By Darkness Hid bok-1

by Jill Williamson

  Vrell gasped. “Jax, you are hurt.” She hurried to his side and saw a broken stick protruding from his arm.

  “One of their arrows struck me. It’s not bad.”

  Vrell lifted the strap of her satchel over her head. “I have been learning the healing trade. May I help?”

  Jax smiled. “You may assist. I’ve likely mended more battle wounds than you.”

  Vrell knelt beside him and nearly fell over in the deep moss. She settled herself and met Jax’s huge, brown eyes.

  His grin warmed her cheeks. “The first thing you must know in treating an arrow wound is what kind of arrow you are dealing with. Best way is to find one and look at it.” Jax shrugged. “I know ebens well. Their arrowheads are barbed obsidian.”

  “Yes. I saw one,” Vrell said.

  “Barbed arrowheads are harder to remove. It’s best to use something to pry them out with. But mine is not deep. What do you have in your pack?”

  Vrell laid out her assortments of herbs and jars. “I have a yarrow salve I made myself.”

  Jax beckoned for the jar. She pried off the lid and handed it to him. He took a long sniff and raised his brows. “That will do fine.”

  Jax removed the arrowhead easily. Vrell helped him clean the wound and added her salve. He bandaged it with strips from his spare shirt. She listened avidly to his battle tales of how healers worked on wounded soldiers. She found Jax a fountain of wisdom and questioned him on herbs and healing, until Khai wandered up with a dead rabbit.

  They made a wonderful meal of the rabbit and Vrell’s mushrooms. Vrell also shared some of her sorrel lettuce with Jax. Khai refused any.

  When it was time for sleep, Vrell snuggled into the deep softness of the moss. It was indeed as comfortable as she had imagined. She let her mind wander to the last time she and Bran had been together.

  She had met up him at the southwestern vineyard and led him to her special corner, where she had been experimenting with cuttings of a thunbergii mountain vine, hoping to blend it with the local vinifera. Not much had grown yet, but Bran had sat beside her, listening avidly as she’d explained her hopes for the test. She had wanted to—

  Vrell Sparrow.

  It was her mother, calling out to her again. Vrell was still too afraid to answer. Jax and Khai were awake, murmuring to themselves a few feet away. Had they heard Mother’s call? She pushed the fears from her mind and fell asleep thinking of Bran.

  *

  The next morning, Jax shook her awake. She much preferred his gentle hand to Khai’s kick. She rose quickly and they set off on the road, heading south.

  “When we come to the King’s Road, we’ll head north,” Jax said.

  Vrell pictured the map of Er’Rets in her mind. The King’s Road stretched the length of the kingdom, from Tsaftown in the far north all the way down to Er’Rets Point in the far south. They still had a very long way to travel. If ebens were being paid to keep people from entering XulonForest, all roads would be guarded. This would only lengthen the time she would have to spend with the knights and increase her chances of being discovered. Vrell did not want to be a stray boy anymore.

  She wanted to go home.

  6

  Vrell cowered under the canopy of a leathery fern. Rainwater poured over the edges, but the plant’s vastness offered a semi-dry sanctuary. It also provided camouflage, its orange and red surface blending with Vrell’s tunic. She had been covering her head with her arms for so long they had grown stiff. The patter of rain, screams, grunts, and clanking metal rang out from all sides. She dared not move.

  Jax had shoved her under the ferns before lunch, when another group of ebens had attacked. The fighting had only gone on a few moments before some different giants had joined in to help the knights. Yâtsaq giants like Jax, not the pale-skinned ebens. Vrell found the battle sounds petrifying, although they had faded some. The sun sat low on the horizon, squeezing rays of orange light between the thick tree trunks. Had the fighting ended? Now that Jax and Khai had help, would it be over for good?

  Something poked her in the back. Vrell jumped inside her skin, then berated herself. She should have played dead.

  “Oi! I found one hidin’ in the ferns, Po!” The voice was young and girlish.

  Swishing pant legs grew close, and a young boy’s voice said, “Think it’s alive?”

  Something poked harder and Vrell twitched.

  “You see that?” the girl said.

  “Poke it again!”

  If her two Kingsguard escorts could fight mercenary giants for weeks on end, Vrell could best a couple of children. She sat up and snatched the stick. “Do you mind?”

  Two children stared at her with huge brown eyes and dirty faces to match. At least, they looked like children. Their heads were bigger than normal. The boy matched Vrell in height, the girl nearly so, but their faces were childlike. Both had long hair that hung in braids. The girl had two braids. The boy had three. They both wore leather clothing.

  “How old are you?” Vrell asked the boy.

  “Eight. Name’s Po. This here is Nina. She’s six.”

  Six! They must be giants’ children. Yâtsaq giants, perhaps, since they had black hair and tan skin like Jax.

  The girl flashed an insincere smile. “Our pop pop is going to kill your pop pop.”

  The statement shocked Vrell, and she looked out from under her fern to see where the knights were. She spotted Jax’s red scarf through the red and brown trees. He was very much alive, swinging two axes and growling.

  “He is not my pop pop,” Vrell said. “They are taking me to Mahanaim.”

  “Our pop pop lets no one go to Mahanaim without a fight.” Po folded his arms as if he were one of his father’s soldiers. “Most travelers work for the Council, and the Council’s evil.”

  “Why do you think the Council is evil?”

  “’Cause they tell lies,” Nina said, her large, brown eyes fixated on the stick Vrell had taken from her.

  “And they make secret votes, and they work with ebens,” Po said. “Pop Pop says Prince Oren should be king, not the puppet prince.”

  Puppet Prince? Vrell straightened. “You mean Prince Gidon?”

  Nina’s dark eyebrows sank. “He don’t deserve to be king, our pop pop says. He’s a puppet, which is like a doll. I’ve a doll at home. Do you?”

  “Don’t be thick, Nina. Boys don’t play with dolls.” Po pushed Nina’s arm and scowled. “Pop Pop says if the puppet prince is king, it’ll be the end.”

  “The end of what?”

  Po shrugged. “Enough talking. You’re our prisoner, eben-lover.”

  “That’s right, human.” Nina picked up another stick and jabbed at Vrell. “We’re taking you to our nest where you can’t help the puppet prince.”

  “But I do not want to help the puppet prince.”

  Po’s nose wrinkled. “You don’t?”

  “No. I have met him on several occasions. He is an absolute snake.”

  Nina giggled. “He’s slimy?”

  “Very,” Vrell said, enjoying herself despite the violence that might still be taking place around her fern haven. “He snorts a lot, and he chews with his mouth open.”

  “Po does that.”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too. Mama always says to shut your yap.”

  “Does not!”

  A deep and rumbling voice called, “Po! Nina!”

  Nina’s eyes went wide again. “That’s Pop Pop. We’ve got to go. You stay here, and if you see the puppet prince…skin him alive!”

  Vrell cringed at the cruelty of little Nina’s words.

  “I skinned a reekat once,” Po said. “Then Mama made me these boots.” He held up one foot clad in thin brown fur.

  Vrell had never heard of a reekat.

  “Nina! Po!”

  “Bye!” Nina dropped her stick and scurried off through the leathery ferns.

  Po smiled and saluted. “Skin him alive!”

  Vrell stayed under her fer
n, watching Po’s reekat boots squish over the wet moss. Her mind repeated their conversation. The idea that some felt that Prince Oren should be king was new to her. Vrell had met Oren — Prince Gidon’s uncle — at court many times over the years. He never seemed a bit interested in ruling.

  Months ago, Bran had mentioned that Sir Rigil, the knight he served, was loyal to Prince Oren Hadar. She had not thought anything strange about that comment at the time. Who would not loyally serve Prince Oren? He was a wonderful man. But could Bran have been hinting at treason? Was he loyal to Oren but not Gidon? She knew how much he admired Sir Rigil. Did Sir Rigil and Po and Nina’s father serve the same cause? Could Prince Oren Hadar be looking to take the throne from his nephew? She did not believe it.

  Vrell listened to the gentle patter of rain. She wondered how her new master, Macoun Hadar, fit into the royal family. He had obviously been passed over.

  Soggy footsteps caused her to cower back out of sight, but Jax’s familiar voice came like a gift from Arman.

  “Come on out, Vrell. It’s all over.”

  Stepping out, she disturbed a pool of water that had settled on top of the fern. It spilled down the back of her tunic, and she gasped at the coldness. Jax looked down and smiled. His handkerchief sat crooked on his head, and his black hair frizzed out at odd angles. Other than that, he appeared to be in one piece.

  Did she dare hope? “Is Khai all right?”

  “He’s with Lord Dromos. Come, we are invited to dine and rest.”

  Dine? Vrell bounded over the springy moss after Jax, which was the only way to keep up. She was so hungry. Because of the battle, Vrell had not been able to eat lunch. And now it must be nearly dinnertime. She wondered who Lord Dromos was. She did not recognize his name from court. They walked a long while, weaving around immense tree trunks and brushing past wet ferns. By the time they ventured onto a red clay road, Vrell’s tunic was soaked.

  They followed the road south and met up with an amazing sight. Khai stood with all three horses beside a giant, who sat on his own giant horse.

  “I see you survived the attack,” Khai said to Vrell. “How ever did you manage?”

  Vrell did not acknowledge Khai. The giant man and festrier captivated her.

  The man seemed taller than Jax, but maybe only because he sat on his horse. The huge beast was at least a head taller than Jax’s horse. It was silky brown and wore checkered banners of grass green and emerald. Like Jax, the giant man had black hair. Three thick plaits hung over one shoulder to his waist. A jumping brown stag was embroidered on the front of his beige tunic.

  “Lord Dromos,” Jax said, “this is Vrell, our charge to deliver to Mahanaim.”

  Vrell nodded. “It is an honor, my lord.”

  Lord Dromos nodded in return and spurred his horse onward.

  Vrell, Jax, and Khai mounted their horses and followed Lord Dromos down the road. The rain had stopped, but the forest continued to drip. Before long, Lord Dromos ventured west into the forest over no discernable trail. He stopped suddenly. His demeanor was that of a man arriving at the front door of his home, but though Vrell turned full circle, she could see no manor. Not even a cottage.

  “Pethach!” Lord Dromos called out.

  Vrell jumped at the sound of a clicking of chain against metal. A section of the forest slid away not fifteen feet from her horse. The moss-covered door had blended in so well with the surroundings, Vrell had not noticed it.

  Lord Dromos led them into an oversized fairytale village. Hulking stone cottages, overgrown with yellow moss, sat beside one another. The air was sweet inside the gate. Honeysuckle and bluebells edged the wide dirt road beneath her feet. The road curved around tree and bush, as if it would’ve been a sin to cut down any living plant to make room for the path.

  Large faces glared out windows and cracked-open doors as they passed. Did the giants dislike visitors? Certainly they could not dislike her. She had never met them.

  Then she saw the giant girl, Nina, clutching the leg of the biggest giant yet.

  She reached out for the girl’s thoughts and heard, Skin him alive!

  Vrell smiled. Nina’s father was a watchtower, and Vrell craned her neck to get a good look as she passed. All these giants were black-haired with dark eyes. This man was no different. His long hair gathered in a single braid, and his short, bushy beard clung to his chin like moss.

  Lord Dromos led his horse down the winding dirt road and across a stone bridge that arched over a sparkling stream. As Vrell’s horse crossed, her gaze followed the stream to where it disappeared into an opening in another wall of leaves. Lord Dromos led his horse around a curve in the road and up to the wall. Sure enough, before Lord Dromos reached the wall, metal clinked and the gate slid to the right. Vrell spurred her horse to catch up.

  Beyond the gate, the sun lit a vast, grassy field. The color was so vibrant Vrell gasped. She turned to find where the crystal stream came in and traced its flow along the edge of the curtain wall. It turned in front of an immense greystone manor house and plunged off a mossy-green rock into a bubbling pool. The manor was built into a steep hill. On the far end, the walls rose five levels high, but on the end where the stream plummeted into the pool, only the top two levels emerged. An arched stone bridge crossed over the bubbling pool and met a set of carved stone doors twice Jax’s height.

  The whole place reminded her of the quaint rock garden and fountain in the courtyard back home. Only ten times larger.

  Lord Dromos dismounted the festrier in front of the waterfall. A young giant boy, just taller than Khai, led the animal away. Vrell dismounted as well and handed her horse off to another giant boy. She met his eyes, awed at his height and youth.

  A tinkling bell caused her to turn away from the boy just in time to see a gargantuan dog bounding toward her. He was tan with black jowls, nose, and the tips of his long ears. He came straight for her face, his curling pink tongue — with a long stream of drool — swinging under his chin. She cried out and tucked her face into the crook of her elbow, but the beast was not dissuaded. His wet jowls flopped on the top of her head and his sniffing nose tickled.

  Laughter rang out all around. Vrell’s pounding heart slowed, and when she no longer felt the slobbering mouth on her hair, she peeked out. The dog had found its master and was jumping up against Lord Dromos’s legs.

  Lord Dromos gave a hearty chuckle. “Missed me did you, Cheyva?”

  Vrell loved animals, but this one was no pet. If saddled, it could be ridden by a grown man. A man who didn’t mind drool. She caught Khai’s smirking stare. “What?”

  “Scared you, did he? He’s just a little doggie.”

  “Little?”

  The giant lord walked across the stone bridge and entered the manor. Vrell paused on the bridge and stared into the water, where thousands of smooth pebbles sparkled in the sun.

  She caught her disheveled reflection in the glassy surface and cringed. How horrible she looked! If Mother could see her now, she would faint from shock. It had not helped that the beast-dog had drooled all over her head. His stench added to her own, and she longed to be clean. But she doubted a stray would be offered the hospitality of a bath.

  “Boy!” Khai snapped.

  She stepped though the massive doors and the temperature dropped. She followed Khai through a spacious greystone foyer and stopped at a half wall that wrapped around the perimeter of a vast atrium. The sun lit up a colorful courtyard below. From Vrell’s viewpoint, she could see all five levels of the manor and each staircase that connected them. She stood three levels up from the garden, but the levels were much taller than those from any manor house Vrell had seen. Lord Dromos, Jax, and Khai had already descended to the second floor. Vrell ran to catch up.

  Lord Dromos led them down a cool stone hallway and turned into a warm sitting room. A fireplace crackled on the outer wall. A kinsman woman and two girls sat on a stone bench by an arched window. The human females looked terribly small in Vrell’s eyes. She had hear
d that giants did not keep slaves. Perhaps they were servants.

  “Papa!” A girl, smaller than Vrell, with black ringlet curls, jumped up from the bench and ran toward Lord Dromos. He scooped her into his arms, twirled her once, and kissed her cheek. “Are you staying for dinner?” the girl asked.

  “Yes. And I’ve brought guests. Xylene, this is Jax mi Katt and Khai Mageia of the New Kingsguard, escorting young Vrell to Mahaniam to apprentice.”

  Xylene beamed, her sweet round face filled with joy. “Welcome, welcome to you all!”

  The woman and an older girl made their way across the room. The girl’s thick brows furrowed at Vrell, whose cheeks burned knowing how wretched she looked, even for a boy.

  Yet the girl thought, He’s filthy, but it’s cute how he blushes.

  Vrell fought back a smile.

  The woman, big boned and tall for a human, looked down on Vrell. “Oh, you poor thing! Did Cheyva get you? If you see him coming again, say atsar.”

  “Atsar?”

  “He’ll stop, won’t he?” The woman looked to Lord Dromos.

  Lord Dromos nodded. “Yes, of course. This is Lady Kiska, my wife. And my daughters, Zoea and Xylene.

  Vrell studied the women again. It had never occurred to her that kinsmen could marry giants. Lady Kiska was tall and big boned. She had light brown hair that hung in four long braids to her thighs. She wore a gown of green wool embroidered with leaves.

  Her girls wore their dark hair in the same manner, but neither seemed to have inherited their mother’s height. Both were shorter than Vrell. Little Xylene had rosy round cheeks and a dimpled smile. Zoea was as slender as a blade of grass and could not yet fill out the womanly gown she was wearing. It was way too long for her. It crumpled around her feet as if it belonged to her mother and she were playing dress-up.

  “I’m sure you would all like to wash before dinner,” Lady Kiska said. “Ez will take you to the steams, won’t you, Ez?”

  A wispy poplar of a man appeared from the shadowed corner of the room. “This way.”