Trial of Fire (53 page)

Then abruptly, the boy’s eyes snapped open – but after a moment, Micah realised he could see nothing. Micah scrambled out of his blankets, squatting beside Andrew, already reaching out to calm him. But at the first touch, Andrew slapped his hand away, pulling back with terror in his eyes. Then, suddenly, he gasped, his hands flying up to shield his face.

‘Andrew!’ Micah whispered, desperate to stop the boy waking everybody in the loft. ‘Please, wake. It’s only a dream.’

‘No, no, no, no! Mother, no!’ With his voice strangled in his throat, Andrew sat up, his whole body shaking, his eyes blinking as he slowly came to himself. Micah sat by, holding his elbow, reaching for a bottle of water, ready with comfort.

He didn’t get the opportunity. He opened his mouth to speak – and stopped when a vice-like grip took hold of his arm.

It was Robert, crouched beside him, dressed, sword in hand, alert and ready for danger. Instantly, Micah tensed.

‘Get him ready,’ Robert hissed. ‘And wake Finnlay. Armed and downstairs. One minute.’

Micah nodded, forgetting everything else in the urgency. ‘What is it?’

‘Danger approaching.’ Robert was already moving away. ‘Malachi.’

Robert could feel it, sitting like an itch beneath his skin; the warning all Salti felt when Malachi were near. He couldn’t deny there was a part of him that had been expecting this.

He slipped down the stairs to the yard, pressing his body against the wall, melting into the shadows while he waited for the others to join him. He probably shouldn’t have ordered Andrew to follow, but he’d vowed not to let the boy out of his sight – and after the attack on Maitland, he was not about to leave him alone and relatively unprotected in the loft sleeping while there were Malachi prowling around outside.

How had they been found?

Faint noises from above and he counted the footsteps coming down the ladder until Finnlay, Micah and Andrew stopped beside him, each looking out into the moonlight-drenched darkness, each listening, each tense, waiting for the next move.

‘This way,’ Robert whispered, gesturing to Finnlay to take up the rear. He moved quickly across the open yard, along the shadows of the stable, and into the narrow lane heading towards the lake. His Senses rolled before him like a tidal wave, giving the night a peculiar taint.

The lake sat alone in the landscape, waters flat and sparkling against the moon. The beach glistened with tiny lights in the places where shadows weren’t cast by the scraggly trees. Robert made for those shadows, hand already on his sword.

They were not alone.

A small movement, a familiar shape, and then she stepped out into the light. She looked a little different, her belly more swollen, her clothes chosen for comfort. Her hair cascaded down to her shoulders, alive and silver in the night. Even before his mind registered her presence, Robert felt Micah shift and step forward. Robert stopped him with an arm across his chest.

‘If you go, you may never come back.’

‘By the mass!’ Micah hissed. ‘She’s my
wife!’

‘You were not forced to marry her.’

‘And you have had so much control over who
you
love?’

Robert snapped his gaze to his old friend. He could not stop now and argue; the time for that had passed six or seven years ago. ‘I told you what would happen if she came near me again.’

Micah pushed past him until he stood in the space between them, a part of neither world. ‘I won’t let you—’

‘Micah.’ Sairead kept her voice low, but she spoke with the same determination as her husband. ‘Stand aside. He cannot kill me and he knows it.’

‘Don’t believe it.’ Micah remained where he was, his eyes not moving from Robert. ‘I would once have thought him incapable of such a thing, but now …’

Another movement from the darkness drew Robert’s attention, his sword drawn from reflex as much as anything else. It was the same man he’d seen before, the ugly man with the plaited braid and the crooked teeth: Gilbert Dusan, grandson of the leader of these people.

‘There is no need for any violence,’ Dusan said, holding his hands up and away from his body, displaying that he was unarmed – as though that made a difference to Malachi.

But even as he stepped further into the moonlight, Robert’s Senses warned him that there were more people in the shadows, perhaps another seven or eight. The witch had brought reinforcements with her.

‘If there’s no need for violence, then why is she here? You heard what I said.’ Robert moved until he was standing in front of Andrew, feeling Finnlay move to protect their rear. ‘If you try to take the boy, you will all die. You have one chance now to leave with your lives. Take it.’

‘My lord, please!’ Micah stepped forward, his face anguished. ‘They don’t want Andrew. Please, just listen.’

‘To what?’ Robert’s anger was already leaking out into the demon, making his sword glow softly. It took so little now to set it off. ‘These are Malachi, Micah! They have, for more than five hundred years, done their best to slaughter every Salti alive! They have slaved under Nash’s guidance to set a tyrant on our throne and rob us of the Key. What, in the name of Serin, could they have to say to me that I would want to hear? An apology?’

‘A proposal of peace.’

The voice rattled across the sandy beach and fell into the darkness. Robert turned to Dusan and shook his head.

‘A proposal of peace? Between whom? Are you saying Nash wants peace? Or Kenrick?’

‘Just the Malachi.’

‘The same Malachi who tried to abduct this boy here, who murdered his family?’

‘And you are blameless in the war between our peoples?’ Dusan stalked
around Sairead, pushing Micah to one side to stand before Robert’s sword, not once looking at it. ‘You, the man who, in one moment, killed three hundred Malachi at Elita? This is not the time to be counting wounds, Robert of Dunlorn. Instead, it is the time to be considering who is your real enemy, and who could be your friend.’

Robert could only laugh, though the sound was harsh even to his own ears. ‘And of course, I would trust anything you told me.’

‘Such trust works both ways! You think
my
people want an alliance with such as you? There are not so many of us that every Malachi could fail to be touched by your actions at Elita. Surely that is enough reason to at least listen.’

‘If those Malachi at Elita hadn’t been in the service of Nash, they wouldn’t have died. Nothing you can say will ever make me trust you.’

‘No!’ the ugly man spat back, his eyes narrowing. ‘Your pigheadedness will bring us all to our doom. I will not leave until you have heard what I came to say. And if you think you can—’

The threat was all Robert wanted to hear. His entire body sang with satisfaction as he gave way to the desire. The demon leaped inside him, pushing forth with a power he never used deliberately. The invisible blow shoved the man backwards, lifting him off the ground before dropping him like a stone. Robert advanced until he could place the point of his sword at the man’s throat. He was insanely delighted to see the flicker of fear where there had been nothing but arrogance before.

‘I gave you the opportunity to flee.’

That flicker of fear wavered for a moment, but did not leave. Still Dusan spread his hands, vulnerable now on his back. ‘I will not fight you, Robert of Dunlorn. If you wish me dead, you will have to murder me.’

The words drove the demon up into his throat, making his hand shake with a desire that was delicious and almost overwhelming. Malachi had always aided Nash, in full knowledge of what he was, what he was doing – and they’d supported him in his evil just because they’d wanted to get the Key, not caring who was murdered along the way, nor the misery that would be inflicted on a whole nation. ‘You think the threat of murder would stop me? So be it!’

He raised his sword, letting loose the dark power of the demon to course through it. He heard voices rise along with it, Finnlay, Micah, even Sairead – though none of the other Malachi said a word. Running with the freedom of the demon, he swung down, aiming to strike off Dusan’s head – but his blow was blocked by another sword.

‘Don’t,’ Andrew whispered, struggling with both hands to hold off Robert’s blade. ‘Please.’

He turned and looked at the boy, at his mother’s eyes in the masculine face, the qualities she possessed – and those he had gained from that monster of a father. The gaze never wavered, never changed, making him remember so much that he’d wanted desperately to forget.

This boy’s mother … and this boy’s father.

The demon dried up inside him, subsiding to sit in his belly again, lying in wait. Robert let up his sword and Andrew stepped back, relief filling his eyes, but keeping his silence.

While he stood there, Micah rushed forward and helped Dusan to his feet. Micah addressed Andrew. ‘My lord, this is Gilbert Dusan, grandson of Aamin, Blood of the Chabanar.’

Andrew turned to face him, eyebrows raised in surprise at the name and title. ‘Blood of the Chabanar?’

‘Like the Jaibir, my lord.’

Robert faced Dusan. ‘You speak for your people?’

‘I speak for my grandfather. He speaks for my people.’

‘All your people?’

Dusan nodded. ‘All but those who abducted and tortured you.’

‘Of course.’ Robert gave him a dark smile. ‘And what about those who tried to take Andrew? Who did murder his family?’

Giving him a measuring look, Dusan said, ‘The abduction was at Nash’s order. The men themselves were D’Azzir, led by the Baron DeMassey. He died of the wounds you gave him. Most of the men who served him, who made the subsequent attack on Maitland, now work for Felenor Calenderi, the man who abducted and tortured you. I should point out that your rescue was entirely driven by Micah, at extreme danger to ourselves.’

Robert absorbed this information silently. ‘And why did he want me?’

‘To find out where the Key is, of course. He has tired of Nash’s promises, he feels threatened because his protector, DeMassey, is dead. He has formed some kind of alliance with Kenrick. He must have discovered that my niece was bringing you to meet me and decided to intervene. I had nothing to do with his plans. I have refused to speak to him for more than fifteen years, since he killed your Queen without cause.’

Bitter cold trickled down Robert’s chest and sat in his stomach, keeping the demon company. ‘He killed Rosalind?’

‘What does he look like?’ Finnlay had appeared at Robert’s side, as ready as any Lusaran to mete out justice.

But Robert held up his hand. If they were going to do this, they needed to get something fundamental perfectly clear – and as yet, he had not
decided whether they
were
going to do this. ‘This Felenor Calenderi wanted me to give him the Key?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And what do
you
want?’

Dusan paused, his eyes going from Micah, to Finnlay, to Robert, and finally, to Andrew. ‘Peace. We want peace between Malachi and Salti.’

‘And you no longer want the Key?’

‘If I said we had lost our desire for it, I would be lying. However, the last twenty years has drained us of our brightest lights, our best minds, and most powerful fighters. We can no longer afford to have the Key as our sole purpose in life. But even if we did, supporting Nash would bring us nothing but despair. If he gets his hands on the Key—’

‘He’ll never give it to you.’

Dusan shook his head sadly. ‘No.’

‘Then why?’ Robert slid his sword home, spreading his arms wide. ‘Why have you supported him all these years?’

‘We didn’t – officially. But our young men and women wanted the glory he promised, and they were prepared to do anything to be the one to return the Key to our people. None of use really understood what Nash was until it was too late.’ Dusan’s gaze turned inwards. ‘For twenty years I have worked with him, appearing to do much more than I did, so that I could learn from him, glean his secrets, report back to my grandfather on our hopes for the Key. The longer I stayed with Nash, the more I realised that we were hopelessly naive to think we could get the Key from him, or fight him for it. There was only one person alive who could do that.’

Robert allowed his Senses to roam into the shadows, then he gestured to the other Malachi standing there to come out into the open. One by one they emerged, pride in their eyes, the set of their shoulders.

If only they could have talked like this twenty years ago.

He couldn’t forget what these people had done, nor what they could still do – but there was an air of desperate hope in their appearance. They found this as distasteful as he, and yet, they were here. They had done nothing when he’d gone to kill Dusan – and Sairead, for all the years she’d been married to Micah, had not once taken advantage of her proximity to Andrew. But was all that enough foundation to begin peace between them?

Andrew seemed to think so. And hadn’t McCauly spoken about Andrew’s ability to discern truth from a lie? Was he able to See somehow that Dusan and the others were here in honesty?

‘And how,’ Robert said quietly, ‘do you propose to ensure peace between Salti and Malachi? Will you fight alongside us?’

‘I don’t think that’s possible – no matter how much I would like to say
yes. There are centuries of bad blood between us, and it will take more than a midnight meeting between you and me to change that. But we will offer support where we can, and in places you cannot reach.’

Intrigued, Robert asked Dusan, ‘How?’

‘Felenor Calenderi. His men. Kenrick has grown to rely on them, is sharpening his skills with their aid. I intend to stop them.’

Robert looked at the men behind Dusan, saw the truth in their eyes as well. ‘And what about after this is over? Will you then try to wrest the Key from us again?’

Dusan’s gaze deepened then, and he shook his head slowly. ‘My people have spent half a millennium trying to regain something that never wanted them in the first place. It is time we let it go, and put our efforts into building what was lost when the Cabal fought the Empire. Aamin wishes us to return to Bu, though he is old and most likely will not survive to see it.’