To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

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To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2) Page 34

by Jill Williamson

A guard with a frosted beard stepped into the stairwell. His fur cloak was turned suede side out.

  “I’m Fin,” the guard said. “You friends of Chion?”

  “Aye.” Achan spun around. “Here we must part. There’s a battle taking place. I urge you all to be careful. Fin will lead you out. I need Elk and Kurtz with me.” Achan turned to Fin.

  The man stepped into the doorway. “If you get separated, the northern and southern towers will take you down. If you can find warmer clothes, our men are wearing their capes inside out as a sign of which side they are on. I urge you to do the same. We are running sleds out of Smokegate. Meet there for a ride. In two days time, meet at Lytton Hall. Let’s go!”

  Fin jogged across the icy roof. The prisoners shot after him, two by two. Achan patted several on the back as they went, saying, “Arman be with you.” He winced as many had no shoes and thin clothes. He prayed they wouldn’t freeze.

  Shortly, only he, Elk, and Kurtz remained.

  Achan took a deep breath. “Stay close.” Sir Caleb?

  Your Highness! Gavin tells me you’re free. Where are you?

  Just inside the stairwell on the western tower.

  I’m behind you, close to where we will toss the boarding hook.

  Achan crossed the doorway and peeked the other way in time to see Sir Caleb strike a soldier’s leg. The soldier screamed and swung one last desperate swipe, but Sir Caleb finished the man with a stab to the chest. He shrugged off his pack.

  “Come on.” Achan darted out of the tower and over the icy roof. Every few steps, his feet stuck to the roof and ripped free, leaving his feet smarting. How daft to have given his boots away. He thrust the torch to Sir Caleb, dropped his knife, and fell beside the dead guard, clawing at the man’s boots.

  Sir Caleb waved the torch, sweeping it from side to side. “What happened to your—” He looked above Achan’s head, eyes wide, and dropped the torch. “Well, I’ll be ransomed.”

  “Hello, Caleb,” Elk said.

  The men embraced in a fierce hug. Achan shoved his right foot into the boot. It was too small, but better than the alternative. While Sir Caleb shook Kurtz’s hand, Achan tugged on the other boot then tossed the dead man’s fur cape to Elk.

  Achan passed the guard’s sword to Kurtz. “Keep watch, will you?” For now they had the entire southeastern wall to themselves, but it might not last.

  Sir Caleb seized his pack and dumped a coil of rope onto the roof. “I’ll toss the hook to Inko—see his light?”

  Achan squinted out over the curtain wall. A single torch burned in the darkness. In the bailey below, a massive mêlée was underway. Achan’s stomach tightened at the idea of going over the side of the tower while men were fighting underneath.

  Sir Caleb arranged the coil of rope by his feet. “Achan, show the men how to attach their hooks.”

  Achan pulled the strap and hook out of his trousers and moved his belt up under his armpits, then imitated how he would set his hook on the line.

  “Stand back now.” Sir Caleb backed up, the boarding hook in his right hand. “Achan, hold the end, just in case?”

  Achan snagged the end of the rope poking out from under the huge pile.

  Sir Caleb skipped forward and pitched the boarding hook toward the distant torchlight. At first it appeared right on target. The rope in the pile beside Achan spun away as the hook sailed toward Inko, but the hook fell before it passed over the snowy white sentry wall. Halfway down, it clunked against the wall and bounced back into the snow.

  Sir Caleb sighed. “Nothing to do but pull it quickly.” He grabbed the line and started to bring it up.

  The hook tugged through the snow, flew onto a patch of ice and slid and bounced about. It neared a group of fighting men. One of the guards unknowingly straddled the rope.

  Move, Achan thought.

  The man lunged forward with his sword just as the boarding hook slid past.

  The hook lifted off the ground and up along the side of the tower. Achan blew out a steamy breath.

  Sir Caleb gripped the boarding hook again. “How many tries did it take me at Meribah Corner, Your Highness?”

  “Three.”

  Sir Caleb hummed. “Better get it in two or I’ll never hear the end of the lucky number three from Inko.”

  Achan grinned. “Good plan.”

  This time Sir Caleb lobbed the hook much higher. The aim was off a bit—Inko would have to play fetch—but the hook sailed over the wall with several feet to spare.

  “Nicely done, Sir Caleb.”

  “Thank you.” Sir Caleb took the end from Achan, looped it around the nearest crenellation, and tied a complicated-looking knot. The rope bounced over the air like a wave.

  “Do you think he’s got it?” Achan asked.

  “Aye, but thinking isn’t good enough. He’ll light the blue torch, then we’ll know.”

  Achan stared at the yellow flame in the distance until it blurred. He blinked and it focused back to a small dot. Suddenly another flame appeared beside it, blue and bright. The yellow torch went out.

  “Okay, Your Highness, that’s our signal. You ready?”

  “If I may.” Elk held his dagfish hook in one fist. “Allow me to go first. If something were to happen, let it be to me.”

  Achan shrank with such an offer. “You’re a brave man.”

  Elk smirked. “To be the first one to escape? Perhaps I’m only selfish, Your Majesty.”

  “You there, what’re you doing?” A man strode toward them, his fur cape rising and falling with each step.

  “Watching the action, we are,” Kurtz said.

  “Of all the lazy…hey!” The man drew his sword. “Prisoners escaping on the roof! Prisoners esca—”

  Kurtz ran him through before the man could even raise his weapon. “Not a bad sword,” he said, jerking it out. The guard slumped over onto his side. Kurtz swiped the blade on the guard’s trousers. “Think I’ll keep it, I will.”

  Elk set his hook over the line and straddled the parapet. His breath clouded in front of his round face. “This is a bit intimidating.”

  “Help me lift him over, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb said.

  Achan gripped Elk’s right hand, Sir Caleb his left. Elk swung his other leg over the wall and they lowered him. When their arms stretched as far as possible, Elk’s rope still had some slack.

  “You’re going to fall a bit.” Sir Caleb grunted. “Just a few inches, but it will likely be a bit of a scare. Achan, let go first.”

  Achan released Elk’s hand. Elk gripped the eye of the hook, his knuckles white. He took another deep breath then nodded at Sir Caleb.

  Sir Caleb let go. Elk fell down and away, legs flailing. He seemed to be trying to stifle a scream as a loud groan slid away with him. A V notched into the cable where Elk’s hook propelled down the line.

  “I forgot to tell him to put out his feet,” Sir Caleb said.

  Achan winced as Elk slammed into the sentry wall. He struggled a moment, like a fish on a line, then managed to pull himself up. His body vanished as he fell over the parapet. A moment later he stood and lifted a hand.

  “It’s absolutely insane, it is,” Kurtz said. “I love it.”

  Sir Caleb clapped Achan on the shoulder. “Okay, Your Highness. You’re next.”

  Achan’s gut clenched. He pulled his hook into his shaky hands and set it over the cable.

  “Wait! Take these, eh?” Kurtz slapped a pair of leather gloves against Achan’s arms. “A gift from my dead guard.”

  “Thanks.” Achan slipped the gloves on, disturbed to find them still warm.

  “Help me lift him over, Kurtz,” Sir Caleb said.

  Achan straddled the parapet, as Elk had done. Sir Caleb and Kurtz lowered him down. His forearms twitched, muscles tight. Short breaths puffed out of his mouth like steam from a soup pot. Sir Caleb let go first. Achan’s hand flew to the eye of the hook. A shadow fell over Kurtz’s back.

  “Behind you,” Achan yelled.

&nbs
p; Kurtz glanced back and lost hold of Achan’s hand.

  Achan’s insides seemed to fly up and out of his mouth. He fell, weightless, away from the Pillar, screaming louder than he ever had, not falling any longer, but shooting along on the cable. He strained to see how the men fared on the Pillar, then remembered he needed to turn around.

  He swung his leg out and spun in a complete circle. Maybe he could slow himself down before trying to turn. He lifted his left hand to the cable but jerked it away at the smell of burning leather. Another attempt to swing himself around and—

  SLAM.

  His back struck the wall. Pain flashed over him, stealing his breath. He hung limp, unable to move, and focused on the fighting below. Amazing that no one had seen or heard him.

  “Your Highness?” Elk called from above.

  Hands gripped under Achan’s arms and pulled. His too-tight boots scraped up the stone wall. His body slipped over the parapet. He lay on his back on the sentry walk, staring at the black sky, sucking in long breaths of icy air.

  Elk leaned over him, his wispy beard tickling Achan’s chin. “Are you well, Your Highness?”

  Achan nodded and rolled onto his hands and knees. He sat back and pulled his hook off the cable, barely able to see where the other end of the rope attached to the parapet atop the Pillar. “That’s very high.”

  Elk laughed. “I cannot believe I did it either. Climb down the rope to—wait. Here comes Kurtz. Help me steady this.”

  Achan gripped the cable, which was already quite taut. Kurtz hung like a dead man, and for a moment, Achan feared something horrible had happened with the shadow on the roof. The cable sank awfully low with Kurtz’s weight. About halfway down, Kurtz kicked a leg out, trying to spin, no doubt.

  Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Achan opened the connection at once. Where are you?

  Almost up the south tower, with Sir Kenton on my heels. Where are you?

  Kurtz’s weight slowed him to a stop before he hit the wall. Elk reached out to pull him the last few feet.

  I’m on the outer sentry wall with Elk and Kurtz.

  Praise Arman. You three return to Stormwatch. Get a start on us.

  Achan and Elk helped pull Kurtz over the parapet. Not until I see you on this wall.

  This is not a negotiation. You might be the prince, but you cannot argue when it comes to your safety. Go. We’ll be right behind.

  Achan closed his mind and stood. The rope jerked sideways and nearly tripped him.

  Elk reached for it. “Help me!”

  Achan and Kurtz grabbed the rope and held it steady. Sir Caleb soared backwards, his short, frizzy hair billowing out to reveal a bald spot.

  Like Achan, Sir Caleb’s remained backwards, though with three sets of hands extended to catch him, he didn’t hit hard.

  Sir Caleb panted, his face pink. “Achan, down you go. Kurtz, go back to Stormwatch with him and wait for us.”

  “Is Sir Gavin coming?” Achan asked.

  “He said he was almost to the roof and to go.”

  “You should’ve waited for him,” Achan said. “What if he needed help?”

  “He said Sir Kenton and his men were chasing him. My waiting would only have slowed down our escape. Now when he gets to the cable, he simply needs to come.”

  “Time to go, eh?” Kurtz snaked one arm around Achan’s waist and carried him to the outer edge where the rope dangled to the ground. Inko and Verdot stood holding the end.

  “Will any of you be coming down finally?” Inko asked.

  Achan lowered himself over the edge. He tried to walk down the wall, but his boots had no traction on the icy stone. So he went hand over hand for a moment, then slid the rest of the way, thankful for the leather gloves.

  Inko caught him at the bottom and shoved him to the dogsled. Kurtz hit the ground seconds later, then Elk. The two men hurried to the sled. Elk took the reins. “Sit, Your Highness. Kurtz, run with me.”

  Elk said, “Hike!” He and Kurtz ran and pushed the sled over the snow. The dogs took off.

  Achan watched Ice Island as they slid into the darkness, barely able to glimpse the rope stretched between the Pillar and the outer wall before it faded from sight.

  They arrived at Stormwatch and waited. Sir Gavin didn’t answer Achan’s knocks, so he called out to Inko instead.

  I’m approaching Stormwatch now.

  What about Sir Gavin?

  He was hitting his head on the wall, but is breathing.

  The second sled arrived. Sir Caleb, face drawn, jumped from the bed and pulled Sir Gavin limply to his feet.

  Achan ran forward to help. He positioned himself under Sir Gavin’s arm and supported the weight on his right side. “What happened?”

  Sir Caleb started toward the horses. “He struck his head on the wall.”

  Inko untied Sir Gavin’s horse. “Be helping us to be boosting Gavin up.”

  Achan panted under Sir Gavin’s weight. The knight could not ride alone. “Inko, take Scout. I’ll ride with Sir Gavin.”

  Achan handed Sir Gavin’s arm off to Elk and mounted Sir Gavin’s horse. Elk, Sir Caleb, and Verdot lifted Sir Gavin up. Achan grabbed him under the arms and pulled while Elk pushed Sir Gavin’s leg over. Achan settled the knight onto the saddle in front of him and held him in his arms.

  Sir Gavin? Don’t leave us, now.

  The men all mounted the horses. Achan itched to ride, to get Sir Gavin to a bed to rest, but Sir Caleb spoke. “Thank you, Verdot, for helping us.”

  Verdot nodded. “It does not repay my mistakes.”

  “Your mistakes are in the past.”

  “I do not deserve such mercy, Caleb.”

  “Neither did most the men in the Prodotez, eh? But the prince pardoned their crimes, he did,” Kurtz said.

  “And I pardon you as well,” Achan said.

  Verdot’s face glowed crimson in the wavering torchlight. He bowed to Achan. “Best of blessings, Your Highness.”

  Achan nodded.

  Sir Caleb looked to Elk. “To the Ivory Spit. Do you remember the way?”

  “Like I remember my own name,” Kurtz said.

  Sir Caleb nodded. “We’ll split up then. You two take the east gate, Inko and Achan come with me.”

  “I will be riding with Kurtz,” Inko said. “Three and three are being more favored numbers than two and four.”

  “Fine.” Sir Caleb nudged his horse toward the distant lights of Tsaftown. “Stable your horses, then come to the room with a stag on the door. Do not stop in the tavern, Kurtz.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, eh?” Kurtz said. “Not without a bath first.”

  29

  The warmth of their room in The Ivory Spit hit Achan like a word from Arman. He and Sir Caleb laid Sir Gavin on the bed by the fireplace. Sir Gavin moaned but did not open his eyes.

  Sparrow poked his head in through the adjoining door. “Praise Arman! I feared you were—what has happened?”

  “I’m not certain,” Sir Caleb said. “He hit his head, I know.”

  Sparrow’s green eyes flitted over Sir Gavin and the boy darted back into his room.

  Achan fell to his rear before the fire, pulled off the too-tight boots, and stretched his toes. He held his pink, stinging fingers toward the flames.

  Sparrow scampered back into the room with his satchel.

  “What do you see?” Sir Caleb said.

  “His leg is bleeding,” Sparrow said. “Could you go to the tavern and see if they have any clean linen we could purchase?”

  Sir Caleb shot back out the door.

  Achan examined Sir Gavin’s trousers. They were soaked from the snow, like everyone else’s. How did Sparrow see—

  “Help me get his clothing off,” Sparrow said. “I shall need water too. There is a kettle on the hearth in the other room.”

  Achan jumped up, darted for the door, then jerked back to help Sparrow with Sir Gavin’s clothes. Balls of snow and ice clinging to the fur tunic had started to melt, dripping water
onto the bedspread. Achan draped the tunic over one of the chairs and came back to Sir Gavin’s side. The man was lethargic, eyes partially open, mouth gaping.

  “Sir Gavin,” Sparrow said. “Sir Gavin, look at me.”

  The old man’s eyes flicked to meet Sparrow’s.

  “Good. Can you speak? Tell me your full name.”

  “Theowin Gavin Leofrick,” came, barely a whisper.

  Sparrow frowned. “I think he is stunned.”

  Achan snorted. “What gave it away?”

  “I mean, his mind is frozen with the shock of pain to his body. It happens sometimes, physically. It happened to you with the Poroo arrows.”

  Achan had little memory of that day. “Oh.”

  Sparrow dug in his satchel. “His boots, Achan, please?”

  Achan tugged off Sir Gavin’s boots, then his trousers, which streaked blood down the old man’s leg. At first Achan couldn’t see where the wound was, then he saw black seeping into the green blanket just above Sir Gavin’s right knee.

  Sparrow stood. “Help me turn him over.”

  Achan jumped around to the other side of the pallet, and he and Sparrow rolled Sir Gavin to his stomach. A dark hole bored into Sir Gavin’s right thigh. Blood trickled down his inner leg and pooled in a new place on the bedspread.

  “The water, Achan,” Sparrow said. “There is a basin of cold beside my hearth. Add hot water from the kettle until it is warm to your fingers.”

  Achan ran to the other room and did as Sparrow asked. He heard the front door scrape over the floor in the next room and several sets of boots clump over the wooden floor.

  “I’m glad you’ve booked rooms above The Ivory Spit, I am,” Kurtz said. “I nearly died for lack of ale and female companionship in the Pit all those—”

  “What is wrong with him?” Elk’s voice.

  “A barbed arrowhead is buried in his thigh.” Sparrow’s voice, eerily calm.

  “Ouch, eh?”

  “Do you have an arrowspoon?” Elk asked.

  “I do not,” Sparrow said.

  Achan carried the basin to the floor beside Sparrow. The boy held Sir Gavin’s wadded trousers against the wound.

  Elk stood looking over Sparrow’s shoulder. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Stopper up the bleeding until Sir Caleb returns with linen.”

 

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