To Darkness Fled--Kindle

by Williamson, Jill

  We head for Melas. I have a friend there who'll give us shelter and replenish our supplies before we head into Therion.

  Good. Achan, I am glad to hear you are well and safe. You must be a student now so that later you can be a king. My prayers go with you on your journey north. Arman protect you.

  And as quickly as he'd come, Prince Oren's presence faded away. Achan stared into the black void, the scraping of hooves over rocky soil grating loudly in his ears. Would he ever get to see his uncle on a regular basis?

  Very well, Sir Gavin said. For our first lesson, Achan, I'd like you to shield yourself against Vrell. You'll both stay connected to me. Vrell, you'll try to force your way into Achan's thoughts. Achan, you'll speak with me and try to keep Vrell out. Are you ready?

  Yes, Sparrow said.

  Aye. Achan fortified his mind. He patted Scout a moment before more pinpricks needled his temples.

  Sir Gavin Lukos.

  Achan opened to the knight.

  Talk to me about something only you know, lad. Anything will do.

  Achan's mind spun. Um...the longer bread raises, the rounder the loaf. Dough raises best in a warm place. Under a cloth and near the fireplace is where Poril always--

  Hold. You started out fine but distracted yourself from guarding your thoughts. Vrell heard half of what you said. Try again. A different topic.

  Achan gripped his reins and concentrated on closing off his mind again. A different topic? His knowledge didn't range far. Oh, I know. It's said goats will eat almost anything, but they're actually quite particular. Their stalls and troughs have to be spotless before they'll eat. Mold in their feed can make them sick. I almost lost Dilly one winter due to mold. Alfalfa is...

  Achan paused. His temple itched, almost like a knock, but no voice announced an intention to enter. Was that Sparrow trying to sneak in or someone else?

  Achan duplicated himself, leaving one man to guard the door. The other stepped outside and pounced on the mysterious intruder.

  A scream spilled out around Achan, but he concentrated, not willing to fail this test. He groped for the person, trying to discover this trespasser's identity, but the person blew away like a gust of wind.

  12

  "Inko, a light!" Sir Gavin yelled.

  Achan's walls collapsed. He whirled around on Scout. "What's wrong?"

  Boots splashed though water. A torch whizzed to life from the horse in front of Achan, throwing an amber glow over Sir Gavin's moving form below.

  "Vrell's fallen off his horse." Sir Gavin crouched out of sight. "Achan, close your mind. You're spilling all over."

  Achan drew up his shields and blinked rapidly, trying to see. He swung his leg over Scout and slid to the ground. His feet splashed into at least a foot of water.

  Sir Gavin heaved to his feet, holding Sparrow's limp and dripping form. "He's breathing." Sir Gavin sighed. "Achan, what did you do?"

  He did something? "I...I doubled myself, then attacked."

  "I'll be ransomed." Sir Caleb's voice drifted down from his horse. "You taught him to storm?"

  "I most certainly did not. Where'd you learn such a maneuver, lad?"

  Maneuver? "I--nowhere. Seemed like the right thing to do."

  "And you saw nothing of it, Gavin?"

  "Nay. He blocked me. Must have duplicated himself first."

  "Did I... Is he hurt?"

  Sparrow wheezed in a long breath, coughed, sputtered.

  "Are you all right?" Sir Gavin bounced the boy in his arms. "Can you stand?"

  Sparrow coughed. Nodded.

  What had Achan done? He could only stare as Sir Gavin lowered the boy to his feet. He didn't understand any of this. How could simple mind games wound someone? Was this what Vrell had done to the black knight mage?

  "What happened, boy?" Sir Caleb asked.

  "I am uncertain." Sparrow's voice croaked, eyes fixed on Achan's. "Achan did something strange. I felt...pushed from my body. I have a weakness, though. When I bloodvoice too long, I black out."

  "It's Arman's blessing you did. A true storm can trap the strongest man in the Veil." Sir Gavin frowned at Achan. "It's not something to be played with."

  Achan gulped. "I just wanted to see who was there."

  "'Twas Vrell, Achan! We were having a lesson. Do you think it would be anyone else?"

  "To be fair," Sir Caleb said, "it was wise to be suspicious of what you sensed. Just don't experiment with your power until you've learned. You could kill someone."

  Sir Gavin tugged his beard. "Sir Caleb, surely you can teach this better than I."

  "We made a bargain. I'd take over his weapons training if you trained his mind. Gavin, you're the strongest of us all."

  "But I'm no teacher! What if Vrell had stormed Achan? What if we'd lost him?"

  "You're knowing better than to be giving fear a listening ear," Inko said. "You should be thanking Arman for this warning and be having no more lessons until you can be giving the prince a proper understanding of the art."

  Sir Gavin sniffed long and hard. "That's wise, Inko. But he and Prince Oren must be able to speak securely. So we must continue to practice sustaining a private connection. From now on I'll lecture in your mind, lad."

  "If we each do our part," Sir Caleb said, "we might manage to train you properly."

  "We need to keep moving." Sir Gavin gripped Vrell's elbow. "It's still hours to the sandbar. Come, Vrell. Let me help you onto your horse."

  "Thank you, good sir."

  Achan cocked his head as Sir Gavin boosted Sparrow into the saddle. The boy must be crazy to be so calm. It was the second time in two days Achan had attacked him. "Sorry, Sparrow. I didn't mean to--"

  Sparrow turned his pale, round face down to Achan. "Do not think on it. I should have warned you how bloodvoicing weakens me. What I do not understand is when we first began I sensed your mind like an icy wall. Macoun Hadar's mind was the same. Always a cold presence."

  "I felt that in him too," Achan said as Sir Gavin slogged past to his horse.

  Sparrow glanced at Achan, eyes wide. "But with you, the coldness faded. And then I could not sense you at all."

  Sir Gavin mounted his horse, water drizzling off the heels of his boots. "The chill you sense is weakness. Achan's still learning. He starts out weak but gets stronger. With Macoun, the coldness is lack of control in his old age. That's why he seeks out strong, young apprentices. He cannot shadow people if they sense they're being shadowed."

  "So when Achan learns fully, even those with the gift will not be able to sense him?" Sparrow asked.

  "Aye. He'll be able to enter any mind in Er'Rets undetected."

  Silence hung on Achan's shoulders like a chain coat. Water sloshed as a horse shifted its feet. A mosquito buzzed down by his elbow.

  "Why give such a tool to a man?" Sparrow asked.

  "Only to one man at a time," Sir Gavin said. "The man Arman ordains king."

  The unattainable expectation gnawed at Achan. He reached up to Scout's saddle horn. "How do you know this?"

  Sir Gavin looked down on Achan. "It was that way for your father. And it's written in the Book of Life."

  Achan heaved himself back onto Scout. He'd never heard of such a book.

  "Where is the book now?" Sparrow asked.

  Sir Gavin sighed. "Only Prince Oren knows. Lord Nathak didn't find it a worthy enough treasure when he took Owr and the crown jewels from the palace at Armonguard."

  Sparrow huffed, as if he had been a Kingsguard knight with Sir Gavin all these years and took this personally. "They discard the one treasure that matters."

  Achan might as well be listening to one of Minstrel Harp's long tales. Could this truly be his life? Destined to be the most powerful bloodvoicer? Arman had not spoken to him since he stood before the Council of Seven.

  What if he'd imagined it?

  * * *

  As they rode through Darkness, Vrell tried to picture Bran's face. She could see his sandy brown hair, brown eyes, and sunburned
skin individually but could not put it all together.

  Had it been so long?

  Once she got home, her first task would be to plan her wedding. She envisioned herself in a blue gown standing with Bran before the priest and all their friends and family.

  Yet in her vision Bran scowled down. I revoke my proposal, my lady.

  A winepress squeezed Vrell's heart. But...why?

  You are thin and homely and look like a boy. I wanted to be Lord of Carm, but that is not reason enough to settle for one such as you.

  Vrell tensed, throat burning. But you said I was beautiful. You called me a dove.

  That was long ago. I've had time to think. I mean, you've been dressed a boy for months and no one has ever doubted that is what you are. I'm to be a knight. How could I marry someone like that?

  But you love me. You told Achan about me.

  Only to brag. If you were here, maybe I could be persuaded, but you cannot expect me to wait forever. There are many truly pretty girls in Er'Rets.

  Please, Bran, this is so unlike you. I do not...

  Vrell gripped her reins and snapped back to her physical location. Another trick of Darkness? It had been a long while since she had spoken to another. "Sir Gavin, can we talk aloud? My thoughts are beginning to wander."

  "Of course. Caleb?"

  Sir Caleb filled the miles with tales of the kings of old. Hours later, they made camp on what Sir Gavin claimed was a sandbar that ran for miles along ArokLake. The air was cool and damp this close to the water. After a meal of smoked fish and flatbread, Achan and Vrell practiced swordplay around a red torchlight stabbed into the sand. Sir Gavin kept watch with his nose and mind.

  The red glow cast eerie shadows over Achan's face. It was difficult to see his sword when he swung it above his head.

  "I like having my own weapon, even if it is a poor thing." Vrell held her sword the way Achan held his. "I felt so vulnerable without one."

  "A man does tend to walk taller with a sword at his side." Achan swung at her legs and she managed to parry his blow. "I did when I first wore Eagan's Elk."

  Vrell hid her smile. Achan walked taller every time he wore--she lowered her sword. "Did you say Eagan Elk?"

  The red flame sparkled in Achan's eyes. "Eagan's Elk. Aye. That's my sword's name."

  Vrell's mind spun. "Really?"

  Achan grinned, lopsided. "What? Don't you like it?"

  "Oh, no. It is a fine name." Only Vrell had heard the name Eagan Elk from her mother. It was a person's name. An odd name for a sword.

  Achan tapped his blade against Vrell's. "Why don't you name yours?"

  Vrell frowned at her little sword, feeling foolish to have paid so much for a weapon Achan found so inferior. Though she had only paid for half. Jax had paid the balance. Had the giant known the weapon was so flawed? "I would not know how to name a sword."

  "Why not a name to fit the bearer? You're small and witty. How about Little Kwon or Firefox?" Achan broke out into a wide grin. "What about Gebfly?"

  Vrell clicked her tongue. "Are you calling me a locust?"

  "They are pests."

  "Are you calling me a pest?"

  Achan shrugged. "If the boot fits."

  Vrell raised her weapon to middle guard and spread her feet in the sand, ready to fight. "I like Firefox, thank you."

  Achan's hearty laugh made her crack a smile. "Very well. But I suggest you get it sharpened when next we stop, or Dullfox might be a more appropriate title."

  Vrell gritted her teeth and swung. Achan dodged and Vrell lunged past. He slid an arm around her neck and brought his blade to her throat. "Hmm. Maybe Slowfox."

  She jammed her elbow into Achan's ribs.

  He released her, chuckling. "Ticklefox?"

  She lifted her weapon again. "Arrogance does not suit you, Your Highness."

  He raised his eyebrows. "Nor does the title Your Highness." He swung at her waist.

  Stubborn man. Vrell lifted to parry, but his blade whacked her hip. She stumbled sideways, kicking up sand, thankful for the cushion of her disguise. It would not stop Achan's blade for long. "Maybe we should not drill without armor."

  "We don't have any armor, and you want to learn to protect yourself. Besides, I'm not even swinging hard."

  He went easy on her for a while. It bolstered her courage to hear Firefox hit his blade, but the exercise tired her quickly. Thankfully, he stopped often to explain things.

  "If you parry with the edge, you dull your blade further. Parry with the flat... Don't try to defend from back guard. It leaves you vulnerable... Back up, Sparrow. No one in his right mind would begin with swords crossed... You swing too slow. Try for a combination of strong, quick thrusts. Your goal is to weaken my guard, to break it so you can strike."

  Finally Vrell could take no more. She fell onto her rear in the sand, gasping for air, limbs aching. "I am pathetic." She took a short breath. "None of this will make a bit of difference." Another breath. "I am simply not strong enough."

  Achan sat beside her and leaned back on his elbows, panting. "Remind me your age."

  "I will be fifteen years this fall." Eighteen, actually, but who would believe her to be a seventeen-year-old man?

  Achan took a deep breath. "So you're small for your age. Sir Caleb said he'd teach you some tricks. I'm no expert. You recall how Sir Kenton nearly killed me?"

  She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Achan, you are incredibly brave. You struck down at least ten Poroo."

  "So? Poroo are terrible warriors. That's why they attack from the trees."

  "Still, I would have run from the battles you faced. Sir Kenton has been a knight many years--and he betrayed your father. You have been sword-fighting how long? Three months? I could not have done all you have. I would never have tried."

  Achan stared into the red flame, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed. Always so hard on himself. Blaming himself.

  Despite Vrell's best efforts, the cut on Achan's cheek had healed in a long, red slash. And his other cheek looked even worse after the fight with the black knights.

  Achan dug a hole in the sand with the heel of his boot. "We each have our skills, I suppose. Just know, Sparrow, you're as much a hero with your bag of weeds as any of us are with a sword."

  Vrell lifted her sword. "Fireweed?"

  Achan chuckled. "I think Weed says it best."

  Vrell and Achan put away their weapons and crawled into their bedrolls. Sir Gavin put out the torchlight, and Vrell replayed Achan's words again and again in her mind.

  He thought she was a hero.

  13

  Achan held his shield over his head to protect it from the rocks the Poroo pitched from the treetops. The melon-sized stones clunked against the wood with such force that his forearm continually bashed against the top of his head.

  A Poroo warrior charged from the side, spear held high. Achan lowered his shield in time to deflect the spear, but a rock struck his unprotected head and he crumpled. The Poroo poured out of the trees upon him, massing, swarming.

  A screech woke Achan. He pressed his hands against moist sand and pushed himself to a sitting position, relieved the Poroo had only been in a nightmare. He patted the sand. Where was his bedroll? He blinked into the surrounding void, straining to see any sign of movement.

  "Sir Gavin?"

  The darkness returned only silence.

  "Who's on watch? Inko? Sparrow?"

  Achan's voice seemed so loud. Could he still be dreaming? He raised his voice. "Hello? Sir Caleb?" The sound sent a throb through his skull. Wincing, he lifted a hand and found a tender lump on the back of his head.

  His stomach lurched. Had someone attacked while he'd been sleeping? Poroo?

  He got to his knees and reached out to his right, then left, patting the moist ground, hoping to get his bearings, hoping he'd simply rolled off the bedroll in his sleep. Wet sand wedged under his fingernails. No bedroll.

  Nothing but sand.

  H
is heart pounded faster. "Sir Gavin?"

  A piercing squawk answered from Achan's left. He cringed, eyes darting around the dark, searching for any change in the inky-black hue. One of the demon birds was close. He quickly fortified his mind, then reached out.

  Sir Gavin?

  His temple twitched, but no name accompanied the knock. He took care not to attack in case this was a test.

  Sir Caleb?

  Achan sought out Inko's mind next. Why did no one answer? Had they been taken? Killed?

  Sparrow?

  Whoever was trying to penetrate his mind increased their efforts. Achan's temples throbbed more than the welt on the back of his head. The pressure increased tenfold, brutal, forceful. Achan clutched his face and bent forward until his forehead met the grainy sand. He screamed.

  An oily voice magnified in his mind. Get up.

  Unable to disagree with the voice, Achan gritted his teeth and stood. In his head, he multiplied himself ten times and surrounded the fortress of his mind, forcing the oily voice, and its control, out. The pain subsided. He called for Sir Gavin again, then Sir Caleb, then Sparrow.

  No one answered.

  A green light shot into the air and hovered above his head, illuminating the sandy terrain in an eerie glow.

  Achan released a long breath laced with a moan.

  Black knights.

  He squatted, groped for his sword. Pig snout! Where was it?

  Four men slid into the green glow, dressed in black armor with hard black masks. The one on the end held his hand aloft, pointing at the green orb above Achan's head. Achan studied them, pausing on the third knight in the line. Lofty bean pole posture and graceful stride brought a familiar fury.

  Silvo Hamartano?

  The third knight lifted his hand and a green ball of light shot out from his palm, up above his head, lighting more of the sandbar and the greasy black hair at the top of his mask.

  It was Silvo.

  Achan punched one fist into his other hand. The bezel and crest on Prince Oren's ring pressed inside his palm. He rubbed his thumb over his engraving, sought his uncle's face, and called out. Prince Oren?

  His uncle's voice shot into him with a staggering force. Achan? What is it?