To Darkness Fled bok-2

by Jill Williamson

  "So what happened with…?"

  "Apparently, Akami fancied me." Sir Gavin shrugged. "So Dara put your father up to getting us together. But Axel told me, 'My wife desires you to escort her attendant, Akami, to the Hepta Festival. Wear something nice, Gavin, and bathe.'

  "When the Hepta Festival arrived, there were so many visitors, and rumors of Cheremites sneaking in to cause trouble, I knew my skills would be best used with the guard. So I sent one of my men to escort Akami to the festival."

  Achan chuckled. "What did she do?"

  "She married him."

  "Your guardsman?"

  "Eventually, aye, but not before your mother tongue-lashed me. I never would've agreed to be the girl's escort had I understood Dara's plans. Your father was never vague with me again. And the next time your mother set to matchmaking, Axel laid it out plain for me to reject entirely. Arman didn't make me for romance, my lad. I'm a warrior and to that cause I've dedicated my life."

  Achan wished he could have witnessed Sir Gavin's moment of understanding.

  "Know that I'm still as thick as ever with people, so if I seemed cruel before, it wasn't my intention." Sir Gavin shifted on the stool. "So, you know what I have to say now isn't meant to hurt, right? Though Gren's situation has changed…you and she could never…"

  Achan met Sir Gavin's brown eye and forced his voice to remain even, though his stomach clenched. "Of course."

  Sir Gavin slapped Achan's shoulder twice. "Good lad. Now, Prince Oren would like you to message him. I think you've got it down, so I'll see no one disturbs you."

  Sir Gavin hoisted himself from the stool, groaning, and passed through the curtain. Achan stared at the rippling fabric until it stilled.

  Why torture me, Arman? I wasn't good enough for Gren. Now she's not good enough for me. Why can't I do as I please? Esek would have.

  But Esek hadn't been able to marry just anyone either.

  I beg you protect her, then, if I cannot. Keep Bran at her side to make sure no one harms her or her family.

  Lying down would be most comfortable for messaging. If he somehow left his body again, at least he wouldn't fall.

  He pulled off his boots and lay back on the straw-filled mattress. He held up his right hand. Prince Oren's signet ring looked strange on his finger. In the same way wearing his bejeweled belt and sword had first made him feel small and insignificant, this ring dwarfed him even more. He stared at the crest of Armonguard, mesmerized. Armonguard should've been his home. He should've grown up in the castle as prince, the delight of every woman, the pride of every man.

  The hope for the future kingdom.

  Yet all had been lost. If Achan continued with these men, they'd do everything in their power to make him king. He hadn't wanted that, yet the idea grew more comfortable the more he learned of his parents. He wanted to be a good son. Would the people of Er'Rets accept him? Prince Oren had.

  Achan closed his eyes and let his mind drift to the servant's chamber on the bottom floor in Mahanaim where he last saw Prince Oren. His uncle's kind words came back.

  "We share the same blood, you and I."

  Achan hung on to those words for a long moment, cherishing them. Then he called out. Prince Oren?

  When is it only us, you must call me Uncle Oren or Uncle. I could feel you. I wondered what was taking you so long.

  I was looking at your ring, Uncle. Achan smiled. He liked saying the word uncle.

  Clunky old piece of gold, isn't it?

  I think it's amazing. The history, especially.

  I suppose it is. How do you fare? Your face? Has it healed any?

  One side has scabbed over. The other broke open again. Silvo Hamartano.

  Sir Gavin told me what happened in Barth. I'm proud of the way you handled yourself.

  Thank you, sir.

  When we last saw each other, I asked you whether or not Arman had spoken to you as king. We were interrupted and I never heard your answer. Tell me, have you heard his voice?

  The mere mention of Arman's voice seemed to heat Achan's insides. Aye. He's spoken to me several times.

  So it is true! His uncle's voice sounded anxious, excited. What has he said?

  Uh… He appointed me…king…over the nation. Before that he said to listen to Sir Gavin. Recently he yelled at me for calling on Cetheria. Then he restored my bloodvoice and kept some gowzals from eating me alive. He banished Barthos. Though his uncle couldn't see him, Achan shrugged. I like him all right.

  Prince Oren chuckled. Well, that is the best news I have heard since you were found. Now, tell me all you have been through since you left Mahanaim.

  Achan filled his uncle in on the journey thus far. The conversation lasted a long while because Prince Oren kept asking questions, inquiring as to a detail Achan had skipped over or to ask Achan's feelings. Achan liked Prince Oren's attention. The man cared about his well-being.

  Sir Gavin expressed concern to me about this Hadad fellow. He did not want to burden you, but I think it wise for you to be on guard. When this man spoke, did you feel a knock? Any mental intrusion at all?

  No. Achan's mind spun. I did feel cold. Sir Gavin said a chill can be a sign of bloodvoice ability. Hadad wanted me to renounce Arman, to shake on it.

  Touch increases bloodvoice connection. Take care to keep your mind guarded, nephew. There are so many who might seek to harm you.

  So many already had. A meaty smell drifted into the room. Achan's stomach growled. Ressa was cooking again.

  You are hungry? Prince Oren asked.

  Achan smiled. A little.

  Then go and eat. We can talk again later.

  Achan didn't want the conversation to end. Uncle, do you know how Gren is doing?

  She is safe. I am grieved over what happened to her husband. I thought sending Jax and Sir Rigil would be enough to protect one family, but I fear Lord Nathak did not want to part with them.

  Will she stay in Carmine, do you know?

  For now. Perhaps you will be able to visit her when you arrive there. I understand Carmine is one of the places Sir Gavin plans to visit.

  Aye. It'll be months before we're there, though. Could you have Bran or Sir Rigil keep watch over her? To make sure she's okay?

  I will. But trust her to Arman, lad. He'll watch over her better than anyone.

  But Gren does not follow Arman.

  That does not change the fact that he watches over her. He loves all of his children, whether or not they know or believe. Goodbye, Nephew. Go and eat.

  Goodbye, Uncle.

  19

  When Achan entered the kitchen two days later, people filled the house. The table had been pushed lengthwise against the inner wall and people sat on it, dangling their legs over the edge. The chairs also lined the walls, occupied by men and women, chatting amicably. More people occupied the couches and floor. No one paid any attention to Achan.

  He scanned the room. Sparrow? Where are you?

  On the floor, other side of the table.

  Achan squatted. Sparrow sat cross-legged behind the front table leg on the other end. What are you doing over there?

  This is the best seat I could find.

  Where am I supposed to sit?

  Stay where you are. You can see from there.

  Achan would much rather hide with Sparrow than stand in the doorway where someone might introduce him, possibly make him strip off his shirt and show his scarred back. He didn't relish another bout of humiliation. Besides, he'd spent most his life under the tables in the kitchens of Sitna Manor, scavenging crumbs from the floor. He crawled under the table and sat on the inside of the table leg by Sparrow. He stretched out his long legs, though he had to hunch to keep his head from hitting the tabletop. A man's legs dangled beside his face.

  Sparrow peeked around the table leg. How do your feet feel today?

  Better. I'm hungry. Achan pressed a hand to his stomach. Did you eat?

  No. Sparrow nodded toward the sideboard crammed full with bowls d
raped in cloths. Ressa cooked all morning. I think we are to eat after the service.

  Mmm. Achan studied the people in the room. Most were peasants or lower except for a well-dressed man beside Sir Gavin. The people chatted as if passing the time for a tournament to begin. A man and woman entered the front door, and Ressa greeted them with a smile. There's so little room in this cottage, why do so many come here today? What exactly is this Teshuwah about? Do we parade to the temple?

  Teshuwah is our holy day. These people have come to worship Arman.

  Here? This is a dwelling of people, not a god.

  Arman has no temple besides his people.

  Achan wrinkled his nose. The temple was people? That made no sense.

  So many now filled the cottage that no surface remained bare. People stood along the walls, two deep in some places. Some men held children on their shoulders. The voices suddenly quieted, gazes drifting to the curtained doorway. Achan peeked out from under the table.

  Trajen entered the room dressed in a white hooded cloak over a white tunic with the same brown trousers he always wore. He walked to the entrance of the house and faced the room. This position not only gave him space, it made him visible to everyone.

  He lifted his arms high above his head. "And on the day called Teshuwah all who believe shall be gathered to one place, and the word of Arman will be spoken. Then we shall rise and pray. And when our prayers have been heard, we shall give praise and thanksgiving. Then we shall eat, for food brings nourishment to the body and celebration to the soul. We assemble on the Teshuwah because that's the day Arman wrought a change in the hearts of men. That's the day his son, Caan, rose from the tomb to give us Light.

  "For he was murdered by men, put in a dark tomb, and on the day of the Sun, which gives light and life, appeared to King Willham and his men and taught them all these things."

  A chorus of agreement, "So be it" and "May it be so," burst forth from the crowd. From somewhere Achan couldn't see, one of the twins said, "Bite bite, Mima," and the crowd chuckled.

  Trajen closed his eyes, inciting a hush in the room again. "In the beginning was Caan, and Caan was with Arman, and Caan was Arman. Caan was with Arman in the beginning. In him was life, and that life was the Light of men. The Light shone in the Darkness, but Darkness did not understand it."

  A man above Achan grunted in agreement.

  "And in those days Er'Rets had no king; everyone did as he saw fit. The people forsook Arman to serve other gods. So Arman gave Er'Rets a king; his name was Echad Hadar. He came as a witness to testify concerning that Light, so that through the Light all men might believe."

  Trajen paused. "But the people did evil in the eyes of Arman and Darkness began to push away the Light."

  A chill raked up Achan's arms at the ultimate evil that had brought Darkness upon the land: killing Arman's chosen, his father.

  "But Arman so loved his people that he gave his son, Caan, as a ransom for the transgressions of every man. He was buried in Noiz on the same day King Simal II breathed his last. Both men were buried that day. And to this day, the tomb of King Simal II remains sealed. But Caan's tomb did not remain sealed. Three days later, Arman opened Caan's tomb and raised him from the dead to sit at his right hand, a testament to what he longs to do in the life of men."

  Achan had heard this tale many times over the years from Minstrel Harp in the Corner back in Sitna. It was a neat story, though he'd never heard it quite like this.

  "King Willham believed, and through the power of Caan, took hold of the Darkness and pushed it back. The battle ceased for a time. But many a king has come and gone since then. Some have obeyed the call of Arman. Some have answered the call of Darkness. For many did not recognize Caan as the source of all Light."

  Caan was the source of all light? Might Achan need his help, then, if he was to push back Darkness? And wouldn't his calling on Caan offend Arman?

  "Though many did not recognize him-including his own Kinsman people-those who did receive him, those who believed in his power, he gave the right to become children of Arman-children not born of natural descent or a husband's will, but born of Arman.

  "For we know that Arman is light; in him there is no Darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk with Darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk with the Light as Arman is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the Blood of Caan, Arman's son, purifies us from all evil, even in this dark place."

  People yelled out "Praise Arman" and "May it be so."

  Trajen opened his eyes and scanned the room. "For this reason, I've not stopped petitioning for all of you that Arman will fill you with the knowledge of his will, so you may live a life worthy of Arman and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of Arman."

  A chorus of agreement, "So be it," "May it be so," and "As it has been said," burst forth, only this time, the voices did not quiet. A woman's voice broke into an upbeat song. Almost every soul in the room quickly joined in, Sparrow included.

  Er'Rets was lost in the darkness within.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  Like sunshine at noonday his glory shone in.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  No darkness have we who in Arman abide.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  We walk in the light when we follow our Guide.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  Ye dwellers in Darkness with tar-blinded eyes.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  Go, wash, at His bidding and light will arise.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  No need of sunlight in Shamayim we're told.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  For Caan is the Light in the city of gold.

  The Light of the world is Caan!

  The song ended in a heavy silence. Then a man started to sing from the table above.

  Come to the Light, 'tis shining for thee.

  Sweetly the Light has dawned upon me.

  Once I was blind, but now I can see.

  For Caan has brought Light that is free.

  The people sang this twice, then, on the third time through, a clear woman's voice began a measure behind, leading several other women in a round. When the refrain finally ended, Trajen sang a phrase-nearly a chant. Everyone joined in.

  "Sh'ma Er'Rets, Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echad, Arman hu shlosha be-echad."

  The words were the old language like what Sir Gavin and the knights had said in Barthos' temple. How strange that so many would know this language. And what were they saying about Arman?

  When the singing ended, Trajen said, "Some of you may have noticed a few unfamiliar faces this day. We often welcome new followers into our fold, but today our guests have been walking with Arman for many years. We have heard of the deceit in Sitna and knew in our hearts it was true. Our promised king is not the evil man we thought him to be, but a man who, like Caan himself, was made a servant for his people, scorned and beaten, until Arman pulled him into the Light where all could see the truth.

  "We have with us this day Sir Gavin Lukos and his companions who are escorting the rightful heir to Er'Rets-the true Crown Prince, Gidon Hadar-north to safety. There they plan to raise support so the true king can return to Armonguard and proclaim Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echad, Arman hu shlosha be-echad, a truth so bright it will push back Darkness forever."

  The crowd murmured. Achan shrank back against the wall under the table. He had expected an introduction, but who could live up to such words? He'd almost rather they strip him down and fawn over his birthmark.

  Boot steps clunked across the floor. The voices hushed so suddenly, Achan couldn't help leaning forward to see what was happening. Just as he peeked out from under the table, a set of legs cast a shadow over his face. He glanced up to see Sir Gavin looking down into his eyes.

  Achan's stomach rolled as he realized the crowd ha
d been watching Sir Gavin.

  "'Tis true," Sir Gavin said. "I found him once, and I'll not lose him again, wherever he may hide himself."

  The crowd chuckled and Sir Gavin reached down with his calloused hand. Achan clasped his wrist and allowed the old knight to hoist him to his feet.

  Sir Gavin clapped a hand on Achan's shoulder. "Here stands King Axel Hadar's only son. Here stands your future king. For in less than a year's time, this young man will sit on the throne in Armonguard and bring an end to the Darkness."

  The people burst into cheering.

  Less than a year? Achan tensed, yet couldn't fight his own smile, so contagious was the joy on the faces around him.

  "A feast for our two kings!" Trajen yelled. "For this earthly king and our king who reigns in Shamayim!"

  "Hear, hear!" a man said and the people cheered again.

  Everyone moved at once. Those who'd been sitting on the table jumped down and put it back where it belonged. Ressa set one of the covered bowls on the table, and other women joined in to help. Sir Gavin guided Achan to the entrance. People clustered around, blocking his view of the food.

  A portly man with a wisp of black hair took Achan's hand in both of his. "A pleasure and honor, Your Majesty."

  "Thank you," Achan said.

  Another man, stocky with a scarred face, pushed forward. "Say the word and I'll fight with you, my prince."

  "We'd be honored to have your sword." Sir Gavin clasped the man's shoulder. "Trajen will keep you posted as to where our army will assemble. Likely Carmine."

  Achan's stomach roiled again. They were truly going to build an army and fight against Esek? Good men like this, family men, might die for him? Before he could dwell on the matter, three more men pledged their swords for Achan's sake.

  A pretty young red-haired girl curtsied before him. "My heart fills with hope to see your face, Your Highness. I can see you're brave and strong. With you leading our men I know we shall not be in Darkness much longer."

  Achan felt taller at her words. He bowed, took her hand, and kissed it. "Thank you, my lady. Your words inspire me to crush any enemy who would stand in my way."