From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

“Do they?” Achan tried to imagine Lady Lathia kissing a peasant man. “Does she strike him or get angry?”

  “Never, sir.” Matthias wrinkled his nose. “I think she likes to be kissed.”

  Achan grinned. “From your report, Matthias, I gather she does. Perhaps I can help your brother make that match. It is good for people to marry the one they love. Arman knows I will not have that pleasure.”

  The door opened and Sir Caleb entered. “Ah, I see you are awake. Praise Arman. How do you feel?”

  “Hungry. And my head hurts.”

  “I do not doubt it, Your Highness. Why you insist on disobeying simple instructions, I’ll never understand.”

  Heat rushed through Achan’s chest. “Really? You can’t imagine why I might make a decision every now and then?”

  Sir Caleb’s eyes shut as if trying to control his temper. He opened them slowly. “I know you desire to be a good leader. But it’s selfish to risk your life. Er’Rets needs you.”

  “Why do you decide how I serve Er’Rets?”

  “I’m a Kingsguard knight, appointed by your father. And your advisor, appointed by you.”

  “Advisor, Sir Caleb, not father.”

  “I never meant to imply that—”

  “How can you expect me to lead—to ever have confidence to do so—if you continually override me? True, I am but sixteen years of age. I have not your wit, experience, or skill with politics and war. Still, Arman chose me. And I am trying to obey His call. If you refuse to be reasonable, to accept any authority from me at all…” Achan paused, hating to say what he felt he must. “I will replace you.”

  Sir Caleb’s shoulders sank. “Understood.”

  “Thank you.” Achan wanted to forget this conversation had ever taken place. “Now is there something you needed?”

  The knight’s tone grew distant. “No, Your Highness. I only wanted to see how you fared. Since you are hungry, I’ll have a tray brought up.” He bowed to his waist, causing his wild hair to fall forward and reveal a balding patch of skin. Then he strode out the door.

  Achan rubbed his eyes. The pain in his head was now accompanied by an ache in his chest. He hadn’t meant to berate Sir Caleb, especially in front of Matthias. He should have held his ground in the first place and demanded to go to the battle. It would take time to prove to Sir Caleb that Achan wasn’t completely hopeless as a leader, but he could never prove anything without a chance to try.

  He felt trapped in his bed and desperately wanted to sit. He turned his head and met Shung’s gaze. The Shield sat on a chair in the dark corner, shadowed in his black clothes.

  “Why, hello, Shung. Nice of you to announce yourself.”

  His Shield raised one eyebrow. “Shung was sleeping until Sir Caleb spoke. The lion’s voice haunts my dreams.”

  At least Achan wasn’t the only one under Sir Caleb’s careful eye, though he felt even more embarrassed knowing that Shung had also overheard his lecture. “He means well.”

  Shung leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands. One of his thick braids fell over his shoulder and dangled with the charmice tails that decorated his jerkin. “Still, the lion needed taming, even if the little cham is a willful cub.”

  “I’m sorry I left you, Shung. Next time I will fight for my choice instead of sneaking off.”

  Shung’s smile caused his cheeks to ball above his hairy sideburns. “Shung saw Little Fox.”

  “Sparrow?” Achan’s pulse rose at the idea of her in this room, holding his hand. “She was really here?”

  “Aye. Shung sees now why you named her fox.”

  “I named her? I thought you named her as you do everyone else.”

  “No. When Little Cham came to Berland, said, ‘That one is fox.’”

  Achan tried to remember when he first considered Sparrow a fox. It could have been the time he caught her bloodvoicing her supposedly dead mother. Or even earlier, like the day she’d read Gren’s letter.

  Aye, Sparrow deserved her title. Deceiving him seemed to be her favorite game.

  But she was here, in Carmine. She’d been inside the castle— inside his chambers! “Who let her in?”

  “Shung did. She came with the fawn yesterday.”

  “I am an injured man, Shung. Have mercy on my head and speak plainly.”

  “The widow works in the kitchens, sir.” Matthias still stood at his bedside. “Jespa calls her Gren.”

  Achan balked. Sparrow and Gren had come to visit him? Together? What madness was this?

  A knock sounded on the door. Shung answered it.

  Could it be Sparrow and Gren again?

  No, only Anillo. He walked to the foot of Achan’s bed and bowed. “Your Highness, Duchess Amal would like to pay you a visit. Would now be an appropriate time?”

  Now? Achan wasn’t even dressed. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, holding his breath at the ache in his head.

  Shung’s boots clomped across the wooden floor. “Little Cham should stay down.” He pushed on Achan’s shoulder, agitating the place where the cham had put its teeth.

  “No.” Achan met Shung’s scowl. “I need a shirt.”

  Matthias was already padding toward the bed, shaking out a long green tunic. “It’s not pressed, sir.”

  “It’s fine,” Achan said as Shung helped him sit. “Anillo, give us a moment?”

  Anillo bowed. “Of course, Your Highness. But there is no need to hurry. We can return later.”

  “No, no. I just need a moment.”

  Matthias slipped up to the bedside. The boy had already gathered the tunic in his hands just as Sir Caleb had done for Achan ever since the cham attack. Matthias threaded the sleeve over Achan’s right hand and slid it gently up his injured shoulder. “Tip your head, sir.”

  Achan leaned his right ear toward Matthias, who pulled the tunic over his head in such a way so the fabric didn’t touch his head wound. Achan shoved his left arm through. Matthias laced the shirt and padded away.

  “All right, Anillo.” Achan sucked in a short breath. He tucked the long hem under the blanket. “I’m ready.”

  “Wait!” Matthias ran across the room with a comb and length of green ribbon. “Your hair, sir. It’s a fright.”

  Achan looked to Shung. The hairy man nodded once, smirking. “One moment more, Anillo,” Achan said.

  Achan sat still, suffering through the pricks while Matthias tugged snarls from his head. The boy took care with the hair over Achan’s head wound and combed it all back into a tail. He held the hair with one hand and stretched the other out over Achan’s shoulder, blackened fingers clutching the green ribbon. “Sir Shung, can you help?”

  Shung snagged the ribbon. Together, he and Matthias managed to secure Achan’s hair. Matthias arranged the pillows into a small mountain, then Shung helped Achan lie back, so he was somewhat reclined.

  Achan smoothed the covers over his lap, making sure the Duchess would in no way suspect he wasn’t wearing trousers. “All right. I’m ready.”

  Anillo opened the door and poked his head out. “The prince is ready, my lady.”

  Duchess Amal entered, wearing a bronze gown that swept the floor as she walked. Achan couldn’t say why the lady sent a wave of heat over him whenever he saw her. Though small, something in her regal stature made him want to cower at her feet.

  She walked up to the side of his bed and curtsied. “Pardon my intrusion, Your Highness. I hope I did not wake you.”

  “No, my lady. You did not wake me. You bring news of Lady Averella?” He flashed a wide smile.

  Her pursed lips curved into the faintest smile. “I see you are your charming self again. Did you forget your pledge that you would not wander my castle alone?”

  Her green eyes penetrated to his heart, igniting it like parchment. Heat spread over his body like wildfire, tingling his cheeks. He wanted to look away, but found he could not.

  “Ah, yes. You have that look in your eyes. You are not the first man I have seen felled by his own pride.”


  At this Achan did look away. Leaving the castle alone had been foolish. But if Sir Caleb hadn’t overruled him, Shung would have come along. He turned back to the duchess but looked over her shoulder to avoid her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me back from the Veil.”

  “You have already thanked me, Your Highness. No need to do so again. I hope you see now that men in high positions play a different role from most. Though your heart wants to fight like the average man, you must not risk yourself in such a way. You understand that better now, do you not?”

  Would every elder lecture him his whole life long? He didn’t need to be set afire when he was already burning. Yet he said in a small voice, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She didn’t move or speak for so long that Achan was drawn to look in her eyes. When he did, she smiled and tipped her head, pulling his gaze to the swaying brown gems that dripped from her ears. “And now I shall thank you.”

  “Me, my lady?”

  “You saved my daughter from a terrifying ordeal. Lady Gypsum is most grateful and has asked permission to visit when and if you are willing to receive her.”

  “Oh, sure.” Achan had forgotten all about Lady Gypsum. “She made it back safely, then?”

  “She did. I am glad you used the tunnel that morning.” She stepped so close to his bedside that her gown crinkled against the mattress. “Though your body is weak, I suspect your mind is still strong. Might you permit me to check?”

  Check his mind? “Uh… Of course, my lady.”

  “Sir Eagan assured me my venture should not aggravate your head wound. But I warn you, Your Highness, this may hurt in a different way.”

  He did not relish more pain, especially in his head. But as Duchess Amal lowered herself to sit on the edge of his bed, he did not stop her.

  Her intense gaze locked onto his again. “Do you trust me, Your Highness?”

  His hands trembled and his voice came out a near whisper. “With my life.”

  She smiled wide, and he felt as if he could jump out of bed that moment and challenge Esek to a duel.

  The duchess reached for his face. Her icy fingertips slid across his cheek and rested just before his ear.

  He clenched his teeth and shivered.

  “Close your eyes and open your mind.”

  Achan obeyed instantly, as if he had no other choice. He had a choice, didn’t he? He felt nothing but her touch on his face and the ache in his head. He sat there, breathing shallowly, waiting.

  “Your gift is stronger than mine, but as your body is weak and I am touching you, I could destroy you. Did you know that?”

  Achan’s eyes flashed open. He drew up his shields, and what felt like the bite of a cham bear bit down on his head. He gasped.

  “Relax. I will not hurt you. Open your mind.” Her gaze was focused on her hand. “And close your eyes.”

  It went against all logic, but he blew out a short breath and obeyed. He had no reason not to trust this woman, but blazes, she had a shocking way with words.

  “Touch, skin to skin, increases the connection between gifted minds. Like having a key to one’s soul. You may have other defenses to keep me out, but touch reduces the biggest obstacle.” Her fingertips shifted. “Let us play a bit.”

  Achan swallowed.

  “Sir Shung, stay close to your prince as we practice. Keep the connection open between your minds. Listen to his conversation with me, though he could block you from our words should he wish to. If you do not hear from him often, speak to him. If he does not respond, or you suspect he is in danger, wake him. Do not leave his side until he returns to his body. Should you wait too long, it is possible he will never wake. Do you understand your responsibility?”

  Achan opened his eyes to see Shung bang his fist against his chest. “Shung will not fail, my lady.”

  “And please make sure I do not fall off the bed.”

  Shung lunged to the bedside, hands out.

  Duchess Amal smiled. “Not yet, Sir Shung. First connect your mind to the prince’s.”

  Shung’s knock came almost instantly. Shung Noatak.

  Achan opened his mind to his Shield. Any clue what she’s going to do?

  None, Little Cham. She is her own kind of warrior.

  Achan took a jagged breath. That she is.

  The duchess caressed Achan’s cheek. “Relax, Your Highness, and please, close your eyes.”

  He obeyed, willing his hands to stay still, his heartbeat to calm, his breathing to slow. Suddenly, he was flying up through the ceiling, through the rooms on the levels above his, out the roof, and into the sky. Hovering over Castle Granton, he could see the stronghold beneath his bare legs.

  Bare legs?

  His heart leaped into his throat. They were in the Veil. He did not want to be here again. And in his undershorts!

  Trouble, Little Cham? Shung asked.

  Achan looked to his left and found Duchess Amal holding his hand, floating in the sky beside him. Oh, horror. He couldn’t breathe. I am well, Shung. It’s just … She took me into the Veil and… No pants, Shung! No pants!

  Yet Achan would knight Matthias for having chosen such a long tunic. It hung to his knees like a nightshirt. He prayed the duchess would assume it was just that.

  To Duchess Amal, he said, How did you… ?

  She flashed her disarming smile. I have stormed you.

  Achan squeezed her hand. Isn’t that a bad thing?

  Not how I have done it, for I mean you no harm. But you understand why this is dangerous?

  Achan shuddered at the memory of not being able to get back to his body. Aye… I mean, yes.

  When our mind is away from our body for too long, it yearns for the world beyond and drifts to one of the gates.

  Gates?

  The Pearly Gate or the Fiery Gate.

  How does the mind know where to go?

  It doesn’t. It is pulled by Light or Darkness. Only Light can go to Shamayim. All Darkness goes to the Lowerworld.

  Achan considered this. You must know Câan to reach the Pearly Gate, for Câan is Light.

  Precisely. When you storm someone in battle, you push their mind from their body and strip it of its recent memories. This way, the mind is lost, drifting until it reaches one of the two eternal destinations.

  How long does that take?

  That varies, I think, depending on Arman’s will. Some go within days, some linger for years.

  That’s… horrible.

  No more horrible than being run through by a sword and left to bleed to death. As you can see, it is a peaceful, ignorant death. I suspect many believe they are dreaming.

  And some would know that they are not?

  Those trained to navigate the Veil would know. If you found yourself here, you would know—now that I’ve told you. You would know to try and return to your body.

  So that’s possible then? I could get back on my own?

  Certainly. As long as you have not passed through one of the two gates, you can will yourself to move.

  And if I cannot? Like before when I was drifting?

  You merely require practice, Your Highness. But if you could not, Sir Shung could come for you, once he’s trained.

  And pull me as you have done?

  As long as he knew where to find you, which is why it is essential to keep in contact with him, maybe even let him watch through you so he knows your location.

  Achan thought again to the day he had found himself drifting. If he didn’t know where I was, how would he know where to look?

  It is difficult. When a person is stormed, I message them first. If they have lost their memory, I might look where I knew they last were and hope their mind has not drifted far. Touching their physical body would help. And if I could not do that, I would hold something that belongs to them.

  Before, when I was drifting, what if you had not come? Could I have gotten back on my own?

  Without a partner’s aid, it can be difficult. Only Arman could help you then. You woul
d be completely at His mercy.

  Do you have a partner now? Like I have Shung?

  I do. Anillo’s connection to my mind anchors me in Er’Rets. Without that connection, I might drift as you did.

  Achan recalled the time he had gone into the Veil to help Gren when the Carmine peasants attacked her. The knights who had been with his body had thrown water on his head to wake him. Shung doesn’t have to enter the Veil to bring me back.

  Usually, all it takes is a shake of your shoulder. If he cannot wake you, he can message you. But if you were stormed, your memory would be altered. And it would be difficult for Sir Shung to find your location.

  I see. Achan’s thoughts tumbled until one came to the surface. How is it you can touch me now? For every time I’ve been in the Veil, I drift through people and solid objects.

  The rules of nature are different in the Veil. We can touch each other, but we cannot touch objects or people in the physical world. That is why we passed through the roof. Now, you are to take us back, Your Highness. Concentrate and use your connection with Sir Shung to draw strength.

  Achan did as she asked. He pulled Duchess Amal by the hand down toward the roof. He smiled. It was working. They passed through several rooms until they were floating in his chamber. Anillo and Mathias were talking over by the armoire. Shung stood at the foot of his bed.

  Now take us back to our minds, Your Highness.

  How?

  Simply return.

  Achan opened his eyes and found himself in bed. Something heavy pressed down on his legs. He glanced down and saw Duchess Amal’s limp body lying across the foot of his bed, one arm draped across her waist.

  “Shung! What has happened to the duchess?”

  “She went limp. But Shung did not let her fall.”

  All is well, men. Do not fret. Duchess Amal’s voice boomed in Achan’s mind. I chose not to return to my body, for I wanted you to understand, Your Highness, that you cannot force me back. Only I can make that choice.

  But I could force you out by storming? Achan asked.

  Not exactly. Storming is a trick. It’s all about making the other person lower their guard enough so you can pull their mind away from their body the same way you pulled me to this room. If you keep your shields up, you can resist.