Trial of Fire (66 page)

Robert stared at his son. When he finally looked away, Andrew continued, ‘Please promise me that if you live through this, if she does, that you’ll try to forgive her?’

Robert was silent for a long time then, finally, he murmured his answer. ‘You need to be prepared for the fact that, in all likelihood, neither your mother nor I will survive.’

‘But if you do?’

‘Forgiveness is not the problem. But if it was, then yes, I would promise.’

‘But—’

‘Please, Andrew, I am only what I am.’

As Robert’s whisper died away, Andrew swallowed hard around the tightness in his throat. Silence was the only way he could show his love.

Kenrick picked up the empty wine jug and threw it across the tent at the feet of his Chancellor. The man stumbled back to get out of the way of the heavy silver.

‘What do you mean you just found out? How can you just find out something like that? Didn’t anybody notice there were no Guildesmen in our camp this morning? Where is Osbert? I want him here now!’

‘H-he is with them, sire.’

‘With them? They’re
all
gone?’

‘Yes, sire.’

Nash glanced over his shoulder at the poor Chancellor still standing by the door, shaking like a leaf. ‘Are you saying all the baggage-carts are gone, too?’

‘No, my lord. Only the provisions.’

‘How?’

‘Yes, how?’ Kenrick snarled, sending Nash a vicious glare that bounced off him.

‘When the Proctor and his army joined us yesterday, they took responsibility for the provisions, as is the Guilde’s duty. Some time in the night—’

‘Some time in the night?’ Nash sat forward in his chair, dropping his feet from the stool where they’d been resting. ‘Nobody noticed until this morning? Is that why I didn’t get any breakfast?’

‘Damn it, Nash, this is serious!’

‘Oh, of course, sire. My apologies.’ Nash sat back again and put his feet up on the stool. He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers together, doing all he could to pretend that he didn’t feel the Enemy drawing closer, as though there was no tremble in the air, no shaking inside him. Instead, he watched this silly farce, and out of the corner of his eye, kept track of the good Bishop’s reactions. None of the other Councillors dared show their faces.

‘What provisions do we have?’ Kenrick snapped.

‘Enough for a day, no more.’

‘Fine, then we send out raiding parties tonight.’

‘But, sire, today we fight a battle. The men will not be in a condition to … and to forage on your own territory is—’

‘What? What?’ Kenrick stormed forward and slammed his fists down on the table. ‘These Lusarans have stolen from
me
, Chancellor. I will take back what is mine! And when I see Osbert, I will slit his throat myself. As of this moment, he and his entire army are traitors and outlaws. Now get out of my sight!’

As the man rushed to get out of the tent with his life intact, Nash could not stop the rumble of laughter from emerging into the heavy air. ‘Oh, Osbert! Finally he chooses a side! I never thought he had it in him. And with such a grand gesture, too. I am impressed. Unless, of course, our good Bishop here has been the one to make a man out of him.’

Godfrey met his gaze without flinching, and without fear; Nash respected that. This priest was perhaps the only man in this entire country who could do so – except of course, the Enemy. For that alone he would die.

‘If Osbert has chosen to follow his own conscience, then I would not be one to condemn him.’

‘Even if his conscience leads him to treason?’ Kenrick demanded. ‘He’s joined the rebel army, Godfrey! Don’t you even care about that?’

‘Of course, sire,’ Godfrey bowed, but his long-faced expression did not change, making Nash laugh again.

‘I wouldn’t bother trying if I were you, Kenrick. This man is not one who will break for you.’

‘Oh? And I suppose you could break him, could you?’

‘Oh, yes, I could,’ Nash allowed a smile to spread across his face, relishing the prospect.

‘Why? What do you know?’

‘I know—’ Nash broke off, but there was still no sign of fear on the priest’s face. Interesting. ‘I know that Godfrey has secretly been spying for the rebels for years now.’

‘What?’ Kenrick froze. ‘You knew and you did nothing?’

‘He was enjoying himself so much.’ Actually, he hadn’t known – but it was a good guess.

‘What were you—’

‘Yes, yes – but did you know that our saintly priest here is also guilty of the crime of—’

‘Murder.’ Godfrey said the word himself, without flinching, though the disgust was clear in his voice.

‘Yes, murder.’ Nash tapped his fingers against his chin. ‘This man murdered my daughter.’

‘Your daughter?’ Kenrick began, but Godfrey ignored him.

‘And you used her blood to regenerate, didn’t you? No doubt hoping it would bring you immortality. If I hadn’t killed her, you would have.’

‘But I didn’t. And this time, your great friend Osbert won’t come back and rescue you.’ Nash swung his feet down and stood. ‘And when I kill you, you will wish the pain in your conscience was all you had to worry about.’

‘Nash, stop!’ Kenrick bellowed. ‘You have no right—’

Nash raised his hand, letting loose a fist of power aimed at Kenrick’s throat. Kenrick was dragged up into the air and left suspended there, his hands grabbing at his neck as though to release a rope. In an instant, Nash was at his side, looking up at him. ‘I’ve had enough of you, you brat. You only live because I can’t be bothered with the day-to-day rule of a pathetic country like this.
You
serve
me
, do you understand that, boy? You’ve slaved with your Malachi teacher to give you enough power to keep your throne – well, let me tell you, the battle you have to fight today will not decide whether you live or die. Your life is in
my
hands every minute you breathe! Another word out of you, and I will extinguish you easier than I would a candle! Now cut your whining and call your army out. The Enemy marches to face you and you are whinging about lost provisions and a murdered child you care nothing about.’

Nash didn’t even bother waiting for Kenrick to reply. Instead, he released the King. A satisfying thud accompanied his withdrawal. He walked back around the table, making a small gesture at the priest. ‘You will come with me.’

He stalked out of the King’s pavilion and across the short space to his own. Taymar stood there waiting, the only person who did not vex him in any manner. Would that he had a thousand such men.

‘Sit there,’ he ordered Godfrey, and the priest, unable to exercise his will over his own body, sat in the chair indicated. ‘Taymar, where are my Malachi?’

‘In position, Master.’

‘Good. As soon as that boy marches out onto the battlefield, I want him bound and trussed and brought back here. I myself will take care of the Enemy.’

‘Yes, Master.’ Taymar should have left, but he hesitated.

‘What is it?’

‘There are two men waiting to see you.’

‘Who?’ Who indeed? Was it Felenor ready to crawl back to him now that the poison had failed?

‘They would not give their names. They only said to tell you that
she
had sent them.’

Nash froze. He took a breath. ‘Bring them in.’

‘Yes, Master.’

As Taymar vanished, Nash unlocked a chest by the opposite wall and withdrew a flask of wine he had sealed himself. He pulled out the stopper and drank deeply. He turned back to the priest. ‘You may speak.’

‘I have nothing to say to you.’

‘No? Not even to beg my forgiveness?’

‘You murdered the girl’s mother as well, didn’t you? That’s how you survived the poison. So your own daughter didn’t give you immortality; how disappointed you must be.’

‘I see the idea of victory in your eyes, Father. That’s why you can remain so calm.’

‘No,’ Godfrey whispered, ‘I see salvation. Robert will destroy you and you will be no more. My death, my torture is nothing.’

‘Really? Well, we can test that, if you like.’ Nash laughed and stepped aside as Taymar returned with the two strangers.

He knew neither of them. One was obviously blind, the other his guide. Both were tanned as though they had recently arrived from the southern continent. There was something odd in the aura of the younger man, something vaguely familiar. ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

‘She sent us to bring you to her. You must come now,’ the blind man answered.

‘She?’

‘The Ally.’

‘And I am supposed to believe this is not a trap?’

‘She seeks to save her country by giving you what you want. The Enemy is on the battlefield. What trap can there be?’

Nash laughed again, louder this time, but both men remained unmoved. ‘Why would she suddenly change her mind? Her son has an army out there. Why doesn’t she just wait and see what happens? Has she so little faith in him?’

‘She said to tell you that it is not about victory, but about the Key. She has pledged to give it to you, if you spare her son, her country and her lover.’

Nash bristled. Her lover? Robert Douglas? It had to be, for she would take no other. By the blood, how had that happened? But she would know her rebels would be hard-pressed to win this battle, even with Guilde soldiers augmenting their numbers. Even if it
was
a trap, he could not refuse this. All he needed to do was to get close to the Key, then she would be unable to stop him – though she couldn’t know that. And with the Enemy on the field, fighting for his country …

‘Where is she?’

‘We will take you to her.’

‘Am I to come alone?’

‘You may bring what men you wish. She has no means to stop you.’

‘No?’ This
had
to be a trap of some kind – but he would be prepared, with fifty Bonded Malachi. He would worry about the boy later. If he did indeed get the Key, neither Andrew, nor even the Enemy would be able to stop him. ‘Taymar, is my horse ready?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Then call my Malachi. We go to take posession of the Key!’

*

Kenrick burned. Inside him, flames of hatred consumed him, almost lifting him off the floor; he was incandescent with rage.

He got to his feet, still gasping for breath, his throat burning, the same fire as that which ran inside him. With a bellow, he called for his horse, and for his army to line up on the battlefield.

Suddenly he was surrounded by activity as his servants finished with his armour, as his Council clarified orders for the battle, as he kept the fire inside banked and ready. When they were finished, something white and mocking caught his eye, and he turned towards it, knowing in his heart that it was time.

Forb’ez stood by the door as the rest of Kenrick’s servants flowed out. He waited with a patience Kenrick hated, with an innocence he could no longer afford to believe. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Sire?’

‘You deserted my father on the field. Why are you still here now?’

The older man’s eyes widened, as though it surprised him that Kenrick knew about it. ‘Sire, I … I promise you, I—’

But the last word died in the man’s throat as his eyes widened impossibly further. Kenrick merely stood and watched as Forb’ez looked down to the dagger his king had just plunged into his belly. The soldier sank to his knees, then fell forward. There was something deliciously satisfying in hearing his last breath draw out. Kenrick smiled.

Then he was outside, walking to his horse, mounting up. The animal was frisky, prancing and shying from the noise and colour. All around, men shouted, marched, horses galloped, all heading towards the east.

Where the rebels were.

Kenrick turned his own horse, riding through the camp, standard-bearer riding before him, magnates riding behind. On either side of him, everywhere he looked, were his Malachi, now sworn enemies of Nash, ready to help him defeat anybody. Ahead, he could see the field, bright in afternoon sunshine, colourful, almost festive. It was too late in the day to
be starting a battle, but the rebels were approaching and there was only one way to stop them. But his soldiers were trained, skilled and, thanks to Nash’s gold, paid well.

It took more than an hour for his army to be ready, thrust upon the battle as they were. But he could see the enemy lining up before him, lines of peasants, traitor Guildesmen, Robert Douglas – and his own cousin, Andrew.

Nash had lived by hatred, had succeeded by it. Now Kenrick finally understood what a power it was.

*

‘Micah?’ Robert gestured towards the forming armies taking their places on the gently sloped valley. ‘Your friend Gilbert: is he planning to make an appearance? Kenrick’s forces reek with Malachi. We have perhaps a hundred combat-trained Salti. If it comes down to a pitched battle between us, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble.’

‘He gave you his word, my lord.’

‘That he did.’ Robert surveyed his own lines of archers, foot soldiers, the pitiful number of mounted cavalry, too few of them properly armoured. And the hundreds and hundreds of ordinary men and boys, armed with anything they could find, grim determination in their eyes.

‘They’re afraid.’ Andrew appeared at his side, his words softly spoken. Robert looked at him and saw the same fear there. As it should be.

‘Most men are afraid before a battle.’

Andrew turned and faced the enemy. ‘Where’s Nash?’ he asked.

‘Oh, he won’t show himself for a while. At least, that’s usually the coward’s way out. Last time he waited until I was already badly wounded. A fair fight between us would terrify him.’ The words sounded like bluster, but in his heart, he knew they were true. Why would Nash want a fair fight? He cared only about winning, not honour, nor truth – like all other noble concepts, they were wholly expendable. ‘I dare say Kenrick will want to talk first. Do you want to see him yourself?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Well, yes. I could go out there for you.’

‘He’s terrified of you.’

‘Which could be a good reason for me to go.’

‘Or a good reason for me to go instead.’

‘Why? Do you think you can talk him out of his throne?’