Sir Gavin took Vrell's elbow and turned so that half his face was lit and the other half shadowed. "Take these. It's a torchlight and firesteel."
Vrell's hand's trembled as she took the items from Sir Gavin. The idea of staying behind, alone in Darkness, perched on this cliff… "Please take me with you."
"I'm sorry, Vrell." Sir Gavin's visible eyebrow wrinkled. "Someone must stay with the horses, direct us back. We'll light a red torchlight when the time comes, so be looking for it. When you see it, light yours."
"But I want to help."
"Please don't fight me on this. We're walking into a perilous situation. We must leave Locto and bring Achan back. And we can't escape without a light to show us the way."
"But I am…" Vrell leaned closer and whispered… "frightened."
Sir Gavin set a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Then pray."
A distant squawk made Vrell jump. She inched closer to Sir Gavin. "What if gowzals come? I do not understand how they can do such…evil."
"'Tis not the birds themselves. Alone, they are merely animals. Mages call on black spirits to do their bidding. The spirits possess gowzals because the creatures are weak-minded."
"That is how the black knights work their illusions?"
"Aye. Black knights use the spirits as their tools. Little do they know it's truly the other way around." Sir Gavin slapped her back. "Look, no one knows you're here, Vrell. You've nothing to fear. Arman will protect you." He walked toward Sir Caleb, boots scraping over the rocky ground.
Vrell wanted to resist but she knew someone must stay with the horses. As much as it vexed her, she was the logical choice. She turned back to the split tree and made plans to wedge the torchlight in the crack later, when the red flame came into view.
She watched the three men drag Locto off into Darkness, toward a temple dedicated to evil, and she prayed Arman's protection over them all.
15
Sir Nongo led Achan under the platform at the center of the temple. Here, in the shadow of the platform and those log spikes, a pit had been dug. Sir Nongo seemed to be heading right for the gaping hole in the earth. Achan dug his heels into the dirt and clutched the knight's tunic, heart hammering, not wanting to fall.
Sir Nongo elbowed Achan's stomach. The sharp pain stole his breath. He folded against his knees, gasping, and Sir Nongo shoved him over the edge.
Achan's insides stretched as if they were trying to escape up his throat. He plummeted downward, falling a distance more than twice his height.
His back slapped onto soft dirt, batting the breath from his lungs again. He lay panting tiny hitches of cool air. All was dark but the square of fire glow outlining the bottom of the platform far above. Did Lord Falkson intend to sacrifice him like an animal? Would he simply slit his throat on the altar and let him bleed out? Would he set fire to him? A burnt offering for Barthos?
Achan stood, his legs shaky. There must be a way to climb out. He kicked his left toes into the dirt wall, reached his still-cuffed hands up, and drove his fingertips into the dirt as high as he could. He jumped with his right leg and pulled himself up, clinging to the side of the pit, arms trembling. He drew his right leg up and kicked in, but the force threw off his balance and he fell on his rear in the dirt, soil sprinkling on his head.
He jumped back up and screamed, pounded the dirt wall, bashed his shoulder into it, elbowed it, then sank to his knees and pressed the top of his head into the side of the pit, panting.
Arman had helped before. Achan could call on him. He didn't know the fancy words priests spoke but gave it his best. "Oh, great father god, Arman, creator of Er'Rets, maker of the sun, moon, and stars. Cast your gaze upon your servant. Help me, oh great god. Have mercy on my circumstance."
Arman did not answer.
Achan was tempted to yell, but perhaps Arman had everything under control. He tried another tactic. Sir Gavin! They put me in a pit. What can I do?
Long seconds passed before Sir Gavin answered. We're coming, lad. Stay calm.
Achan flipped to his rear and pressed his back against the cool dirt. He shivered, rocking back and forth to warm and calm himself. If only he could convince his mind to think casually about his situation, that all would work out…
"Great and powerful Arman, I am your servant. My life is yours. Extend it beyond this pit. You've called me to be king, so I trust you'll not let me die here."
The more Arman didn't answer, the hotter Achan's anger burned. "Arman!" He stood and yelled at the light above. "Tell me your plan!"
"Why waste breath on a codger like Arman?" a hissing voice said from across the pit.
Achan jumped against the dirt wall, heart trampling. He blinked hard, straining to make out the person who belonged to that snake-like voice. He could see nothing. "Who's there?"
"It matters not what I'm called. It is what I come to offer that is of importance."
Achan could barely see the shadow of a man draped in a black cloak. "A ladder?"
The man hissed, a wedge of butter tossed in a hot pan. "I know what it's like to be cast aside. Do not settle for what they offer you, boy. I can teach you to use your power. We can make things right in Er'Rets-for strays, for peasants, for all."
Achan's mind whirled, trying to understand. "How did you get down here? And what do you know of my power, anyway?"
"You crave freedom. You should not be made to wait for men to fulfill their own agendas."
"And you can give me freedom? How? We are together in the same pit."
"I cannot only set you free, but I will show you how to obtain the deepest desires of your heart. To make Er'Rets a better place. To have what you want when you want it. You are the Crown Prince. These things should be yours already."
Achan huffed. "Darkness has spoiled your mind. Do you even know your name?"
"I am called Hadad."
The name, so similar to Prince Gidon Hadar, sent a shiver up Achan's spine. "So, what must I do to have this freedom, Hadad?"
"Renounce Arman. Leave the knights and come with me. Take my hand, and we will vanish from this place."
Achan's stomach coiled. He sensed deceit from this shadow. He shot back a witty comment to ease his discomfort. "You do have a ladder?"
"Reach out for me!" the man hissed.
Achan considered it. But this faceless shadow emitted a chill, just by his presence. Achan preferred Arman's warmth. Sure, Arman bossed him around and paid no attention to Achan's schedule, but if Arman spoke truth, if he was the only god, Achan couldn't afford to betray him. And he didn't like the audacity of this Hadad trying to get him into more trouble.
"Thanks, but I'll take my chances with the black knights."
Wings rustled as if Achan had upset a flock of chickens. A bird cawed, high and shrill. Shadows swirled in the square of light above, a swarm of gowzals circling.
One dove and nipped Achan's chin. He batted it away, chains clanking. Another flew against his chest, knocking him into the wall. Teeth sank into Achan's nose.
He screamed, grabbed the creature's neck, and squeezed until it let go. He threw it to the ground, stomped on it.
Another bat-bird fluttered by his ear and bit his head, tugging bits of his hair and scalp. Achan grabbed the creature's leg and flung it across the pit. They swarmed him.
He cowered, covering his head with his arms. The beasts nipped at his back.
"Stop it! Arman, help me!"
The birds howled and fluttered away in a gust.
Hadad also seemed to have vanished. Was the man a black knight who had used gowzals to create an illusion of himself?
Achan slid into the corner to catch his breath. He dabbed his wounds with the back of his hand, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The bites stung.
Suddenly, all his pain magnified. His chapped lips, cut feet, cuffed wrists, bruised torso, bleeding scalp and nose. He wanted relief. His memory drifted to his bath at Mirrorstone. He longed to soak his filthy, sore body. Even the cold shallows of the Sideros
River delta would do.
He closed his eyes, recalling the last time he'd bathed there. The sky had been fierce blue dotted with white clouds, tufts of cotton floating in a field of forget-me-nots. Real birds-not beasts-had chirped their spring song.
He let his mind drift to Gren. Was she still imprisoned? He focused on her face.
Intense sorrow poured down his throat. Tears pooled in his eyes. Forsaken by the gods. Riga. A new home. Alone. People staring. Rumors. Throwing rocks.
"You're certain he's down there? I can't see a thing."
Achan snapped away from Gren's depression. That haughty voice belonged to the man who'd stolen his life. The former Prince Gidon Hadar: Esek Nathak.
Achan wiped his eyes and stood, looking up, veins throbbing. "Yet I can hear you, Esek. What brings you to Barth? Another throne to steal?"
Esek's callous laughter floated down. "You have got him, Sir Nongo, you devil. Well done. No one could imitate such insubordination."
"One cannot be insubordinate to a fake," Achan yelled, "or did Lord Nathak forget that little snag? I always thought people called you Puppet Prince because Lord Nathak pulled your strings. Now I see both father and son are playing a role. Guess what, Esek: the time is coming for the curtain to fall."
"You'd like to think that, stray, yet who's in the pit?" Esek's voice lowered. "Bring him up. Let's get this over with so I can get back to the land of the living."
A deep voice mumbled words Achan couldn't decipher.
"I do not care if it's not time. I want to see him die."
A rope flew down and whacked Achan in the head.
"Be taking the rope," Sir Nongo said.
"And be cut open before throngs of Barthians? Thank you, no." Achan sank into the corner of the pit.
There were a few more mumbles above, then silence. What might they devise to get him out? Voices rose again overhead. A ladder, black against the firelight, jutted over the edge and slowly descended.
Achan stayed put until the ladder pressed into the dirt. He crept toward it and crouched underneath the rungs. If he could get out on the other side of the pit, maybe he could run for it.
A shadow shifted above. The ladder trembled as someone climbed down. Achan waited until the man reached the bottom, then he slammed against the ladder, pushing until it tipped up and fell against the opposite wall.
A thud. A man grunted. Achan scaled the ladder as fast as he could with cuffed wrists, chains clanking against wooden rungs. A hand grabbed his ankle. Achan slipped down a rung but managed to hook his arms around the next rung with the insides of his elbows. He kicked his free foot, made contact a few times, and the man let go. Achan climbed a few more steps, but the ladder began to rise, being pulled from above.
Achan froze. Better to be caught out of the pit or to stay in the pit with an enemy? The pit had better odds. Plus, Sir Gavin was coming. He jumped off.
He landed on his right arm in the dirt. He scurried to his feet. Hands groped at his arm. Achan swatted like a girl, unable to see what he was fighting. His assailant managed to punch his chest. The force sent him stumbling into the wall. Dirt peppered his eyes. His assailant struck again, mostly missing, just grazing his ear. Achan dove to the right, blinking wildly to clear the dirt from his eyes.
"Sir Nongo! I need light!" Silvo's voice.
Firelight flamed above. The moment Silvo's lanky form came into view, Achan charged, bashing his shoulder against Silvo's waist. They fell to the ground. Achan straddled the bean sprout and beat his shackles down on his face.
A hand gripped Achan's braid from behind and struck his temple so hard, he went limp. His mind whirred. Voices murmured.
Get up, he told himself. But he had lost the ability to communicate with his body.
Sir Nongo's voice spoke over him. "He is being still now. Be lowering the rope."
*
Achan tasted dirt.
He shook himself awake and found himself still in the pit, but hanging from his wrists against the dirt wall. His feet dangled. Worse, he was slowly being hoisted upward. His face scraped against the soft soil. He twisted around and spat the dirt out. His body continued to rise until a hand seized his cuffs and dragged him over the side.
A bee buzzed in his ear. He blinked and shook his head, hoping to clear the sound. Then he realized it wasn't a bee. People were talking. A lot of people.
A male voice spoke in a foreign tongue from the platform directly above, silencing the crowd. Achan realized too late they'd freed his wrists when a thicker, cold metal cuff clamped around his left wrist. He sat up, wincing at his sore body, and pulled.
"Be watching him," Sir Nongo said.
It was dim under the platform, but Achan could see well enough from the firelight streaming from the temple trenches. Thick posts and diagonal support beams held up the platform. Beyond, the grandstands rose on all sides. He could see only the bottom few rows, but they were crammed full of the mud-covered Barthians, faces fixed on the speaker.
Sir Nongo stood four paces away, holding a black iron ring the size of his head. It was attached to a long chain that connected to the cuff on Achan's right wrist. The chain was stretched taut, pulling Achan's arm to the side like he was reaching. His left arm lifted away, connected to a chain and ring held by Silvo, whose cheek was puffy and smeared with blood.
Achan frowned, pulse thumping in his temples. What were they going to do? He twisted around. Khai Mageia stood behind him, looking down. Khai must have left his barge and tracked them inland. Had Esek followed on his own barge, or had Khai met him here?
A staircase on Khai's right rose to the platform. Some men were walking down it. But a squawk pulled Achan's gaze to the support beam in front of him. A gowzal stared at him with beady eyes. Its mouth hung open like a dog's, panting and revealing a row of fang-like teeth. Was Hadad here too, watching?
"Your back is a nightmare," Khai said. "You must have been a lousy stray."
"He was." Esek stepped before Achan, followed by Chora and Sir Kenton, the Shield, whose size, scowl, and pale skin reminded Achan of the Eben giant that had taken three knights to best.
Chora, Esek's valet, tittered, as if Esek's sarcasm were actually funny. Achan supposed a man who wore a wool cloak in this heat wasn't right in the head anyway.
Esek wore black trousers and a red silk shirt. The armpits were wet with sweat. A fancy gold crown pushed his black hair off his sweaty forehead. His short, thick beard coated his cheeks and chin.
Achan's stomach coiled. Owr gleamed at Esek's side. And with all the rings on the man's fingers, one of them had to be his father's. Achan glanced at his hand. A stab of panic shot through his chest. He no longer wore Prince Oren's signet ring.
"Give me back my ring!"
Esek raised a dark eyebrow. "You should have shaved his face, Sir Nongo, so we could see the marks on his cheeks. Further evidence of his failure in this world. He might as well meet Gazar hiding nothing."
Achan didn't want to meet the ruler of the Lowerworld. He didn't want to die at all. He forced valiant words out his mouth. "You should know, Esek. I don't intend to die today."
"Irreverence!" Chora barked.
Sir Kenton bent over Achan and cuffed his ear. "You will address His Majesty formally or not at all."
Achan steeled himself, gritting his teeth. It would do him no good to fight back from his position. Silence was his best move.
Esek leaned against one of the vertical support posts, looking down his nose at Achan. "Your death is not for you to decide, stray. No, you'll not claim my life, my sword, my ring, my bride, as you might wish to do. I am certain you'll fit in fine in the Lowerworld. Do tell Gazar hello for me."
Chora sniggered. "Well said, my king."
"You and Gazar are close, are you?" Achan forgot he had decided not to speak.
"Enough of his cheek." Esek waved at Khai. "Get on with it!"
Khai pushed Achan to his knees, then prostrate on the ground. Bony hands held him down while his ar
ms were brought behind his back and hooked together. The long chains attached to his cuffs dragged over his legs, heavy and cold.
Achan reached out for Esek's mind, desperate to try something. As usual, he found himself inside the man's head. Fine, he could make do.
"Release him," Achan said through Esek's voice.
"No!" Esek said of his own volition. "Sir Kenton?"
The Shield swung his curtain of black hair around so that he faced Esek, his protruding brow sinking low over his dark eyes. He cupped Esek's cheek.
Achan suddenly spun in a circle, as if his eyes were caught in a whirlpool. He flew up out of Esek's mind and hovered above the man's greasy head.
Sir Gavin! My mind is out of my body.
What?
I tried to attack Esek, but I think Sir Kenton stormed me.
Focus on your body, Achan. You must get back to it.
Achan's perspective floated up to the support beams of the platform. He concentrated on his body that lay lifeless on the ground, arms outstretched. He suddenly looked out from his own eyes. It worked! Sir Gavin, where are you?
Eben's breath, lad. Don't try that again. Stay in your own mind or we'll lose you for sure. We're inside the temple.
Praise Arman!
It took us longer than we thought to get here. We had to find a place to leave Locto, but he kept begging to stay with us. I had to knock him out and leave him in an empty tent. I paid the owner handsomely to arrange transportation for Locto back to Melas. But now that we're here, we're unsure how to free you. There are thousands of people here.
Pig snout. Achan sucked in a breath through his nose, willing himself to stay calm. The knights were here. All would soon be well. Don't take too long.
Sir Nongo and Silvo each seized an arm, lifted Achan to his feet, and towed him to the stairs, chains slapping the back of his calves with each step. Brightness and heat engulfed him as he left the underside of the platform. He lowered his head, blinking the scene into focus as they dragged him up the stairs.
When they stepped onto the platform, the audience burst into cheers. Achan shut his eyes, wincing at the ringing in his ears. His shin smacked a sharp edge. His eyes snapped open. Sir Nongo and Silvo stood on the first rung of the ladder leading up to the gangway and spikes high above the platform. Each had looped a ring over his shoulder that held Achan's chains. They pulled his arms up.
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