To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

  Achan tensed at the serpentine voice. Hadad? He fortified his mind, uncertain whether he had really let down his guard or if Darkness was taunting him.

  Lights winked into view. A squat city glimmered to the right. To the left, torches illuminated another stronghold, some burning far above the others. Could that be a tower?

  “We’re on the Benjen cliffs.” Sir Gavin’s voice came from ahead. “Yonder lies Tsaftown.”

  Achan peered into the darkness, the icy air pricking his eyes. “Is that the stronghold to the left?”

  “That is Ice Island. See the torches in the sky? They top the Pillar. ’Tis what we must penetrate to rescue our men.”

  Fabulous. This town, this mission…it no longer had any pull without the hope of Lady Tara. The doom of his station hung heavy on his shoulders. “How will we get there?”

  “Sled dogs,” Sir Gavin said.

  “Sled wolves, is more like it,” Sir Caleb said.

  Apprehension gripped Achan. Soon he’d have to make a choice. He would not be a puppet. They’d come all this way to free his army. Fine. Achan would do his part, then he’d have to decide to take charge or refuse the call to be king.

  26

  Sir Gavin led them through the city gate without incident. Their horses carried them down roads slick with ice, around log cottages blanketed in snow. Torchlight shone through cracks on shuttered windows. Families were home and warm.

  “It must be night,” Sparrow said.

  Frost glistened in Sir Gavin’s beard. “Seems to be.”

  Sir Gavin stopped at an inn. The wide building stood three levels high. Two steps up from the street, a long, narrow porch stretched across the face of the building, its sloping shed roof covered in snow. Lanterns and icicles hung from the eaves. A wide oak door divided the porch with two long, frost-covered windows on either side. Music and voices spilled out from the building, but Achan could only see shapes of people through the frosty glass. Dozens of chimneys stuck out from the roof, pouring silver smoke into the black sky.

  A painted sign hung above the door. The Ivory Spit: Tavern and Inn.

  “Really, Gavin? This place?” Inko said. “We should be going to Lytton Hall.”

  “Lytton Hall is being watched. Besides, Old Merrygog McLennan’s got the tightest lips in Tsaftown.”

  Inko lowered his voice. “You are thinking it is being wise to be bringing Kurtz here after years being in the Prodotez?”

  “Wise or not, ’tis our only option.” Sir Gavin climbed the steps and went inside.

  “What’s the Prodotez?” Achan asked.

  “The king’s personal prison in Ice Island,” Sir Caleb said. “The Fisherman’s Quarter has ears. Hold your questions until we’re inside.”

  Sir Gavin returned and tossed a key to Sparrow. “Third floor. Our rooms have a dagfish and a stag on the door. We’ll take the back stairs to avoid the tavern.”

  They led their horses after Sir Gavin, down the side of the building to a stable where they unlatched their packs. “Inko and Vrell, put up the horses and meet us upstairs.”

  A rickety staircase zigzagged up the back of the inn. They climbed up two levels and entered a door on the third floor into a narrow hall. Three pairs of snowy boots clumped over the worn plank floor, leaving wet footprints on the wood. They passed doors on both sides, each with an image painted on the door, faded from age. A reekat, a charmouse, a cham…

  Sir Gavin’s key opened the door with a stag. The room stretched out, long and narrow, with a small fireplace at the end. No windows. Two pallets with straw mattresses and a table with two chairs lined the left wall, leaving only the width of a man to navigate down the right. A single door hung open on the right at the end of the room.

  Sir Gavin ducked through the interior door and returned just as quickly. “Leads to our other room. Achan, you’re not to leave without one of us knights. Vrell doesn’t count.”

  Why would he even try?

  Sir Gavin sniffed long and exhaled a sigh. “We’ll wait for Inko, then go over our plan.”

  * * *

  Vrell and Inko found the door with the dagfish empty. Raised voices carried through an open door in the back. Vrell walked past the fireplace, where a stack of kindling and logs sat ready to be used. She entered the other room and found it identical to hers. A crackling fire beside the adjoining door warmed her face. The men sat at two tables wedged together near the fireplace, pouring over a piece of parchment between them. It seemed they had taken the table and chairs from Vrell’s room to make a larger one.

  “It looks like Meribah Corner,” Achan said.

  “Aye, both were designed and built by Livnas.” Sir Gavin met Vrell’s gaze. “Good, you’re here. Where is Inko?”

  “Unpacking, I believe,” she said.

  “Well, call him in.”

  She rolled her eyes and went back to find Inko removing items from his pack. “Inko, Sir Gavin needs you in his room.”

  Inko heaved a dramatic sigh as if it were bad luck not to unpack his belongings straightaway and Sir Gavin’s orders could doom them all.

  Vrell ducked back into the room and stood behind Sir Caleb, where she could see the parchment clearly.

  It appeared to be a sketch of Ice Island. A painting of the prison hung in Mother’s study, which used to be Father’s study. Father’s brother served as warden of Ice Island. Vrell had always wondered why Mother had kept the horrible painting around. Who wanted to look on a prison all day?

  “Inko!” Sir Gavin yelled. “Put some effort into it, will you? We’re waiting.”

  Inko ambled though the doorway and stood beside Sir Gavin. “What are you needing?”

  “I need you to stand here and listen. Now, Verdot will meet us at Stormwatch tomorrow with the dogs and sleds.”

  Vrell’s interest piqued. Her uncle was going to help them?

  Sir Caleb huffed and leaned back in his chair. Though his hair was blond, his short beard had grown in red. “You always do this, Gavin. You tell no one your scheme until there is no time to change it. When did you plan this?”

  “Over the past few weeks. Nitsa helped me arrange it.”

  “Figures.” Sir Caleb slapped his palm on the table and stood. “This is really for her, then? Risking our future king for a childhood romance is—”

  “You know full well that’s not why we’re here.” Sir Gavin’s bushy eyebrows scrunched together. “If you’d been sent to Ice Island, you’d hope someone would come for you.”

  Vrell watched the men, mouth gaping. How did this situation involve her mother?

  Sir Caleb glared, his eyes so wild Vrell inched back. “None of our men would have gone to Ice Island if Verdot Amal wasn’t a coward.”

  “That was years ago. Nitsa assures me the man is changed. Guilt can change a man.”

  “That may be, but I still do not trust him.”

  Achan voiced the very question that plagued Vrell. “What are you talking about?”

  Sir Caleb shoved his chair. “You tell him, Gavin.” He stomped into the other room.

  Sir Gavin stroked his beard. “When your father died, I told you Kenton and his men had drugged us…I knew this because I had a witness. He saw Kenton and his men. He tried to rouse me, and managed, with a lot of water, to succeed.”

  “But is was too late.”

  “Aye. My point is, when it came time to testify before the Council of Seven, Verdot refused. Kenton had threatened him, bribed him, who knows, but Kenton and his men went free, their false story went unchallenged, and there you have it.”

  “Eagan, Kurtz, and the rest of our men in Ice Island these past thirteen years.” Sir Caleb leaned against the adjoining doorframe.

  Her uncle had let so many good men go to prison?

  “What about the childhood romance?” Achan asked.

  “Remember the friend I told you about, the man who lost his love to a higher-ranking man? Eagan’s lady was Nitsa Amal.”

  “And she wants him rescued.”<
br />
  “I don’t doubt it. Duke Amal has been dead for years.”

  Vrell swallowed, tears pricking her eyes, throat burning. She knew of Mother’s heartbreak with Sir Eagan, but she never thought Mother still cared for the man. After all this time?

  “Caleb.” Sir Gavin leveled a glance at his friend. “Verdot is a good man who got scared. I trust him.”

  Sir Caleb huffed and disappeared back to Vrell’s room.

  “Wait.” Achan frowned. “Eagan? Like my sword?”

  “Aye, the sword is his, lad.”

  Now Achan looked as forlorn as Sir Caleb. “How can Verdot help us?”

  “He is warden of Ice Island and brother to Pinot Amal, Nitsa’s late husband.” Sir Gavin glanced at Vrell. “He owes the duchess a favor and has agreed to help.”

  “Gavin, Verdot would be making us a party of six. Five or seven people would be giving us stronger favor.”

  Achan spoke over Inko’s comment as if he did not hear it. “If he’s warden, why can’t he simply free the prisoners?”

  “Because he cannot do it alone. Our men are spread out over thirteen levels. Tomorrow, he scheduled all the guards who openly oppose Esek’s claim. They plan to free our men. Since he cannot get to the Prodotez, that’s where we will go. Everything will happen at once, which will also create a diversion for our escape. These men are Kingsguard soldiers trained by me and Caleb. We need their help to win Armonguard. We cannot wait. Caleb?”

  Sir Caleb’s voice came from the other room. “I’ll hear your plan. That’s all I promise.”

  Sir Gavin set his weathered finger on Stormwatch. “We’ll ready ourselves here and take sleds over the water, northeast of the stronghold.” He pushed his finger over the paper and stopped at an X marked above the stronghold.

  “Over the water?” Achan asked.

  “The sea is being frozen solid for miles,” Inko said.

  Sir Gavin tapped the X by the words drop off. “We’ll leave Inko and Verdot here with the dogs. Achan, Sir Caleb, and I will enter through Northgate under the guise of bounty hunters delivering a criminal to the Prodotez. I’ll go by the name Vindo Relz. Sir Caleb will be Wil Markson.”

  “What criminal?” Vrell prayed the answer was not what she feared. “Me?”

  “No, Achan.” Sir Gavin’s mustache formed a straight line. “The only way we can get into the Prodotez unchallenged is to have a high priority prisoner. Verdot has already sent word to Mahanaim that Achan has been captured.”

  Achan straightened. “You’re turning me in?”

  “Under pretense only. No one has ever escaped Ice Island without inside help. We have to be…creative.”

  “You tell us this now?” Achan said.

  “I saw no reason to burden you with details until you required them.”

  Sir Caleb sighed from the doorway. “Now this also vexes me. Not even two hundred are worth the expense of my king.”

  Vrell couldn’t blame Sir Caleb for his concern. How could Sir Gavin even consider using Achan as bait?

  Sir Gavin leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “Caleb, Arman has called Achan. He will protect him.”

  Sir Caleb banged his fist on the wall and Vrell jumped. “Then why must we continually come to his rescue? Arman has trusted him to our care. Why knowingly endanger him?”

  “I want to do it.” Achan’s voice turned every head. “I can do it, whatever it is. I can.”

  Sir Caleb glared into the fire and released a shaky sigh. The flames flickered in his eyes.

  “The Prodotez is a dungeon in the Pillar, this tower here.” Sir Gavin smoothed out the map and tapped the center diamond. “It’s twelve levels high. The only way up is the north or south towers. The only way down is the east or west towers. There’s no other entrance. We must go up and over.”

  “You’re going to pretend you’re taking me to the Prodotez in order to break out your Old Kingsguard companions?”

  “Aye. I’ve no doubt we’ll succeed in getting in. My concern is the trip back out.”

  “Will we go out the way we came in?” Achan asked.

  “No. The guards will be taking our men out the main gate on dogsleds. But I feel that is too risky for us. So, Inko and Verdot will wait with the dogs outside the southeastern curtain wall. We’ll free my generals and return to this point.” He tapped an X on the Pillar. “Caleb will toss his boarding hook to Inko and we’ll slide down.”

  Achan’s eyes bulged. “To the ground?”

  “Over the curtain wall, aye. Caleb, show them what you’ve worked out.”

  Sir Caleb stared at Achan, then walked to the closest bed. Chairs scraped the floor as the others followed. Five iron hooks lay on the bed. They were shaped like a letter J with a one-sided barb on the hook end and a fat eye-hole at the top. The hooks were two hands long. Each had a length of thick rope threaded through the eye with the ends tied together.

  “You’re fortunate Carmack gave me an extra.” Sir Caleb picked up a hook and shook it at Sir Gavin. “I still think this plan is reckless. The prince should stay out of Ice Island at all costs.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, making it stand on end. “After I throw the boarding hook and Inko and Verdot secure the end, we’ll each tie one of these to our belts. We all need a thick rope belt. I have extras if anyone has need.”

  He looped the circle of rope onto his belt and cinched his belt under his armpits. “Might as well start it here. As soon as the hook takes your weight the belt will ride up anyway.”

  “What kind of hooks are these?” Achan picked up a hook and pretended to snag Vrell in the neck.

  Vrell jumped back, caught her breath, and rolled her eyes.

  “Dagfish hooks,” Sir Caleb said.

  Achan tossed the hook back on the bed. It clanked against another. “Must be a big fish.”

  “Most are twice your size.” Sir Caleb lifted the hook above his head. “Once your belt is secure, hang your hook on the line and sail away. I’ve sanded and oiled the crook of each hook so they won’t snag. If you stop, pull yourself along. It’s such a steep descent, I doubt that will happen. Try to face the sentry wall, and, before you hit, catch yourself with your feet.” He tapped the sole of his boot against the wall.

  Vrell frowned at the hooks. “You are certain these will not fall off the rope?”

  “Not holding a man’s weight. They’ll carry us to the sentry walk. Then we’ll climb over and take the rope down to Inko.”

  “Won’t there be guards on the sentry walk?” Achan asked.

  “Aye. Inko will pick off any trouble-makers with his bow.”

  “I guess just taking over the mind of the gatekeeper and having him unlock every cell for us is out of the question, huh?” Achan asked.

  “We can confuse their minds, but not control them,” Sir Gavin said.

  Vrell found this whole plan insane. “What will you do once you are all down?”

  “Take the sleds back to Stormwatch. No guards there. The towers have been closed since Darkness came.”

  “And what about me?” Vrell asked. “What will I do?”

  Sir Gavin sniffed in a long breath. “You’ll wait here. Should we not return, inform Merrygog McLennan in the tavern. I’ve instructed him to send word to Lord Livna, who’ll collect you here.”

  “But I want to help,” Vrell said.

  Inko clapped a hand on Vrell’s shoulder and beamed. “Five is being a much stronger number, boy. If you are staying behind, you are doing your prince a service.”

  Vrell scowled at Inko. Sir Gavin’s words gave her a more reasonable purpose for staying behind.

  “Should we fail, Vrell, word must be given to the right people. Prince Oren, the Duchess of Carm.”

  “Yes, sir.” But Vrell did not like it. What if they failed?

  “Achan should be the one to stay behind,” Sir Caleb said.

  Vrell did not want to be the prisoner. “Can you pretend Sir Caleb is Achan? We cannot risk Achan getting lost.”


  “I said I’m going.” Achan’s eyes dared anyone to tell him no. “I’ll be fine. No chains have managed to hold me yet.”

  Vrell huffed. “Not due to your own strength.”

  “Exactly. Someone will come for me.”

  “And how long will that take?” Sir Caleb said. “The men we seek to rescue have been imprisoned thirteen years.”

  Achan stared Sir Caleb in the eye. “I’ll be fine.”

  Vrell could not believe his recklessness. “Do you never worry about anything?”

  “I worry about whether or not Sparrow will nag me.”

  “Enough!” Sir Gavin rolled up the map. “We must trust Arman to protect us. ’Tis his will Achan be king, and his will always triumphs.”

  Vrell did not doubt that, but faith did not always keep fear from circling.

  27

  Achan’s eyes watered as the sled whooshed over the snow-covered sea. He marveled at how fast the sleds went. Faster than a horse, maybe. A much smoother ride, anyway.

  He and Sir Caleb were tucked under pelts beside one another in the bed of the dogsled. Behind them, Sir Gavin stood on the runners and navigated the dogs after the other sled, driven by Verdot Amal. Inko rode in Verdot’s sled.

  Verdot Amal, a short, round man with white hair, had provided two sleds with dogs hitched in tandem and furs to burrow under on the ride. He had also brought two extra horses for his generals in the Prodotez. Verdot had spoken only to Sir Gavin, ignoring Inko and Sir Caleb as much as they ignored him.

  The knights’ differing opinions over involving Verdot Amal drenched Achan in doubt. Was he wrong to agree to this plan? What if he did get caught? They were about to enter the strongest prison in all Er’Rets—one that had not only marked Achan a wanted man, but believed he’d been captured. They probably had a cell all ready to put him in. What if he had to live on Ice Island forever?

  Before they’d left Stormwatch, Sir Caleb had clamped shackles onto Achan’s wrists and ankles. Even though Achan wore the key on a string around his neck, and even though Sir Caleb put them on loose, the feel of iron on Achan’s limbs reminded him of the other times he’d been captured, tortured, and nearly executed. He tried not to think about them.