To Darkness Fled bok-2

by Jill Williamson

"Strip down and I'll check."

  Vrell's eyes swelled. "I–I am fine. I am not…feeling well." She backed into the thicket of prickly trees, keeping an eye on Achan. A sharp branch dug into her shoulder. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The trees were so close together it was difficult to get through.

  Achan's gaze followed her. "What are you doing?"

  She slid behind a thick trunk and held her breath, praying someone would distract Achan from his quest to be helpful.

  But Achan called again, "Sparrow?"

  "Leave him." Sir Caleb's low and commanding voice soothed Vrell's nerves. "He'll ask for help if he needs it."

  "But how can he stand it?" Achan asked. "I didn't want the little beasts on my skin any longer than they had been."

  "Worry about yourself. Get your sword and sit. Then I'll show you how to oil your blade and rub down your scabbard."

  Vrell sank against the tree, stopping herself before she sat on the moist ground. She squatted, wrapping her arms around her knees. Now seemed a good time to try and contact Mother again, but she hated the idea of blacking out on this sodden ground. That would not matter if Mother did not answer.

  Vrell concentrated on her mother's face and sent a knock.

  She waited, listening, but heard only the men shuffling in the clearing, the crackling of the torch, the occasional click and hiss from above. She took a deep breath-gagged at the bitter smell of the forest-and knocked again.

  "Vrell?" Sir Gavin called out. "Come back, lad. I've got to put out the torch."

  Vrell forced tears away and stood. She paused to let a bout of dizziness fade from standing too fast and crept back to the clearing. Four bedrolls had been laid out around the torch. A moth the size of Vrell's hand fluttered around the flame. Achan, Inko, and Sir Caleb had each claimed a bed. Sir Gavin's pack sat on the last bedroll. The knight crouched beside the torch. Where would Vrell sleep? Surely they would not expect her to share one of those skinny little flaps of leather?

  "Get yourself some meat, Vrell, and sit." Sir Gavin motioned to the bedroll with his pack.

  An open burlap sack protruded from the top of Sir Gavin's pack. Vrell knelt on Sir Gavin's bedroll and took the top chunk of dried meat from the sack.

  "Couldn't you be waiting until we're offering our thanks?" Inko's gaze locked on Achan, who had eaten half his meat.

  Achan shot a questioning glance at Vrell. She pressed her hands together in a position of prayer. His head tipped back and he pursed his lips.

  Vrell knew little of what Achan believed about Arman, but she knew he didn't follow the Way like she and the knights did. Likely, Achan held beliefs similar to the rest of Er'Rets' general populace, who believed in a host of gods for any and every superstition. The remnant who knew the truth-who followed the Way, believing in Arman, the Father God, as the one and only god-was a small group indeed.

  "But why thank Arman for food?" Achan asked.

  Vrell coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. How rude to question Arman-or one's elders-in such a way.

  But Achan charged on, clearly unfazed by his impropriety, chewing while he spoke. "I mean, if you thank him for food, why not thank him for everything? Clothes, companions, being alive, leeches…I don't see what good it does, why it matters."

  A long silence passed, then the knights all spoke at once, as if eager to provide their future king with answers.

  Sir Gavin tugged his beard braid. "It matters to Arman."

  "Because it's showing thankfulness, respect," Inko said. "Without Arman's provisions, we wouldn't be having life."

  "I thank him for all those things," Sir Caleb said.

  Achan blew out a winded laugh. "Even leeches?"

  "Leeches have their place in the world."

  "Well, someone had better thank him for the meat, then, 'cause I'm starving."

  Vrell hid a smile. How could Achan go from rudeness to acquiescence in a heartbeat and make it all harmless fun? She would never dare such boldness. And Achan had behaved that way as a stray. His nature had shocked her at first, but if she had been forced to serve Esek, she might have lost her patience quickly too.

  Inko claimed the prayer. "Arman, we're thanking you for our lives, for safely delivering us from Esek's men, and for having given us this meat. Be helping us to be finding a way across the lake. In the name of your son, Caan, may it be so."

  "So be it." Vrell lifted the greasy meat to her teeth and tore off an oily chunk. Her mouth watered at the smoky flavor. She stole a glance at Achan, and found his brow furrowed again. What was he thinking now? She dared not peek into his head. He would not be happy to find her there.

  She studied the men around the torchlight. The dull green flame cast a pea soup fog over everyone, bringing out the worst in the Old Kingsguard knights. The flame glittered in Inko's pale eyes. With his grey, pockmarked skin and white hedge of hair, he looked dead. The green glow deepened Sir Gavin's wrinkles and grayed his white hair and braided beard. Even Sir Caleb, the youngest of the knights, in his mid-fifties, looked to have aged without the sun.

  Only Achan's appearance benefited. Darkness shadowed his boyish features, straightened his posture, and broadened his shoulders. The torch cast a bronze glow over his brown skin and made his greasy black hair look silky. How could she have spent weeks healing his wounds and missed how much he resembled the Hadar family? But who would have thought a stray anything other than what he appeared to be? Vrell hoped the men would assume the same about her.

  Sir Gavin jerked the torch from the ground and carried it to his bedroll. "Time to douse the lights. Everyone settled?"

  No one complained, so Sir Gavin smothered the flame under the corner of the leather. Vrell edged back. The sudden darkness sent a prickle up her spine. She blinked, trying to see the men where she knew they were.

  Sounds magnified in the dark. Fluttering. Clicking overhead. Steps across spongy ground. Sir Gavin, likely. Vrell hugged her knees to her chest. Would he sit with her?

  Achan's voice rose above the subtle noises. "How long will we stay at Mirrorstone?"

  "As little as possible without being rude." Sir Gavin's voice came from Vrell's left, where Sir Caleb's bedroll had been.

  Good. She pressed her hands on the grimy leather and stretched out her legs. "And from there?"

  "We look for a way to cross to the north shore. We'll fare best at Melas, rather than trying another boat."

  "How far is that?" Achan asked.

  "Another three days on foot. Two, if we can get horses."

  Joyful heart! Horses would be merciful. Vrell still felt slimy from that water. She abhorred the stench of this place. She lifted her satchel off her neck and shoulder and opened it, looking for something pleasant to smell. Did herbs grow fresh in Darkness? Where would she find supplies for her healing kit if they didn't?

  "You think Lord Eli will give us aid?" Achan asked.

  "He has nothing to gain by refusing us," Sir Gavin said. "Either he'll arrest us and turn us over to Esek or he'll help us. He won't send us away."

  Vrell sniffed a small bundle from her bag. Mentha. Mmm.

  The mossy ground squished on her right. "Then we're risking everything to be going to him."

  "We have no choice, Inko," Sir Caleb nearly yelled. "Surely you can see that much?"

  "We should've been doubling back to Allowntown."

  Sir Gavin sniffed in a long breath, as if to calm himself. "Esek will have men posted all along the Evenwall. We stand our best chance in Darkness."

  Vrell inhaled another fresh breath of mentha. "How will we know we're not walking into a trap at Mirrorstone?" She still had not told anyone about the bounties Esek had offered for her and Achan's capture. She hated keeping secrets and not having a plan. If only she could speak with her mother.

  "We won't," Sir Gavin said. "But I'll know his intentions as soon as I lay eyes on him."

  "Can you teach me that?" Achan's mumble brought his injured cheeks to Vrell's mind. "I've always sensed emotions
. Lord Nathak's tonic never doused my intuition. But I want to learn more. Sparrow showed me a few tricks, and-"

  "I know little." Vrell's heart lifted at the idea of learning bloodvoicing from good men, not her maniacal old master, Macoun Hadar. "I should like to learn more, as well." Like how she could watch longer without blacking out and how to peek into gifted minds without being seen. Achan's mind.

  "Think of your body as a fortress and yourself as its guard." Sir Caleb's voice drifted from Vrell's left. "Your duty is twofold. You must guard the fortress, allowing entry only to those you permit. Then, when you invite someone in, you must also guard the treasure, which is your mind. If you do this correctly, your guest may see only what you offer."

  Vrell could do this already. She had a different way of accomplishing the same feat. She thought of her mind as a house and created a foyer in her mind where she let people in but kept them separated from her different rooms of thought.

  "How do you do everything at once?" Achan asked. "When my mind is open, so many come at me. I can't keep them out and I'm tired of shielding all the time."

  "You can and you must, Your Highness." Sir Caleb sounded nobler when giving orders. "No one can guard your mind for you. Either you learn to do this or you'll have to stay guarded always, never experiencing the fullness of your gift."

  Vrell wished she could help Achan practice, but the knights had ordered him to keep his mind closed, for Achan's untrained bloodvoice rang like a beacon to anyone with the ability. Surely Esek had bloodvoicers monitoring for Achan's presence. Plus, unguarded, Achan's mind released a pressure that brought Vrell to her knees. She didn't miss the pain, but she did miss his sarcastic companionship.

  A screech split the night. Vrell hugged her arms close. A mosquito buzzed nearby. She disliked the dark. "Sir Gavin?" She lifted her head. "We have been in Darkness for many hours and I entered the Evenwall the day Achan fought the Poroo. I feel fine, except for these accursed mosquitoes. So why do people say Darkness drives one insane?"

  "That's the subtlety of it, Vrell. If your mind is focused or distracted, 'tis easy to ignore the seduction of Darkness. When you were alone in the Evenwall, you had a task to perform. Now we're conversing steadily. This keeps our minds from wandering. But as we journey through this place, we must stay together and we must have conversation. No one will keep watch alone. See that no one is silent too long. Darkness has a way of sneaking up and blinding you to your own conscience."

  "What about when we sleep?" Achan asked.

  "Bad dreams may come, but you won't lose your mind. Caleb and I will take first watch. Fear not and rest."

  Vrell lay down on the greasy leather and curled into a ball, bringing her knees to her chest. Her body sank slowly into the wet lichen. She concentrated on Mother's face and knocked.

  Still no answer.

  4

  Achan untied the bandage from his face. He lay on his back, ankles crossed, feet sticking off the end of the bedroll that was too short for his six-foot frame. He stared into the blackness above and traced his fingertips over the scabs forming on his cheeks where Esek had cut him. Would he bear these marks forever? If so, he would grow a beard, a thick one.

  Had his father worn a beard?

  Achan broke the stillness with a question, careful to move his cheeks as little as possible. "What happened to my father?"

  A prolonged silence followed. He was thankful for these knights, who'd made it their life goal to find him, yet so many questions plagued his mind. Did these men see taking care of him as penance for failing to protect their former king?

  He tried again. "Were any of you there when he died?"

  "Aye," Sir Gavin finally said. "But not when he died."

  Achan propped himself up on one elbow. "What happened?"

  "One of our own betrayed us. A young knight named Kenton Garesh."

  "The Shield?" Sir Kenton, also known as The Shield, served as Esek's personal bodyguard. The human fortress had crushed Achan on more than one occasion. Most recently, just prior to Esek slicing open Achan's cheeks.

  "Aye, he drugged our stew and we slept through the dawn. The king had a schedule to keep. He was headed to Carmine to consult with Duke Amal-this was before the duke passed on. Kenton urged King Axel to go on without us, to take the secondary guards, half of which were loyal to Kenton."

  The pecking noise grew loud overhead, but Sir Gavin spoke over it. "I woke in time to hear my king bloodvoice for aid. But when I reached for him, he closed his mind, a sign he was hiding something. To this day I don't know why he kept me from seeing what happened. When I couldn't connect with King Axel, I called to Dara, for your mother was gifted also. But all I heard before she perished was the word-"

  "Stray," Achan said.

  It was common knowledge a stray had murdered the king and queen-Achan's parents. As a result, strays were branded, forced into lives of isolation and hard labor. Achan bore the S mark of a stray on his shoulder. Lord Nathak, the disfigured and menacing Lord of Sitna, had been his owner, had branded him in order to hide his true identity all these years, substituting his son, Esek, in Achan's place.

  Achan knew what came next as well. "Darkness arrived almost immediately. Arman cursed the land."

  "Nay, Achan," Sir Gavin said. "That's a myth. The world's way of assigning blame to what they don't understand. The evil in men's hearts brought Darkness to Er'Rets. It had been growing on the western horizon for years, threatening Barth and Land's End. The murder of our faithful king extinguished the only light left in the west. Darkness stretched across Er'Rets to the place King Axel died. You see, Arman gives the king the task of teaching the people what's good and pure and noble. Without a king, no man existed to spread the truth to the people, to shine the light. Until now."

  The words spoken to Achan's soul when he had stood before the Council of Seven that morning boomed in his memory.

  FOR I HAVE APPOINTED YOU AS KING OVER THIS NATION. THERE IS NO ONE LIKE YOU AMONG ALL THE PEOPLE.

  Arman had spoken to him, singled him out as king. These knights claimed Arman was the only god, that all others were false. Sparrow also went in for that view. Achan wasn't convinced, yet he couldn't deny Arman's existence. No human voice sounded like Arman's-had the effect Arman's did. But did that mean every other god was false? Inko had prayed in Caan's name, Caan the warrior son of Arman. Didn't that mean there were two gods? How could they say there was only one?

  It was all too confusing to grasp.

  Liquid suddenly coated his heel. He bent his knees and pulled his feet away from the soggy ground and onto the end of the bedroll. He let his mind float to the past again. "But why kill my father? Sir Kenton seems to have gained nothing."

  "These men were usurpers, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "They supported the one who wanted to overthrow the throne and take it for himself."

  Achan could only imagine one man deceitful enough to lead such a cause. "Lord Nathak?"

  "We're not knowing his name," Inko said. "But it is being someone beyond Nathak, we are believing."

  Achan stared through the inky blackness in the direction of Inko's voice. "How can you suspect a man of trying to take the throne and not know who he is?"

  "We sensed his bloodvoice," Sir Gavin said. "'Tis still strong today, but he shields well."

  Who could be so powerful? "Then why'd he wait all these years for Esek to come of age? Why not take the throne by force after he'd killed the king?"

  "Perhaps he didn't have as much power then as he would have us believe," Sir Caleb said. "Or he knew he couldn't defeat King Axel's army, so he designed this deceit with Esek to give him time to plot his takeover."

  "So Lord Nathak and Esek work for him?"

  "We don't know," Sir Gavin said, "but it's clear Nathak was involved. When you were lost, I sought your mind and found you right away. But you were so young. Not yet three years old. You couldn't articulate your whereabouts. You weren't in pain. You weren't afraid. But I couldn't guess your locati
on. And then your presence vanished."

  Sir Gavin paused as the mysterious beast screeched. "Two months passed before Nathak supposedly found you wandering in the fields south of Sitna. According to him, you wore King Axel's signet ring on a chain around your neck. He said he took you to his home and later journeyed to Mahanaim to give you to the Council of Seven. Of course, 'twasn't you at all. When I finally saw you-or Esek-he looked like you, though I could no longer sense your bloodvoice. I feared Nathak had done dark magic to you. Years passed before it occurred to me you might not be you at all."

  Achan twisted Prince Oren's ring around his finger. He'd been alone, an abducted babe whose parents had been slaughtered.

  Lord Nathak had given Achan to Poril, his cook, to raise. Poril had named him Achan Cham. Achan, which meant "trouble" in the ancient tongue, and cham, a fire-breathing bear. All strays were given animal surnames to proclaim their lowly status.

  Had Achan cried for his father in those first few days with Poril? Or had he simply forgotten the man and replaced him with the cook? Had he missed his mother? Achan's earliest memories were of Lord Nathak and Poril, who had beaten him at the slightest breeze. Achan shuddered as truth and understanding met in his heart.

  "The young prince had, according to Nathak, taken such a liking to him during their time together," Sir Caleb said, "that the Council asked Nathak to raise the boy. They gave him a fief for his loyalty. He not only earned the title of Lord with the prince as his ward, but he expanded Sitna Manor and added guards and slaves. Over the years, he lobbied for a place on the Council, without success."

  "Aye," Sir Gavin said. "The man is resourceful. Sitna was originally a poor trading and farming village. Nathak developed it over the years, mostly by stealing land and resources from Carmine. He proposed to Nitsa the very day her husband died. To my knowledge he's continued to ask for her hand again and again over the years. She's always refused."

  Duchess Amal's constant rejection of Lord Nathak had been a favorite topic of gossip among the serving women in Sitna. It startled Achan how Sir Gavin referred to the duchess by her first name, Nitsa. Could they be friends?