Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (33 page)

The exercise would do him good, wake him up properly. Dozing in the saddle was fine if he wasn’t alone, but out here, on this exposed ridge, travelling one of the better-made roads west was not a good idea. The dirt beneath his feet was wet with vanished snow, the fields north and south still covered in patches of it as though waiting for the next downfall.

As a child, he’d loved winter, loved the differences it would bring to the land, knowing that spring would come along eventually and change everything back with a kind of hope that was almost tangible.

It had been a long time since he’d felt that way.

The land around him was silent, with only a faint breeze in his ears and the steady clopping of the horse to keep him company. This was as good a place as any to try again.

He came to a halt, gentling the horse with soft words and hands. Then he closed his eyes, held his breath and sent his Senses out. West from here, further. South a little, and there,
there was Finnlay, his aura bright and so easily distinguishable, others with him, travelling now, moving slowly.

Robert carried on, beyond to where the hills were flatter, to where trees grew only in stunted copses and where sheep and cattle picked what they could from the iced ground. South further, scratching around, going back and forth, pushing and yet trying not to, trying to make it come as it would, to make his power work itself without direction because that was the only way he could find her, his own niece, a child he barely knew.

A shadow. A faint shifting of colour on the hazy landscape of his Seeking. He couldn’t guarantee it was her, but there were tones to it similar to Finnlay’s, similar to Fiona’s – and it was the closest thing he’d found in three days of trying.

So, she was still alive, at least. Were the others? And they were still heading south, perhaps three days from the coast. Did they mean to stop there, or keep going? And what, in the name of Serin, had possessed them to leave the safety of the Enclave in the first place?

He opened his eyes. A wave of dizziness almost made him stagger against the horse. Rest he needed – and a hot meal.

He resumed his journey, his feet hurrying as much as his exhaustion would allow. By tonight, he would meet up with Finnlay and the others. Perhaps tomorrow, if they were lucky, they might come upon Helen and her friends.

So it was to be tonight, then. Meeting up with Finnlay again for the first time in eight years. Having, for once, a little more than the detail-filled stories Murdoch would give him each spring, when they began the new year’s work together. Robert tried not to ask, but Murdoch supplied regardless, understanding his need to know, to partake in his family’s life, however vicariously.

But tonight he would see Finnlay himself. See him and remember how much he’d missed his brother, find out if he in turn had been missed.

And whether he’d yet been forgiven.

*

As each day drew to a close, Finnlay’s patience thinned a little
more and he could do nothing to stop himself pacing up and down in whatever spot they’d camped in for the night. Always hidden by trees, in some copse or gully; always where it was sheltered and where there was no traffic on the road, nor people who would find them by accident. Always in a place where the Guilde was far away and where the snow was settled deeply until spring.

It was worse than being blind, not being able to Seek. Never before in his life had it meant so much to him to try – and yet, he didn’t dare. Risking his own life was one thing, but he could not risk others as well.

In the shadow of a barren elm, he crouched down onto a raised and knotty root exposed above the snow. He leaned his back against the ancient trunk, deliberately preventing further pacing. He knew it bothered the others, knew it did no good, but he had all this urgent energy he needed to burn up, as though he were once again a young man.

Everyone else was asleep, except for Murdoch keeping watch by the outer line of trees. But Finnlay couldn’t sleep, couldn’t forget that they still hadn’t found the children.

Some moments, Finnlay could hardly breathe with worry. Not only that, but he missed Helen. With the exception of the time he’d spent at the Battle, he’d not been away from her more than a day in her entire life. She had become as essential to him as living. Now, there was just this ache inside him, black with frustration and anger, directed entirely at himself.

He should have been paying more attention. How could he not have noticed that his own daughter had been gone almost a day? How had the other parents made the same mistake?

Because they’d all grown accustomed to the safety of the Enclave, become complacent. Because they knew the children were restless and sought to give them whatever freedoms they could have by not structuring their days too much, nor demanding to know where they were every minute. Because everybody had been warned, in the strongest possible terms, that regardless of the Guilde, it was still hopelessly unsafe for any Salti to go wandering around in Lusara.

Because they’d all thought that fear would be enough. But to children young and fear
less
, warnings meant too little and had been given much too late. After all, hadn’t he – and Robert, for that matter – gone and done similar things at the same age? Had their adventures been any less foolish?

So why did his own fear almost paralyse him?

Because this time, he was the father, and this time, his beautiful Helen was in danger.

The itch in his hands burned. From reflex, he flipped his wrist, bringing his
ayarn
out so that he could just look at it, perhaps even imagine that it was safe for him to try Seeking and hope that Nash wasn’t paying attention and would find him. After all, it was still possible that Robert had succeeded in killing him, that the reason everything had been peaceful over the last eight years was because the man was dead.

It
was
possible, wasn’t it?

‘What do you plan to do with that?’ Murdoch asked, approaching from the fire.

‘Trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing with it,’ Finnlay replied, hearing the heavy irony in his own voice.

When Murdoch stopped before him, he said, ‘I certainly don’t envy you, I’ll admit that much. But for the moment, I wouldn’t worry about it.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

The big man turned and peered into the trees. ‘Because Robert’s coming.’

Finnlay sprang to his feet, but before he could do so much as take a step forward, Robert appeared out of the gloom, his horse trailing behind him. The darkness gave little away, but Finnlay could still make out the broad shoulders, the power and strength in a stride he knew better than his own. When Robert stopped in front of him, his smile said it all.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he blurted out. Robert watched him without saying anything. Then, weariness reeking from every line of his body, Robert reached out and pulled him close. The embrace lasted little more than a moment, but its fierceness lingered much longer. Then Robert let him go, turned and looked around at the sleeping bodies, his face
catching the flicker of firelight, the green eyes Finnlay remembered so well lined with exhaustion.

‘They’re heading south,’ Robert said quietly. ‘I’ve been Seeking them for the last few hours. I wasn’t sure … Helen was five when I last saw her.’ He turned back to Finnlay, pausing long enough to make him worry again.

‘What is it?’

Robert handed his reins to Murdoch and began to unsaddle his horse. Murdoch took it and set it with the others. ‘We could have a problem finding them.’

‘Why? You just said you’d managed to Seek Helen.’

‘Well, at least I hope it’s Helen – but that’s not the problem.’ He took the cup of ale Murdoch brought back for him and drained it in one swallow. He murmured thanks then drew them away from the others so as not to waken them. ‘You should know that your search parties have caused something of a stir in the area. I’ve heard a dozen different references to groups of men searching the countryside for a group of wayward children. Nobody knows who you are, nor where you’ve come from – and that’s the problem.’

‘Why?’

Finnlay was glad Murdoch asked this question when he heard the answer.

‘Because I know Nash – and if he hears of this, if he’s trying to draw us out into the open, then he will know what’s going on here. He’ll send in Malachi to pin us down. We don’t have much time. But … if we push it tomorrow, we might find Helen and the others by nightfall.’

Finnlay stamped on the rush of relief at those words. Still, it was good to hear Robert speaking with this much confidence, even if there was reserve in his gaze. Then again, it
had
been eight years since they’d last seen each other. ‘You need to rest.’

‘I’ve actually forgotten the last time I slept. Not a good sign, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll bet you haven’t eaten, either.’

‘Food? What’s that again?’

Finnlay couldn’t help grinning. ‘Necessities, Robert. You taught me that.’

‘Too tired for food now. I’ll eat in the morning. We’ll need to be away before dawn. Can you manage that?’ Robert appeared about ready to drop where he was and sleep for a week, so Finnlay just nodded, unable to stop the smile which woke his cold face up like nothing else.

Eight years and finally Robert was standing before him, fit, well, just as bloody-minded, stubborn and determined as he’d always been.

Finnlay laughed a little, and felt no shame in it. ‘Come, put your bedding by the fire. I’ll get your horse settled. You get some sleep.’

Robert looked at him again for a moment, something odd in his eyes. Before Finnlay could pinpoint it, Robert had turned for the fire.

‘You were at Dunlorn?’

With barely a pause, Robert nodded.

‘How was it?’

Blankets were pulled out before Robert gave his soft reply. ‘Empty.’

*

Helen could smell something different in the air. Zea and Neil were riding and arguing as usual, but they didn’t seem to notice.

They were getting close to a village. She could hear faint noises in the distance, the scent of baking bread. Enough to make her stomach grumble.

She let her horse slow and looked around. They were traversing the side of a gentle hill, where boulders grew green with moss and where patches of grey ice stuck between them. Dark swathes of heather crouched on top of the rise, but she could see nothing over it. To the south were more hills and the silent promise of the ocean beyond.

Her stomach growled again and soft laughter from behind made her blush. She turned to find Liam smiling at her, not unkindly.

‘Do we take this as a hint that it’s time to find some food?’

Helen looked away, but he drew alongside her anyway. ‘We have a little flour and some salt pork left. Not enough to make
a meal out of, so buying some more food would be a good idea. Aren’t you hungry?’

‘Me? I never get hungry.’ Liam raised his eyebrows, as though such a thing was utterly beneath him. The expression on his sombre face was comical and he knew it. Helen couldn’t help smiling at him.

‘Well, I’m glad you said that,’ Helen countered, ‘because it will be easier to find food for four people rather than five.’

‘So you’re volunteering?’

His eyes were smiling at her and she couldn’t help it. She nodded, wanting more than anything to have the opportunity to visit a real village – even if only to buy bread and vegetables. So far the boys had refused to allow either her or Zea near the towns they’d passed, though the risk was the same for them all.

‘Liam,’ Neil objected, intruding on the conversation, ‘We can’t let her go. If anything happened to her, Finnlay would kill us – literally. We talked about this before. There are too many Guilde soldiers around, and those others with the red livery. I’ve seen at least twenty so far today. We could be close to a Guildehall or something. Finnlay’s an outlaw. What if somebody recognises her as his daughter?’

‘But I want to go,’ Helen said, ignoring how Zea rolled her eyes and looked away. Sayre kept his silence as usual, watching the contest before him.

‘Don’t worry, Neil,’ Liam waved his hand, dismissing his friend’s objections. ‘I plan to go with her. There’s no reason any Guildesmen or any other soldier would stop us. All we’re doing is buying a little food.’

Something of Helen’s elation vanished then, but Liam grinned at her in a way that excluded all the others, and the elation returned.

She was finally having her own adventures – the way Mother and Father had, when they’d been younger. It was a Douglas tradition, wasn’t it? To go out and meet the world on its own terms? To pit your wits against whatever trials might come your way? Well, it was her turn, and she was going to take it.

‘See that stream down there, winding at the base of that hill?’ Liam pointed for the benefit of the others. ‘We’ll meet you
there in an hour. See if you can get a fire going. We could all do with a hot meal.’

When Liam turned back to Helen, there was the same light of adventure in his eyes. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

*

The full screech of the birds above the field drew a gasp of appreciation from the men watching. Kenrick looked once at them, then back up to the birds in time to see the larger eagle swoop and dive at its smaller opponent. The clash was inevitable. Halted mid-flight, both birds plummeted towards the ground, but pulled apart in time to glide away. A handful of feathers fluttered down, some with a splash of red blood upon them.

‘That grey is a demon fighter. Did you train him yourself?’

Kenrick turned to the man beside him, seated upon a roan stallion of immeasurable value. Ogiers, Duke of Quels had dressed for the occasion. His shirt was of the finest silk, his brocade jacket sported pearls laced into the collar and his cloak was lined with sleek black fur Kenrick guessed hadn’t come from a bear. The trip from Mayenne didn’t appear to have tired the Envoy. Rather, he seemed brighter than ever, more alert, interested in any information Kenrick might let slip.

But there was still the marriage to negotiate, young Princess Olivia to woo and win. Moreover, there was the wealth of Mayenne to plunder and a multitude of other riches to enjoy if he could manage to impress this man enough.