Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (9 page)

Gulping in air, Andrew let his body slide back down to the ledge. Huddling against the rock, he unwound the rope from his hands, blinking back tears from the crushing pain that made him dizzy, made his stomach turn.

It was a moment before he heard another voice: Finnlay, calling down to him gently.

‘Take your time.’

Andrew nodded, swallowing. With his hands throbbing, he carefully tied the rope around his waist, then looked up to find Finnlay watching him with respect and admiration, giving him a smile from eyes lit by the first morning glow.

‘Slowly and carefully. There’s no rush. Those soldiers are gone for now.’

Inch by painful inch, Andrew climbed back towards the cliff edge. It felt like days since he’d gone down to help Helen. As soon as he drew close enough, Finnlay reached out and grabbed his arm, hauling him over onto the flat ground. They both lay panting for a moment, then Finnlay got up and helped him to his feet. As the others emerged from the trees, Finnlay reached out and pulled him close, his voice thick and gruff.

‘Thank you, Andrew. Thank you.’

*

Long plumes of smoke rose up into the pine trees, losing shape in the furred branches and dark sky above. Jenn sat and watched them go, comfortable by Andrew’s side, allowing the camp’s peace to fill her now.

It had been a tough journey, steering clear of the Guilde. But Finnlay had led them out of the forest and into Solmoss without further incident. Now, with nightfall behind them, they made camp beyond the village, in woods she remembered all too well.

The river was close by; she could hear it rumbling beneath the swoosh of trees above her. Helen needed some rest before travelling again and this was as good a place as any to pitch camp. The ground beneath the trees was thick with dry, brown pine needles and it was warmer.

She could admit to herself now that she was tired. Still sleep eluded her and so she remained in the camp while the others went to their beds, her hand on Andrew’s hair, simply listening to the peace.

Andrew lay at her side, curled up, one hand next to his face, fast asleep. He’d been quiet all day and into the evening, excused his usual chores because of his hands, saying little to the buzz of excitement which had greeted his act of courage that morning.

Jenn knew he was embarrassed, and that made her smile. So like his father in so many ways. So like Robert, to climb down after a fallen friend, stick with her until help got her to safety, to comfort her fear while ignoring his own.

So like him to pay for it afterwards.

But Andrew was not a copy of Robert. Instead, he was a lovely combination of the two of them, perhaps taking the best of the love that had conceived him, rather than the anguish which had followed.

Or rather, the Bonding which had conceived him. But which had come first, the love or the Bonding? Would one have survived without the other?

Andrew was a gentle soul, who cared genuinely and deeply for those around him. It was a gift he had no fear of showing. Often his thoughts were so clear Jenn could almost read them; he lacked Robert’s ability to hide his feelings, his deepest thoughts – and sometimes that worried her, with the double life he had to lead, here and at court.

And yes, she did worry about the effect Kenrick might have
on him, though she’d seen no evidence that the King’s evil had rubbed off on Andrew at all. Perhaps a miracle would occur and Andrew’s good might do something for Kenrick.

She smiled again and looked down at her son. He was already taller than her, and filling out quickly. Soon he would be a man and quiet moments like these would be gone forever.

Silently she leaned over and brushed a kiss against his cheek. Then she got to her feet and wandered quietly through the trees towards the river. Cold air touched her then, driven upwards from the canyon below. She paused a moment, looking down, able to see nothing in the darkness, then turned to see Finnlay sitting on a rock, some distance away, his head lowered as though he were reading.

She walked towards him, giving him plenty of time to register her presence. When she came to a halt, he looked up and nodded back to the camp. ‘How is Helen?’

‘Still asleep. She’s lucky she only has a few bruises.’

‘Aye, very lucky. If anything had happened to her I …’ Finnlay’s gaze drifted down to the book in his hands.

‘She’s fine, Finn. She was following Andrew around from the moment we stopped to make camp.’ Jenn sank on to a boulder away from the cliff edge.

And just as Andrew was like Robert, so those around him reacted in the same way they reacted to his father. Sometimes that scared her more than anything else.

‘How is Andrew now?’

‘Asleep. Feeling a little sheepish, I think.’

‘Well,’ Finnlay took in a deep breath, his head lifting again, gaze drifting to the other side of the canyon, ‘he’s Robert’s son, all right.’

Jenn allowed herself a small smile. ‘Were you ever in any doubt?’

Finnlay didn’t answer that. Instead, he paused a moment, then said, ‘They’re cousins.’

‘Yes,’ Jenn breathed, admitting to something they’d never spoken openly about. ‘But they’re both still very young. We … don’t know if it will ever be a problem.’

He let out a grunt at that. ‘And what do we do if it is? Are you going to tell him then? Tell him that I’m his uncle instead of just some mean old man who yells at him when he does things wrong?’

Despite the dry tone, Jenn couldn’t help smiling at this. ‘You’re not encouraging me.’

As though letting something go, Finnlay smiled too. ‘Did you read the last letter from Patric?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘And?’

‘Well, it certainly looks like he might be home soon. I can’t believe he’s been gone this long as it is.’

‘He’s had too much fun having adventures – he’s forgotten why he was sent to Alusia in the first place.’ Finnlay rested back on his hands. ‘It will be good to have him home. I’ve missed him. All these hints in his letters are intensely irritating. I know he has to be careful, but …’

‘You can’t help wishing you’d gone in his place?’

For a moment, Finnlay said nothing. Then he pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘No.’

No. Finnlay wanted to work alongside Robert, to free Lusara from the prison it had become, trapped by Kenrick, enslaved by Nash.

‘I’d certainly like to go to Alusia one day, and Budlandi.’ Finnlay shrugged. ‘There is so much of our history there, lost over the centuries. Patric seems to have had a lot of fun, with one thing and another—’

‘I don’t know that having his ship attacked by pirates was all that much fun.’

‘Or spending a year as a slave in a salt mine,’ Finnlay added, half laughing, ‘though none of what he’s done surprises me at all. I just hope he gets back here in one piece. Did you get the same feeling I did, that he’d actually found something of real interest about the Prophecy?’

‘Yes,’ Jenn said. There had been so many veiled hints in the last few letters as though Patric was desperate to share some important news, but didn’t dare trust it to a courier. With all her heart, she prayed that it was true, that he would finally be
able to bring her back some hope that the Prophecy that had driven so many lives to desperation might, in fact, be wrong.

She got to her feet and stifled a yawn. ‘Are you on first watch tonight?’

‘As usual, yes.’

‘Well, we’ll be home in another three days.’

‘Assuming it doesn’t start snowing. I can’t believe how lucky we’ve been so far.’

‘Me too. Well, goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

She turned and took a couple of steps away before Finnlay’s voice stopped her. ‘He did well today. He’s not … as concerned about risks as you are.’

Jenn said nothing to that and, instead, continued on to bed.

She couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t the risks that bothered her, but rather, Andrew’s desire to take them.

*

Andrew’s aches and pains made it uncomfortable to ride for a whole day, but Jenn was worried about the weather and wouldn’t call a halt. So he rode in silence at the back of the group, practising hiding his occasional wince when some movement from the horse shifted the wrong muscle the wrong way. Which felt like every three seconds.

They left the forest far behind as the trail took them up into the mountains. Slate rock covered the path and stunted trees sank their roots between, struggling to hold onto life in the most rugged terrain. Blustery clouds tore across the peaks in the distance, giving them patches of sunshine followed by long periods of dull grey. As they crossed the first pass, the air became noticeably colder and Andrew felt the muscles down the left side of his back tighten further in reply.

‘Why don’t you ask Arlie for help? You know he could get rid of the pain for you.’

He turned to Helen as she slowed her horse to ride beside him. She was looking at him with genuine concern in eyes that often held him mesmerised for whole seconds at a time. ‘It’s not that bad. You should be feeling worse. How is your knee?’

‘Oh, I feel just fine.’ She smiled smugly. ‘Arlie deadened the pain for me. Is it your hands?’

‘No.’ Andrew started to shake his head, but his neck protested and he winced. ‘Just a few pulled muscles. Didn’t really notice it until this morning, and I didn’t want to hold up our departure.’

‘So you decided instead to suffer in silence all day, right?’ Helen was laughing a little now. She had her father’s dark eyes and hair, but nothing of Finnlay’s temperament. She was undoubtedly one of Andrew’s favourite people in the Enclave, one whom it was always worth travelling halfway across the country to see.

‘Well,’ he replied, happy to have a distraction, ‘isn’t that what heroes do?’

‘Suffer in silence?’ She pursed her lips, tilted her head to one side and laughed a little. ‘I don’t know – I mean, my father is a hero and when he’s suffering, it’s
never
in silence.’

Andrew laughed out loud at that, until a voice from in front said loudly and distinctly, ‘I heard that.’

This only made Helen laugh more, though Andrew stifled his as much as he could. Finnlay would never kill his own daughter – but he might have something to say about Andrew’s fate.

‘Micah’s taking you back home to Maitland in a few days, isn’t he?’ Helen said after a moment, this time keeping her voice low so the others riding in front wouldn’t hear.

‘That’s right.’

‘And when do you go back to court?’

Andrew tucked his reins beneath his thigh and stretched his arms above his head, trying to work the kinks out of his muscles. His hands were still raw, but wearing gloves cushioned them against the worst pain. ‘Caslemas.’ He glanced aside at her again and frowned when he saw her sombre expression. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. It’s just what … well, what’s it like?’

‘What’s what like?’

‘You know,’ she gestured with her hand, ‘living out there. All the time. What does that … feel like?’ She shot him a
quick look then, so full of unsuppressed longing it nearly broke his heart.

He couldn’t look at her then, not while answering her question. He had something she’d never know and yet she wanted to. Needed to. ‘I don’t have as much freedom as you think I do.’

‘But you can go places, can’t you? I can only guess what the sea looks like, and a city like Marsay? I just can’t imagine it.’

‘Marsay is about four or five days’ journey to the north of Maitland. The city can be quite beautiful from a distance. It sits on an island hill in the waters of the Vitala River, close to the bank. There’s a causeway which joins them. The Castle, Basilica and Guilde Hall all sit at the top of the hill; the rest of the city is cramped around them.’

Her eyes were alight with curiosity. ‘It takes a week to get to Maitland from the Enclave doesn’t it?’

‘If we travel fast, yes.’

‘And is it a beautiful country?’ Helen asked this with breathless expectation.

‘Yes, it is, very beautiful.’

She turned her gaze back to the mountains before them, the rocky peaks and barren cliffs, deep gullies and spindly trees hoping to survive the next winter. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever see it.’

Andrew smiled, ‘You’re like my mother was when she was your age.’

‘Really?’

‘She wanted to see the world. That’s how she met Micah and Finnlay and Duke Robert.’

Helen smiled a little. ‘Father has told me a little of what his life was like at Dunlorn, before he came to the Enclave. I can’t imagine how it would be to live in a castle – I’ve never even seen one. Mother won’t tell me much because she doesn’t want me wishing for something I can’t have.’ Helen swallowed then, her gaze dropping to her reins. ‘She says … she says my father wishes to leave because his heart is out there, fighting a rebellion that can’t be won.’

‘What rebellion?’

She looked up at that, giving him an impish smile. ‘I don’t
know. I suppose whatever rebellion Uncle Robert is planning. My mother just thinks it’s all too dangerous. But then, she says everything outside the Enclave is dangerous. Is it?’

Andrew thought about his mother and the stories he’d heard about Duke Robert, his own life at court and the factions which till now, had played little part in his life, though that was more from sheer good luck than anything else. ‘Yes, it can be dangerous. Especially at court.’

‘Then,’ Helen reached over and patted his hand, ‘you make sure you’re careful, won’t you? And don’t go falling into any more lakes.’

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, doing his best to ignore the way her eyes danced and the effect that had on him. ‘I promise I’ll do my best.’

*

Finnlay couldn’t wait to get back – he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘home’ any more – because it wasn’t his home, was it? His home was Dunlorn Castle, in the middle of his family’s lands, six days’ travel east of here, a place he hadn’t seen for almost fifteen years, since before Andrew was born.

Some nights, when he slept, Dunlorn would creep into his dreams, dragging him back in time to when things were more peaceful in Lusara, when the only conflict was between him and Robert, over issues that were irrelevant now. But as he watched the path ahead, gazed up at the mountains around him and in particular at the Goleth peak which towered over him, he knew that he would never call this place home while Dunlorn still stood.