Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (8 page)

Two horses emerged from the trees, breathing heavily, slowing abruptly. Jenn allowed some of the tension to leave her body. ‘Your timing is perfect, Finn. Did you find out anything?’

He nodded sharply, jumping down from his horse. He came close, keeping his voice low. ‘The whole area is crawling with Guilde and there’re more heading this way. There’s been an ambush on the Trade road, a grain shipment heading for Mayenne. They think … no, they’re convinced that … well, that Robert was behind it.’

Robert?

For a moment, nothing other than relief filled her. He was still safe, still alive.

Still fighting for what he believed in.

Thank the gods.

Swallowing quickly, she nodded, keeping everything from her voice. ‘So they haven’t caught him yet?’

Finnlay’s gaze flickered and a brief smile flashed across his face. ‘No.’

Uncaring, she matched his smile, then turned back to Arlie and the others. ‘We have to keep moving, then.’

‘Yes, only …’

‘What?’

‘How did you end up here?’

Jenn suppressed a groan and instead waved her hands in the general direction of the forest. ‘Well, don’t stand there gawping. Show us the way out.’

*

They moved in single file, Finnlay taking the lead, Arlie in the rear. After a moment’s hesitation, Jenn rode behind Finnlay, watching him as he paused now and then to Seek for soldiers. Watching him for other things as well.

For the most part, Finnlay appeared happy with his life at the Enclave – but that was the problem: it was only for the most part. There were still, even after all these years, periods when he chafed at the bit, when a burning restlessness surged from within. If it hadn’t been for Fiona and his children, Jenn didn’t doubt that Finnlay would risk capture and leave the Enclave altogether, taking his chances with a life of freedom rather than the prison he was confined to.

Even after all this time, he hadn’t realised that there were different kinds of prisons and his was the gentlest, the best he could hope for.

And now he’d had direct word of Robert; he might even be close by, was, even now, working in some way to help the people of Lusara, just as Finnlay had always wanted to do.

Just as she had once, a long time ago, before the Key had chosen her for Jaibir and her fate had been sealed.

As had Robert’s.

Nothing had turned out the way they had expected.

There was so much of Robert in Finnlay, so much of that deeply embedded need to
do
something constructive. That’s why Finnlay had started the Enclave Combat school in the first place, their very own D’Azzir to match that of the Malachi – and why he had suggested these trips out into the forest.

Why he was determined to
do
something about Andrew, regardless of the cost.

Abruptly Finnlay came to a halt, holding up his hand. There was a moment’s pause, then he swung down with a thud.

‘What is it?’

‘The path,’ he replied quietly, frowning at the ground, then at the trees standing close on their left. ‘It’s gone. Must have been a landslide since I was last here. We’ll have to dismount and walk. The forest sits too close to ride. Get the others ready while I take a quick look around.’

Jenn passed the word back. As quietly as possible, they all dismounted, then stood waiting, the animals no longer restless but tired. They would have to rest at some point, but not until they were clear of the soldiers.

‘Serin’s breath!’ Finnlay’s curse came out resigned and Jenn moved to his side. He was just putting his
ayarn
away and he looked at her. ‘There’s another group of soldiers following us. They must have picked up our tracks.’

‘Can we escape them?’

‘Not on foot.’ He frowned again, looking up at the sky. The moon was already past the tree-line, giving them more cover. ‘There used to be a path going down to the bottom. It’s not far from here. When we reach it, we’ll set a false trail going down, and cover our tracks up here. That might be enough. Come on, let’s get moving.’

*

Where are you, Robert?

Finnlay tried not to clench his teeth as he sent out the silent query again and again. Of course, it was a futile exercise; he’d never been able to mindspeak his brother; only Jenn. Even so, who was to say that it might not work one day?

He could already scent the morning on the air. In another
hour, the sun would begin to peek over the hills. They needed to be out of the forest by then. Out and away.

Damned stupid idea to come here in the first place. But they’d been doing it for years now and this was the first time they’d had any trouble.

They’d laid the false trail and it had worked, to a point. The soldiers had gone down into the gorge, but they were still following. It was now a race against time. If they could reach the village of Solmoss before the soldiers came upon them, they would be safe, hidden amongst the population. They were looking for Robert, for a band of raiders, rather than three adults and eight children – but one of those children was a Duke who frequented court, who knew the King. If Andrew were to be recognised – or himself or even Jenn, there would be trouble indeed.

Robert?

What was he doing? Leading an ambush? Feeding the people grain stolen by the Guilde? Making a tiny mark here and there when he, above all others, had the power to do so much more?

Was this all that the Prophecy had left him?

A cry from behind was quickly followed by a muffled thud. He whirled around to find the others rushing to the edge of the gorge. Leaving his horse, Finnlay pushed through, grabbing Andrew’s shoulder.

‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s Helen,’ Jenn whispered, falling to her knees to look over the edge. ‘She slipped and …’

‘Serin’s blood!’ He landed on the ground beside Jenn, his hand already reaching out to form a light – but she grabbed it to stop him. ‘Damn it, I can’t see her! Helen? Can you hear me?’

Terror caught in his throat, keeping his words quiet. The others were gathered around, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything more than strain in the darkness, looking for a child he loved more than his own life.

Jenn’s gasp was the only warning he had. ‘Andrew, no!’

*

Andrew shifted his foot on the ledge, holding tight to the rock
with both hands. At his movement, a handful of gravel scraped loose and skittered down the cliff-face, to be swallowed up by inky darkness.

His face was cold, pressed against hard stone moistened by dew. He could hear little more than the constant thud of his own heart and the muted sounds of voices from above. Specific words were lost to him, but his imagination could fill them in – along with too many other details, like how it would feel to lose his footing, how hard that ground below would be and how long it would take for those soldiers to come along and find him.

Carefully, he took in a breath and called out with a forced whisper, ‘Helen? Helen, can you hear me?’

Straining, he looked as far around the rock face as he dared. In what remained of the moonlight he could see just enough into the crevice to glimpse a stretch of leg, pale brown boot attached at the end. Encouraged, he shifted his feet a little more, finding new hand-holds as he crept towards his friend.

‘Andrew! Helen!’

He stopped, looking up to find Finnlay’s face peering over the cliff edge. He was lying flat, but even reaching down as far as he could left him at least ten feet short of Helen’s position.

‘Is she conscious?’ Finnlay hissed.

‘I don’t know yet.’ Andrew inched his way along the ledge, feeling for each placement before he put weight on it. He couldn’t afford to be afraid, couldn’t spare the thought or the attention, because the moment he did, he would fall, he knew that. He would simply fall and then …

He gulped in another breath and paused, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the drop below, visible in a vague wash of pre-dawn light. He couldn’t afford to be afraid – but apparently that didn’t stop the fear.

At least he’d had some practice climbing – not that it would help get Helen back up – but it meant he could get down here in one piece and avoid falling to his death. Hopefully.

Finally he rounded the corner of the crevice and reached Helen. She was wedged in firmly, one arm stretched above her
head, the other jammed into the narrow rock. One knee was bent, most of her weight pressing on it, the other was free and it was this that Andrew reached out to touch.

‘Helen? Helen? Can you hear me? Helen?’

She shifted, eyes opening slowly. She blinked a few times, then tried to move.

‘Just keep still. You fell, but the crevice caught you. Finnlay’s going to lower some ropes down, I think.’

‘I’m fine,’ Helen whispered, moving with a moan.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘I … I don’t think so. Just a knock on my head.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Andrew said, trying to smile, ‘nobody will ever notice.’

Helen grimaced then turned her head to the side, enough to get an idea of the drop below. She froze.

‘Helen? Listen to me.’ When he got no response, he put his hand on her foot and squeezed hard to get her attention. ‘Look at me!’

Helen looked up.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Andrew said with every ounce of certainty he had. Fortunately, his own fear hadn’t emerged in his voice. ‘Finnlay and Arlie and all the others are up there. And … and my mother can help. She can probably lift us both out of here on her own, so don’t go looking down and thinking about what might happen, because it won’t. You know that, don’t you? Don’t you?’

Helen frowned a little, blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. ‘What are you doing here? Did you fall as well?’

‘No, I climbed down to help you.’

‘Oh.’

A faint noise from above made him look up. Something slithered over the edge of the cliff, heading towards them. It looked like a rope. Slowly it descended, but he waited until it was level with his face before letting go his hold on the rock to grab it. More came down, to give him some slack, and when he looked up again, Finnlay was once more peering over the cliff, his face lined with worry.

‘Can you tie it around her?’

‘I’ll try.’ The walls of the crevice rose vertically around Helen. Andrew was perched on his ledge just outside the crevice, able to lean in, but that was about all. And of course, he had no idea what condition Helen’s other leg was in because he couldn’t see it.

He looped the leather strap around his wrist and repositioned his feet. Taking a good hold of the rock with his left hand, he leaned forward and slipped his arm around Helen’s waist. He grazed his knuckles, but managed to wedge the strap between her and the rock. Then he withdrew and went in from the other side.

‘Ow,’ Helen grunted as he pulled the strap clear.

‘Bruised or broken?’ Andrew whispered.

‘Bruised, I hope.’

‘I need your hand to help tie this.’

Helen nodded and brought her free arm down. Awkwardly, their hands worked together, tying a knot firmly around Helen’s waist, then doubling it. Done, Andrew refreshed his grip on the rock then gave the strap a good, solid tug. The knot held and he threw Helen an encouraging grin.

‘You might be a bit more bruised by the end of this – but at least you’ll be in one piece.’

‘Or two, if that knot’s too tight.’

‘Then you’ll be twice the trouble,’ Andrew quipped back. He steadied himself on the ledge again and looked up for Finnlay. ‘Try it now.’

The leather strap drew taut as those above began to pull. Helen started to pant as the pressure on her bruises began to increase. Andrew hovered, ready to give a hand if necessary, but for long seconds, it seemed like nothing was happening. Then, abruptly, Helen began to move, her hands scrambling for purchase on the rock before her. Andrew’s hand shot out to steady her as she kept moving, up, until she was beyond his reach.

He didn’t take his eyes from her until she disappeared, dragged to safety by welcoming hands.

Closing his eyes in relief, Andrew leaned back against the rock and took in a couple of deep breaths. As his heartbeat
began to slow, he heard the rope slide towards him again – and something else.

He froze. Holding his breath now, he turned carefully, straining to hear what was going on below.

Horses. He could hear horses. And men. Voices. Tired and fed up.

Something flicked on his face and he nearly leaped off the ledge – but it was just the rope. He grabbed hold of it and stole a glance up. All he could see was the faint outline of Finnlay’s face peering down at him. Everybody else must have moved back.

Shaking now, Andrew wound the rope around both hands. As it drew taut he let it take his weight, using his feet to climb up, one step at a time. He’d barely begun his climb when a warning note made him freeze once more.

‘Wait!’

Heart hammering in his chest, Andrew carefully looked up. Both Arlie and Finnlay were there holding the rope and, with just enough light to see by, he saw Arlie mouth the rest of the warning.

‘Soldiers. Directly below.’

In a flash of panic, Andrew turned his head, eyes seeking in the gloom beneath him for …

Five, six … no, more than that. Mounted and armed and … and he was fast losing feeling in his hands as the rope began to cut off his circulation. He couldn’t move. If he put a foot down to shift his weight, they’d hear him; he’d probably dislodge some dirt or something and they only needed to glance up and they’d see him and Finnlay and Arlie and …

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but his chest was too tight and the pain was almost unbearable. He couldn’t hold on much longer …

And that feeling came to him again, close now, so familiar, as though it could help him, as though it would save him from
falling, from giving away the others as he plummeted to the ground, as though it was a balm against his terror.

And even if it wasn’t, he held onto it, savouring it. Like the rope, it held him there, safe.

A shout, and his eyes snapped open. Shaking like a leaf, he stared down at the soldiers as word flew from one to the other. Orders were called out and they gathered together, pointing back the way they’d come, as though somebody had discovered something. With a triumphant cry, the animals were kicked and urged to a canter. Moments later, the entire squad had vanished from sight, the sounds of their retreat echoing around the hard walls of the gorge.