To Darkness Fled bok-2

by Jill Williamson

  The hollow clunking of the horses hooves on the bridge rattled Vrell's nerves after hours of sandy terrain.

  A voice called out from the gate: "Who comes this way?"

  "Sir Gavin Lukos and company. We're here on business with Trajen Yorbride."

  "Hold."

  The horses stopped. Vrell's eyes adjusted to the torchlight on the curtain wall. Achan slumped over his horse. She hoped he would wake with no memory of his strange behavior.

  "Stand back for the guard," the voice from the gatehouse said. "They will exit, count your party, then follow you inside. Then the gate will close again. Agreed?"

  "Aye, we agree." Sir Gavin twisted around on his horse. "Steer your mounts to the right of the bridge to make way for the guards. Do what they say and don't argue."

  Vrell guided her horse as close to the right railing as possible. Why so much security just to enter Melas? What would happen if Achan woke and had another fit? Would they arrest him? Kill him? Leave him outside the gate?

  A boom shook the bridge. Vrell's horse jerked. Vrell patted the animal's neck as the clanking of chains echoed over the water. The gate slid left like a curtain, baring a sliver of orange light from within. When the gate was wide enough for one man on a horse to pass, the chains stopped rattling. Hoofbeats clomped nearer as the guards approached, single file.

  Three rode past Vrell. They wore long dark capes over dark armor. Vrell tensed, remembering the black knights. When the hoofbeats stopped, she glanced back. The guardsmen had circled their mounts and now faced the gate.

  One of the guards called out. "There are five in the party. Move forward!"

  Sir Gavin rode through the gap in the gate, pulling Achan's horse behind. Vrell clicked her tongue and her horse followed. Two guards stood on either side of the gate, swords drawn. Vrell avoided eye contact as she passed under the gatehouse. She murmured a prayer over her uneasiness.

  Inside the gatehouse, the knights circled the horses and waited for Sir Caleb to pay the guard.

  Beyond the gatehouse, flaming torches perched atop three-level high stone walls gave everything an orange and brown glow. Melas seemed made of mostly stone. Narrow cobbled streets split off from the gate like branches on a tree.

  When Sir Caleb returned, Sir Gavin rode out from the gatehouse. Vrell followed the knights down a wide street. Lanterns hung from iron hooks high along both walls. Flickering candlelight and shadow danced over stone walls and board and batten doors. The clatter of hooves on the cobblestone drowned out the voices inside. Thick grime and cobwebs coated the occasional glass window. No point in cleaning glass if the sun never shone through, Vrell supposed.

  Sir Gavin rode up to a double arch separated by a thick drum pillar. A slender, dark-haired man dressed in brown linen stood before the pillar and waved, a kind face in a dark land.

  Sir Gavin dismounted. "'Tis good to see you, Trajen. We've had a time of it out there."

  "Then let's put up your horses and get some food in your bellies." The man's voice was friendly and deep.

  Sir Gavin passed his reins to Trajen and led Achan's horse under the right arch. Vrell followed into a stable. They left their horses and returned to the street. Sir Gavin walked with Trajen. Sir Caleb and Inko carried Achan between them. Vrell wished the men would lift Achan higher. She didn't like his feet dragging over the soiled street.

  Trajen led them down several cobblestone alleys lit by hanging lanterns. Narrow, two-level stone homes lined the streets, some no more than a man's height wide. Sounds and voices reverberated between the stone walls. Vrell couldn't tell what noise came from where.

  Trajen entered a small house with the number twenty-seven carved on the door. Unlike the neighbor's door-coated in broken cobwebs flecked with dead flies and moths-door twenty-seven was clean and dust-free.

  Vrell entered into a tiny foyer facing a one-wall kitchen. A dog yipped incessantly. A baby cried.

  "Ressa? I've found our visitors," Trajen said. "Could you come out, please?"

  "A moment, Tray," a woman's voice called.

  "Ressa will be able to look at his wounds," Trajen said, nodding to Achan.

  "No trouble," Sir Caleb said. "We have a healer with us."

  Vrell swelled at Sir Caleb's reassurance in her abilities.

  A small, shaggy, black dog scurried from leg to leg, sniffing. Vrell took in the cramped space. A sideboard covered the entire left wall. Before her, a rough-hewn table and eight chairs took up the left side of the room. A linen curtain draped over a doorway behind the table. On the right side of the room, two deep couches faced each other. They had backs made of lashed sticks and straw-filled cushions. Between them on the far right wall, pillows in a variety of colors made a mound as high as the couches.

  Behind the table, a hand drew the curtain aside and Ressa entered, holding a crying child on one hip. She was a tan-skinned woman, Vrell's height but much curvier. Her reddish-brown hair pulled back in a long braid. She smiled. "Hello."

  The child tugged at the neck of Ressa's auburn tunic, pulling it off one shoulder. "Bite bite, Mima. Bite bite."

  "Shh, Romal. Mima will feed you soon." She approached Trajen and tried to hand the child off, but he clung to her arm.

  "Bite bite, Mima. Bite bite!"

  Trajen peeled the child away, and Romal broke into a horrible wail. His face flushed crimson and his tongue curled in his mouth. Trajen bounced the child in his arms and offered his knuckle for sustenance. Romal pushed Trajen's hand away and craned his neck from side to side looking for his mother.

  Ressa had moved to where Inko and Sir Caleb held Achan. "You have an injured man? What's happened to him?"

  "I gave him hops tea," Vrell said.

  Ressa's dark eyes didn't leave Achan. "Was he in pain?"

  "We were having trouble controlling him." Sir Gavin shrugged off his pack. "He was hallucinating."

  Ressa skirted the table and waved a lazy hand over her shoulder. "Bring him." She lifted the curtain aside.

  Sir Caleb and Inko carried Achan through the narrow doorway. Vrell followed, not wanting that woman to steal her job. She ducked under the curtain into a narrow hall, stretching the length of the house. The curtain fell closed, dousing the light. Vrell ran her fingertips along the wall until a flash of candlelight revealed the silhouettes of the men ducking through a low doorway halfway back. Vrell hurried after them and stepped around another curtain.

  The men settled Achan on a pallet on the floor in a room barely bigger than the straw mattress. A stool sat in the corner, topped with a water basin. A long shelf stretched over the bed and held a lone candle burning in a jar. The men left.

  Ressa dropped to her knees beside Achan and set the back of her hand to his forehead. "He has no fever."

  Vrell kneeled on Achan's left. "No. I bandaged his feet as best I could in the torchlight."

  "My light is not much better. You're the healer?"

  "Yes. I am Vrell Sparrow."

  "Where'd you train, Vrell?"

  Ressa's direct questions and her low, silky voice inspired Vrell to give an impressive answer. "Under the Maysens of Walden's Watch. Wayan is the apothecary. Mitt the midwife."

  "So you have a wide variety of training."

  "I do." Vrell searched for a more impressive feat. "I also learned some battle healing from Jax mi Katt."

  Ressa's lips curved into a small smile. "A giant?"

  "Yes. Jax's guidance enabled me to remove three arrows from the prince. He does manage to get hurt a lot."

  Achan's dark eyelashes fell thick against the tops of his cheeks. Tiny cuts and smudges of dirt seasoned his skin. Dried blood caked the slice Esek had made on his left cheek. More blood pasted his greasy hair to his scalp in several places.

  "This is the prince?" Ressa sat back on her heels and stared. "He's so young."

  "Sixteen," Vrell said. "He is called Achan."

  Ressa grabbed the candle and scooted to the foot of the pallet. She set the jar beside her and started to remo
ve the bandages on Achan's right foot. "Why don't you unwrap his left foot and tell me what I'm looking at?"

  Vrell crawled to the end of the bed and tugged at the bandage on Achan's other foot. "I'm not certain what happened. When I got to him, his feet were covered in dirt and quite cut up. He also had iron cuffs on his wrists."

  "And you didn't ask?"

  "Sir Gavin bid us not speak. By the time we made camp, Achan was asleep. Sir Caleb didn't want me to wake him."

  "This happened last night?"

  "Or the day before. It is difficult to measure time here."

  Ressa lifted Achan's foot into her lap, examining it with narrowed eyes. She sniffed. "You put yarrow on it?"

  "Yes, ma'am. It was all I had."

  "You've done fine. They're shallow cuts and should heal quickly." She lowered Achan's foot. "His head wounds seem to be healing on their own. We'll let him sleep it off."

  Vrell seized the moment to ask about supplies. "I would like to redress his feet, but I have used all my linen."

  "I have some we can use. And I'll take you to the apothecary to restock your bag. When he wakes, I'll make him a nice hot bath so he can soak those feet a bit. Sound good?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She smiled at Vrell and her eyes sparkled in the torchlight. "Now let me see what I might have to feed all you men."

  *

  Vrell followed Ressa back to the main room and found the men at the table, deep in a heated discussion. Vrell sat on the bench beside Sir Caleb.

  He smiled at her and turned back to the men. "But who sent the black knights?"

  Sir Gavin spoke from the head of the table. "Esek or Lord Falkson."

  "I'm not liking it, Gavin," Inko said. "We are being far too vulnerable on this journey. I'm being afraid we won't be making it all the way to Tsaftown."

  Sir Caleb shot a disapproving glare Inko's way. "Your fear is proof you don't trust Arman."

  "I am trusting Arman, but I am not thinking it is wisest to go this route with so few men."

  "Then you don't trust Gavin."

  "You are pulling words from my mouth that I am not saying. We need-"

  Sir Gavin slapped his palm on the table. "The smaller the party, the easier to hide, blend in. We are safest small and in Darkness."

  "But twice already the prince's life has been-"

  "Shh." Ressa held a bowl under one arm and stirred its contents. "The prince will feel better if he wakes on his own. And I'd rather you not wake the children."

  Children? Just how many children did they have?

  Sir Gavin pushed back from the table. "We'll discuss this further when Achan wakes."

  Trajen gave a verbal tour. Three chambers lined the back hallway. The knights would sleep in the first-one man on guard-Achan in the second, and the back chamber belonged to Trajen and Ressa and their children. Vrell would sleep on the couch in the front room.

  Vrell sat at the table, watching Ressa dart about the home. Vrell liked her more by the minute. The woman created a feast for seven with black beans and rice, set water heating for Achan's bath, fed her babies-for she had twins! — answered Trajen's call's, and still looked like she had energy for more.

  Achan stepped through the curtain, looking around with sleepy eyes. Vrell's heart raced. She hoped he had forgiven her.

  Sir Gavin jumped up and made introductions. "Trajen Yorbride, meet King Axel's son. He goes by Achan."

  Trajen bowed his head, took Achan by the shoulders, and kissed his forehead. "A great honor, Your Majesty."

  Achan's posture stiffened. "Thank you."

  Trajen motioned to Ressa on the pile of pillows holding a sleeping babe in each arm. "My wife, Ressa, and our children, Romal and Roma."

  "You're welcome here, Your Majesty," Ressa whispered.

  Achan nodded once and rubbed his cheek, staring at the lady of the house with a puzzled expression.

  "Trajen, if you'll take Romal, I can make the prince a bowl," Ressa said.

  "Never you mind, my love. You rest. I can serve the prince." Trajen dished a bowl of beans and rice and set it at the head of the table. "It's not much, but Arman does provide."

  "Thank you." Achan claimed the stool, moving slowly. "It's not dried meat or porridge, so to me, it's a feast."

  Sir Gavin sat beside Inko. "We must hear the story of what happened when you were taken from camp. If you're up to telling the tale. Prince Oren told Gavin some."

  "To the point when you returned," Vrell added, not wanting any detail left out.

  "Aye," Sir Gavin said. "Vrell and Ressa would like to know how you were injured and if you're injured elsewhere.

  Achan set his bowl down. Vrell didn't like the looks of the rings edging his eyes. She hoped he would sleep again soon.

  Achan stared at the table with glassy eyes. "I woke alone on the sandbar. I called out but no one answered. I still don't understand why I could only reach Prince Oren."

  "Locto spiked our drinking water with aleh and mint," Sir Caleb said. "He knocked you out, dragged you away, and conjured the illusion while we slept."

  "Explain that," Achan said. "This illusion actually looked like me?"

  "Aye," Sir Gavin said. "Just as black knights are able to duplicate themselves, they duplicated you."

  Achan nodded. "They surrounded me when I woke. Prince Oren stormed two, but I ended up inside Silvo Hamartano's head and left my body empty for attack."

  Vrell's insides coiled. Silvo Hamartano was a black knight?

  "Needless to say, I lost. I must learn to do this right before someone kills me." Achan glanced at Sir Gavin. "Please?"

  "We'll work on it tonight if you're up for it." Sir Gavin sighed through his nose. "But I wish you'd stop experimenting. It's not safe for you or us. That's likely how Esek's men found us. Kenton or Khai could be tracking your bloodvoice."

  Achan hung his head. He combed his fingers through his tangled hair and yanked them free. "I woke with my head in a water trough. They had taken my clothes."

  Achan went on to name Sir Nongo as Silvo's accomplice, and how Arman had restored his bloodvoices. He'd been thrown in a pit, met some crazy man called Hadad, was attacked by gowzals, then strung up on some sort of spikes as an offering to Barthos. It mortified Vrell to discover Achan had been hung there when she had knocked repeatedly. He kindly skipped over her intrusion.

  Eyelids heavy, Achan turned his gaze to Sir Gavin. "What do those words mean? The ones you all said to Barthos?"

  "Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echad, Arman hu shlosha be-echad. Hatzileni, beshem Caan, ben Arman." Sir Gavin's weathered face relaxed as if the mere act of speaking those words calmed him. "It's the old language for Arman is God, Arman is One, Arman is Three in One. Deliver me in the name of Caan."

  "Ah." Achan yawned. "How is it you speak the old language?"

  "I've learned it from the Book of Life. You'll learn it too."

  Ressa left to pour Achan's bath in his room while the men continued to talk out front.

  "Will we leave first thing?" Achan asked. "I'm eager to get to Tsaftown and see the sun again."

  "Achan, the sun does not shine in Tsaftown," Sir Gavin said. "The city sits over five leagues west of the Evenwall."

  Achan's dark eyebrows wrinkled. "I don't remember that."

  "I taught you in a hurry, Your Highness. I apologize for the confusion. We won't see the sun again until Mitspah."

  "And we'll go to Mitspah when?" Vrell asked.

  "After we build our army in Tsaftown."

  Vrell only wanted to know how close they were to Carmine. "So from here we go to Tsaftown, then to Carmine?"

  "Nay." Sir Gavin's eyes focused on hers. "From here we pass through Berland, then on to Tsaftown. We'll go to Ice Island first. Once we free our army, we'll go to Carmine."

  "How long will all of this take?" Vrell asked.

  "I cannot say. Much could waylay us. If all goes smoothly, we could be in Carmine before the fall harvest."

  Vrell sucked in a sharp
breath at the long journey ahead. "Wh-What season it is now?"

  "Early summer," Trajen said.

  "And will we raise support here as well?" Vrell asked.

  "Nay," Sir Gavin said. "Melas is a dangerous place. The sooner we reach friendly soil, the better. Duke Orson voted for Achan at Council. Berland will be a good place to rest."

  "I agree it wouldn't be wise to linger in Melas," Trajen said. "But we have a remnant here that serve Arman. Could you not stay to meet our flock?"

  Sir Gavin stroked his beard braid.

  "I, for one, would like to stay, at least for Teshuwah," Sir Caleb said. "It's been many weeks since I rested and many more since I've had the opportunity to attend a temple service. It would do us all good. Besides, Achan has probably never experienced a service like ours."

  "Strays weren't permitted to enter the temple in Sitna."

  "They're welcome here," Trajen said. "Everyone who asks may eat at Arman's table."

  The curtain rustled and Ressa appeared. "Your Highness? Your bath is ready."

  Achan twisted on the stool and stood. He limped to where Ressa held the curtain aside.

  "What say you, Gavin?" Trajen asked. "It's only two sleeps until Teshuwah."

  Sir Gavin's gaze followed Achan. "What would our prince like to do?"

  Achan stopped, keeping his back to the table. When he spoke, his words were a whisper. "Whatever you think best, Sir Gavin. As long as they don't call on Barthos." He ducked through the opening and his footsteps shuffled down the hall.

  18

  Sir Gavin's mustache lifted at the ends, indicating a smile, as he watched Achan go. "I think it's best we stay for Teshuwah."

  Trajen clapped his hands. "Excellent. I'll be honored to introduce His Majesty to the temple of Arman."

  Vrell smiled. It would be nice to stay here a bit longer. She bet Sir Gavin would see to it she got a bath. And she couldn't wait for the Teshuwah service. The last time Vrell worshipped Arman in the company of believers had been last winter in Carmine. She couldn't believe how much longer it would be until she were safely home. Fall harvest…