“Esek made a better Crown Prince than you,” the keliy said. “He always craved power.”
Little Cham can bloodvoice better than any man. Or woman.
Achan stepped back from Esek’s likeness. He did have a strong ability to bloodvoice, but how could he use that? Cover me, Shung. He forced his eyes shut, though his senses screamed he was a bigger fool than Esek for doing so.
Arman, I am but a man. I cannot defeat this enemy by my own strength. I barely have strength left. Achan fell to his knees and stifled a cry at the pain in his leg. Please banish the Darkness, Arman. Bring back the sun. Defeat this enemy before me. Let Your light shine again, over all Er’Rets. In the name of Your Son, Câan, I ask this of You.
He opened his eyes. The sky was still dark. Nothing had happened. Arman had not answered. Shung now stood between him and the keliy, which had taken the form of an adolescent Berland boy.
“Arluk wanted to live,” the boy said. “To be squire for Koyukuk.”
Arluk. The friend Shung had killed in his youth.
Shung mumbled a prayer. “Arman God. Arman One. Arman Three.”
Ôwr shook in Achan’s hand. Soon the keliy would wield its green fire and he and Shung would fight until they fell.
Achan? Sparrow’s voice rang inside his head. What is happening?
The mere sound of her voice boosted his morale and stilled his trembling hands. I called on Arman, but He does not answer. What more can I do?
Perhaps you can give Him an offering.
Arman doesn’t need my offerings. Gold cups and coins are for idols like Cetheria. All I have is Ôwr and half a gold coin.
Not riches, Achan. An offering from your heart. Arman deserves more from you than demands.
Of course. Achan recalled Toros’s advice. “Arman does long to hear your prayers, but He also deserves your praise and worship. Your allegiance.”
Achan closed his eyes. Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd. You are my god. You are my creator. You are holy beyond all comprehension. Mightier than the fiercest cham. Stronger than the tallest Eben. You are wise. Worthy of more than I know how to give. You’re my deliverer. My father.
Heat swelled in the pit of his stomach. Heat that could do miracles. If only all the people could feel Arman’s power. How could they doubt the truth then?
He sucked in a quick breath of cold air. The lyrics of a song the worshippers in Melas had sung came to him now.
No darkness have we who in Arman abide.
The Light of the world is Câan!
We walk in the light when we follow our Guide.
The Light of the world is Câan!
Achan carried Arman inside him. He was part of Arman’s light. So was every man, woman, and child in Er’Rets who believed. Alone, as one man, Achan could not succeed. But if all the people joined together…
Because the temple of Arman was His people.
Achan lowered the shields around his mind completely. Voices gushed into his thoughts, drowning out one another. Millions of voices. He winced at the level of noise. At the pressure. The pain.
He gritted his teeth and spoke to all the people at once. Lo, this is Achan Cham, born Gidon Hadar to King Axel and Queen Dara.
The din in his mind softened a great deal. He could hear the keliy speaking to Shung, feel the cold wind whipping around Arman’s warmth within him. I stand at the top of the Armonguard watchtower facing Lord Nathak, the man responsible for my parents’ death, the man responsible for ushering the reign of Darkness over Er’Rets. Arman has set me as king over this land.
Some voices protested.
He ignored the curses and growls and raised his voice. I come to you for help. We’ve been silent far too long. Many of you have turned your backs on Arman. Many never bothered to know Him at all. But Arman is the One God. He created Er’Rets and everything in it. He gave each of you life and purpose. He loves all of you as His own sons and daughters.
To defeat Darkness, we must unite our faith. We must worship the One God, Arman. We must call out to Him for mercy. Though He hears my prayer now, my voice alone is not strong enough. I am only one man. But together, we are mighty. I ask you to join with me now. Worship Him.
And Achan began to sing.
Er’Rets was lost in the darkness within.
The Light of the world is Câan!
Like sunshine at noonday His glory shone in.
The Light of the world is Câan!
In his mind he could hear scattered voices singing along.
No darkness have we who in Arman abide.
The Light of the world is Câan!
We walk in the light when we follow our Guide.
The Light of the world is Câan!
Ye dwellers in Darkness with tar-blinded eyes.
The Light of the world is Câan!
Go, wash, at His bidding and light will arise.
The Light of the world is Câan!
More and more voices joined, until he was leading a mighty choir.
No need of sunlight in Shamayim we’re told.
The Light of the world is Câan!
For Câan is the Light in the city of gold.
The Light of the world is Câan!
So loud were the united voices, Achan could no longer hear the hecklers. A tremor danced in the air around him. A warm breeze swirling with the cold.
Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha beechâd. Hatzileni, beshem Câan, ben Arman. Say it with me and mean it with all your heart! Arman is God, Arman is One, Arman is Three in One. Deliver us in the name of Câan.
The wind grew louder in its battle of cold and heat. It began to howl. The roof trembled beneath Achan’s knees. The people continued to chant in unison. Achan opened his eyes. The wind had color now, black and green and what looked like… light. It swirled around the figure of the boy Arluk and Shung, who had tears streaming down his hairy cheeks. The boy turned his angry gaze to Achan, morphing back into Esek.
“Am I king?” Esek’s voice warbled through the wind. His hair whipped around his face, and he suddenly screamed in an unworldly voice.
Like Ôwr’s shining blade, a beam of light pierced the dark sky and stabbed down, lancing Esek through the chest.
Esek shattered into a flock of gowzals. The birds flapped in the heavy wind, squawked, and vaporized into mist.
Achan looked deeper, for he could see that the gowzals had not vanished at all, but gone to the Veil. And somehow Achan could see both places at the same time.
Two beings stood before him, side by side. Lord Nathak and a pale, thin creature with gangling arms and legs, black eyes, black lips, and black horns that coiled like those of a ram. The keliy. The Hadad’s master. A minion of Gâzar. The lance of light continued to beam down from the clouds.
“Be gone from here in the name of Câan!” Achan yelled. “Both of you. Your time in Er’Rets has ended.”
The keliy snarled like a rabid dog, but its legs slowly twisted into a funnel of wind. The creature reached out and grabbed Lord Nathak’s arm.
“No!” Lord Nathak cried. “I don’t want to die!”
The beam of light coming down from the sky swelled and crept along the roof until it met Achan’s boots. Achan could see dust and feathers floating in its golden glow.
The wind funnel spun faster. Lord Nathak and the keliy became indistinguishable from one another. The light beam grew, now encompassing Shung and Bran’s body, then Sir Kenton’s body, the entire watchtower roof.
And beyond.
The funnel sucked away. Vanished. To the Lowerworld, perhaps?
All was silent. Daylight poured from a widening hole in the clouds. And the sun continued to spread its light over the water and land below.
Achan limped to the battlement and looked out over the land. Twilight. The cover of Darkness was now nothing more than dark storm clouds. The sun shone through them, casting a riot of color in the sky.
Cheers chorused in Achan’s mind and r
ose up from the ground below.
Thank You, Arman! Achan closed his mind and offered a private echo. Thank You.
P A R T 5
IN THE LIGHT
38
The sun shone down on Castle Armonguard as if it were the first day of creation. But Averella had no time to enjoy it.
She and Jax recruited every healthy soldier to help transport the wounded to the lawn south of the watchtower. More than four dozen wounded had been brought there already, lined up like corpses on the grass. Sir Eagan joined them, and together they did all they could.
When two soldiers dragged Kurtz onto the grass, Averella thought he was dead. He had taken an arrow to his lower neck, just above the collarbone. It was remarkable he still breathed. She removed the arrow with the help of an elderly soldier and the arrowspoons her father had given her, and she bandaged his throat.
A man’s shadow fell over Kurtz’s face and stretched out on the bright grass. Likely Sir Eagan checking on Kurtz. “I can do no more for him than this,” Averella said, hoping Father would not point out an obvious mistake.
“He is blessed to be in your care.”
Still crouching, Averella spun around on her toes. Achan stood at Kurtz’s feet. The sun behind him made his outline glow. She could hardly see his expression, but shiny gashes all over his breastplate gleamed and caught the light.
A flutter passed through her stomach. “Achan!” He extended a hand. She reached out and slid her hand into his and found it sticky, coated in drying blood. “Are you injured?” Her eyes studied him. One leg was coated in blood from knee to boot.
He pulled her to standing, harder than need be. She flew up from the ground and slammed against his breastplate. He held her there with a hand at the small of her back. She could do nothing but gaze into his eyes. His hair, wet with sweat, frizzed out like the rambutan fruit from Nesos. The blisters on the top edge of his burned ear had mostly healed now.
“Achan?”
But he only stared, the hand against her back trembling. A single tear streaked down from the corner of his eye and vanished under his ear, painting a clean stripe through the dirt on his face.
“You did it, Achan! I heard your voice. I sang with you. You brought all Er’Rets into fellowship with Arman. I have never been so proud of anyone.”
He grimaced, as if the compliment pained him. “Sparrow—”
“We asked the soldiers to bring the wounded here. Do you think that will do? I do not know this castle well enough to take them inside. Besides, the fresh air will help to—”
“Vrell!” Achan swallowed. “My lady Averella.” His hand clenched behind her, taking the back of her tunic in his fist. He closed his eyes. “Bran is dead.”
A chill fell over her as if the sun had passed behind a cloud. She shook her head. “No, I— I can still sense him.” But even as she said it, she knew she could no longer feel Bran’s presence.
“He saved my life,” Achan said. “I realize you might not consider that the best exchange, but… I am sorry.”
She tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. The world spun around her, everything blurred, green, white, silver, red.
Achan spoke to her, a low, muffled sound she could not interpret. Her feet left the ground as Achan lifted her just before she fell.
She woke in a chamber brightly lit by sunlight streaming through a set of opened double doors that led to a balcony. She lay on a double tester bed canopied in white organza linen that shifted in a breeze sweeping through the doors. She wore a nightgown. One of her own. Mercy. It had been ages since she’d worn this.
Where was she? This was not her bedchamber. How had she come to be here? She sat up and slipped out of bed.
The chamber was large, curved on one side, likely on the perimeter of one of the arcs of the Armonguard keep. She frowned. Did that mean the war had been real? And what Achan had told her of Bran…?
The walls were bare on one end of the chamber, covered in colorful tapestries on the other. Two servants stood where the tapestries ended, working together to hang more tapestries. A maid stood beside the door.
“Good morning, dearest.”
Averella turned and found her mother sitting in a wicker chair on the other side of her bed. “Mother!”
By the time she reached the chair, Mother had stood. They embraced. Averella started to cry.
“I am so sorry, dearest. He was a good and brave young man.”
This declaration ended all communication on Averella’s part, for all she could do was sob into her mother’s chest. She searched her memory to recall what her last words to Bran had been.
She could not remember.
This only made her cry harder. Mother helped her back into the bed. She did not know how long she lay there before she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke again, her curiosity grew stronger than her grief. She turned onto her side and drew the organza curtain aside. All the tapestries had been hung now. A maid stood by the door. The wicker chair was empty, but Averella’s mother stood on the balcony, looking out over the lake.
“Mother?”
Mother jumped, then walked to Averella’s bedside. She placed her hand on Averella’s cheek. “How do you fare?”
“Forgive me for my self-pity. What a fool I have been.”
“Not a fool. Grieving is necessary when a loved one is lost.”
“How many nights have passed since—”
“Only one. We gave you hops tea to help you rest.”
She felt hollow. “I am hungry.”
“Then I shall have something brought up.” Mother nodded toward the doorway, and the maid scurried out the door.
“I am in Castle Armonguard? It is still standing then?”
“Oh, yes. The battle did no damage to the main keep. They are already repairing the sentry walls.”
Averella pushed up onto one elbow. “I should get dressed and help Father and Jax with the wounded.”
“You will do no such thing. There are now over twenty healers in the bailey working on the wounded. Each army had some of their own, you know. You, Jax, and Sir Eagan are not the only healers in Er’Rets. Relax. All will be well.”
Averella lay back on the bed. “Sir Caleb?”
“He is fine.”
“Esek and Lord Nathak?”
“Defeated.” She looked out the balcony again. “Utterly.”
“How did you get here so quickly? I thought you remained home.”
For once, Mother looked almost sheepish. “I confess I could not. I boarded one of Captain Chantry’s ships as it passed Carm. I’ve been sailing for the past week.”
Averella squeezed her mother’s hand. “I am glad you are here. I am so sorry for all the trouble I caused.”
“Think nothing of it. I forgive you.” She brushed a soft kiss on Averella’s forehead. “Are you feeling well enough to receive guests?”
Averella ran a hand over her tangled hair. “I must look a fright.”
“The prince is not among those waiting. He paced outside your door half the night until Sir Caleb whisked him away. He is likely sleeping now.”
Disappointment washed over Averella. But Achan deserved rest. “Who is waiting?”
“Gypsum and Syrah are in the solar just outside your chamber. Shall I let them in?”
Averella sat up. “Of course. What about Rioja, Terra, and Mariel?” For Averella wanted to see all her sisters.
“They are on an outing with Sir Eagan. I shall fetch Gypsum and Syrah at once.” Mother left the room and returned a moment later with Averella’s sister and maid.
Gypsum ran to Averella’s bedside and took her hands. But Syrah remained beside the door, ever the reserved servant.
“Oh, Vrella!” Gypsum said. “We had to stay on the ship when all the soldiers came ashore to fight. Mother said you would have stayed in Noiz, but I did not doubt you would sneak away with the men. To see you well…” She kissed Averella’s cheek. “I am so thankful.”
Gypsum frowned at this. “Mother told me about her and Sir Eagan. I still cannot believe it.” Her eyes lit up. “You have not heard the latest in regards to Sir Eagan’s love for Mother. But I shall let her tell it.” Gypsum turned aside so that Averella had a clear view of where Mother stood with Syrah.
“You have news, Mother?” Averella asked.
“Sir Eagan and I intend to marry.”
Merciful heart! “Oh, Mother! How exciting! When will this take place? Right away?”
“No, dearest. Not until after…”
“After what?”
Gypsum sat on the edge of Averella’s bed. “The date of Mother’s wedding depends entirely on you, dear sister.”
“How so? If you are seeking my approval, Mother, you need not.”
“I do not wish to upset you.”
“Impossible. What greater joy than to see my parents wed. I give you both my happiest blessing. What a celebration it shall be! Name the day.”
“Mother and Sir Eagan cannot marry until they return to Carmine,” Gypsum said. “It would be a scandal not to marry there.”
“Well, of course you would marry in Carmine,” Averella said. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. Only that it should be soon. You have been parted for too long.”
Gypsum sighed like an exasperated tutor. “Vrella, you are thicker than a redpine. None of us will be leaving Armonguard until Prince Achan is crowned. And if he is to marry, that will likely happen first. So, dear sister, am I to marry Prince Achan or are you?” She raised her eyebrows and flashed a wicked smile.
Averella laughed. “Merciful heart! I see the problem now. Thank you, Gypsum, for saying it so plainly, but rest assured, dear sister, it will not be you.”
“I do not believe you know the prince’s mind that well,” Gypsum said, a haughty grin on her face. “For I spoke with him last night at dinner, and he paid me a nice compliment. If you still harbor doubts, I would be happy to fulfill Mother’s promise.”
From Darkness Won Page 48