To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

  He scooped her onto his lap and tucked her head under his chin, stroking her soft hair, inhaling her rosewater scent. She felt so small in his arms. Warm. That was good, right? Warm meant alive.

  “Sparrow.” He shook her gently. “Wake up.” He heaved to his feet, holding her against his chest. Her long skirt draped over his left hand and down to his knees, the beads on the skirt rattling against his chain armor as he carried her to the door.

  Shung stood in the doorway, holding the curtain open. Achan turned sideways to duck past, shielding Sparrow’s head with his own. He paused outside to adjust his grip, and Sir Eagan’s posture sent a shock of cold through him.

  The man stood, crouched, sword ready, facing two men who were dismounting.

  Esek Nathak and his Shield, Sir Kenton.

  Esek cried out. “Atul! This is not finishing him!”

  Sparrow moaned, shifted in his arms, opened her eyes.

  Praise Arman! “Oh, Sparrow. I feared the worst. If anything had—”

  She squirmed in his grip. “Achan, we must hurry. Put me down.”

  “It’s too late to run, Sparrow.” He set her on her feet, keeping one protective arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side. “Look.”

  Her face seemed to pale further in the surrounding torchlight. He took her hand and squeezed.

  Dove is just beyond those tents. Achan nodded toward the tents behind Esek and Sir Kenton. Get to him and ride as fast as you can back to Mitspah.

  She shook her head. We go together, please.

  If we all run, Esek gives chase. If it’s just you… He looked down on her face. It’s me he wants. Let me fight him, distract him while you get away.

  I will not leave you.

  Achan paused to knit this information together in his brain. She did care for him.

  Sparrow. I have two Shields and Esek only has one. I will be safe. When the fighting starts, you run for Dove? Do you understand?

  She nodded, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

  “Here we are again, stray.” Esek sighed. “This does grow old. I abhor all this traveling. Why won’t you simply die?”

  “Arman will not let me die.” Achan took in his surroundings. Sir Eagan stood before Esek and Sir Kenton. Shung stood on Achan’s left, Sparrow on his right, clutching his hand. Atul lay gasping by the tent opposite Esek’s.

  Achan scanned the area. Were did Khai go? His sword is gone. I thought he was unconscious.

  Shung did not see.

  He ran off, Sir Eagan said. Must not have hit him hard enough, Shung.

  Esek snorted. “Arman, indeed. Sir Kenton, finish the gnat. I am tired of his charmed existence.”

  Achan pushed Sparrow behind him and drew his sword.

  But Sir Kenton hadn’t moved. “I’ll tire him for you, toy with him if you like, Your Majesty, but I won’t kill him.”

  Esek’s eyes widened. “Explain yourself, Sir Kenton.”

  “I’m your Shield, true, but I serve Lord Nathak. He’s my master and he ordered me not to let this man be killed.”

  Esek’s posture swelled. “Have you always informed Lord Nathak of my plans?”

  Sir Kenton bowed his head. “I have.”

  “Of all the insolent—” Esek thrust an arm in Achan’s direction. “He is the only one who stands in my way. If he is dead, the throne is mine!”

  Sir Kenton shook his head. “Do you honestly think your father would have let him live without good reason?”

  Esek narrowed his eyes. “Do not refer to that man as my father.”

  Go, Sparrow, while they argue. Now!

  She released his hand, and he heard her soft footsteps retreat around the back of the tent.

  Sir Eagan’s order came next. Shung, you take Esek, I’ll take Kenton. Your Majesty, stay back.

  Sir Eagan and Shung attacked. Achan stood, furious at being coddled yet again. Sparrow’s raspy scream stifled his anger. Khai!

  Achan ran around the tent, the way Sparrow had gone.

  * * *

  Of all the men to catch her! Khai?

  His strong hand gripped Vrell’s arm. A sharp point pricked the back of her neck. “Silence, my lady.”

  The clash of swords sounded from the other side of the pavilion. The men were fighting, but Vrell had failed to escape.

  Khai’s stale breath blew hot in her ear. “You and I will wait right here while the king kills your pathetic hero.”

  But Achan raced around the curve of the pavilion, sword in hand. He stopped a few paces away. “Let her go.”

  “Or perhaps I will kill your pathetic hero.” Khai’s knife punctured her skin. Vrell released a ragged breath at the prick of pain. “You must give up this charade, boy. The Council’s word is law, unfair as it may be. Esek is king and you are not. If you want to see this girl live, give yourself up. That’s all it will take.”

  Khai’s grip slipped suddenly. Vrell ripped free.

  Khai groaned to a yell. “No!” He stumbled and dropped his knife on the moist dirt, limbs shaking, face twisted in fury.

  Vrell darted forward and snatched it up.

  Run, Sparrow! Achan’s brow furrowed, eyes focused on Khai.

  “You think you can control my mind?” Khai panted. “I may not have your strength there, but I have skills you do not.” He reached out a hand, palm facing the dark sky. “Râbab rebabah râbah yârad. Rûwach âphâr mayim êsh, machmâd pârar.”

  Green light sparked in Khai’s palm. Realization dumfounded Vrell. Khai was a black knight. All the time, on the journey to Mahanaim. What Jax had called his witchcraft.

  Achan’s gaze was so intense he looked pained. Go!

  But she had tarried too long. Khai had triplicated himself. He and his apparitions drew their monstrously long swords. His apparitions advanced on Achan.

  Vrell steeled herself, darted forward, and plunged the knife into the real Khai’s back. She shrieked, horrified at what she had done.

  The apparitions vanished.

  Khai wheeled around and stabbed. His sword pierced her side. She felt it enter her flesh, gasped, but the pain didn’t come until the Khai withdrew the weapon. Her knees buckled.

  “No!” Achan rushed forward and arrived barely in time to catch her.

  Khai fell to his knees, dropped his sword. Achan carried Vrell around the weasely man, past a long, dark tent. A cramp seized her side. She pressed her hand over it, holding her breath. Achan spoke, but she couldn’t understand his muffled, slow voice. Her vision blurred, flashed, her senses reeled.

  Arman, help me.

  She smelled horses. Achan lifted her higher, pressing her against Dove’s saddle. Her side screamed at her to fall, to rest, but she reached for the saddlehorn, amazed at the animal’s girth.

  Her cheek rubbed against the wooden saddle. She pulled. Her body rose like she weighed nothing. Achan hoisting her up, no doubt.

  She wanted to speak, to beg him to ride with her, but her mind and mouth were not in harmony.

  Dove tossed his head. Vrell dragged her right leg over so that she lay in the saddle, slumped against Dove’s white mane. She hugged his neck and, without a word, he galloped away.

  37

  Good boy. Certain the animal wouldn’t stop until the Mitspah gate, Achan released Dove’s mind then sent word to Sir Gavin that Sparrow was coming.

  “After her!”

  Sir Kenton mounted his black destrier and gave chase. More of Esek’s men had arrived. Sir Eagan and Shung now battled four New Kingsguards.

  Achan found the mind of Sir Kenton’s horse and asked its help. The animal was more than happy to assist Achan, who promised to feed him all the oats he wanted if he would carry his rider the opposite way. Hopefully Achan would have the chance to make good on his promise.

  “What is he doing?” Esek cried out. “She went the other way, you fool!”

  Achan stepped toward Khai. He should perhaps bind him before helping Sir Eagan and Shung. But Khai lay on the ground, chest barely mov
ing. He wouldn’t be alive for long.

  “Fine! I will go after her, then.” Esek strode toward the horses. “I can see I have no one else who will serve me.”

  Achan cut off his path. “You will let her go.”

  Esek withdrew Ôwr. “Stray, we must work all this out. If you agree to simply die, all will be well.”

  “Arman has spoken. I cannot refuse him.”

  Esek snorted a laugh. “Arman, indeed. He is the reason I don’t rule already. Lord Nathak fears his useless prophecies.” Esek circled, Ôwr gleaming like a star in one hand.

  Three of Esek’s men approached, swords ready.

  “No!” Esek said. “This time I will kill him and prove to you all he is not invincible.”

  Esek jabbed Ôwr forward. Achan barely jumped back in time to keep from being stabbed. Esek cleaved from high guard, inviting a horizontal parry from Achan’s blade. Their swords clashed, jarring Achan’s weary arms all the way to his teeth. Esek came on strong with a series of cuts: side guard, back guard, low guard. He’d been practicing since Achan fought him last. Achan could only parry… parry… parry.

  “I have never seen proof that any god exists,” Esek said, swinging for Achan’s feet, “let alone one who protects strays.”

  Achan jumped back and yelled. He took a deep breath and swung his sword at Esek’s neck.

  Esek parried Achan’s strike and thrust for Achan’s heart.

  Achan sidestepped, spun back and nicked Esek’s shoulder.

  Esek yelled and stumbled back, then swung for Achan’s arm. Achan parried, but Esek dropped under Achan’s parry and nicked Achan’s side.

  Achan winced and drew back to middle guard. Esek swung from side guard. Achan moved to parry, but Esek faked, pulled Ôwr back, and stabbed one armed, slipping his grip to reach farther.

  Ôwr pierced Achan’s left thigh. He roared and snapped his sword down from high guard over Esek’s extended arm, wincing as his blade severed Esek’s limb above the elbow.

  Esek shrieked and stared at the bleeding stump.

  Achan’s trembling arm fell limp at his side. He dropped his sword, horrified. His leg throbbed, hot pain gripping every nerve. Esek collapsed in a heap or red wool. Fainted? Dead?

  “No!” Chora rushed forward and removed his cape. He balled it up and held it to Esek’s gushing stump.

  Achan fell back onto his rear and clutched the underside of his thigh. Blood oozed from the dark center of the wound and stained his britches. Panting through his teeth, he reached up his chain shirt and tugged his rope belt free. He pulled it under his leg and tied it above his wound.

  A burning sensation rose from Achan’s chest.

  TAKE YOUR SWORD AND GO.

  Achan obeyed. He hefted himself onto his good leg, picked up Eagan’s Elk, and limped toward the horses.

  YOUR FATHER’S SWORD.

  Achan wheeled around and reached for Ôwr. He had to kick Esek’s gloved hand off the grip. His father’s ring caught his eye, wide and gold against the black leather glove. He dropped both weapons and pulled it from Esek’s finger.

  Achan jammed the ring on his thumb, picked up the swords, and staggered back, glancing from the severed arm to Esek and Chora, to the circle of onlookers. “Give up this fight. You cannot resist Arman’s will. I don’t wish to harm anyone, but continue to attack me and you’ll suffer the consequences, no matter how…v-vile. Sir Eagan, Shung, we ride.”

  Achan stepped over Khai’s body and approached the horses. His wounded leg shook beyond his control and he tried to keep his weight on his good leg. He clipped both swords to the saddlebag on Esek’s courser. Shung and Sir Eagan helped him mount the horse, who, compared to Dove, seemed small and bony. Achan spurred the horse away, east, toward Light.

  Sir Gavin, has Sparrow arrived?

  They are just opening the outer portcullis for her now.

  She is wounded. We’re on our way.

  Shung and Sir Eagan slowed their horses alongside Achan.

  “How is your leg?” Sir Eagan asked.

  “I’ve had worse.” The light faded fast as they left the camp behind them. “No torch?”

  Sir Eagan pushed a hand though his loose hair. “Didn’t think to grab one.”

  “Should we be concerned?” Achan had cinched his belt so tightly his leg had numbed. He loosened the knot.

  “I doubt anyone will follow. You defeated their leader.”

  Achan pulled the belt free and tied it around his waist, leg tingling with feeling now. “Think he’s dead?”

  “Depends on whether they have a healer nearby.”

  Achan closed his eyes, still shaken from the sight of Esek’s bleeding arm. I’m sorry, Arman.

  But was he? Esek had been trying to kill him, had taken Sparrow. It was the fool’s own fault for never wearing armor. Still, Achan could have finished him rather than leave him to suffer such a death.

  When he opened his eyes, the torchlight from Esek’s camp had faded. Achan’s horse tensed; Achan could feel the anxiety running through the animal. He rubbed the horse’s neck, patting him down. In the woods on his left, something rustled. Achan’s horse stutter-stepped and turned. Achan held the reins tight, hoping to keep the animal on the road.

  The other horses neighed and stomped their feet. One set of hooves trampled away.

  “Whoa!” Sir Eagan called out in the distance. The hoof beats slowed on the dirt.

  What is it? Achan’s horse rocked back on his haunches and whinnied.

  Likely a wild animal, Sir Eagan said.

  “Easy, boy.” Achan patted the horse’s neck and urged him on. “It’s just some deer.”

  The rustling increased. The courser whinnied, trying to turn back. Achan held fast to the saddle horn and fought to keep his balance. His left leg proved useless to steady him. Maybe Esek had trained the animal and it knew it belonged elsewhere. Achan connected with the animal’s mind. Fear overwhelmed him. He thought calming thoughts, hoping to somehow evoke Sir Eagan’s gift of calming emotions.

  But the horse continued to panic. Achan’s heart thudded, unsure of what might spook a horse so.

  The Darkness lifted suddenly to a dim twilight. Evenwall mist coated Achan’s face. He had never been so relieved to enter this place. Shung rode just ahead on the right edge of the road, almost in the brush. Achan could see Sir Eagan stopped up ahead, looking back, his horse sideways on the road.

  “You are well?”

  “I’m fi—”

  Something slammed into the side of his horse, knocking Achan into a pine tree. The sharp limbs snapped against his chain coat as he fell through branches to the fern-covered ground, landing on his back. Orange light flashed on the road. A terrible roar stifled the horses’ whinnying. Achan scooted back on his elbows and right foot, dragging his sore leg.

  Sir Eagan’s panicked voice burst in Achan’s mind. Your Highness! Where are you?

  Achan paused under a patch of charcoal sky. He could see the dark shapes of Esek’s half-downed, half-bucking horse and a massive animal. I’m okay. I’m in the woods. Another sudden burst of orange flame caused the horse to utter an unnatural scream and illuminated the beast. Achan lost his breath.

  Arman help him. It was a cham bear, and his swords were with the horse.

  Shung cannot connect with its mind.

  Can you, Sir Eagan? Can you calm it? Achan asked.

  A moment of silence passed. Achan squinted at the scene on the road. The cham roared again, ears flat, eyes flashing in its own orange fire. It seemed intimidated by the bucking horse, though Achan could see the large gash in the horse’s side. It smelled oddly like roasted venison.

  Sir Eagan finally answered. Someone controls it.

  What? Who?

  I know not, but its mind is shielded. An animal cannot do that.

  Achan’s shaking arms gave way, elbows bucking. He picked himself back up and stared at the road. The cham’s dark eyes focused his way. Bile snaked its way up his throat. His movement had gained the
cham’s attention.

  The beast crept toward him, illuminated in a flash of twilight between the trees. It was the size of a bull, shaggy, with matted, brown fur. Its paws looked as big as Achan’s head.

  He reached out, felt the shields around the cham’s mind, and pushed past them.

  Hello, Yer Majesty. Yer not the only one who can master an animal’s mind, Atul said.

  Achan withdrew, concerned Atul might be able to storm him. Atul controls it. Should I run? Climb a tree?

  No! Shung’s deep voice resounded. Stay still. Curl into ball. Back facing the beast. We hunt it.

  Achan rolled to his side, wounded leg down, and tucked his head, thankful Shung, the cham hunter, was here. He held his breath, listening, praying the animal would bound past, into the woods, after a deer or fox, some more common meal, though he knew deep down that the cham would obey Atul.

  He gagged at the smell of sweaty fur and dung. Hot breath wafted over his neck as teeth sank around his right shoulder. Multiple throbs pierced through the chain armor as the cham clenched down and dragged Achan’s left side over roots and thorny bushes. His whole body burned from within, but he stayed still, hoping compliance would at least keep the cham from charring him with a burst of flame.

  His chain coat snagged. The cham jerked its head. When Achan’s body didn’t budge, the cham tugged again. Achan’s mind got lost in the blinding pain. A man screamed. Or had that been him?

  Sir Gavin’s voice came first. Achan, what’s happening?

  Be closing your mind, boy! Inko said.

  Who are you?

  You’re hurting me. Please close your mind.

  Dear one, a kind woman said, you must shield yourself.

  Your Majesty, you must relax. Sir Eagan sent his calm and the pain faded some. We are right behind it.

  Shield yourself, eh Pacey? Kurtz said.

  The cham let go. A roar vibrated Achan’s eardrums. Orange light flashed. Shung screamed. A sword entered flesh. Something thumped. Branches cracked. A man grunted.