To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

“No, sir. She did not wish it. Not with Esek there.”

  “She was wise not to risk you.” Sir Gavin groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “My dear lady, you’re a brave soul. To think I let Achan strike you this night. I’m ashamed of myself.”

  Vrell welcomed the excuse to smile. “Well, I must learn to fight, sir. It has been horrible all this time not being able to protect myself. I felt so weak and vulnerable. So useless.”

  “Aye. And you’ve joined a perilous journey, my lady. Did your mother teach you to storm? What you did with the black knight?”

  “I know nothing of what my mother did. I blacked out. I called out to her for help and she jumped through me. Then…I saw nothing.”

  Sir Gavin spoke to himself, “Aye. Nitsa helped him once. I had forgotten.”

  Vrell straightened. “Helped who?”

  “Eag—forgive me. ’Tis not my tale to share but something to ask your mother.” Sir Gavin sniffed and stroked his beard braid. “What is your wish, my lady? How can an Old Kingsguard knight be of service?”

  “My only wish is to go home. But Macoun Hadar and Khai Mageia know who I am. They told Esek. Now Esek has placed a bounty on both our heads. Mine and Achan’s.”

  Sir Gavin tipped back his head, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps that’s why so many small parties hunt us. They’re after the reward.” He gripped Vrell’s shoulder. “We’ll get you home, brave lady. Unfortunately it will not be soon. You’re certain you don’t want the others to know? It’ll be easier on you.”

  Vrell drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I never meant to deceive Achan. I had hoped to slip away without him finding out who I really am. Is that wrong of me?”

  Sir Gavin stroked his moustache over the curve of his top lip. “I cannot say. Either way, ’tis probably best you stay dressed as a boy. It isn’t proper for Achan to travel with a woman, no more than for you to travel with four men.” He sniffed in a long breath. “We’ll keep your identity between us. It won’t ease your burden, though I’ll try to help where I can.”

  Vrell shook her tears away and lifted her chin. “Please, do not interfere with my training. I never want to be unprepared in battle again. If I am going to survive, I must learn.”

  “I’ve never met a braver lady.” Sir Gavin’s eyes widened. “Eben’s breath! No wonder you didn’t want help with your leeches. Oh, my lady. I thank you, deeply, on behalf of our king for your service these past weeks. You saved his life after the Poroo battle, cared for him in the dungeons, called me to his aid, and sacrificed your own safety for his benefit. You should be commended.” He shuffled his feet, threw up his hands, and sighed. “I’m sorry I cannot offer more than words.”

  Vrell hugged Sir Gavin, his prickly beard tickling her face. “It is a great comfort to finally have a confidant. Your kindness means so much, Sir Gavin. I can never repay you for it.”

  “I’d never accept it if you tried. ’Tis my duty as a knight to see you safely home, my lady. That I promise to do.”

  “Sir Gavin, please. I do not understand what Mother did. And Sir Caleb is bragging me up as a veil warrior. All I remember was concentrating. I heard a song and all my pain vanished. I felt as if I had floated in the air. And then nothing.”

  “When I found you, you were cold. I fear we almost lost your mind to the Veil. Though I appreciate your mother’s assistance, you must not help her again ’til you learn properly. The Veil is a dangerous place for one untrained to navigate it. We’ll tell the men you helped me by accident, that you didn’t know what you were doing. ’Tis mostly true.”

  “How can one enter the Veil whilst they are still living?” Vrell had always understood that a man who entered the Veil was on the brink of death.

  “It is done using bloodvoicing. A gifted man may leave his body and enter the Veil, or he may cast another man—gifted or not—into the Veil, which is the essence of storming. A man’s soul was not created for Er’Rets, you see. It was created for Shamayim and longs for the peace and joy of that eternal home. Trust me, Vrell. You do not want to tempt your soul to the Veil before Arman pulls it there.”

  Vrell shivered. Without realizing it, she had gone into the Veil before, when Macoun had asked her to seek out Esek and Achan drew her into his mind. “So my mother sent the mage to the Veil? Is he still there?”

  “I cannot say. People can be brought back, but only by those who know how.”

  “And do you know how, Sir Gavin?”

  “I do, but I’m too old to risk it. ’Tis not a wise task for a man so close to Arman’s final call.”

  8

  Achan woke with a stiff back. He sat up and scanned the camp, Eagan’s Elk poking into the grass behind him. The knights were packing up. “Where’s Sparrow?”

  Sir Caleb combed his fingers through his wild mane and yawned. “Watering the nearest tree, I imagine.”

  Achan pushed himself to one knee and rolled up his leather bed. His stiff legs and back ached, and his belt had cut a groove into his waist overnight that had left the area without blood flow. He scratched his waistline and heaved to his feet.

  “From now on, Your Highness, do not wear your belt and sword when you sleep.” Sir Caleb’s owlish eyes glimmered in the torchlight. “It’s wise to keep it close by, but how could you draw if you’re sleeping on it?”

  Achan grunted in response. No doubt Eagan’s Elk was to blame for the majority of his stiffness as he’d slept on his back to keep the hilt reachable.

  He crossed the dead grass to where Sir Gavin knelt, attaching his bedroll to his pack. Achan crouched beside the knight. “So? Did you speak to Sparrow?”

  Sir Gavin cinched the leather cords on the bedroll. “I did.”

  “And?”

  “’Tis none of your concern.”

  Achan’s eagerness faded. “He’s not hiding anything?”

  Sir Gavin drew the pack over his shoulders and groaned as he heaved it on and stood in one motion. Achan stood with him and received his piercing gaze. “What Vrell hides is his own business and no threat to you. Leave him be about it.”

  Leave him be? “Yes, sir.”

  Sir Gavin clapped Achan’s shoulder, his calloused hand scratching Achan’s leather doublet. “Please, lad. You must not call me sir. You’re my prince. I say ‘yes, sir’ to you.”

  Achan nodded, though frustration seared through his veins. Sir Gavin wanted him to be prince but kept secrets. Sparrow was hiding something, threat or not. Achan had met the boy first. Were they not friends? Didn’t Sparrow trust him?

  Sparrow bounded into the light and looped his satchel over his head and arm. They each took their place along Sir Caleb’s rope and set off in the dark. Achan traipsed along, more comfortable blindly trusting Sir Gavin to lead on this third day of the journey. Truly? Had three days passed already? They’d slept before the giants attacked, then in the rocky clearing where the black knights had appeared, then last night in the field. That made this day four. Without the sun to rise and fall, it all seemed like one long night.

  Their boots scraped over crusty grass. To keep their minds from wandering, Sir Caleb told a story of how Allowntown had come to be.

  “Were my parents staying in Allowntown when they were killed?” Achan asked after some time.

  “Nay, they were just arriving from Mahanaim. When your father traveled, he reveled well into the morning with his men and his minstrels. Your mother, not wanting to expose you to such behavior at your young age, had come along.”

  “She sounds like a prudent woman and a loving mother,” Sparrow said.

  Achan grinned at the thought of his father wanting to include him in the merrymaking at age three and his mother’s desire to tuck him into bed.

  “I’d never seen a prouder papa than King Axel,” Sir Caleb said. “You lived on his shoulders if you weren’t in your mother’s arms. I’m surprised you learned to walk.”

  Achan’s grin sobered, knowing this story didn’t end well. “So they were killed when they reached Allownt
own?”

  “As Sir Gavin said the other night, when we awoke, the king and queen had already left. We had barely started out from Mahanaim when your father cried out.”

  “No one in Allowntown saw what happened?”

  “Nay. If you recall, the fortress is small. Normally, when the king and queen traveled, a messenger would ride ahead to announce their arrival. This would have given the staff in Allowntown a chance to welcome the king properly. My brother, Lord Agros, said no messenger came that day.”

  “What was Sir Kenton’s story?” Achan asked.

  The crunching of dead grass pulled Achan’s attention to the web of trees on his left. Could Sir Gavin sense every beast in the area? Or only those he shadowed? He could have sworn he’d heard a horse neigh.

  “According to Sir Kenton and every guardsman and servant questioned, the king dismissed his men when they arrived, and he, you, and your mother went for a walk in the orchard. No one would have questioned this as your mother had a fondness for trees. She had her own gardens at Armonguard. They’re still there. You shall see them someday.”

  “Who found them?” Achan tensed at the image of a family walk turned to slaughter.

  “A farmer. He’d been out—”

  Torches fizzed to life on all sides, bobbing in the darkness. Achan drew his sword. Men in armor appeared all around them. These weren’t black knights, however. Nearly two dozen soldiers encircled them, each gripping a sword and a two-tone shield bearing the face of a reekat. Behind them, men on horseback stood sentry before three long carts filled with rock.

  “By whose command do you tread upon this land?” a man said.

  Achan couldn’t tell where his voice came from.

  “We serve no man,” Sir Gavin said. “We seek an audience with Sir Septon Eli, Lord of Mirrorstone.”

  “And you are?”

  “Sir Gavin Whitewolf, commander of the Old Kingsguard. We come in peace.”

  “Then you shall be received in such.” A tall, husky man stepped through the row of soldiers and approached Sir Gavin. His face was shaded in a thick grey beard. “I am Belen. I would be happy to escort you to Mirrorstone.”

  Stay in the shadows, Achan, Sir Gavin bloodvoiced.

  Gladly. Achan dreaded their arrival in Mirrorstone, fearing Sir Gavin intended to parade him about to rally supporters.

  All his life he’d had but one goal: freedom. To be able to build his own cottage, cook his own meals, and, maybe someday, have a wife and family. He’d never dreamed of being king. And despite any notions of what he thought a prince or king’s life might be like, the past few days had shown the truth. A king was not a free man in the slightest.

  Belen led them across a wide dirt road to the wagons filled with rock. He tapped the side of one that was hitched to two horses. “Your men can ride in this. Come with me, Sir Gavin, and I’ll see you are given a horse.”

  Sir Caleb nudged Achan toward the wagon. “You heard him. Into the wagon, men.”

  Achan slipped up on the wagon bed, legs dangling off, but Sir Caleb made him move farther in. He scooted back and leaned against a smooth boulder. Sir Caleb and Inko sat on either side. Sparrow sat in front of him.

  Like shields.

  “How is your head, Inko?”

  Sparrow’s voice sent a jolt of tension through Achan. The secret keeper excelled at pretending nothing was amiss.

  “It’s being a big lump. I’m thinking Arman was blessing me that it was being the third rock that was being thrown. Any other I might not have been waking up from.”

  Achan closed his eyes, wishing the act could forever silence Inko’s irrational superstitions over lucky numbers and who knew what else.

  “It’s a relief to be headed for a stronghold,” Sir Caleb said. “Pray it’s a friendly one.”

  The wagon jerked forward, wheels crunching over dirt, rocks shifting against the wooden wagon and each other. Soldiers rode by on horseback, eyeing them curiously in the glow of the torches they held. Lulled by rolling motion of the wagon and the sound of creaking wood, Achan soon nodded off.

  “How lovely.”

  Achan opened his eyes at Sparrow’s voice. Hundreds of torches illuminated the size and shape of a tall, narrow castle. Flames burned bright, reflecting warm, flickering light in the surrounding moat of dark water. Mirrorstone. Lord Eli had it good. It was an impressive place for a man no more than twenty years of age.

  They passed under a marble gatehouse intricately carved with foliage, faces, and animals. The soldiers peeled away from the wagon and crossed a deserted courtyard toward an archway topped with a double row of torches. The wagon stopped before a grand marble porch with pillars as wide as three men.

  “Stay back and keep your head down,” Sir Caleb said.

  They piled out of the wagon. A guard led them inside through a pillared vestibule and into a luxurious great hall. A raised, white marble dais stretched across the far end of the room. Red linen draped over a head table set with golden plates and goblets. Three bronze candelabras, dripping with glass prisms, hung above the table, each holding dozens of white candles. The prisms cast sparkling light over the floor and walls. Guards stood beside each fluted pilaster, edging the room.

  Achan kept his eyes down, wincing slightly. After so many days of gloomy shadow, the light seemed wrong somehow. Too bright.

  Sir Gavin and a young man were seated at the high table looking like a grandsire with his grandson. Achan recognized the young man’s pale, freckled face and shock of orange hair immediately. Sir Septon Eli himself. A man barely older than Achan. His parents had also died tragically, though Achan couldn’t recall how. He did remember Esek monopolizing the young lord’s wife on the trip to Mahanaim.

  Achan stayed behind Sir Caleb and kept his head down as they crossed the wide room.

  “I’m collecting rock to build a wall around my land,” Lord Eli said to Sir Gavin. “The Poroo and ebens have been merciless of late. It appears they want to start a war with one another, yet Mirrorstone lies in between. It thrills me to no end they want to kill each other, but I want no part of it.”

  “You think a wall will keep them out?” Sir Gavin asked.

  “It works for Har Sha’ar.”

  “Har Sha’ar is a mountain fortress. You’re on the coast.”

  “A tall enough wall will keep them out. The kwon too.”

  “Kwon certainly,” Sir Gavin sniffed, “but Poroo climb.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware. I was there when the Poroo attacked Prince Esek’s procession. Horrible creatures. Can’t be reasoned with. Can’t be bought.”

  Sir Caleb stopped and cleared his throat.

  Lord Eli’s gaze jerked to the floor and he waved them forward. “You must desire to freshen up before dinner, but I wanted to greet you first.”

  Odd. Achan did not claim to be an expert at decorum, but Sir Gavin had taught him a guest’s comfort always took priority. Either Lord Eli was clueless, extremely self-absorbed, or suspicious of his guests.

  Sir Gavin pushed back his chair and stood. “These are my fellow Kingsguards, Sir Caleb Agros and Inko son of Mopti.”

  “Ah, a Barthian, are you?” Lord Eli smiled down on Inko. “Well, I won’t hold it against you.” He snapped his fingers and one of the servants pulled out a chair for Inko.

  Achan instantly disliked Lord Eli’s arrogant, Esek-like demeanor.

  “And Agros is a noble title, is it not?”

  Sir Caleb bowed. “My brother is Lord of Allowntown.”

  “And are you heir to the lordship?”

  “By no means. My brother has three healthy sons.”

  “A shame for you and a joy for him, I’m sure.” Lord Eli snapped again and a servant pulled out another chair.

  Sir Caleb hesitated, then took his seat beside Inko.

  Achan remained standing beside Sparrow, eyes cast to the floor. He could feel Lord Eli’s gaze.

  “And these are?”

  “Our servants.” Achan looked up at the so
und of Sir Gavin’s voice.

  “Delightful.” Lord Eli left his chair and descended the platform. “I should like to meet them as well.”

  This was the longest of tales. No man as pretentious as Lord Eli would even look at another man’s servants, let alone desire a personal introduction.

  “What’s this? Your servant is injured.” Lord Eli stepped so close Achan could count the freckles on the man’s face. His breath warmed Achan’s cheek. “Why I…can it be?” He spun to face the high table, eyes wide. “Commander, do not play me false. I have seen this young man before on the journey from Sitna. King Esek issued a royal proclamation to apprehend this man.”

  King Esek? Sir Caleb stood and drew his sword. Achan drew his as well, and pointed it at Lord Eli’s chest. Lord Eli’s guards charged from the perimeter, weapons ready. Sir Caleb slid over the top of the high table and jumped to the floor, raising his blade to Lord Eli’s back.

  “No, no! You misunderstand!” Lord Eli cowered, cheeks flushing so his head resembled a peach. “King Esek made me a fool, keeping my wife from me on the journey from Sitna. Please, stay, Your Highness. Build your campaign. My seer advised me that counsel would come from outside Mirrorstone, and here you are. I am your servant. I will stand with you as you take what is rightfully yours. Please, accept Mirrorstone’s full support. My staff and guards are at your disposal.” Lord Eli nodded to his guards and the men lowered their weapons.

  Achan glanced at Sir Caleb, who sheathed his sword, “Perhaps instead of games, a little hospitality would melt His Highness’ resolve.”

  “Of course, of course. Right away.” Lord Eli raised his arm, as if to snap. “But first you must visit the temple shrine and make an offering.”

  Sir Gavin walked to the end of the dais. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “It is unwise to ignore Avenis. The more attention you bestow on the god of beauty, the more blessings he returns.” Lord Eli’s piercing gaze bounced from face to face, eyebrows sinking. “No? Very well.” He snapped his fingers at a servant who stood along the wall. “Prepare a bath in our best room for His Royal Highness. Prepare the adjoining rooms for his staff. And inform our other guests that dinner will be delayed.”