To Darkness Fled (Blood of Kings, book 2)

by Jill Williamson

  Sir Eagan? What happened? Shung?

  Somewhere behind Achan, Shung groaned.

  The cham bit Achan’s shoulder again. Achan’s head swam with agony. Darkness closed around his vision.

  Achan! Sir Gavin said. Your guard is down and you’re spilling out. You must focus. Tell me what’s happening. What’s wrong?

  If Achan was dying, he didn’t want every bloodvoicer in Er’Rets privy to it. He drew up his shields and fixated on Sir Gavin’s voice. A cham. Sir Eagan and Shung are trying to fight it.

  Call on Arman, Sir Gavin said.

  Achan’s cheeks flushed at this obvious conclusion. He closed his eyes and recited the words Sir Gavin had taught him, knowing in his heart Arman could help him. But would he?

  Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd. Hatzileni, beshem Câan, ben Arman.

  Achan had to act. For all he knew the cham had roasted Shung. He reached his trembling left hand to his chain armor and slipped the rings free from a root. The next time the cham tugged, Achan’s body scraped easily over the forest floor.

  He felt for the sheath that held his dagger. It took more patience than he liked to cajole his trembling fingers to the right place, but he managed to draw it. He clutched it to his chest, squeezing the ivory grip. He’d only get one try. If he missed, the bear would roast him.

  Shung had suggested the way to kill a cham was an arrow to the side, behind the shoulder. The knife wouldn’t go deep enough to reach any vital organs. He needed to cut its throat.

  The bear pawed him, its massive claws clicking over the chain. It clamped down on Achan’s torso, just under his arm. Its teeth seemed made to pierce chain armor. The pain made Achan so lightheaded he almost blacked out. He squeezed the handle of his knife and mumbled, “Arman hu elohim, Arman hu echâd, Arman hu shlosha be-echâd,” a half dozen times, waiting for his moment, praying he’d have the strength.

  The bear released him. Achan rolled onto his back, onto a furry paw, brought the knife up over his opposite shoulder, and slashed back across the bear’s neck, screaming as he did.

  Hot blood spurted over Achan’s face and chest. His breath hitched. He clamped his mouth shut. The bear groaned, thrashed in the brush, and loped away. Achan rolled the opposite direction until his body hit a tree trunk. He struggled to maneuver behind it, unable to see the bear. Off in the forest ferns rustled, twigs snapped, and a keening moan gave Achan hope.

  Sir Eagan! Where are you? Shung?

  A cool breeze filtered past the trees and Achan shivered. Saliva and blood matted his shirt to his shoulder and chest. His right arm hung limp. His shoulder and torso throbbed. His thigh still ached. Should he stay put? Esek’s horse was likely dead. Should he climb a tree to get out of the bear’s reach? What had Shung said about chams climbing trees?

  Sir Gavin’s panicked voice burst in Achan’s head. Achan! The cham?

  I dunno. I think I killed it.

  A man groaned nearby.

  Shung? Sir Eagan? Achan’s voice came slow in his head.

  Little Cham?

  Shung! Are you hurt?

  Shung will live. The cham burned Shung’s arm.

  What of Sir Eagan? He doesn’t answer.

  “Did I kill it?” Sir Eagan’s voice sounded groggy.

  The cham knocked Elk into a tree. Footsteps crunched and Shung’s hairy shadow crouched before Achan.

  “I’m fine,” Achan said. “Check Sir Eagan.”

  “No need.” Movement swished past Achan’s boots. “A little dizzy, but I’ll live.”

  With Shung and Sir Eagan’s help, Achan staggered to his feet and limped to the road. He could see the dark shape of Esek’s horse. Dead. Achan’s limbs trembled, his body cold and sweaty.

  Sir Eagan and Shung boosted Achan up to Sir Eagan’s horse. His right side seized, and he held his breath to keep from crying out. He wanted to lie down. His body throbbed. The smells of saliva and blood sickened him.

  Shung moved to the other side of the horse and tucked Achan’s boot into the stirrup. “Where’s the beast?”

  Achan jerked his head to the side and his neck muscles cried out. “Back through…trees.”

  “Shung will come back tonight with men and light. Make frame to haul back.”

  Achan panted. “See if…you can find… m’ knife.”

  Sir Eagan mounted up behind Achan. “And my sword.”

  A thrill seized Achan. “M’ swords! On th’ dead h’rse.”

  “Shung will get them.”

  Ôwr was finally his. “Yeh can have yer sword back now, S’r Eag’n. I’ve tak’n Ôwr.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Moments later the horses took off, galloping at top speed for Mitspah stronghold. Each hoofbeat jarred Achan’s wounds so much that he lost consciousness.

  38

  Vrell awoke in her bed in Mitspah under a pile of blankets. A fire crackled in the hearth, warming her right side. She drew her hand along her middle and found she wore one of her boy’s tunics. Strips of linen bound her waist.

  A wave of heat passed over her. She’d left her undergarment in Esek’s tent! Who had dressed her wounds?

  Voices murmured nearby. She blinked and her room in Mitspah took shape. Men were speaking in Achan’s room. The adjoining door stood open.

  “Well, I’ll be stormed, I will! What a relief, eh? I’d thought the lad was double—”

  “Enough, Kurtz!” a man said. Sir Caleb. “Gavin, how long have you known?”

  Sir Gavin drew a long breath through his nose. “Since the night we first defeated the black knights.”

  “I’m not liking it at all. It’s being bad luck to be having a woman in camp.”

  “Does Achan know?” Sir Caleb asked.

  Kurtz honked a loud laugh. “I’ll say. If you’d seen wh—”

  “Aye,” Sir Gavin said. “But only since our first night in Mitspah.”

  “And you didn’t bother to tell us?” Sir Caleb asked.

  “Stingy lad wanted her all to himself, he did.” Kurtz snorted. “Royalty, eh?”

  “It was her decision to tell,” Sir Gavin said. “It still is.”

  The memory of the day’s events brought a gasp to her lips—or was this a new day now?—Khai had stabbed her. And she’d stabbed him back. Was he dead?

  Achan!

  She sat up. Fiery pain stabbed her side and she cried out.

  A shadow shifted on the wall. Sir Eagan rose from a chair in the corner of her room and walked toward her. “Lay back, Vrell. You’ve been stabbed, though I suspect you remember.”

  “Achan is in trouble.”

  Sir Eagan stopped beside her bed. “Achan is here. He is wounded and moving slow, but he shall recover.”

  Vrell sighed. Praise Arman.

  Kurtz stepped into the doorway and grinned. His lengthy stare made her uncomfortable. She pulled the blankets to her chin. She should lie down, but what if she could not sit up again? She wanted to go to Achan. He might need care.

  “Kurtz, would you leave us a moment?” Sir Eagan asked.

  Kurtz straightened. “Why would I do that, eh?”

  “So I can check my patient’s wounds.

  Vrell stared at Sir Eagan with wide eyes. He did not smile but held her gaze.

  “Bah,” Kurtz said. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, eh?”

  Vrell’s cheeks warmed.

  “Stand guard outside,” Sir Eagan said.

  Kurtz growled and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Sir Eagan sat on the edge of her bed. “Removing your gown was necessary to treat your wound. Forgive my invasion of your privacy. Sir Gavin insisted I not call a woman healer.”

  Vrell looked down at the bulges at the end of the blanket that were her feet.

  Sir Eagan went on. “As I worked on your wound, I could not help but notice you do not bear this mark of the stray as Achan does. I have a theory, my lady, that might offend if I am mistaken. But if I am not…well…I must know. Mig
ht you be Lady Averella Amal of Carmine?”

  Vrell’s eyes swelled. “Sir Gavin told you?”

  He grinned. “Nay, my lady. My strength has always been observing. Since the day we met, I knew you were not a man and most definitely not a stray.”

  “How?” Vrell thought of how Jax mi Katt had said, You do not smell like a man.

  “You are elegant. Even when you try to be clumsy it is gracefully done. Your skin is fair, clearly not lived a lifetime of hard labor in the sun. You are petite, and I have never met a boy of fourteen who was not all arms and legs. You could not stomach being in the room where Achan was bathing. And though you sometimes try to doctor your speech, having lived my whole life as heir to my father’s household, your highborn tongue is hard to hide.

  “Of course, there is also the fact the duchess and I are…old friends. There are parts of you that look very much like her.” He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his hand. “And parts of you that look…”

  Tears flooded Vrell’s eyes. It could not be as she had suspected. It could not.

  He lowered his hand. “Have no fear, my lady. I mean you no ill will. Only, would you not be safer in your mother’s household?”

  Vrell released a shaky breath, thankful Sir Eagan had not voiced her fear. “Sir Gavin said we travel to Carmine next.”

  “And what of Achan? Does he know your real name?”

  Vrell shook her head. “Please do not tell him. I never meant to deceive him so. Prince Gidon—Esek—he wanted to marry me, to control Carm. I would rather have died than marry him for any reason. Mother helped me hide in Walden’s Watch with Lady Coraline.”

  “My aunt.”

  “Oh!” Vrell wrinkled her nose, mind spinning. “But…is she not younger than you?”

  Sir Eagan nodded. “Life is funny that way sometimes.”

  “Yes.” How could Vrell be so calm? Talk so easily to Sir Eagan? He was practically a stranger, yet—dare she think it?—maybe so much more. A peaceful calm compelled her to go on.

  “The Kingsguards took me from Walden’s Watch to train under Master Hadar. I was trapped until Achan came. I fled with him and the knights into Darkness. I knew he suspected something. My lies were becoming too complicated for him not to catch on. He is quite smart when he is using his head.”

  Sir Eagan raised his eyebrows.

  Vrell pulled her hand to her lips. “Oh, I meant no disrespect. But Achan often gets so caught up in his plans, he becomes obsessed.”

  Sir Eagan nodded. “It is a trait his father had as well. Both blessing and curse.”

  Vrell studied the thick weave of her wool blanket. “Achan told Sir Gavin that I was hiding something. Sir Gavin cornered me the second night of our journey and demanded the truth or he would leave me behind.”

  Sir Eagan scowled. “Horrible brute.”

  Vrell cracked a smile. “He was only doing his duty. And once I confessed, Sir Gavin was a great help.”

  Sir Eagan chuckled and patted her hand. “It is hard to imagine Gavin as your only confidant. How awkward it must have been for you all these months.”

  “Yes. Yes, it was awkward, but…”

  “You love Achan.”

  Sir Eagan simple declaration brought a rush of heat to Vrell’s head. An overwhelming ache seized her at the memory of his kiss, his intense eyes, the way he’ll held her in his arms. “No, my lord. I… betrothed…” Her voice cracked. “Bran Rennan of Carmine.” Tears swelled in her eyes. Bran did not love her, if he ever really had. Could anyone really? She was so plain and skinny, with a voice like a mule.

  She continued trying to convince Sir Eagan, distract him from his train of thought. “Bran squires for your brother, you know. He and Sir Rigil are both working in Carmine.”

  “You do know Achan loves you?”

  Vrell sniffled. “You are mistaken, my lord. He is like a brother to me.” Achan was simply confused. Soon he would meet a beautiful woman like Tara or Gren. One the knights would approve of. Then he would forget about Vrell.

  Sir Eagan offered a sympathetic smile. “When Achan returned, he limped outside your door, bleeding all over the floor, until the hops tea I forced him to drink bested him.” Sir Eagan took her hand again. Calm stretched over her body like another blanket. “Will you not miss your brother when you are home and he moves on?”

  “It matters not.” Tears overflowed Vrell’s eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “I will not let him think I betrayed him or did not trust him.”

  “Forgive me, my lady, but is that not what you have been doing all along? Why not confess?”

  “Because I…I did not want to be one more liar in his life. I know it is deceitful. Please, I beg you. Let him know me as Vrell Sparrow, a stray girl who simply refused to be anyone’s mistress. And let him meet Averella Amal in another life.”

  “If that is your wish, my lady, I promise to hold your secret safe. Though I have never found secrets make life easier.”

  “That is my burden to bear.”

  “Very well.” He squeezed her hand and let go. “I will take you home myself. Tomorrow, if you are feeling up to the ride.”

  Tears flooded Vrell’s eyes. “You would do that?”

  “Yes. I would very much like to see your mother again. It has been far too long.”

  Vrell stared up at Sir Eagan. Could he also be suffering from a secret long kept? She wanted to ask if he was her father, but did she really want to know?

  Regardless, the words would not come.

  “Achan will shadow my mind, I suspect. I can do nothing to hide from him.”

  “There is a way, actually. I could teach you the trick, though it will not work forever. He is too strong. Eventually someone will teach him the way around our trick.” He stood. “Tomorrow, my lady, I shall teach you. For now, try to sleep. You must rest if we are to travel.”

  “Please do not tell Achan we are leaving.”

  “Sir Gavin will have to know.”

  Vrell nodded. “Thank you, Sir Eagan. Going home will bring me great comfort.”

  “I am happy to serve any way I—”

  “I said, let me in!” Achan’s muffled voice yelled from outside the door.

  “Strike me as much as you like, Pacey,” Kurtz answered in an overly loud voice. “Beat me, club me, flog me, torture me, eh? But my orders come from the master surgeon, they do.”

  Sir Eagan winced. “Our star dramatist hard at work. Shall we let our prince in to see you or shall I say you are sleeping? I may not be able to stop him either way.”

  Vrell swallowed. “It is all right. He may enter.”

  “Very well.” Sir Eagan walked to the door. He opened it and patted Kurtz on the shoulder. “Kurtz, you and I are needed elsewhere.”

  Kurtz stepped aside with regal posture and bowed. His bottom lip had swollen as if he had been—Vrell’s hand shot to her lips. Oh, Achan. Angry men could be so foolish.

  Achan pushed past Kurtz, who winked at Vrell before closing the door. Achan stopped just inside as if he did not know where to go now that he had finally gained entry. He looked a mess. His hair frizzed out all over, bruises blackened his face and neck, scratches covered his face, dried blood caked around his left ear, and fresh blood soaked through his fresh white tunic in two places under his arm.

  She shifted—her side ached—and clutched her blankets back up around her neck. “Are you hurt, Your Highness?”

  “Barely,” he mumbled. “You?”

  “I am well.”

  He let out a long breath and limped forward three steps. His wince proved that every move pained him.

  Stubborn as he was, she dared not point it out. “What happened at Esek’s camp?”

  “I believe you killed Khai.”

  Vrell clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I did not mean to. I only wanted to help you.”

  Achan laughed silently, then crinkled his brow and stopped as if even silent laughter aggrieved his wounds. “You helped me fine.”

&nb
sp; “But I…” She had stabbed him only once. “I have never killed anyone.”

  Achan sighed. “It’s not a pleasant feeling, is it? Even in regards to a man like Khai.”

  It did not seem real. “What else happened?”

  Achan cast his blue eyes her way. He opened his mouth but did not speak. He limped the rest of the way to her bedside, seeming so much taller standing over her. He pursed his lips and, wincing, lowered himself to his right knee. Her pallet was so low to the ground his face was level with hers.

  “I’ve learned a new trick. Open your mind.” He reached out and slid his hand over the back of her hand, tucking his fingers between hers. He closed his eyes.

  She tensed at the intimate way he held her hand, but her thoughts were interrupted by his. Flashes of activity flitted through her mind. His memories. Achan riding into Darkness on Dove, he and Shung fighting Khai, lifting Sparrow off Esek’s bed, carrying her out of the pavilion, hearing her scream, watching her through Khai’s apparitions, catching her as she fell from Khai’s sword, carrying her to Dove.

  Her chest swelled with the memory of his feelings and emotions, but it all moved so fast she could not stop to think about one thing in particular. Pain shot through her thigh when Esek’s sword struck true. She was with him as he cut down Esek, took Ôwr and his father’s ring.

  Then Achan slumped on a horse. She experienced his agony and surprise at the cham bear’s attack. Its teeth. Defeating it. Returning to Mitspah. Trying to see Vrell. Tiring. Sir Eagan looking over his wounds.

  Vrell’s mind became her own again. She opened her eyes to see Achan smiling. What reason could he have to smile? “Oh, Achan, a cham! How horrifying!”

  His smile faded. “Aye, it wasn’t pleasant. Glad I wore my chain armor.”

  She met his eyes. “Where did you learn to do that? Show me your memories?”

  “Sir Eagan.” Achan focused on their interlocked fingers and rubbed his thumb over the back of hers. “I may have killed Esek. I hadn’t intended…he was in a bad position when I…”

  Vrell stared at his pained face. From his memories, she knew exactly what he was thinking, reliving, regretting.

  Achan licked his chapped lips. “Sparrow, I want to…I must speak with you about…. Sir Gavin tells me you intend to leave us soon.”