Trial of Fire (67 page)

Andrew frowned, as though seriously considering Robert’s suggestion. ‘I need to tell him why I’m here.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘You spoke to Selar at Shan Moss.’

‘In the hope that I could see something of Nash.’

‘In the hope that you could convince him not to fight at all.’ With a grunt, he swung up into his saddle. He turned to Micah and said, ‘Find me a white flag. I want to talk, even if he doesn’t.’

‘Aye, Your Grace.’

He rode away then, missing the grim smile left on Robert’s face.

*

‘Damn it, Rayve, where’s Nash?’

‘I have no idea, my lord. He never said he would fight in this battle. His argument is only with Douglas.’

‘But he needs to be here! I need him here!’

‘My lord, my people have not seen him for more than an hour. They questioned the Bishop, who told them Nash had left with his men before you called for the army to line up.’

‘Left?’ Kenrick turned a glare on the young Malachi. ‘Left? How could he have left?’

He was deserting Kenrick. Hadn’t he said he’d had enough, that Kenrick only lived by his grace? Was this the point at which he withdrew that support?

‘Fine, he’s best out of the way. We can easily dispatch this rabble without him.’

‘Sire?’ His Chancellor rode towards him, pointing back across the field. ‘The rebels want to treat with you.’

A rider with a white flag was trotting into the centre of the empty battleground. Behind him were four other riders, but at this distance, he could recognise only the bright yellow of Guilde robes.

‘Good!’ he snapped. He kicked his horse and almost ran the Chancellor down, riding out onto the field on his own, just as Robert Douglas had done to his father. Well, he wasn’t the only man who could bluff.

Away from the noise of his army, the battlefield felt cold and empty, despite the spring sunshine – or was it summer now? He came to a halt in the centre, his head held high, waiting for the others to reach him, casting his gaze from one face to the other.

Yes, there was Osbert, that frightened look missing from his face now, despite the bad company he was keeping. Another older man he didn’t recognise, and a third who looked familiar enough to send a shiver down his spine. The old man would have to be McCauly, riding like he’d been born in the saddle. The other couldn’t be Robert Douglas, but would be his brother.

And between them, looking awfully small and pathetic, was his foolish cousin.

‘If you’d wanted an army,’ Kenrick began the moment they came to a halt, ‘you should have said. I could have given you something to play with. Instead, you’ve allowed yourself to be swayed by these traitors. Come with me now and I will forgive you. You are, after all, still my heir.’

Andrew looked quickly at the sombre men beside him, then lifted his chin. As he replied, his voice was shaky, as though he were trying desperately to appear their equal. Kenrick remembered the cheerful and innocent boy at his court, who had given him milk and honey drinks to ease his headaches, who had always treated him with kindness. A wave of anger swept over him that these mercenary rebels had used this boy in such a way as to cause this conflict in him.

‘Your offer,’ Andrew said, swallowing hard, ‘is appreciated, but I must decline. In return, I offer you exile if you disband your army now and leave Lusara for ever. You fight an unjust war and your t-tyranny will no longer be tolerated.’

Kenrick laughed a little. ‘We were always friends, you and I. Come, we can be so again. I don’t know what these men have told you, but you know I am no tyrant.’

Andrew flushed, his eyes dropping to his hands where he twisted his reins together. None of the others moved a muscle, keeping their attention focused entirely on Kenrick, as though, despite the white flag, they didn’t trust him to keep the truce.

‘If you ch-choose not to t-take exile,’ Andrew continued, as though his speech was prepared, ‘then I offer you single combat.’

‘Single combat?’ Kenrick did laugh outright then. ‘What, you think you can beat me?’ It was more tempting than he could have imagined. It would give him an opportunity to finish this quickly and painlessly – and with the boy beaten at his feet, he could then afford to be magnanimous. A few months in prison would be enough punishment. ‘Would you give me up your rebel leaders if I did win?’

Andrew’s gaze rose then, as though trying to read his cousin. ‘They are not mine to surrender.’

For the first time in his life, Kenrick felt pity, and it was an interesting feeling. Still, he had a war to win, and he couldn’t afford to be swayed. ‘Then our armies will decide for us. Just remember: I did make the offer.’ With that, he pulled his horse around and galloped back to his lines.

The rest of them could die, but he would give the order for the boy to be kept alive. With the right influences, he could be a strong ally, and Kenrick needed all of those he could get.

*

Robert waited on the lines, holding his breath and telling himself he was
foolish to do so. Andrew was capapble of looking after himself, and he’d taken Finnlay with him, who would die for his nephew. So why could he not stand still; why did he have to use brute force to keep the demon down, to stop himself riding out there and strangling the life out of that monster before anything else could happen?

But this wasn’t his fight, it was Andrew’s – and he had to win it for himself.

Still Robert watched the parlay party, wishing he could mindspeak Finnlay to know what was being said. Of course, they weren’t out there long. Only a few minutes, and then they were riding back towards him, allowing Robert to finally breathe, to get the demon under control.

Their expressions, when they arrived, were a bizarre mixture: Osbert showed profound relief; Robert couldn’t blame him, since he shared that feeling. Aiden’s was one of unconcealed respect. Finnlay jumped down from his horse and walked towards Robert, a combination of bleak fury and stunned incredulity at war on his face.

‘That boy,’ Finnlay kept his voice down, standing close to Robert while the others remained mounted around him, ‘if I’d not known who his mother was, then—’

‘What happened?’

Andrew threw Finnlay a look of warning. ‘Nothing. But he refused the challenge of single combat.’

Another shiver ran down Robert’s spine. ‘Single combat? When did we discuss that?’

‘We didn’t,’ Andrew replied without moving. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway now.’

Robert looked up at his son. Andrew met his gaze steadily and in that moment Robert
knew
. Until then, he’d never quite been sure, but now he did. This boy of his, of Jenn’s would become a great king indeed. He hid his thoughts with a nod, turning to his horse. ‘We fight?’

‘Yes,’ Andrew agreed. ‘We fight.’

*

All through the ride, Nash kept watch, Seeking constantly for the ambush he knew had to be there – but nothing happened. He knew they rode north, passing through woods and past farms, but he could not think of a specific destination they could be heading for.

But it hadn’t been too far from here that he’d lost the Key, all those weeks ago, when he’d been so certain he could get it from her. They must have found a hiding place somewhere close. She had never been able to lie to him. Her anger and her honesty were too close to the surface, and he had all those years behind him, when he’d got to know her in the innocence of
friendship, before she’d known who he was. Back then, she’d been very fond of him, and he’d allowed himself to love her from a relatively safe distance. But desire and need had stayed his hand – too long, as it happened. Still, he rode towards her now, and he would be waiting no longer.

Nevertheless, he kept Seeking.
She
might not be able to lie to him – but the Enemy was capable of
anything.

*

The caves were not as silent as she’d thought they would be once everybody had left. It had taken her a long time to convince Martha and Fiona and Lady Margaret that they had to go, using every ounce of persuasion she could muster – not to mention every lie she’d ever known – but for them to stay would guarantee their deaths, and she couldn’t allow that. In the end, it had been the safety of the children that had swayed Martha. They’d packed a few belongings and left hours ago, leaving Jenn alone in the not-so-silent caves.

She spent time making herself a meal she couldn’t eat. Then she wandered from one cave to another, looking at the home they’d made in such a short time, unable to stop the memories filling her of that other cave life she’d helped to destroy. Quite deliberately, she kept away from the Key.

Did those people really think her to be the incarnation of Mineah? Were they so desperate for hope that they would believe such a thing, that they could interpret her actions in such a manner?

Were they expecting her to turn against sorcerers, as Mineah had done five hundred years before?

No. It was impossible, far too scary a thought to consider – especially on this, of all days.

With still hours to wait, she collected clean clothes and made her way to the green pool, allowing the memories to sweep over her. The force of them drove her to her knees, clutching the gown to her as though it could give her the comfort she needed. But only one person had ever been able to give her that.

She remembered as she stepped naked into the water, as it swirled around her, warm and soft.

And in the darkness, alone, she opened up her mind and reached out as far as she needed.

*

Robert had exactly one hundred archers; it was they who started the battle. With fifty on either side of the army, their arrows rained havoc down on Kenrick’s foot soldiers, while his own backed away from arrows flying in return towards them, ducking behind layers of solid shields.

‘How long do we hold this?’ Andrew’s voice betrayed his strain.

‘As long as they do. We have a good supply of arrows, thanks to Osbert.’

‘It’s still Lusaran fighting Lusaran.’

‘Yes, but there’s only one way out of that.’ Robert felt his own words haunt him then.

‘We don’t have a choice, is that what you’re saying?’

‘That’s exactly what—’

Robert
?

He turned away from Andrew, gesturing to Finnlay to come close, just in case.
Jenn? What is it? What’s wrong?

I’m sorry.

His breath caught, but the noise of battle swirled around him like a heady aroma.
Jenn, we’ve started the battle.

I know. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. For everything.

There was definitely something wrong. The tone was almost foreign, as though—

Jenn, what’s going on? Are you all right?

Nash is coming. He’ll be here soon.

What? How did he find you?

I told him. I’m going to give him the Key. That’s the only way we can end this. I’m sorry. Take care of our son.

Jenny? Damn it, Jenny, answer me!
He called again and again, but she was gone, shutting him out as he had done to her so many times before.

Nash. She was going to give him the Key – no! He opened his eyes and spun around to find Finnlay and Andrew watching him, Aiden behind them, stern and prepared for anything.

To Andrew he said, ‘I have to go. Now. Finn, I leave you the army. You know how to command, you’ve memorised all my plans. Trust your instincts.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’

‘Nash is on his way to the Sanctuary.’ Robert waved for his horse to be brought up. ‘Andrew,’ he paused then, seeing real fear for the first time in the boy’s eyes that day. Robert caught his breath a moment, stilling the urge to panic and let the demon loose. He put his hands on his son’s shoulders and met his gaze, shutting out the whole world. ‘I have to go, son. If I don’t survive, you rely on Aiden. You rely on Finnlay, and the rest of the Council. You learn from them and you grow. You become a part of your family, and let them be a part of you. Kiss your grandmother for me, and tell her I love her. Find a woman to love and marry her, have lots of children. And do it all … knowing I was proud that you were my son, if only for a few days.’

With that, he placed a kiss on Andrew’s forehead, then turned for his horse. He climbed up into the saddle, and turned to the Bishop, knowing all that he could never say. ‘Good luck,’ he called softly, and then Robert turned and rode away, pulling behind the back of their lines until he had a clear path north. Without hesitation, he kicked the horse hard, pushing with his power to gain greater speed. He bent flat against the animal’s back and became one with it, using only the smallest of commands to control it.

With terror in his heart, he raced towards the day he’d feared all his life: the culmination of the Prophecy.

With a bellow into the sharp wind, Kenrick ordered the charge. Two thousand disciplined men raised their swords against the rebels and marched forward, the tattoo rattling across their lines. The very sound of it struck joy and terror into his heart and he laughed out loud.

The valley was filled with colour and movement; the gentle hills on either side shutting out the rest of the world. Everything real existed here and now. Kenrick kicked his horse into action, then gave it its head as they plowed into the mêlée. He swung his sword left and right, slicing into flesh and bone, ignoring the blood that spurted into the air, over his hands, his legs, into the dusty earth. The noise was deafening; already there was a sickly stink of those who had already died, and those who would soon join them.

He could smell the fear, too, rising from the roaring crowds, flooding across the valley and reaching high into the sky. He was made for this.

*

Andrew shuddered, ducking another blade swinging at him. He’d lost his horse in the first hour and hadn’t found even a minute to climb onto the replacement Micah appropriated for him. Finnlay fought on his right, Micah on his left, and Deverin, despite his age, guarded his rear. But the men in front, the soldiers pushing through his own lines, were trained, hardened warriors; they kept on, making him fight them, making him kill, again and again.

He’d had no real idea: when Robert had said battle was hell, he thought he’d understood, but he hadn’t – and now he knew why Robert had said so little. This was not something a man could ever love, but it was something he could survive.