To Darkness Fled bok-2

by Jill Williamson

  "Stop him, Sir Kenton! He's getting away!"

  Esek's order came from the crowd behind Achan. He ducked his head and squeezed between people, mud from their bodies rubbing onto his. A portly man plowed into Achan's side and knocked him to the floor. The mob stepped over him, on him. He crammed Prince Oren's ring on his finger even as his face was pressed into the dirt floor. The smell of soil filled his nostrils. Pain and fatigue engulfed him, vision swirling, blackening, his breath finally used up.

  A voice whispered in his ear, sending an icy chill over his body. "Say the word! Call on me and I shall end this." Hadad.

  Someone tripped over Achan, kicking him to his side. He curled into a ball, waiting for the people to pass. But he had to get up. Sir Kenton was coming.

  "Say it, boy! Hadad. Call on my name."

  "No." Achan mumbled a weak prayer to Arman. This was how the supposed future king was going to die, crushed in a stampede in a temple to a false god.

  Strong hands seized his arms. Sir Kenton! He tried to pull away.

  "I've got you, Your Highness." Sir Caleb's familiar voice calmed him. The knight draped a cloak around Achan's body and pulled him to standing. The crowd still pushed past, their muddy backs fleeing toward the exits. "Put on the hood," Caleb said.

  "Sir Kenton." Achan swayed. The dull throbbing of scratches and bruises fatigued his nerves like a strong drought of Sparrow's tea.

  "Inko and Gavin are dealing with him." Sir Caleb pulled up Achan's hood and put an arm around his waist. He helped Achan ascend the stairs.

  "Sir Gavin?" Achan's mind was groggy. Had he been told where Sir Gavin was?

  Sir Caleb didn't answer.

  Inko joined them halfway up and supported Achan's left side. The three exited the pyramid, the knights all but carrying Achan away from the temple.

  They darted around mud huts, weaving their way up the hill.

  16

  Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Finally! Vrell opened her mind. It had been hours since Achan had shut her out.

  Do you see our light? Sir Gavin asked.

  Vrell stood. A cramp stabbed her lower back. At least Mother had advised her how to accommodate her month-blood. She had bided her time crafting compresses out of the linen Lord Eli's servants had given her for her healing kit. Hopefully no one would be seriously hurt until she could get more supplies.

  She located the fiery glow of Barth below and scanned the blackness between the stronghold and her position. A prick of red light shone in the distance to her left, lower than where she stood but higher than the city. A ridge must lead to the valley.

  I see it, sir.

  Then fire the blue torchlight and ready the horses. We must ride.

  It will be done. Vrell patted the ground beside her until her fingers found the firesteel and torchlight. It had been a while since Vrell had used a firesteel. She had one by the fireplace in her bedchamber back home but her servants usually lit the fire.

  It took Vrell three tries to ignite the torch. The blue flame hissed to life and warmed her face. She stood to get her bearings, legs and back aching.

  Must her whole body hurt during this time of the month?

  The flame lit the tree and the path in an eerie blue glow. Vrell inched over the dark ground and wedged the end of the torchlight into the knot hole in the tree where it could be seen. She hoped no one else would come investigating the blue light until she and the knights were long departed.

  Vrell crept to where the horses were tethered. Normally she would have taken off their saddles and bits and wiped them down, but she had not known how long the knights might be. She went from horse to horse, petting them to keep them calm. They had been waiting a long time and were eager to ride.

  When she got to Achan's horse, she fingered the ivory pommel of his sword hanging off the saddlebag. How could she have missed it the morning he had been taken? Achan always wore his sword, had slept with it on until Sir Caleb had scolded him. If she had noticed it on his saddlebag sooner, she might have suspected something was amiss.

  No reason to dwell. They were coming back and would soon be on their way. Vrell could no longer see the red light. Her stomach clenched. Sir Gavin had not said whether they had found Achan. What if they had failed?

  Of course Achan would be with them. Sir Gavin would not have returned otherwise. The man had dedicated his life to Armonguard's rightful king.

  Vrell checked the tether from one saddle to the last, then returned to her horse and patted his nose. Should she get on? How quickly did Sir Gavin plan to ride?

  She inched back to the tree and stood in the blue glow, staring at the distant lights of Barth and the dark void between. Were the men close?

  You're ready?

  Vrell jumped, not expecting to hear Sir Gavin's voice without a knock. She must have been so excited she had forgotten to put up her shields. How careless.

  Yes, Sir Gavin, she said. Everything is set.

  She fortified her mind and carefully mounted her horse. There. Now she would be ready when they arrived and would not have to hurry. The blue torchlight had almost faded. She hoped they were-

  A twig snapped. Fabric rustled. Vrell gripped her reins, and her horse shuffled his feet, ready to ride. Shadowed forms crested the hill and entered the clearing. She counted four and sighed. Good. Achan was with them. Where had they left poor Locto?

  Sir Caleb and Inko peeled away from the light and went straight to their horses. Sir Gavin helped Achan mount his horse. He wore a black cloak-and, she couldn't help noticing-almost nothing but a black cloak. His feet and legs were bare and chain clanked as if he were bound and dangerous. He settled into the saddle and his hood slipped off, revealing a disheveled profile. Vrell's eyes prickled and she blinked away grateful tears. Where were his clothes? Why the chains? If he was injured, she should see to him right away.

  Sir Gavin fetched the dim torchlight from the tree and mounted his horse.

  Vrell could bear the silence no longer. "Does Achan-?"

  Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Vrell opened her mind.

  Converse only in our minds until I say otherwise. I sense we're being followed already. He extinguished the light. The blackness encompassed them again.

  How Vrell hated it.

  They went slow and steady without a word. Every rock of her horse sent jolts of pain through her tender body. The horses' hooves scraped over the rocky terrain, kicking pebbles aside. Every sound seemed louder now that they were trying to be quiet. Leather packs creaked. Mosquitoes buzzed, garnering the occasional hand slap against skin. And the horses' breathed heavily, interrupted by an occasional snort.

  Vrell ached to speak, to know what had happened, but no one knocked. The idea of being followed again left her feeling vulnerable and alone. She called out to her mother, told her the knights had returned with Achan and they were traveling again.

  Finally, Vrell's ears tickled. She straightened, eager for news, but no name was given. The knocks continued until a terrible headache squeezed her skull. She wanted to yell at whoever it was to stop, but Sir Gavin had asked for silence. Besides, the knock might be Master Hadar or Khai seeking her. She kept her mind closed, gritting her teeth against the pain.

  Achan's voice blurted into her mind, Annoying, isn't it?

  She gasped, tears pooling in her eyes, remembering the way she had persistently sent knocks to Achan hours ago. I-forgive me. I had not meant to annoy. I only wanted to know what was happening.

  Then why not look through my eyes?

  She released a shuddering breath. I–I forgot to try. And she could not have risked blacking out.

  Brilliant, Sparrow. Next time you forget, just forget trying to contact me at all.

  Are you all right? When they brought you in I thought you were nearly unconscious. But you sound-

  I'm fine.

  So you say. Do you know what they did with Locto?

  Sent him to Melas. Now leave me alone.

  Why are you being
so mean?

  Look, I realize you had no idea what was going on, but when I said to wait, you should've listened. Not only did your endless knocking stab, I was already in a tight spot. The last thing I needed was more pain or distraction.

  She wiped tears from her cheeks. I am desperately sorry, Achan. I was scared. It was so dark and I did not know if you were safe. Please forgive me.

  Silence stretched on for a long agonizing moment. Just don't do it again.

  Once Sir Gavin declared they had reached the old road north, they spurred the horses as fast as the beasts would go in the dark, which was not above a canter. Vrell cried most of the journey, both from pain and with grief for how she had angered Achan. She considered throwing herself from her horse, when it occurred to her that Darkness might be playing on her sorrow, not to mention how her month-blood always darkened her moods. She hummed praises to Arman and soon felt lighter.

  They steered their horses across the wetlands of what Inko told her was Melas Marsh, sloshing water for hours. Sir Gavin had them stop on a small, dry knoll. He drove a torch into the ground and they made camp around it in silence. Either the men were exhausted or something truly horrible had taken place in Barth.

  Vrell was thankful for her own bedroll. Lord Eli had provided that, at least, despite his trickery and betrayal. She laid it a few feet from the torch and sat cross-legged, watching the bugs flock to the light, waiting for someone to speak.

  Clinking metal drew her attention to Achan. He carried a long length of chain looped over his arm that hung past his knees, jingling as he limped about. Why would no one talk of what had happened? How had they managed to free Achan?

  Achan lay on his bedroll on the other side of the fire, chains scraping each time he shifted.

  Sir Gavin handed out rations of bread and apples. He crouched at Vrell's feet and set her food on the end of the leather hide. "Would you mind looking at Achan's feet, Vrell? They might need care."

  Before she could respond, Sir Gavin moved to Inko's bedroll. Achan looked to be sleeping now. She picked up her satchel and circled the torch by way of Sir Caleb. She could not suffer another verbal beating. If Achan was still cross, she would need reinforcements.

  "Sir Caleb," Vrell said softly, "I am to check Achan's wounds. Would you mind holding the torch so I can see?"

  "Of course." Sir Caleb jumped up and jerked the torch from the sand. Shadows danced as the only light for miles was moved. Vrell knelt at the foot of Achan's bedroll. Sir Caleb crouched beside her and held the torch low. Dirt caked footprints on the soles of Achan's bare feet. Vrell cringed at the blisters and streaks of dried blood that were nearly impossible to see against the dirt.

  Sir Caleb laid his hand on Achan's bare shin. "Your Highness?"

  Achan's breathing hitched, then fell back into a soft rhythm.

  "Asleep already, poor lad. Can you imagine? A stray one day, a king the next. And in both lives, targets of wicked men's wrath."

  Vrell's chest constricted. "No, I cannot."

  "You think you can work on those feet a bit without waking him?"

  "I shall do my best, sir." She hoped she had enough supplies.

  Vrell used water from her jug and a strip of linen from her satchel to wipe Achan's feet as clean as she could without soaking them. Achan slept so soundly, he barely moved. She rubbed yarrow salve into the cuts and scrapes and used the rest of her linen to wrap his feet to keep out more dirt.

  When she finished, she held the torch for Sir Caleb so he could pick the locks on Achan's shackles. Once those were removed, Vrell did what she could with her remaining supplies to nurse the lacerations on his hands and wrists.

  She packed up her satchel, leaned over Achan, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

  The next morning-if a dark sky with no hope of light all day could be called morning-Sir Gavin made sure to greet each of them face to face, then they mounted and rode without a word.

  Vrell's mind began to wander into a waking dream, scrambling reality with fear in a bizarre ongoing hallucination. If only she had brought along Achan's chains, she could punish herself by wearing them. How might they look with a wedding gown? Would Sir Gavin approve? Life would be blissful when she and Sir Gavin finally wed, but would their children have long white beards? Different colored eyes? And would Bran object? Would he challenge Sir Gavin?

  She managed to break free from the chain of thoughts and center her mind on Arman, but each wild imagining left her shaken. Had Sir Caleb run out of lectures? Why did no one speak?

  "No!"

  Vrell jerked upright in her saddle. Her horse stopped and snorted. A horse ahead of hers whinnied and stomped, splashing the marshland water. A man grunted. Water splashed, followed by quick footsteps in the water. Who was running?

  "Achan!" Sir Gavin cried out. "Stop!"

  "Her child! He's dying!" Achan called from the darkness to Vrell's left. "I must go to her!"

  "Who's dying?" Sir Caleb said from behind Vrell.

  Leather slid against leather and boots splashed into the water at the front of the line.

  A torchlight fizzed green behind Vrell, illuminating Sir Gavin's white hair, flying out behind him as he bounded through the marsh.

  Sir Caleb dismounted and followed, taking the green light with him. "Light a torch so we can find our way back!"

  Inko started to dig in his pack. Vrell clutched the reins and listened to Achan's screams in the distance. From the sounds of things, the men had caught him and he did not approve.

  "What is he doing, do you think?" Vrell asked.

  "Going mad, I'm guessing. It's being the way of Darkness to be calling to your fears."

  Who did Achan think was dying? Vrell did not have to wonder long. Soon Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb dragged a sobbing, struggling Achan back to the horses.

  "No!" Achan jerked against their hold, trying to get away. He plowed back and forth between them, causing all three men to stagger and slip in the ankle-deep water. "Let me go! Gren needs me. She's all alone. They killed him."

  "Who did they kill?" Vrell asked.

  Achan sobered and stopped struggling, eyes wide. He sniffled. "I must go. I must protect her from Esek. He intends to use her to get to me."

  Vrell's face tingled as the blood drained away. She had thought Achan suffered from Darkness's hold, but this seemed all too real. "Who did Esek kill, Achan. Who?"

  "Her baby!"

  Baby? Vrell frowned. "Achan, Gren has only been married a short time. She could not have a child yet."

  "He's dead, I say!" He glared up at Vrell. "You don't believe me? I don't care. I don't need any of you. I'll go alone. Let me go! I must go to Gren!"

  Sir Gavin's voice swelled in Vrell's inner ear. He's delusional, Vrell. Don't encourage this line of thought. Do you have something to help him sleep?

  I have hops tea. But I will need hot water to prepare it and time for it to take effect.

  "We'll rest here a moment." Sir Gavin spread his feet as Achan tried to pull away. "Inko, please help Vrell heat a bit of water to make Achan a drink."

  Achan grunted with his effort to break free. "I don't need a drink. I need to get to Sitna. Let go!"

  But the knights did not. They stood in the marsh with Achan and tried to distract him from his worry of Gren's dead baby. Inko lit a torch and helped Vrell heat enough water to drink in a small tin cup. She had to wear one of Inko's thick leather gloves to keep the little cup from burning her hands as the torchlight heated the water.

  "I've grown lax." Sir Gavin's face had darkened with his effort to hold Achan. "I shouldn't have ordered everyone to stay silent. Losing Achan should've made me more careful, not less. We must continue to communicate, focus our minds."

  Vrell added the herbs and the smell cleansed her sinuses and relaxed her nerves. When it had steeped, she poured it into a cool mug and brought it to Achan.

  He shook his head. "You're trying to give me aleh. You want to silence my bloodvoice so I can't see Gren. Get away!"


  Achan swiped at Vrell and nearly upset the cup. Sir Caleb grabbed his arms, but Achan fought him. They fell and rolled in the water until Inko and Sir Gavin managed to drag Achan off of Sir Caleb. Achan elbowed Sir Gavin and sprinted off again.

  It took all three men to restrain him and a very long time for Vrell to get him to swallow the tea. Then they had to wait for it to put him to sleep. He fought it until he went limp. Sir Gavin tethered Achan's horse beside his own, the knights hoisted Achan up, tied him to the horse, and they moved on.

  Vrell prayed for Achan and for her own sanity. The horses' hooves soon found the dry ground of the sandbar again. Vrell spotted light to the north. A single flame winking on the black horizon. Sir Caleb bloodvoiced techniques for fighting with a short sword, and before they could stop for their second meal, the whole horizon seemed to glow as if a fire ravaged the land.

  Melas.

  Part 3. Friends and Allies

  17

  Vrell nibbled a piece of dried fish and passed her gaze between the orange glow in the distance and Achan, curled up on a bedroll beside Sir Gavin. Achan had suffered so much. Would the people of Melas be kind? Depraved? Would they seek to exploit him? Kill him? Melas was the only place separating Southern Er'Rets from Northern Er'Rets this side of Mahanaim. It commanded the only way to cross the Strait of Arok.

  Vrell could no longer stand the silence. "Will they let us enter through the gate?"

  "My friend is expecting us." Sir Gavin took a swig from his water jug. "He'll meet us inside."

  "Who is he?" Vrell asked.

  "A former Kingsguard soldier turned priest."

  Vrell hoped for a priest of the Way. It had been so long since she had heard Arman's word.

  Though the lights of Melas seemed close, hours passed before they approached the narrow bridge that crossed the mouth of the inlet and led up to a solid cast iron gate. A massive stone wall stretched along the northern shore of Arok Lake and out of Vrell's eyesight. Torches blazed from the parapet, flames mirrored on the dark water. A fortress on a moonless night.