He looked upset and she touched his arm. ‘I won’t let you get in trouble for me. Besides, we need you here to keep putting pressure on the Elders. They need to lift the ban on us leaving Turrak. Especially while there are still mystics out there trapped between the Assembly and the Masked Riders.’
He grinned and some of the darkness left his eyes. ‘I’ll go to them right now. I owe it to our lost friends to keep fighting.’ He started walking away and then stopped and called over his shoulder, ‘Good luck, and keep safe.’
She smiled as she headed along the path, glad she hadn’t told him she planned to travel to Newington.
***
By the time Brogan returned to town it was late afternoon and he knew the last of the Assembly business would have concluded. He’d already stopped at Rathnor’s substantial home, but the servant had said his master was still in town.
Brogan left his horse tethered outside and stormed into the Assembly Hall.
Rathnor was inside alone and feigned surprise as Brogan strode towards him.
‘What is this?’ Brogan threw the scroll at Rathnor; it bounced off his chest and lay on the floor between them.
‘Maybe now you’ll realise I’m not a man to mess with.’
Brogan clenched his fists so hard his nails dug deep grooves in his flesh.
‘You should never have left the farm, Brogan. The Assembly was never for you; your father knew it in the end, but the stubborn old fool wouldn’t admit it.’
Brogan stepped forward, every sinew in his body tense. He wanted to launch himself at Rathnor and beat him to a pulp. His hand strayed to the knife in his belt. One thrust and it would all be over.
‘You haven’t got the guts,’ Rathnor said with a smirk.
Brogan wrapped his fingers around the hilt, feeling the solution in cold steel. He looked at his enemy and realised it was exactly what Rathnor wanted him to try.
He heard the footsteps of others entering the hall and let his hands hang loose at his sides.
‘You’re a coward, just like your father.’ Rathnor sneered as he pushed past, showing Brogan his unprotected back.
‘As you can see gentlemen, Brogan is a man of honour. As much as one can expect from a suspected traitor, anyway. I knew he wouldn’t run.’
Brogan watched in surprise as Assembly members shuffled past him to take their seats; all of them stared at him with distrust.
Eventually the room filled and the doors shut. Today the sound was ominous; today Brogan knew the injustices he’d fought against were about to claim him as the next victim.
As usual, Rathnor presided over the meeting, looking even more at home in charge of the supposedly leaderless Assembly.
Brogan remained in the centre of the room, his peers looking down upon him with accusing eyes while Rathnor outlined the charges against him.
‘Arrest the traitor,’ someone shouted, and a chorus of agreement followed. Brogan recognised the voice of one of Rathnor’s cronies.
‘That’s not necessary. Brogan came here of his own free will. We should allow him the benefit of the doubt, at least until his guilt has been proven in trial,’ Rathnor said.
Brogan listened in disbelief to the murmurs travelling around the hall. There were a few heated disagreements, but he couldn’t believe Rathnor’s speech was winning them over. He’d fully expected to face the rest of his short life in the cells. He knew if he so much as flinched, the guards who watched his every move would set upon him with cudgels.
He wondered if they were the men Rathnor had sent to beat up his friend, and a new wave of anger struck him.
‘Now the accused should be given the right to speak,’ Rathnor said.
Brogan’s attention snapped back to the room. Everyone waited in silence, still staring at him with repulsion. He shuffled his feet, glimpsing the guards tensing their hands over their weapons.
Brogan exhaled and forced his body to relax. ‘I came here to face trial. If I were guilty, I would have run. But I stand before you because I’m dedicated to my position on the Assembly, and because I believe in its justice. I’m innocent of these charges and I’ll prove it to you all.’
Further murmurs and hushed debates filled the air. Brogan forced himself to stand firm and unwavering.
‘So it’s up to us to decide whether Brogan should be allowed to walk free whilst the trial is in motion. Let’s put it to the vote,’ Rathnor said.
There were no jeers as Brogan expected, and the voting was taken in near silence. He stared at his peers, noting Luth and Ellas among them, though no one met his gaze. He hoped nothing would befall his friends, who were possibly his only allies on the Assembly.
Rathnor counted the votes. ‘Well, Brogan, it seems your colleagues share my confidence in your discretion. You’re a free man, at least until your trial begins tomorrow.’
Brogan left the meeting hall in a daze. He was free, but the doubts were planted in the minds of his peers and they glared at him as he passed, while those who suspected his innocence refused to meet his eye.
Outside in the street, he hung back in the shadows of an alley and waited. Eventually, he saw Ellas and hissed to get his attention.
His friend hurried on, forcing Brogan to break cover and sprint to catch up with him.
‘Please, talk to me,’ Brogan begged.
‘I’m sorry; I can’t risk being seen with you.’
His childhood friend sped up but Brogan kept pace with him. ‘You’re the only friend I have.’
Ellas stopped and looked at him in exasperation. ‘What are you even doing here? You know you can’t win. Run, while there’s still a chance of escape.’
Brogan watched Ellas hurry away from him as though he were a leper.
He scowled after him, and then switched direction and headed for The Stag. Brogan soon realised the town guards were trailing not too discreetly behind him. He walked piteously slow, in no rush to get to his destination.
Ordering a flagon of ale at the tavern, Brogan realised there was one small bonus to his predicament; when Rathnor’s war came to Kalaya, he wouldn’t be alive to see it.
***
‘Vikks.’ Farrell stood on the sailor’s doorstep.
Vikks opened the door wider and ushered Farrell inside. ‘Can I help you with something, Commander?’
‘Yes,’ Farrell said and craned his neck to check inside to ensure their privacy.
Vikks grinned. ‘My folks are down at the store getting their rations. They always cook a goodbye dinner for me, it’s a tradition.’ He shrugged, looking embarrassed. For such a large and bulky sailor, the look was almost comical but it made him all the more likeable.
‘Your parents are obviously proud of you.’
‘I suppose. I’m an only child so they’re overprotective. They hate it when I’m at sea, but don’t tell the lads. They’d rip me to shreds.’
Farrell tapped his pursed lips. ‘Your secret’s safe with me. But I do have an important favour to ask you.’
‘Commander Farrell, I would do anything...’
Farrell held up his hands and waved the sailor down. ‘This isn’t sea business, but it is something every bit as important to me.’
‘I feel like I owe you after that night when those attackers escaped...’
‘Vikks, it’s because of your courage that night that I’ve chosen you for this task. I want you to stay behind and protect my family. Leila and Fynn are my world and I can’t leave Stone Haven knowing they could be in danger. If you could stay behind and be their bodyguard, I would rest much easier.’
Vikks looked suitably lost for words. ‘Begging your pardon, but your wife doesn’t seem like the type to need protection.’
Farrell laughed. ‘No, Leila is a strong woman and she would never ask anything of another. This is for me, for my peace of mind. I’ll sort it out with her, as long as you agree.’
Vikks looked contrite. ‘I’d do anything you asked, but I know she’ll resent my interference.’
&nb
sp; ‘Then you’ll also be Fynn’s teacher. He needs to learn the ways of the sea, you can teach him for me.’
Vikks looked out of the window, at his parents struggling up the hill against the wind. They were old; Vikks had obviously been a late child to them, another reason they were so protective of their only son. ‘They’ll be happy I’m staying behind, though I’ll miss the sea.’
Farrell patted his shoulder and then walked with him to the door. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour, as big a task as any I ask of my men.’
They shook hands. ‘Thank you, Commander Farrell. I will guard them with my life.’
Farrell left, nodding at Vikks’ parents. He didn’t stop to chat, he had to face Leila now and Vikks had read her correctly - she wouldn’t be happy with this new arrangement. But he couldn’t leave her for weeks on end at the council’s mercy. He’d have left Allisus, but he was too important on the seas, especially with Buck joining their crew.
At home, Leila was waiting for him with her arms crossed and her expression angry. ‘It’s getting late and you sail tomorrow. We have so little time left together.’
He led her to the fire and waited for her to sit before he outlined his plan.
‘Farrell, you’re my husband; I don’t want anyone protecting me but you.’
‘I’m sorry; I can’t go to sea and think of you here by yourself. I need to know you’re safe, and I trust Vikks. He’s a good man.’
‘I don’t need a babysitter.’
He turned to Thorn and patted the hound’s head. ‘I know you’ll look after them for me.’ He ruffled his ears and patted his meaty shoulders. ‘But even you could do with some help, couldn’t you, boy?’
The hound barked and licked Farrell’s face, his tail banging against the arm of the chair.
Leila sighed heavily. ‘Don’t expect your dog to talk me around either.’
Farrell swept Leila into his arms. ‘My darling, I won’t take no for an answer.’ He kissed her, and she laughed, despite her annoyance.
‘Besides, Vikks isn’t a babysitter. He has been tasked with an important job, one I can’t currently fulfil.’
She opened her mouth in shock and he winked at her playfully. ‘He’ll be Fynn’s teacher and will teach him all about the sea and life on board a ship.’
‘Farrell, he’s only just turned three.’
‘I was going out fishing with my father at the age of four. Besides, he’s the commander’s son; it’s never too early to learn the family trade.’
They moved to the table and Leila dished out their meal, his favourite mutton and seaweed stew. He kept the conversation light, talking about his sighting of the seabirds nesting on the shore.
Fynn woke as they were finishing and climbed up onto Farrell’s lap.
‘I wanted to see you, Daddy. Can I stay up with you?’
‘Of course, but let’s get comfortable by the fire.
Fynn’s eyes were drooping and though he fought sleep, it soon claimed him.
He stroked down his son’s curls and kissed his head.
‘You’re a soppy old fool,’ Leila teased him, though there were tears in her eyes.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he said.
Leila curled up into the seat next to him and they chatted until he fell asleep, still hugging his son.
***
Brogan had some trouble finding his way in the dark. He’d had the presence of mind to lose the two town guards who’d been trailing him, but now he thought he was lost. The fresh air and exercise helped him sober up and eventually he spotted the right house. He stumbled up the doorstep and knocked a little too enthusiastically, the sound resonating in the night.
‘Sorry to call so late,’ Brogan attempted to whisper as the door opened inwards.
Luth shushed him and pulled him inside the darkened house.
‘This is a bad idea, Brogan, you could have been followed.’
‘I gave them the slip. And I won’t stay; I just want to ask a favour.’
Luth ran a hand through his hair, attempting to flatten the sleep-tousled mess, and nodded for Brogan to continue.
‘Keep my friends safe. I don’t want them hurt any more than they already have been. Rathnor’s already beaten a fake confession out of Drago.’
Luth shook his head. ‘Maybe I was wrong and they should go to Turrak. They’d be safer there.’
‘But if they tried to leave now it could implicate them in my supposed crimes. Besides, I gave Drago the deeds to the farm. The paperwork is dated before this happened so Rathnor has no legal right to take the land. I don’t want the Assembly getting their hands on the farm.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘How did Rathnor ever get so powerful?’
Luth was strangely quiet and lacking in advice but Brogan was too drunk to question him.
Standing on unsteady legs, he hugged the old man. ‘Stay alive, and defeat Rathnor.’
Luth hugged him back fiercely. ‘Have faith. We’ll find a way to get you out of this.’
Brogan staggered out into the dark night and headed for home. He found the guards outside his door, looking flustered. He smiled at them as he fumbled with the key, not caring that they’d be camped outside watching his home all night.
Weariness overcame him and all he wanted was his bed. He collapsed on top of the blankets fully clothed. The world took pity on him and he succumbed to dreamless sleep.
Chapter Seven
She rode fast and hard, sticking to forests and the trails she’d used with Garrick. Yet again, she travelled the island as an outlaw, but at least this time she didn’t have to stop and search for the Sentinel. This time she had a clear destination and a clear mission; save Brogan from the Assembly.
At night, when she lay in the forest and tried to snatch a few hours’ sleep, she found herself reaching out to him, wondering what was happening. The connection she felt to him was always there, a reassurance as much as a torment. If only their link wasn’t one-sided. If only Brogan knew she was coming, though how she planned to help him escape was another matter.
The Assembly are dragging out the trial, playing with Brogan’s mind, trying to break him. As awful as that is, at least it gives you more time to reach him, Callisa said, breaking into her thoughts.
I wish I could get there sooner.
Callisa laughed. You’re making good time, Tei. You’ll be there in a few days. Just rest the horses and watch out for patrols. Those Masked Riders are on the prowl and they’d like nothing more than to capture my Confidante.
I’ll be careful, Tei said as their connection broke and she kicked her heels into Starflower’s sides. ‘But I won’t slow down and be too late,’ she added to herself.
She’d left Brogan once before thinking she was keeping him safe. If she’d been braver last time and had brought him to the mountains, none of this would be happening.
***
The trial had stretched for days. Sometimes Brogan would turn up and sit alone in front of the Assembly, on show for their mocking stares and derisory comments. Everyone would wait, often seated for agonising hours, only for Rathnor to turn up and adjourn the meeting whilst more evidence was gathered.
Then normal Assembly business would carry on and Brogan was sent away like a scolded child, only to be followed day and night by Rathnor’s men.
It was a torture of a sort, twisting his mind and making him doubt his own sanity. He talked to no one, not wanting to incriminate others, but it left him with the mess of his own thoughts. The whole town knew he was under charge and avoided him, while the tavern owner of The Stag and his maids served Brogan with disgust.
Rathnor hadn’t even produced the false confession he’d had beaten out of Drago. None of it made sense. Both Brogan and the Assembly were mere pawns for Rathnor’s game, while the whole trial made a mockery of Kalaya’s justice system.
On the sixth afternoon of Brogan’s trial, Rathnor took to the floor and paced the room. He allowed the tension to build before he finally stopped
by Brogan’s seat and looked out at the room of attentive Assembly members.
‘Brogan has been accused of working with the exiles, of spying and leaking Assembly business to them. He’s been accused of helping the exiles escape and of harbouring them in his home but...’ He paused for effect.
‘I have to conclude the evidence provided seems inconclusive and I wonder if perhaps we have been too hasty to charge Brogan with these crimes. Perhaps he is in fact a victim of subterfuge.’
There were gasps around the room and Brogan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from speaking out.
Rathnor pulled a scroll from his pocket and waved it in the air. ‘Perhaps these accusations of his wrong doings are embellished. I suggest we detain the witness and question him thoroughly tomorrow. Only then can we be certain of the truth. Brogan is one of our own, and we do not want to risk false judgement.’ He turned to Brogan. ‘We will adjourn until tomorrow.’
The room emptied of people amid the excited chatter. Brogan remained in his seat wondering what Rathnor planned next. Did he plan to turn the charge around and frame Drago?
Brogan caught Luth’s gaze as the old man marched past. He gave a small nod, signalling they would talk later as already arranged. The look in Luth’s eyes warned Brogan not to react to Rathnor’s latest threat.
Brogan rose from his seat and dragged his heels as he headed out into the street. He pulled up his hood and walked to The Stag, hoping Luth wouldn’t keep him waiting for long. If the old man couldn’t come up with a plan, then Brogan would have no choice but to go to his friends and pack them off to the mountains himself.
***
Tei patted Starflower. ‘Come on, girl, we’ll rest soon, I promise.’
The mare responded to the gentle heels in her sides and picked up her flagging pace, while Biscuit followed gamely alongside them.
Tei pushed on for another half an hour before common sense forced her to stop and rest by a stream. She fed the horses some oats and then sat by the water and snacked on dried beef. The trickling sound of the water was relaxing, but Tei had too much nervous energy to find peace. Brogan was only a few hours away, and it was impossible to think about rest when he was in danger. She planned to time her arrival with the darkness, hoping to sneak in and out of Newington unseen.
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