To Darkness Fled--Kindle

by Williamson, Jill

  He lobbed the hook skyward again. It landed in the snow on top of the wall, but when Sir Caleb tugged, the hook hadn't snagged and plopped back to the snow. He growled.

  "Three is being a lucky number, Caleb," Inko said. "Try again."

  Vrell pursed her lips at Inko's ridiculous superstitions.

  Sir Caleb tossed the hook quickly. This time it sailed over the top. He jerked the rope, which cut a deep slice in the snow on the curtain wall and answered with a muffled clank.

  "See," Inko said. "Three is being a good number."

  Vrell rolled her eyes.

  Sir Caleb waded through the snowdrift. The closer he got to the wall, the deeper the snow. When the snow reached his waist, he jumped and, hand over hand, pulled himself up. Once his feet cleared the snowdrift, he set them against the wall and walked up, his boots slipping every so often on the icy stone.

  Vrell held her breath, praying he would not fall. He had almost reached the top when a soldier peeked over the crenellation. Men's muffled voices rose, steel struck stone, and Sir Caleb fell, straight down, as if jumping feet first into a lake. His arms flailed a moment before his entire body vanished into the deep snowdrift.

  Vrell clapped a hand over her mouth. A soldier with a bow appeared beside the first and shot an arrow where Sir Caleb had fallen. The first threw Sir Caleb's hook down.

  Sir Gavin lifted his shield over his head. "Retreat to the tree line! Take the horses!" He ran to the snowdrift and dug with his free hand.

  Vrell urged her horse downhill as fast as she dared. She reached the forest first. Achan and Inko rode in behind her, each leading an extra mount. Achan dismounted.

  Inko caught him by the hood of his fur cape. "Be holding here, Your Highness." Inko drew his bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver hanging from his saddlebag. He did not let loose his arrow, however, but waited.

  The guards looked down on Sir Gavin.

  Vrell prayed. Arman, please let him be well, please, oh, please.

  Inko kept his bow ready. "We're coming in peace," he shouted. "We are Kingsguard knights who are seeking an audience with Lord Gershom."

  "Lord Gershom isn't interested in your business," the guard yelled back.

  Vrell's mouth gaped. Of all the rude and cruel things to say to visitors...

  "He'll be seeing us if you'll only be asking," Inko called.

  "Lord Gershom don't like Barthians," the guard yelled. "Neither do I."

  "I'm being but one servant of the crown of Er'Rets and being the only Barthian in our party. We're coming to be seeking shelter in the name of the king."

  "There is no king!"

  Sir Gavin had managed to dig out Sir Caleb and helped the knight to his feet. He held the shield above their heads like a sunshade. Vrell continued to pray, asking that they would make it to the trees unscathed.

  "If you'll be relaying our message to your lordship, I'm assuring you he'll be changing his mind. We're having with us Prince Oren's signet ring."

  The guard answered with his bow. The first arrow stuck the edge of Sir Gavin's shield. The second brought a cry from Sir Caleb.

  "Oh!" Vrell dismounted. She dug her satchel out of her saddlebag so she would be ready to assist Sir Caleb.

  Inko let his arrow fly. It struck the bowman's shoulder and the man collapsed out of sight.

  "Nice shot," Achan said.

  Sir Gavin arrived with Sir Caleb. "Help me, Achan."

  Achan and Sir Gavin lowered Sir Caleb into the snow behind a wide tree trunk. Vrell knelt beside him. "Where are you hurt, Sir Caleb?"

  Sir Caleb groaned. "I'm fine, just sore."

  "And the arrow?"

  "Nicked my shin. I'll live."

  Vrell examined Sir Caleb's wound. A small tear on his pant leg revealed the scrape beneath. It could wait.

  "What of these gatemen?" Sir Caleb asked. "Why attack after a declaration of peace?"

  "Maybe they thought you were lying since you tried to scale the wall," Achan said.

  "But why not answer in the first place? Why hide?"

  "We cannot continue without aid." Sir Gavin tugged on his beard. "We had enough supplies to make it to Tsaftown, but this detour will leave us lacking."

  "We can hunt and melt snow," Sir Caleb said. "We can make it."

  "That's wide of the point. Lord Gershom should be an ally. Refusing us is to side against us." Sir Gavin picked up his shield. "Stay here. I'll make one more attempt at diplomacy."

  Inko and Achan helped Sir Caleb stand.

  Sir Gavin walked toward the gatehouse, holding the shield out to protect himself. "Lo! I'm Sir Gavin Lukos, Kingsguard commander to the Crown Prince. We stand outside your gates in peace with a message from the prince for your lord. Will you grant us entry?"

  Sir Gavin's voice echoed in the silence. Then a series of arrows bit into the snow around him. At least three plunked into his shield.

  Sir Gavin backpedaled, mumbling to himself. He reached the safety of the trees, slid onto his backside, and pulled the arrows from his shield one by one.

  "What will we do now, Sir Gavin?" Achan asked. "Shall we go on to Tsaftown?"

  "No, Achan. I'm going to seek out a mind inside. One I can get a message to who might report to Lord Gershom. I don't doubt the old man told his guards to turn away all visitors, but I also know that man, if in his right mind, would answer to a call from the prince." Sir Gavin closed his eyes.

  Achan turned his concerned expression to Vrell. His voice barged into her mind. Some welcome for the prince, huh? Not nearly as nice as Berland, but at least you don't have to fly.

  Must you always jest when the situation is dire?

  Jesting is better than worrying. At least I don't give myself a stomachache and a sour expression on a daily basis.

  Sir Gavin's eyes opened. He handed the arrows to Inko. "We'll wait here a moment longer."

  "You were successful?" Achan asked.

  "Aye. I found someone I know."

  Vrell swelled with joy. "Really? Who?"

  Sir Gavin shot Sir Caleb a knowing look. "An old friend."

  A man's voice called out, "Sir Gavin?"

  Sir Gavin stood but remained behind the shield. "Aye?"

  "Stand by for the gates to open," the man said. "I'll meet you below."

  That was all? "What assurances do they give that they will not attack us once we enter? Why should we trust them now?"

  "It was a misunderstanding, Vrell. Do not fear."

  Easy for Sir Gavin to say. If he would share who he spoke with, it might ease Vrell's apprehension.

  Blessed Achan asked that very question. "Who was that?"

  Sir Gavin slid his shield strap over his arm and grabbed his horse's reins. "Carmack is a young man from Tsaftown. I should like to know why he's here."

  The name Carmack was familiar, though Vrell could not recall why.

  Wood cracked as if a branch had been ripped from a tree. The right gatehouse door drew in, leaving a drift of snow between them and the bailey. Vrell took up her horse's reins and followed the men. By the time they reached the gate, three soldiers were shoveling the snow where it had caved in on the doorway. Sir Caleb went to retrieve his boarding hook.

  Once the path was clear, Sir Gavin led the way, followed by Sir Caleb, Achan, and Inko. Vrell entered last. Snow covered the ground inside the bailey. Deep trenches crisscrossed one another like a spider's web, leading from dozens of wooden dwellings on the left of the keep to the larger outbuildings on the right.

  The keep stood in the center, a dark shadow dotted with golden light gleaming from within through arrow loops and cracks in shutters. Windows also lit up each tiny wooden cottage. The scene reminded Vrell of a winter night in Carmine. A man's hearty voice drew Vrell's attention away from her surroundings. She'd heard that voice before.

  "As I breathe, it's the Whitewolf himself. What brings you to Meribah Corner?"

  A bear of a man approached the gate. He stood a hand taller than Achan and twice as wide. He wore a s
hort bushy beard covered in a layer of frost, making it impossible for Vrell to guess his age. Vrell's mind spun trying to remember where she had heard his voice.

  Sir Gavin greeted the man in a brief, fierce hug. "Carmack, 'tis good to see you. I feared your guardsmen might leave us to freeze if they didn't slay us first."

  "Not my guardsmen, I'm afraid. But I do apologize. Lord Gershom is not himself. We've not had visitors since...well, not since I arrived."

  "And why are you here, my boy, if not a guardsman? Did Lord Livna send you away?"

  "Aye, in a sense. All will be explained soon enough. Let's get your horses to the stables and you all inside to thaw your beards. I wish we had the manpower to put your animals up ourselves, but...well, we're doing what we can to keep Meribah Corner on its feet."

  The men took off toward the stables at a brisk pace. Vrell didn't blame them. The idea of sitting by a warm fireplace quickened her step as well.

  The stables were thick with the familiar smell of hay and dung. Vrell led her horse in only to pass Achan, Sir Gavin, and Carmack coming out.

  Vrell hurried inside to see Sir Caleb taking the saddle off Achan's mount.

  "Help us with the horses, won't you, Vrell?" Sir Caleb asked. "We'll let Gavin and the prince get warm."

  Vrell swallowed, ignoring the ache in her chest, and unbuckled her saddle. The Crown Prince should be taken in to get warm. Vrell traveled as his squire--his servant--nothing more. Putting up the horses was a squire's duty. Still, that Sir Gavin left her behind when he knew--

  No. She chose this. No one had forced her to keep her identity a secret. She lifted a brush from the wall and worked it over her horse's back. It wouldn't be long until they reached Carmine. Then she could be pampered again. She just needed to keep reminding herself to stick to her plan.

  24

  Achan followed Carmack and Sir Gavin along narrow trenches cut through waist-high snow. His toes were numb, though walking warmed him some. He couldn't wait to take his boots off by a fire. And sleep in a bed, a real mattress, not the icy ground or a trembling tree.

  Carmack opened a door on the side of the keep. They filed into a narrow, stone corridor, lit by a lone torch. The chill lessened despite the thick layer of frost that coated the outer wall. Carmack passed the torch that had burned to a stub. The flame danced about, seeming to reach out and grab at Achan.

  Carmack stopped at a door just past the torch. His brown eyes met Achan's and he bowed without breaking eye contact. "You may wait in here, Your Majesty." He pulled open the door and it scraped over the stone floor.

  Achan entered into the back of a warm solar through the servant's door. Iron sconces hung on timber plank walls. They held fat white candles that gave off the faint scent of jasmine and left the room smelling like a woman was nearby. Achan smiled at the thought.

  He stood behind a round table. Across the room, a large pair of antlers was mounted above a simple stone fireplace that glowed with warmth. A sofa with a high, carved back faced the hearth, flanked by two matching chairs with brown cushions. There were no elaborate tapestries, no silver trays with grapes and tarts, no marble pillars or busts.

  Achan liked this room a great deal.

  Carmack closed the door before Sir Gavin could enter. Achan reached for the door handle. Sir Gavin!

  All is well, lad. Warm yourself. I shall join you shortly.

  Achan pulled off his mittens, shrugged off his cape, and set them on the tabletop. His fingers were pink. The crackling fire drew him around the sofa. He knelt beside a wrought iron poker stand and held out his hands.

  "You intend to warm yourself by my fire without an introduction?"

  Achan jumped up and whirled around, knocking the poker stand to the hearth with a terrible clank. A woman in a red gown sat in the center of the high-backed sofa, looking small, almost royal, as if sitting on a throne. Achan paused in shock at her familiar white-blond curls and blue eyes.

  Lady Tara? He lunged forward to greet her, then remembered the poker stand. He spun around and righted it, mind fogged. He hadn't expected to see Lady Tara until Tsaftown.

  He popped back to his feet only to snag his scabbard on the poker stand. It clattered to the stone hearth again, rattling Achan's nerves. He blew out a frustrated breath and righted it, stepping away more carefully this time.

  "Lady Tara." He bowed, clueless what to say. "Wh-What...uh, what brings you to Meribah Corner?"

  A slow smile spread across her face and she scooted to the edge of her seat. "Why, Master Cham. Meribah Corner is my home now, and I welcome you to it. Though I would ask the same of you. Why are you here?"

  Her home? What about Tsaftown? Young nobles often lived in the household of a relative or friend to learn a trade--or perhaps Lord Gershom had taken her as a ward to earn a fief from her father. Achan's stomach twisted. His stay here might be his only opportunity to ask for her hand. How did a man ask such a thing of a woman he barely knew? And should he do it now, before Sir Gavin returned with the others and reminded him her rank wasn't high enough?

  Lady Tara stood. Her gaze darted to the door he'd entered through, then to a larger door to the right of the table. "Do you travel with your prince, Master Cham? We had not received word that His Highness was coming or, I assure you, we would have prepared for his arrival. I hope he will not be too put out."

  She didn't know of Lord Nathak's deceit? How could he explain such a thing? "No, my lady. I'm afraid...it turned out that...well..." Achan swallowed. "Haven't you heard?"

  She laughed softly. "Only that your tongue is somewhat knotted, good sir. How can I ease your mind?"

  Before Achan could answer, the servant's door opened. Carmack and Sir Gavin entered.

  Sir Gavin strode before the sofa and bowed. "My lady. Thank you for permitting us to enter. We're in your debt."

  Lady Tara curtsied. "As if Meribah Corner would refuse the Crown Prince. Please, think nothing of it, Sir Gavin. Lord Gershom is not himself of late. I pray you forgive his orders. Had he understood who sought entry... Well, I am glad you were able to message Carmack." She gestured to the chair on her left. "Please, Sir Gavin, won't you sit? Master Demry, could you inform Ghee we will have our dinner in the great hall?"

  Carmack bowed. "Of course, my lady." He exited through the large door. Before it closed, Achan could see a vast great hall beyond.

  "Master Cham?"

  Achan met Lady Tara's tired eyes. They did not sparkle as they had when he first met her. With slouched posture and pale skin, Darkness clearly did not agree with her. "I'm sorry? Did you say something, my lady?"

  "Won't you sit as well?" She motioned to the chair across from Sir Gavin.

  "Yes, of course." Achan claimed the chair. He set his hands on his lap, shifted them to his sides, then back to his lap. What was the proper thing to do with one's hands? They trembled slightly. He squeezed them into fists and jerked his head up at the sound of his name.

  Lady Tara stared, forehead wrinkled. "Did you hear me, Master Cham?"

  "I'm sorry, my lady." He forced a smile. "I'm afraid my mind is preoccupied."

  Her sculpted eyebrows sank. "Of course, you are concerned for your prince. Forgive me. He is welcome to this room, but we have an elegant receiving room opposite the great hall he would likely prefer. My staff is preparing it as we speak. He could relax there until dinner is served."

  Achan leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. "My lady, Prince Gidon is not with us. He..."

  Pig snout. How did one explain such a mess? His face flushed and he hoped she couldn't see his discomfort.

  Sir Gavin raised an eyebrow at Achan. Allow me.

  Thank you. Achan studied a knot on the floorboards between his boots. How might Lady Tara respond?

  "Lord Nathak has deceived us all, my lady. Prince Gidon, as you knew him, is and always has been false. He's Lord Nathak's son. Shortly after King Axel and his queen were killed, Lord Nathak found the real Gidon Hadar. Before giving the prince to the Council, h
e switched the boy with his own."

  Achan peeked up. Lady Tara brought her fingers to her gaping mouth.

  "Aye, he hid the true Crown Prince all these years in the kitchens of Sitna Manor. Lost to all. But Arman exposed the treason. The man you see before you is the real Gidon Hadar, the rightful heir to the throne of Er'Rets."

  Lady Tara's wide eyes brimmed with tears, then drooped, as did her hands. She gripped the edge of the sofa, slid off and onto her knees, head bowed.

  Achan jumped up and grasped her elbow, pulling her back to her feet. "Please, my lady. Kneeling is not necessary. I've not yet been crowned. In fact, the Council voted Esek king, so until we challenge..." He helped Lady Tara sit on the sofa. The scent of jasmine flooded his senses. As he reclaimed his chair, his eyes darted to the candles he thought had held the scent.

  Lady Tara's forehead wrinkled. "Who is Esek?"

  "Nathak's son," Sir Gavin said. "The one we'd always thought was Gidon. The Council wasn't willing to give up control, you see. Since Esek has always been their puppet, they voted in his favor, four to three."

  "So Master Cham is not king?"

  "Not by the Council's ruling, no. But he's Arman's anointed despite what any man claims. Berland, Nesos, and Armonguard stand with us. We head for Tsaftown to gain your father's support, then on to Carmine to assemble an army."

  "We are at war, then?"

  "Aye, my lady, on the brink."

  She turned to Achan, face pale. "Prince Oren supports you?"

  Achan nodded and held up his hand bearing the signet ring.

  "Do you have the kings' gift, then?"

  Again Achan nodded. He sensed her overwhelming shock and reached out for her thoughts.

  It is almost too much. That Gidon is false and this sweet creature... He's so young. Can he do what's necessary? To overthrow Darkness? If he has the king's gift... "Prince Gidon--I mean, Lord Nathak's son did not have the gift, you know. But my father said the prince had it as a...child." Lady Tara stared at Achan, sapphire eyes glazing. "What an answer to the prayers of your people, for we feared Arman had forsaken us with an evil king. I know you are a man worthy of such a calling."