Sean and Damon followed them to the gate.
“You two stay here,” Alan ordered.
Jes nodded his agreement and they had no choice but to stay. Alan and Jes walked the long bridge to the figure waiting at the end, the grey knit cap confirming it as Rorie. The Highlander gestured into the trees that masked the eastern side of the road up to the Carraig.
An impressively built figure emerged from the forest, a battle-axe strapped to his back. Alan took a half-step back, hesitated, then reached out to clasp his hand. The four spoke together for a few minutes, then Rorie and his companion disappeared into the trees and Jes and Alan made their way back across to the gate.
“When Bryn returns, we go for the Baron,” Jes spoke first.
“Rorie told them you’re a Seer, Sean. They want to know if you have any news of him.” Alan’s brow furrowed in mild concern.
“Nothing that would help,” Sean replied.
“Alan!” Sarksten’s voice broke from the keep. The lord descended the stairs and approached them, a frown lingering between his eyes. “What is this I hear? A Highlander at the bridge?”
“Yes, my lord.” Alan bowed. “One of the Baron’s men.”
“Am I to assume that he has more men with him?” Sarksten crossed his arms, one eyebrow arched.
“Yes. A company of twenty men is camped near Devil’s Gorge.”
Sarksten frowned, his features sharpening in irritation. “Outlaws have no place on my land. What do they want?”
“They are waiting for the Baron’s man to return from Clan MacDuffy. Then they ride to Castle Bright for the Baron,” Alan replied, a hint of steel in his voice.
“Don’t think to challenge my authority here.” Sarksten leaned close, his voice growling deeper in warning.
Jes fingered the hilt of his sword. “We do not want to cause trouble here. There is only one thing we want, and he is not here.”
“Your Baron is most likely dead.” Sarksten sniffed, no regret touching his eyes.
Jes glanced to Sean for confirmation.
“He’s still alive,” Sean said. Even without the dragon vision of the night before, the sense of always knowing Rhys’s location had started to return. It was still faint, but it was there for the first time in seven years.
“Very well.” Sarksten tipped his chin down, the flash of annoyance still obvious. “I’ll still not have these outlaws skulking about my gates. Tell your Highlander friend to come in and ask permission of the lord of these lands himself.”
“My lord—” Alan began.
Sarksten cut him off. “Before you recklessly try and put everyone under your protection, Alan, you have my word that they have no fear of visiting my dungeons. This will be a peaceful talk only.”
Alan inclined his head in a stiff bow. “Very well, my lord.”
The lord swept away, fur edged coat flaring behind him as he strode back up into the keep.
Jes stared after him with raised brow and thoughtful purse to his lips. “I think he will want something from us.”
“Why do you say that?” Alan asked.
“A man does not simply invite those with the reputation of the Dragon Keep into his house.”
“He’ll keep his word. He’s a fair man, but he always liked his pawns,” Damon said.
A short smile crossed Jes’s face. “I will tell Fulke.” He jogged back over the bridge and vanished into the woods.
Chapter 27
Alan waited alone by the gate for Jes to return with the intimidating Fulke. He’d forced Sean and Damon to wait inside the keep. Alan trusted the Baron, but without him there to control his men, he didn’t want them getting any ideas about Sean or the prince of Alsaya.
I don’t think Jes will tell them about Damon, but who knows what would happen if they’re desperate enough to get the Baron back?
He’d begun to fidget, tapping his thumb against his forefinger when Jes reappeared, the bulk of Fulke behind him. He wasn’t used to being shorter than anyone, but Fulke nearly put the mountains to shame. The soldiers at the end of the bridge visibly tensed, tracking the outlaws’ every move. The gate guards adjusted the grip on their spears as they passed through the gates. Even in the few minutes since Jes had been gone, word had spread that the Baron’s men were camped by the Carraig and that one was coming to talk to the lord.
Alan’s fingers tapped faster. This is turning out messier than I anticipated when I volunteered. But nothing ever went as planned with Rhys along. He shook his head. He wasn’t built for negotiations and politics. He much preferred it when someone pointed out the enemy and said “charge.”
Jes and Fulke halted beside him, Jes smirking a little when the guards took a few steps closer. They wouldn’t have much success with Fulke. The man stood a few inches taller than all the soldiers, his shoulders as broad as a mountain oak. Alan once again found himself scrutinized by discomforting grey eyes peering out from under thick brows.
“This Sarksten, you trust him?” Fulke asked. The words were deep and gravelly, almost hard to understand. Rorie, it seemed, had put in a good word for Alan with the Baron’s men. Fulke seemed to regard him as a sort of liaison.
“I don’t know if I’d trust him,” Alan replied. “He’s always treated honestly with my laird.”
“Your laird does not hail from the Dragon Keep.”
Alan nodded in acknowledgement. “He said it would be a peaceful talk.”
“There is never such a thing.” Fulke ran a hand across the strap that bound his axe to his back. There was a look in his eyes, noticed earlier on the bridge, like a wildfire just barely controlled and waiting for a chance to burn anything in its path. Alan had seen it before in men struck with battle sickness, and he began to wonder if the man was truly sane.
“Fulke.” Jes nudged the man and he refocused on Alan.
“I also want to see the man who shares the Baron’s blood.”
Alan did not feel like arguing with the demand. Fulke likely wouldn’t be the one losing. He nodded again. “I’ll take you to Sarksten first.”
Fulke thankfully agreed. Alan led the way inside. Several uninvited guards tagged along.
Sarksten waited in the main hall, seated comfortably in a carved chair draped in dark ermine furs, flanked by extra armored guards, a clear attempt to intimidate the mountain outlaw.
Alan halted at the foot of the dais. Jes maintained a relaxed posture, as Fulke crossed his arms, unimpressed.
I didn’t think the Baron could be more dramatic than this, but obviously he is. I need to find some way to visit the Dragon Keep when he holds court to see exactly what he’s like these days.
Jes flicked his fingers for Alan to move away. He willingly stepped aside. He didn’t need to accidentally embroil the Clans in any feud that might result from this so-called peaceful talk.
“My lord.” Jes flourished his hand as he bowed. “May I present Fulke, lieutenant of the Dragon Keep, sworn protector of the Mountain Baron, bearer of the cursed axe Adrelan, and the slayer of the last greatwolf.”
Alan raised his eyebrows. Well, he’d clearly underestimated Jes’s own flair for the dramatic. Fulke stood unblinking and offered a slight, stiff but courteous bow.
Sarksten acknowledged him with a nod.
“Why have the men of the Dragon Keep come to the Carraig?”
Fulke shifted and crossed his arms. “You know why. We seek our Baron. And so I ask you, as a man who once thought himself a friend of the Baron’s, give us safe passage through your lands.”
Sarksten frowned at the inference. He leaned forward in his chair, twisting a silver ring about his finger.
“You plan to ride to Castle Bright?”
“Yes. As soon as our companion returns from the Clans.”
“Why wait?” Sarksten tilted his head.
“It’s the law of the mountains. We do not leave any man behind, especially in an unforgiving place.” Fulke did not shift his unblinking stare from the lord.
Alan winced. That’s exact
ly what I did to Rhys. I’m not surprised it’s one of the Baron’s laws.
“And what will you do to Lord Adam for imprisoning your Baron?” Sarksten slowly looked to Fulke again, his hands clasping together.
There it is. The price Jes knew would be asked.
The faint glimmer of madness shone in Fulke’s eyes. “Whatever the Baron commands.”
Sarksten pressed his lips together as if sampling each word before he spoke. “And if you are successful, would the Baron be willing to make an alliance with those who have similar interests?”
Fulke chuckled, a sound that chilled rather than invited further merriment. “I doubt the Baron will have anything to do with those from the old days.”
Sarksten’s eyes narrowed.
Does he think Rhys owes him something? Alan’s fingers drummed against his arm. Is that why he convinced the council to let him live? Because he might be useful later?
“You have my permission to maintain your camp at Devil’s Gorge.” Sarksten rose. “On the condition that I see the Baron when he returns.”
Fulke nodded. “I will tell the Baron of your wish.”
Alan half-smiled. Someone would have to forcibly drag the Baron back to the Carraig before he’d see Sarksten. Fulke ended the audience with the same curt bow.
Fulke turned to Alan. “I came here, MacDuffy. Now let me see him.”
“Outside.” Alan signaled to Sean, and they left the hall.
Sean met them in a more secluded area between the keep and the training courtyard. He stood a few paces away from Fulke, watching him with a wary curiosity. He held himself like the Baron used to when sizing up a new threat—gauging, assessing. Though Alan had always sworn that Sean could just know things about a man.
“You are of the Baron’s blood?” Fulke asked.
“Yes.”
Sean’s voice remained as steady as the set of his shoulders and stubborn tilt of his chin as he looked up to where the lieutenant leaned over him.
“Rorie says you have the Clans’ Gift.”
“Yes, but the Baron has not allowed himself to be seen for many years.” Sean tilted his head up, his words sure as if he’d known that was the next question Fulke would ask.
Fulke crossed his arms, rubbing his thumb along the bridge of his prominent nose. “You cannot see him even now?”
“I’ve had one glimpse but nothing that would help you.”
“And if we were to force you?”
I’d like to see you try. Alan instantly placed a hand on his sword, and Sean stiffened. He glared up at Fulke. “Adam Barkley thought he could make me his fortune teller. I will not serve those who seek to abuse the gift.” He softened a fraction. “But as you said, he is of my blood. You have only to ask.”
Fulke smiled, and Jes nodded his head in approval.
“I see why the Baron decided to ride when he received the message,” Fulke said. “You two are tied by more than just blood.”
“Once we were called brothers,” Sean said. “If I should see him, you will be the first to know.”
Fulke gave Sean a deeper nod than he had given Sarksten, and then he and Jes were gone.
“And if you still aren’t able to see him?” Alan asked, still uneasy with the casualness of Fulke’s threat.
He was responsible for Sean not only because he was the Clan’s Seer, but also because of the promise he’d made to Rhys a long time ago—to look after Sean if Rhys didn’t make it back.
“They can take it up with that stubborn rock sheep they call their Baron,” Sean muttered, drawing a laugh from Alan.
“Now I’m really hoping they get him out so I can tell him you said that.”
“Whatever it takes to knock some sense into that man,” Sean replied with a smile.
“But until then, we still have plenty of daylight left. Might as well get a few more hours of training in.”
That was something immediate he could focus on. He could work out some of the tension that had plagued him since leaving the Wolf’s Head and make sure that Sean would be able to keep looking after himself in the conflict that was coming. It didn’t seem there was any way to avoid it.
Chapter 28
Rhys slumped in the corner of the cot, the cold of the walls seeping through his shirt and pressing against his wounds. He tensed every time footsteps came close to the door. As much as he hated to admit it, they were beginning to wear him down. The anger he’d held when first dragged before Adam had begun to fade after the days with Kane, and now with the druids. Fear wormed into his mind, bringing back every nightmare both real and dreamed.
He’d woken in the night with the same uncanny feeling of being watched by a falcon. Sean was looking for him. He’d always known when Sean tried to see him, or even pray for him. It was like the lightest touch on his shoulder. He didn’t deserve the prayers, and he certainly didn’t want Sean to see what he’d become. His men might think they knew him, but they couldn’t see deep inside—not like Sean.
He scratched the smooth streak of his scar, interrupting the rough stubble of his beard. Anything to distract himself. Bryn and Fulke had been there when he’d received the scar. It was then those two idiots began their crusade to keep him from killing himself. Their unwavering support had been the last thing he expected to find in the mountains.
I’ve only stayed standing because of them. They’ll come for me.
Jes and Rorie would be right at their side—Rorie just as protective and Jes just as idealistic. Their only problem would be making sure the entire Dragon Keep didn’t come with them.
They were his only hope in this place.
But he still hated how much they cared and looked up to him. They wouldn’t if they knew how he kept the shards of himself hidden beneath the anger and coldness of the Baron.
Keys jangled in the lock and two soldiers entered, spears leveled at his chest.
“Lord Barkley wants to talk,” Kane said behind them.
Rhys had half a mind to throw himself on the spears and just be done with it. He didn’t. Only because he didn’t want to give Adam or Kane the satisfaction.
He slowly gained his feet, ducking his head to hide the grimace as the movement jarred the countless bruises and cuts scattered over his body. A soldier clamped shackles about his wrists and escorted him out of the cell to a room by the dungeon entrance.
They forced him to take the seat at a plain wooden table, the two soldiers standing behind him just out of reach. Kane and another guard took their place by the door. Rhys didn’t have long to wait until Adam joined them, sweeping into the room and taking the seat across from him.
Few people could hold Rhys’s direct cold gaze, and he decided to make the most of that fact while waiting for Adam to speak. The lord smiled but turned his gaze away first, if only for a second.
“You’ve lasted much longer than I thought you would have based on previous experience,” Adam said, his tone considering, and almost admiring. “Six impressive days.”
Rhys narrowed his eyes. “Get to your point.”
Adam clearly wanted something, and if he was interested in a conversation without knives or druids, Rhys might even consider having it.
Adam pushed back and rose from his chair, pacing on the opposite side of the table.
He pivoted suddenly, hands clasped behind his back. “Why did Sarksten want you alive all those years ago?”
“I don’t know,” Rhys replied. “I think you and I could both agree it would have been better if I had died.”
Adam half-laughed. “Perhaps. But Sarksten is known for his strategy and political maneuvering. Why did he want you alive?”
“Why ask now?”
“You arrive, the Clans and Sarksten ally themselves, and then there’s the small problem of Damon.” Adam resumed his pacing.
“You shouldn’t have left him where I could find him.” Rhys slid a finger under one of the manacles, easing the pressure against his skin.
“I should have just killed hi
m.” Adam shook his head.
“Third time is a charm.”
“He is surprisingly resilient.” Adam nodded. “But why did they send you? Surely you must have wondered?” He raised a mocking eyebrow.
“Think I don’t know that they’re using me?” Rhys rested his hands on the table.
“Then why did you come?” Adam tilted his head, open curiosity in his glance. “I know the memories this place holds for you. Why would you do anything for Brogan?”
“I didn’t do it for Brogan.”
“For family?” Adam’s voice turned mocking. “You don’t have a family anymore.”
Rhys tensed his jaw. Hearing Adam say it was even more insulting. “I might have been cast out, but there are some ties that can’t be forgotten.”
“I heard he didn’t even try and find you. Neither did any of your other so-called friends.”
“Some people respect the law and those that are their lawful superiors.”
Adam scoffed. “The old king was weak. Why do you think the Karanti attacked us to begin with? We should have defeated them long before the Darvani alliance. He and his sons had no more place on the throne.”
“And you think you are the best substitute?” Rhys raised an eyebrow.
“How many wars have been waged on Alsaya in the last seven years?” Adam gripped the back of his chair. “How do we know the Karanti won’t eventually come back? The lands under me have prospered since I’ve taken Castle Bright. I do love this country and what she could stand for. Why shouldn’t Alsaya be united once again?”
“And you intend to unite her by waging war on her people?” Rhys gave a mocking smile.
Adam sat down and leaned forward across the table. “A carefully planned war, but yes. Taking out the leaders and any heavy resistance leaves me free to rebuild. We’ve been asking for information on the Seer and anything you might know about the Clans’ alliances. Give that to me, and you’ll receive a full pardon and a place in my army. I could easily find a place for a man of your rumored talents.”
The chair creaked as Rhys shifted forward. “You said you know the memories this place holds. Then you should know that as much as I hate Brogan for what he did, I hate you even more.”
Oath of the Outcast Page 18