To Darkness Fled--Kindle

by Williamson, Jill

  "Thirteen years in prison and your work in progress has progressed little," Sir Eagan said.

  A barmaid stopped at the table and set two plates of a dark berry pie in front of Achan and Kurtz. She had long brown hair tied back in a long plait and a kind face. "There you are, boys."

  "Thank you, Darri."

  Vrell pursed her lips. Kurtz would already be on a first-name basis with the barmaid. Thankfully, the woman was old enough to be Achan's mother. Round in all the right places for Kurtz' attention, she wore a sleeveless corset top and a long red skirt.

  Darri cast her brown eyes from Vrell to Sir Eagan. "And what can I get fer you two?"

  Sir Eagan smiled. "Nothing, th--"

  "Another round, eh?" Kurtz pushed the jug to the edge of the table.

  "Will do. And I found some willing partners for you and your young lad, here." Darri raised her eyebrows at Achan, a coy smile curling her lips. "They'll be right out."

  "Heh hay!" Kurtz sipped his mead. "Now the fun begins, eh?"

  "Achan, please come back to the room where you will be safe," Vrell said.

  Kurtz sighed. "I say we ditch the minnow, Pacey. He's already poor company, eh?"

  Achan shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth and licked his fingers. He pushed the plate toward her with his other hand. "Want some?"

  "I do not."

  Darri approached the table again. In one hand she held a pitcher frothing over with amber liquid, in the other, two empty mugs. She plunked a mug before Sir Eagan and Vrell, filled them with mead, re-filled Kurtz's mug, and set the pitcher down in the center of the table.

  A small consolation, Achan was so preoccupied with the pie, he hadn't seemed to have touched his mug.

  Two women flanked Darri and she introduced them. "This here is my sister, Meldeen, and her daughter Beska."

  Vrell's insides coiled. Meldeen was Darri's age, but Beska, a tall, slender woman with long, dirty blond hair, appeared to be in her early twenties. They were both dressed in corset-laced white tops and red sweeping skirts like Darri's.

  "What's it yer wantin'?" Meldeen asked, a suspicious gleam in her eyes.

  "Only a dance or two, lassie." Kurtz grabbed the scruff of Achan's neck. "Pacey here turned sixteen. Needs to learn to move his feet, eh?"

  "And a handsome one he is," Meldeen said. "Best wishes to yeh on yer comin'-of-age, Master Pacey. May Thalassa bless yeh and bring yeh endless joy."

  Achan grinned. "Thank you, ma'am."

  Sir Kurtz stood and stepped past Sir Eagan's chair.

  "Wait," Achan said, shoving the last bite of pie in his mouth and he stood and inched past Vrell's chair.

  "Thirteen years," Kurtz whispered. "Pick up the pace, eh? I need to dance, I do."

  Vrell disapproved of this. "Are you not married, ma'am?"

  Meldeen scowled down on Vrell. "What's that yer business?"

  Vrell glanced at Beska in accusation.

  "Don't yeh worry, lad," Meldeen said. "We won't taint yer pa 'n' brother. An' if yer sweet, Beska might dance with yeh, too."

  Vrell's cheeks blazed. As if she wanted to dance with...

  Kurtz barreled between Meldeen and Beska, grabbed both their hands, and tugged them to the dance floor.

  Achan chuckled and kicked Vrell's boot. "You're sure you don't want to come?"

  "What good could come of this, Ach--" She pursed her lips, not wanting to speak Achan's name aloud. She whispered, "Do you serve Arman or your flesh?"

  Achan blinked, his smile fading. "It's just a dance, Sparrow. Have you never wanted to be just one of the men?" He placed his hands on the table and leaned down to speak in her ear. "I'm not a fool. My life is changing before I've had much chance to live it. I only want to relax for a few hours. Be nobody. Won't you come dance with us?"

  Vrell shook her head. "Thank you, but I shall watch from here with Sir Eagan. Someone must act as your conscience if things go sour."

  Achan's cheeks darkened. "I don't need a nursemaid."

  "You do not need a barmaid, either," Vrell said.

  "Fine." Achan shrugged. "Miss all the fun if you like." He strode to where Sir Kurtz and the women were dancing.

  Sir Eagan wrinkled his nose. "That went well."

  Vrell glared at Sir Eagan. "You had little to say."

  "We shall give them their dance, then end it."

  Vrell folded her arms and glowered at the dancing mob. Kurtz and Meldeen held hands and skipped from side to side, a harmless enough dance, though they plowed through others without bothering to apologize or tame their steps.

  Beska and Achan, however...that woman led with brazen confidence. She held his hands above her head and twirled before him, drew closer and stomped her feet to the beat. Achan's cheeks reddened three times during the first song alone. That and his novice dance skills made him even more charming. Vrell sighed. If given the chance, he would dazzle every eligible noblewoman in Er'Rets.

  To her dismay, the song slowed. Beska wrapped her arms around Achan's neck and pressed against him in ways no noblewoman would deem proper.

  She caught Sir Eagan's stare from across the table. Why did he watch her instead of Achan and Kurtz? Did he find her familiar too? How? He had been on Ice Island since Vrell was four. She wanted to ask Mother about him. After all, it was due to their thwarted love that Mother had agreed to consider allowing Vrell and Bran to marry despite his lesser noble status.

  But Vrell did not understand Sir Caleb's comments about Mother wanting Sir Eagan freed. Did Mother plan to rekindle her old relationship? That should not bother Vrell.

  But the color of Sir Eagan's hair did. Black as a raven. A plain, common color to be sure, but her mother's hair was auburn and her sisters were all blonde like her father. He used to tease that Vrell was a child of the gods. The direful facts of Mother and Sir Eagan's past, and Mother's forced marriage to Duke Amal, haunted her.

  But such a thing could not be true! Mother had always been incorruptibly dutiful.

  Yet Vrell had assumed the same about Achan, and there he stood cavorting with a woman who could very well be a strumpet. She glanced back across the room. Beska slid her hand up the back of Achan's neck and kissed him.

  Vrell stood up so fast her chair fell back. "Do you see this, Sir Eagan? Why does the band play only slow songs? If I give them a coin, might they pick up the tempo? Do you have any?"

  Sir Eagan's mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "I have no money. Do not fret, Vrell. One kiss will not shatter his virtue."

  Vrell pursed her lips and took a deep, Sir Gavin-like breath through her nose. "Sir Caleb might disagree."

  Sir Eagan chuckled. "No doubt he would."

  Vrell righted her chair and fell into it, glaring at Achan, who now, to her delight, held Beska at arm's length.

  Oh, much better.

  I'm doing my best, Sparrow. Why don't you come try?

  Achan's voice in her mind made her jump. She frightens me.

  Achan twirled Beska under his arm. Did you see her kiss me?

  Vrell rolled her eyes. How could I have missed it? She is probably after your coin purse. She has been feeling for it since she met you.

  Achan laughed in his head. Well, I haven't got a coin purse, so it's her loss and my gain.

  Taking advantage of a woman is never a gain to her, even if she is too dim or drunk to see it.

  I didn't take advantage, and Beska isn't drunk.

  The song ended. Achan bowed his head to Beska and thanked her for the dance, earning a look of surprise. Apparently the girl was not used to being treated kindly. Achan returned to the table and took a long drink from his mug.

  He wrinkled his nose. "An odd concoction. Bitter and sweet at the same time." He set the mug down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest like a sullen child. "Sparrow, I can't read you. Sometimes you're more naive than a babe, other times, you're an old man passing out proverbs of wisdom. Why must you spoil my fun? These knights are going to marry me to a stranger. It's
refreshing to be looked at as a man with no crown. Beska kissed me for me, not for my title."

  "A great sacrifice, I am certain."

  "What do you think, Sir Eagan?" Achan asked.

  "That you dance well, Your Highness, but I do not think such behavior noble."

  "Esek would," Vrell said.

  This earned her a nasty glare from Achan, and she instantly regretted her words. She wanted Achan back upstairs where he belonged, but she did not want him cross with her.

  But then Achan sighed. "Aye. You've nailed it, Sparrow. I don't want to be Esek. Not even a bit. Ever." He stood and pushed in his chair. "Think we can tear Sir Kurtz away?"

  Sir Eagan smiled at Vrell. "Well, there are three of us and one of him. I think we stand an excellent chance."

  * * *

  Vrell woke and found Sir Gavin in good spirits, though pained and limping terribly. No one seemed aware of Achan and Kurtz's late-night visit to the tavern.

  Sir Gavin insisted on going to Lord Livna himself. He rebraided his beard, tied off the end with a bit of twine, then he and Sir Caleb left while the rest of the men slept.

  A short while later, a serving woman knocked on the door. She hung a pot of porridge over the fireplace in exchange for the dirty stew pot.

  The men got up and ate. Vrell told them Sir Gavin wanted them packed and ready when he returned. It did not take long.

  Kurtz tried to sneak out to the tavern again, which prompted an argument between him and Inko as to why he could not.

  "But, Inko. The number five is favored over the number six." Kurtz's determined brow looked sincere, but Vrell knew better. "If I go out, the prince will be safer."

  Inko's dark eyes shifted. Was he actually pondering this nonsense?

  Kurtz inched toward the door. "Not letting me go could curse us all, eh?"

  Achan's lips pursed as if trying to hold in his laughter.

  "Do not think I'll be falling for your mocking me." Inko pulled a chair from the table and set it in front of the door. He sat down and quirked an eyebrow at Kurtz.

  "Bah!" Kurtz fell onto his bed. "I always said this bunch were duller than a blind dowager, Highness. I urge you to appoint yourself a Kingsguard with a bit more spirit, eh?"

  Achan laughed. "I didn't know I'd get to appoint anyone."

  Kurtz didn't answer. He stared into space, a look of awe relaxing his scowl.

  "As king, you will be needing to be appointing your staff eventually," Inko said.

  "I'll be stormed!" Kurtz bounded from the bed. "It's back!"

  "What?" Vrell asked.

  "Elk bloodvoiced me. It's been so long, I forgot to even try, I did. The aleh must have worn off, eh?"

  "You must be bloodvoicing the prince next," Inko said. "I am betting you will be surprised at his strength."

  The men practiced bloodvoicing. Vrell, content to watch and not wanting to weaken herself before the ride to Lytton hall, did not participate.

  When Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb returned, Sir Caleb said, "We will leave right away. Lord Livna has agreed to host us."

  "We are ready," Vrell said. "I would like to check Sir Gavin's leg first."

  Sir Gavin fell into a chair at the table, groaned, and brushed the frost off his beard. "You can check it later. Lytton Hall is but a short ride."

  Vrell scowled but had no intention of arguing with Sir Gavin.

  Achan held out his sword to Sir Eagan. "I return your sword with gratitude. It has served me well."

  Sir Eagan blanched. "Oh, no, Your Highness. I do not have the strength to wield it. Please, use it well."

  "But it's yours."

  "And what of Owr?"

  Achan frowned. "Esek has it."

  Sir Eagan reached over his shoulder to scratch his back. "Then you must use Rhomphaia until you get Owr back."

  Achan nodded. "Thank you." He strapped the jeweled belt around his waist. He seemed to stand taller whenever he wore it. "I had forgotten Owr should be mine."

  "Oh, yes," Sir Eagan said. "Owr belongs to the anointed king of Er'Rets." He nudged Achan, approached the table where Sir Gavin sat, and winked at Vrell. "Gavin, you gave the prince my sword?"

  Sir Gavin's mustache twitched, curling down at the ends. "You weren't using it."

  "Because I was rotting away in an icy prison. What was wrong with your sword?"

  "Nothing." Sir Gavin patted the weapon on his belt. "Which is why I didn't see reason to give it away."

  "And you told him the sword was called Eagan's Elk?"

  Sir Gavin shrugged. "He asked its name and I couldn't remember. I figured, if all went well, at least your name might be honored, defeating many in the hands of the king."

  Sir Eagan cocked one eyebrow at Achan. "That good with a sword, is he?"

  Achan shook his head. "No, sir. I'm not."

  "But he is," Vrell said. "He killed a dozen Poroo protecting Esek."

  Achan groaned. "Sparrow, I told you, Poroo are hardly swordsmen."

  "That's like killing a dozen women, eh?" Kurtz yelled from the other room.

  Vrell scowled. She could hear Kurtz cackling in the other room. As if women were incapable of protecting themselves. Well...most were quite helpless, actually. But not her.

  Sir Eagan sobered. "That I might be known for having killed a dozen female Poroo..." He bowed deeply to Achan. "You do me great honor, Your Majesty." He bowed to Sir Gavin. "And you, Gavin. Now that I have been given a second chance at life, I shall try to live up to my heroic reputation."

  How could Sir Eagan dare mock Achan's bravery? But she glanced at Achan and found him shaking with silent laughter.

  Part 4

  Traitors

  30

  Lord Livna, a sturdy, red-faced man with white hair and a trim beard, met Achan and his party at the entrance to Lytton Hall and threw an arm around Achan's shoulders.

  "You're welcome here, my boy. Very welcome. Glorious news to hear that arrogant vulgarian is not our king. And what a stir out at Ice Island! Never been such an escape in the history of the prison. Over a dozen have come looking to join your cause. Aw, but you must be tired. I declare we shall have the finest celebration tonight. The finest. Keep in mind, now, I've got three nieces who'd each make a handsome queen. Quite so. I'm sure these old schemers have advised you to choose a lady of greater title. You just keep your eyes open and see if one of my nieces doesn't steal your heart, you hear?"

  Achan opened his mouth to respond, but Lord Livna said, "Wish I could have offered you Tara, but she recently wed Lord Gershom."

  Mention of Lady Tara rekindled Achan's frustration. "I had the pleasure of meeting Lord Gershom this past week."

  Lord Livna's blue eyes peered into Achan's, concerned, fearful. "Was she well, do you think?"

  Achan grit his teeth. He wanted to say, "As well as a young lady wed to a grandsire could be," but held his tongue. If the man had doubts over his daughter's marriage, he should have entertained them before the ceremony, not after.

  Sir Caleb rescued him. "She was very well, my lord. And Master Demry was there, making sure she remains safe."

  Lord Livna nodded. "So far out and with her husband's age, I felt better knowing a fighting man was looking after her." His eyes went wide, focused over Achan's shoulder. "Well, quiver my timbers, Eagan? Is that you, my boy?"

  "It is, my lord."

  Lord Livna greeted Sir Eagan with a hearty embrace. "Eric still claims you swindled him of Rhomphaia. Where is it now?"

  Sir Eagan gestured to Achan. "The prince wears it until he can reclaim Owr."

  "Aw," Lord Livna beamed, "a more worthy owner I could not supply. Come, let me show you to your room."

  Lytton Hall looked to be the dwelling of a champion hunter. The walls were built of logs and sea stone, with antlers and hides mounted on every wall. Much of the furniture had antler arms or legs. Lord Livna whisked them up a wooden staircase to the fourth floor and a short, wide hallway. Three narrow doors on the right and a set of double doors on the left.<
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  "This whole floor is yours. The double doors lead to the prince's room. He should have a hot bath waiting. You men can decide between you how to use these other rooms, and Eagan can show you to the steams."

  Kurtz grabbed Sparrow's chin. "What say you, Pacey? A shave for the minnow? We'll help him grow a beard yet."

  Achan grinned. "Perfect."

  Sparrow jerked his chin away. "I am not shaving."

  "But the first one helps the whiskers grow, eh?" Kurtz reached for Sparrow again, but he ducked behind Sir Gavin.

  "Leave Vrell be," Sir Gavin said. "He must check my leg. Lord Livna, might it be possible to have a tub brought to my room as well? I wouldn't ask, but my leg is injured."

  "Should you like, Gavin, I'll have one brought up."

  The men parted ways. Sir Caleb accompanied Achan into his chambers. The room had a simple oak bed covered in gold blankets and a hewn sideboard. A plank changing screen hid a hearth and a deep, wooden bathtub.

  Achan bathed, scrubbing the flea bites on his legs and arms until his skin stung. The scratchy sponge eased the itch.

  Sir Caleb had set out the outfit Lord Eli had made in Mirrorstone. Achan put on the blue tunic, black doublet, and black trousers, grumbling over the ridiculously long embroidered sleeves and the silver garters on the trousers.

  Though he loathed to admit it, he said, "I need help, Sir Caleb." He came out from behind the changing screen to find Sir Caleb asleep on the bed. Achan fiddled with the ties at the neck of the tunic and the garters, but couldn't manage to work Sir Caleb's magic, especially with such long sleeves in his way.

  The door to his room cracked open, revealing Inko's mole-covered face. He slipped inside and closed the door. "I am coming from having been watching the sparrow."

  Achan knotted his left garter. "Go on, then."

  "Sir Gavin was taking the boy into his bedchamber. They were being in there a moment then Sir Gavin was coming right back out and was standing."

  Achan looked up from his absurd garters. "Doing what?"

  "He was just standing like a guard." Inko withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. "Your Highness, you might be asking Lord Livna to be moving you to the third or fifth floors. Four is not the most favored num--"