To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

  Achan had ridden only once before, under Sir Gavin’s instruction. He tried to figure how much time had passed, but the weeks blurred together. He’d left Sitna in early summer. The battle had taken him out for days, then he’d sat in prison for another week or so. They’d been in Darkness five days now. So maybe a month had passed since he’d left Sitna?

  It felt like years.

  Whether Lord Eli had known of Lady Jaira’s treason was unclear, but he’d been more than generous providing horses, food, and supplies for the journey.

  The horses soon entered the marshlands. Their footsteps reminded Achan of the sound Gren’s feet made when stomping wool in the fulling water. Gren was the only woman he loved enough to marry, and she’d married Riga. He closed his eyes and focused on her face.

  Suddenly it was as if he were elsewhere. The dank smell of urine filled his nostrils, making him feel like he was standing beside Gren as she stomped in her tub. But the smell was stronger than fulling water alone. Cold dampness pressed in on Achan. He shivered.

  Riga’s voice filled Achan’s mind. You’re full of dung, knight. I don’t believe it.

  Truth is truth. Doesn’t matter whether you believe it, a man’s familiar voice said.

  I believe it, Gren said.

  Grenny, don’t be daft. That goat boy is no king.

  Why else would we be here, Riga? You think Lord Nathak would jail us for talking to this knight? Now that’s daft.

  How was this possible? He’d only thought of Gren and—

  “Achan!” Sir Gavin’s voice pulled him away from the prison cell. “Stay with us, now. We don’t want your mind wandering off.”

  “I’m here.” But Achan’s pulse throbbed. What had he seen? Could it have been real? Could Gren really be in prison—and because of him? Esek had done this. Achan had forgotten Esek’s threat to hurt Gren and her family if Achan left his service. But what could Achan do? He was so far away.

  Arman, help her.

  A sharp ping needled Achan’s temple. Sir Gavin.

  Achan lowered his defenses to allow Sir Gavin inside. He was getting better at this.

  ’Tis a long journey, lad. And now that we’re riding horses, we can practice without fear of walking into a tree. We must perfect your ability to bloodvoice. Vrell’s going to practice with us. I’ll invite him into our counsel now.

  Achan’s body rocked in the saddle. He closed his eyes, opened them, closed them again. No difference. Amazing how horses could see in the dark. If they neared a cliff, would Scout stop or plummet over the side? Achan sensed himself falling—

  A soft prick to his temple. Vrell Sparrow.

  Achan shook away from his wandering thoughts, embarrassed he’d lost control so quickly. He opened to Sparrow, and the boy’s mind floated into Achan’s head.

  Achan could hear nothing from Sparrow. How do you guard your thoughts so well? I’ve never once been inside your head. I mean, I can speak to you, but not see through your eyes.

  You are strong in some ways, but so am I. Arman has given us both what we need to serve our purpose in this life. At least you’re shielding well. It no longer hurts to talk to you.

  Was he shielding well? A rush of hope filled him. Maybe he’d get the hang of this after all. Where’s Sir Gavin?

  He told me to wait with you. It’s strange, these knights knock differently than how I learned. I was taught to give the name of the person I wanted to speak to, but these knights give their own name.

  Does it matter?

  I suppose not. I usually sense the person as well anyway. Do you?

  Never really thought about it. A bird screeched in the distance. Scout snorted and Achan patted his neck. “It’s okay, boy.”

  Sparrow went on. Do you think someone could give a false name?

  Why would anyone want to?

  To get into your mind, fool you, storm or attack in some way.

  Achan frowned. He supposed that could happen. Do you think there’s a way to force someone to lower their defenses? I mean, bloodvoicing is a powerful gift. I should think forcing secrets from my enemy would come in handy during a battle.

  It might. But bloodvoicing is good for other uses in war. Jax told me your father used to send orders to his generals in battles. Imagine the benefit of a coordinated attack controlled that well. That is why most Kingsguard knights have the ability in some measure. They are recruited because of it.

  The giant knew my father?

  No. Jax was a soldier, but he heard your father give orders.

  Why didn’t you mention this before?

  It did not occur to me. We have been traveling a great deal.

  Achan’s temple prickled.

  Prince Oren Hadar.

  He straightened and fingered his uncle’s ring. He saw a flash of the man on his knees, black hair slicked back over his head, blue eyes penetrating into Achan’s as he offered his sword on both palms. The memory of his words brought chills.

  “I swear fealty and service to the crown of Er’Rets, to ever give wise counsel, to uphold the laws and customs of our land, to serve where I might, according to my knowledge and ability. Thus swear I, Prince Oren Hadar, to you, my king.”

  Achan could sense his uncle, even recognize his voice.

  Another prick came. Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Achan lowered his guard to allow both men into his mind.

  We’ll postpone our lessons for the moment, Sir Gavin said. Prince Oren, I’ve asked Master Vrell Sparrow to join us so he might learn ways to help Achan practice.

  Excellent, Prince Oren said. Master Sparrow, Sir Gavin has informed me of your service to my nephew these past few weeks. All Er’Rets is in your debt.

  Thank you, Your Highness, Sparrow said.

  How are you faring on your journey? Are you well?

  I am, Your Highness.

  Excellent. Nephew, you must learn to communicate without being overheard. I have much to speak with you about but not until you are ready. How do you feel about our link now?

  Fine, Achan said.

  And after your encounter with the Hamartano mage?

  Heat crept up the back of Achan’s neck. Did Sir Gavin have to share that blunder with his uncle? I’m glad to know what she’s capable of. I’ll not be so foolish again.

  Well said. What is your agenda, Sir Gavin?

  We head for Melas. I have a friend there who’ll give us shelter and replenish our supplies before we head into Therion.

  Good. Achan, I am glad to hear you are well and safe. You must be a student now so that later you can be a king. My prayers go with you on your journey north. Arman protect you.

  And as quickly as he’d come, Prince Oren’s presence faded away. Achan stared into the black void, the scraping of hooves over rocky soil grating loudly in his ears. Would he ever get to see his uncle on a regular basis?

  Very well, Sir Gavin said. For our first lesson, Achan, I’d like you to shield yourself against Vrell. You’ll both stay connected to me. Vrell, you’ll try to force your way into Achan’s thoughts. Achan, you’ll speak with me and try to keep Vrell out. Are you ready?

  Yes, Sparrow said.

  Aye. Achan fortified his mind. He patted Scout a moment before more pinpricks needled his temples.

  Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Achan opened to the knight.

  Talk to me about something only you know, lad. Anything will do.

  Achan’s mind spun. Um…the longer bread raises, the rounder the loaf. Dough raises best in a warm place. Under a cloth and near the fireplace is where Poril always—

  Hold. You started out fine but distracted yourself from guarding your thoughts. Vrell heard half of what you said. Try again. A different topic.

  Achan gripped his reins and concentrated on closing off his mind again. A different topic? His knowledge didn’t range far. Oh, I know. It’s said goats will eat almost anything, but they’re actually quite particular. Their stalls and troughs have to be spotless before they’ll eat. Mold in their feed
can make them sick. I almost lost Dilly one winter due to mold. Alfalfa is…

  Achan paused. His temple itched, almost like a knock, but no voice announced an intention to enter. Was that Sparrow trying to sneak in or someone else?

  Achan duplicated himself, leaving one man to guard the door. The other stepped outside and pounced on the mysterious intruder.

  A scream spilled out around Achan, but he concentrated, not willing to fail this test. He groped for the person, trying to discover this trespasser’s identity, but the person blew away like a gust of wind.

  12

  “Inko, a light!” Sir Gavin yelled.

  Achan’s walls collapsed. He whirled around on Scout. “What’s wrong?”

  Boots splashed though water. A torch whizzed to life from the horse in front of Achan, throwing an amber glow over Sir Gavin’s moving form below.

  “Vrell’s fallen off his horse.” Sir Gavin crouched out of sight. “Achan, close your mind. You’re spilling all over.”

  Achan drew up his shields and blinked rapidly, trying to see. He swung his leg over Scout and slid to the ground. His feet splashed into at least a foot of water.

  Sir Gavin heaved to his feet, holding Sparrow’s limp and dripping form. “He’s breathing.” Sir Gavin sighed. “Achan, what did you do?”

  He did something? “I…I doubled myself, then attacked.”

  “I’ll be ransomed.” Sir Caleb’s voice drifted down from his horse. “You taught him to storm?”

  “I most certainly did not. Where’d you learn such a maneuver, lad?”

  Maneuver? “I—nowhere. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “And you saw nothing of it, Gavin?”

  “Nay. He blocked me. Must have duplicated himself first.”

  “Did I… Is he hurt?”

  Sparrow wheezed in a long breath, coughed, sputtered.

  “Are you all right?” Sir Gavin bounced the boy in his arms. “Can you stand?”

  Sparrow coughed. Nodded.

  What had Achan done? He could only stare as Sir Gavin lowered the boy to his feet. He didn’t understand any of this. How could simple mind games wound someone? Was this what Vrell had done to the black knight mage?

  “What happened, boy?” Sir Caleb asked.

  “I am uncertain.” Sparrow’s voice croaked, eyes fixed on Achan’s. “Achan did something strange. I felt…pushed from my body. I have a weakness, though. When I bloodvoice too long, I black out.”

  “It’s Arman’s blessing you did. A true storm can trap the strongest man in the Veil.” Sir Gavin frowned at Achan. “It’s not something to be played with.”

  Achan gulped. “I just wanted to see who was there.”

  “’Twas Vrell, Achan! We were having a lesson. Do you think it would be anyone else?”

  “To be fair,” Sir Caleb said, “it was wise to be suspicious of what you sensed. Just don’t experiment with your power until you’ve learned. You could kill someone.”

  Sir Gavin tugged his beard. “Sir Caleb, surely you can teach this better than I.”

  “We made a bargain. I’d take over his weapons training if you trained his mind. Gavin, you’re the strongest of us all.”

  “But I’m no teacher! What if Vrell had stormed Achan? What if we’d lost him?”

  “You’re knowing better than to be giving fear a listening ear,” Inko said. “You should be thanking Arman for this warning and be having no more lessons until you can be giving the prince a proper understanding of the art.”

  Sir Gavin sniffed long and hard. “That’s wise, Inko. But he and Prince Oren must be able to speak securely. So we must continue to practice sustaining a private connection. From now on I’ll lecture in your mind, lad.”

  “If we each do our part,” Sir Caleb said, “we might manage to train you properly.”

  “We need to keep moving.” Sir Gavin gripped Vrell’s elbow. “It’s still hours to the sandbar. Come, Vrell. Let me help you onto your horse.”

  “Thank you, good sir.”

  Achan cocked his head as Sir Gavin boosted Sparrow into the saddle. The boy must be crazy to be so calm. It was the second time in two days Achan had attacked him. “Sorry, Sparrow. I didn’t mean to—”

  Sparrow turned his pale, round face down to Achan. “Do not think on it. I should have warned you how bloodvoicing weakens me. What I do not understand is when we first began I sensed your mind like an icy wall. Macoun Hadar’s mind was the same. Always a cold presence.”

  “I felt that in him too,” Achan said as Sir Gavin slogged past to his horse.

  Sparrow glanced at Achan, eyes wide. “But with you, the coldness faded. And then I could not sense you at all.”

  Sir Gavin mounted his horse, water drizzling off the heels of his boots. “The chill you sense is weakness. Achan’s still learning. He starts out weak but gets stronger. With Macoun, the coldness is lack of control in his old age. That’s why he seeks out strong, young apprentices. He cannot shadow people if they sense they’re being shadowed.”

  “So when Achan learns fully, even those with the gift will not be able to sense him?” Sparrow asked.

  “Aye. He’ll be able to enter any mind in Er’Rets undetected.”

  Silence hung on Achan’s shoulders like a chain coat. Water sloshed as a horse shifted its feet. A mosquito buzzed down by his elbow.

  “Why give such a tool to a man?” Sparrow asked.

  “Only to one man at a time,” Sir Gavin said. “The man Arman ordains king.”

  The unattainable expectation gnawed at Achan. He reached up to Scout’s saddle horn. “How do you know this?”

  Sir Gavin looked down on Achan. “It was that way for your father. And it’s written in the Book of Life.”

  Achan heaved himself back onto Scout. He’d never heard of such a book.

  “Where is the book now?” Sparrow asked.

  Sir Gavin sighed. “Only Prince Oren knows. Lord Nathak didn’t find it a worthy enough treasure when he took Ôwr and the crown jewels from the palace at Armonguard.”

  Sparrow huffed, as if he had been a Kingsguard knight with Sir Gavin all these years and took this personally. “They discard the one treasure that matters.”

  Achan might as well be listening to one of Minstrel Harp’s long tales. Could this truly be his life? Destined to be the most powerful bloodvoicer? Arman had not spoken to him since he stood before the Council of Seven.

  What if he’d imagined it?

  * * *

  As they rode through Darkness, Vrell tried to picture Bran’s face. She could see his sandy brown hair, brown eyes, and sunburned skin individually but could not put it all together.

  Had it been so long?

  Once she got home, her first task would be to plan her wedding. She envisioned herself in a blue gown standing with Bran before the priest and all their friends and family.

  Yet in her vision Bran scowled down. I revoke my proposal, my lady.

  A winepress squeezed Vrell’s heart. But…why?

  You are thin and homely and look like a boy. I wanted to be Lord of Carm, but that is not reason enough to settle for one such as you.

  Vrell tensed, throat burning. But you said I was beautiful. You called me a dove.

  That was long ago. I’ve had time to think. I mean, you’ve been dressed a boy for months and no one has ever doubted that is what you are. I’m to be a knight. How could I marry someone like that?

  But you love me. You told Achan about me.

  Only to brag. If you were here, maybe I could be persuaded, but you cannot expect me to wait forever. There are many truly pretty girls in Er’Rets.

  Please, Bran, this is so unlike you. I do not…

  Vrell gripped her reins and snapped back to her physical location. Another trick of Darkness? It had been a long while since she had spoken to another. “Sir Gavin, can we talk aloud? My thoughts are beginning to wander.”

  “Of course. Caleb?”

  Sir Caleb filled the miles with tales
of the kings of old. Hours later, they made camp on what Sir Gavin claimed was a sandbar that ran for miles along Arok Lake. The air was cool and damp this close to the water. After a meal of smoked fish and flatbread, Achan and Vrell practiced swordplay around a red torchlight stabbed into the sand. Sir Gavin kept watch with his nose and mind.

  The red glow cast eerie shadows over Achan’s face. It was difficult to see his sword when he swung it above his head.

  “I like having my own weapon, even if it is a poor thing.” Vrell held her sword the way Achan held his. “I felt so vulnerable without one.”

  “A man does tend to walk taller with a sword at his side.” Achan swung at her legs and she managed to parry his blow. “I did when I first wore Eagan’s Elk.”

  Vrell hid her smile. Achan walked taller every time he wore—she lowered her sword. “Did you say Eagan Elk?”

  The red flame sparkled in Achan’s eyes. “Eagan’s Elk. Aye. That’s my sword’s name.”

  Vrell’s mind spun. “Really?”

  Achan grinned, lopsided. “What? Don’t you like it?”

  “Oh, no. It is a fine name.” Only Vrell had heard the name Eagan Elk from her mother. It was a person’s name. An odd name for a sword.

  Achan tapped his blade against Vrell’s. “Why don’t you name yours?”

  Vrell frowned at her little sword, feeling foolish to have paid so much for a weapon Achan found so inferior. Though she had only paid for half. Jax had paid the balance. Had the giant known the weapon was so flawed? “I would not know how to name a sword.”

  “Why not a name to fit the bearer? You’re small and witty. How about Little Kwon or Firefox?” Achan broke out into a wide grin. “What about Gebfly?”

  Vrell clicked her tongue. “Are you calling me a locust?”

  “They are pests.”

  “Are you calling me a pest?”

  Achan shrugged. “If the boot fits.”

  Vrell raised her weapon to middle guard and spread her feet in the sand, ready to fight. “I like Firefox, thank you.”

  Achan’s hearty laugh made her crack a smile. “Very well. But I suggest you get it sharpened when next we stop, or Dullfox might be a more appropriate title.”