All he had to do was reach up and push it open. He closed his eyes, thought of the door, of what might be on the other side, of whether there could be Guildesmen or—

He opened his eyes to find Robert standing beside him, eyes hard and unforgiving.

‘It’s safe. Get moving,’ he said with a finality that made Andrew’s heart sink. Without a word, he reached up and pressed against the door.

*

‘Jenn?’

‘What?’

‘Where are you going?’ The Bishop waited, standing beside his horse, far enough down the valley to be safely away from the action. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved. Some days he was too much like a watchdog.

‘I’m going to get a little closer. I don’t like being this far away.’

‘Being closer won’t help anybody.’

But she couldn’t sit still. Her skin felt like her clothes had ants in them. That said only one thing to her: Malachi. But should she go? Or should she stay by McCauly in case he was the one in danger? Though both John and Patric were Salti, neither were exactly her first choice if it came to a fight – and Robert had asked her to stay with the Bishop.

Damn it: she should have known he’d do this to her!

Robert?

What is it?

Sorry, but I think there’s Malachi in the area.

Are you in danger?

No, and don’t worry, we’ll move if we have to. I just wanted to warn you. Do you Sense anything from the mine?

Not so far – but I will stay alert. It could just be somebody passing through. Stay low and keep watch.

Be careful.

*

‘You can’t keep ignoring it, Andrew.’

He scrambled aside as Robert slid the larger door closed and removed all sign of them having been there.

‘When you face Kenrick, you’ll need every weapon you can bring to bear. Do you think he won’t use everything against you? Eh?’ Robert stood, placing his back against the wall of the empty room. There were two windows looking out onto the work yard, and two doors, one obviously going outside. ‘If you don’t do anything about it now, by the time you need them, you won’t have a clue how to use your powers. Come on, this way.’

Robert darted under the window and across to the other interior door. Andrew ran at a crouch to end up behind him, watching closely as Robert held his hand over the lock. He heard a loud grinding, then a hard click, and Robert was opening the door.

On the other side was a narrow, steep staircase. Robert climbed up it, still moving quickly. Andrew’s heart pounded in his chest as they reached the top and emerged into a room where they could clearly hear voices.

They froze, but the voices were in the next room and a moment later, Robert was dragging him through a low doorway into a room with a barred pit in the floor. He closed the door behind them, holding his hand over the lock as it clicked into place.

They were now locked in.

Robert pointed to the pit and the huge chain hanging through the ceiling next to it. ‘Take a hold of that. When I release the bars holding the gate closed, you need to pull that chain to open the gate. Don’t stop until it’s all the way open or the guard will be able to close it too easily. Once it’s open, we’ll fuse the chain so they can’t get it closed again.’

As Robert crouched by the pit, Andrew realised they were in fact directly over the gate. He took hold of the chain, hearing the voices beyond the door grow louder and closer. Robert ignored them. He simply held out his hand, did something Andrew couldn’t see, and below them, the huge wooden beams barring the gate began to lift out of their chocks, silently.

They were nearly clear when a big hand tried to open their door and, finding it locked, the guard called out, shouting to his mates, and banged on the door. Andrew’s heart stopped in his throat as a boot was kicked into the door, and splinters of solid wood went flying across the room.

‘Hurry!’ Andrew hissed – but it was too late. With one great crash, the door burst into pieces.

As the first wave crashed over Jenn, she stumbled under the sheer force of it. Instantly, she felt hands catch her, help her keep her balance, and questioning faces peering down at her, but she couldn’t place any of them where she needed.

This was so big, so overwhelming, so awful. Never before had she felt this terror, this horrible failure … so much – too much—

‘Jenn! What’s wrong? What do you see?’

Another wave came sweeping down, drowning her, making her fight for air, numbing her fingers, making her hands shake. This wasn’t real; how could she be simply a little worried one minute and then—

‘Jenn?’ It was Patric’s voice now, steady and firm, comforting and enquiring at the same time. ‘Just tell us what you’re feeling. You’re fine, there’s nobody close who could be a threat. Just talk.’

‘Terror,’ she gasped, closing her eyes against the dizziness of it. ‘Can’t see anything. So strong. Never felt this before.’

‘Is it Nash?’

Jenn reached in, reached out and felt nothing familiar to say it was Nash. Relief filled her then, but it wasn’t strong enough to filter out the other. ‘No, not Nash. Just—’

And as quickly as it had appeared, the suffocating terror vanished. A moment later, she was breathing normally, opening her eyes to find three worried faces against a flat grey sky. ‘I’m fine,’ she managed.

‘What happened?’ Aiden asked, ‘Were you mindspeaking?’

‘No,’ Jenn began to say when, abruptly, an image of Andrew flashed before her. ‘By the gods,’ she whispered. It was Andrew. He was projecting what he was feeling! How could he do that? Surely she had it wrong … but then he’d done the same thing when the Malachi had attacked. Robert had been called back to them not by words, but by a blinding, overwhelming wave of terror. Somehow Andrew had found another way of calling for help. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it.

Jenn turned for her horse, but the Bishop stood in front of her. ‘I have to go! Something’s wrong. Andrew’s in trouble. I can’t just leave him—’

Aiden’s gestures, his voice were calm. ‘Are you still feeling this terror?’

She looked at him, then at John and Patric. ‘That doesn’t mean he’s not still in trouble.’

‘No, but it might mean that Robert has it under control, or Finnlay or Micah, or any of the others – all of whom are very capable of protecting him. Please, Jenn.’