From Darkness Won (61 page)

Bran walked back and pulled Gren and Noam out from the middle. He also took Averella from her place at the end. “I want you three towards the front.”

“Thank you,” Averella said.

“Yes, well thought out, Master Rennan,” Sir Rigil said. “Jax and I will bring up the rear.”

Gren clutched Bran’s arm. “I’m so frightened, Bran. Do you think we’ll meet any Ebens?”

“Shh. We’ll talk later.” Bran patted her hand, then glanced up and met Averella’s gaze. “Averella, stay here, right behind Sir Eagan. Gren, you stay behind Lady Averella. Noam, stay behind Gren. Jax, Sir Rigil, and I will be at the end of the line to watch for Ebens and stragglers.”

Averella ducked under the rope and gripped it with her left hand. Gren did the same.

Bran squeezed Averella’s shoulder. “Do not let go of this rope, Vrella, please.” His eyes burned into hers.

She blinked, hoping to break the intensity of his stare. “I will not. I promise.”

The corner of his mouth twisted, as if her promises meant little, but he released her shoulder. He nodded to Gren, then took his place at the end of the line.

“He doesn’t seem too happy to see
me,
” Gren whispered.

“There is much on his mind at present.” Averella smiled, hoping to cheer Gren, but feeling guilty knowing what Bran had shared with her last night.
Arman, please help me. Everything is so complicated. I know not how to set it right.

“Ready to go?” Sir Eagan asked.

She nodded, again comparing his features to hers. They had the same mouth, it seemed. And cheeks. And hair. She frowned.
Why not give me Mother’s hair, Arman?

Peripaso tugged the line, drawing Averella’s gaze his way. He whispered, “Hold tight now, Lady Vrell.” He made his way to the mouth of the cave.

She doubted they could outrun anything traveling in this manner.

Once outside the cave, Peripaso took a sharp right and walked into the darkness. How he knew where he was going, Averella would never know. She stumbled along, clutching the rope as if it were the only thing keeping her from plummeting to her death.

“There’s a slope here,” Sir Eagan said. “Pass it back.”

“Pass it where?”

“Tell the person behind you.”

Averella’s next step landed before she expected it to. The ground was sloping upward. Oh. She stopped and turned her head. “We are starting up a hill. Tell the person behind you.”

“Keep moving, though, Averella,” Sir Eagan said.

She faced forward and took a tentative step up the dark slope. The tread of footsteps over rock muted the whispers of the message she had passed down the line. Clicking rang out all around, like someone shaking walnuts on a string. A gowzal screeched in the distance. It still sent a chill through her that made her gowzal bites throb.

Averella had no choice but to stumble along through the darkness. There was no way to monitor time, no sun or stars or moon to look to for guidance. All she could do was hold tight to the rope and trust that Peripaso knew what he was doing.

They walked over rock for hours—indeed, for what seemed like a full day—until the sound of their footsteps changed, suddenly echoing around them. Had they entered a cave?

Peripaso stopped. Metal scraped against metal, loud and hollow. A spark bloomed a few feet before her and struggled into a powerful flame. Peripaso lifted a torch high.

They stood in a shallow cave of golden rock. Just behind Peripaso, a dark hole pierced the rock. Averella knew from her experience with Peripaso that they would be going inside that hole.

“Come close, ever’one.” Peripaso waved them forward. “Don’t let go of the rope, jest crowd ’round. Like I said ’fore, the tunnel’s a steep climb. If the person in front of you struggles, best way to help is to make a step out of your hand and give a boost. And stay calm. Panickin’ will cause trouble for ever’one. That clear?”

Sir Rigil responded with a “Yes,” though the rest merely nodded.

“Now, I can’t climb with a flame, so I have to put the torch out. Tunnel’s pretty jagged on top, so watch your head. There’ll be plenty of hand and footholds.”

The freckles on Gren’s face looked golden in the torchlight. “How far up is it?”

“Never thought to measure. It’ll take a good two days to get to the top.”

“Two days of climbing!” Gren said. “What will we eat?”

“I brought enough for ever’one. It’s no feast, but it’ll do.”

“What about water?” Bran asked.

“There’s plenty of water in the tunnels. Won’t go thirsty.

Now, it’ll be blazin’ today up in there as we near the hot springs, but don’t go tossin’ off layers of clothes. You’ll need ’em when it gets cold.”

“How will it get cold if there are hot springs?” Averella asked.

“The hot springs are under Nahar. Once we pass into Cela Duchy, we’ll be so far up the mountain, you’ll be shiverin’.”

With that, Peripaso put out the torch, and the rope tugged Averella forward again.

29

Achan sat at the table in his tent. It was long past dinner. The sun had set, giving him the eerie feeling of being in Darkness again. Cole sat across from him, squirming like a man who’d just removed two dozen leeches. Shung and Manu stood inside the door.

“There’s much to learn in becoming a squire,” Achan said. “You’ll be taught to read and write. You’ll learn the history, customs, and etiquette for each city of Er’Rets. You must memorize wisdom from the Book of Life and try to please Arman in all things. Do you think you can do all this?”

Cole shook the hair out of his eyes. “Sure seems a lot, Your Highness. But I’ll try.”

Achan folded his arms. “I’m most concerned at present with your learning to use a sword, at least to some degree.”

Cole’s eyes popped wide. “You think I’m strong enough?”

“Of course, lad! Fine spirit like yours. And practice will make you stronger.”

Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb entered the tent. Achan had barely begun with Cole, but Sir Gavin came to Achan’s tent these days only when he had important news.

“Manu, would you take Cole to Captain Demry and see that he is given a sword and shield?” Achan asked. “Come back when you’ve got it, Cole, and we’ll continue.”

Manu bowed and held the drape aside. Cole jumped up and scurried out of the tent. Cortland followed.

Then Cole poked his head back past the drape on the door. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll be back later.”

Achan smiled. “You are welcome, Cole.”

Cole vanished.

Sir Gavin chuckled. “He’s an eager one to learn.”

“More eager to flee your presence, I’d guess,” Achan said. “You’re always frightening the children, Sir Gavin.”

“It’s the eyes, no doubt,” Sir Gavin said, groaning as he fell into the chair Cole had abandoned. “Though I’m sure you’re not eager to discuss my attractiveness or lack thereof.” Sir Gavin pulled out the chair beside his with a glance at Sir Caleb and a nod of his head. Sir Caleb sat as well.

“I’ve spoken with Sir Eagan and Sir Jax,” Sir Gavin said. “They’re together. Currently traveling south through Darkness with Sir Rigil and Bran and a few others they’ve gathered along the way. They’re headed for Noiz now. Since they’re all on foot, it’ll take them some time to reach Armonguard.”

“All are well?”

“Aye, all are well.”

It pleased Achan to know this. For these were all good men, and he did not want to lose any of them, though he would
h
ave liked to have fought beside them in whatever battles were coming.

Achan’s mornings continued to run with a consistent ceremony. Once Matthias was satisfied with a tale of one of Achan’s scars, the boy would go fetch them breakfast. Achan wondered what would happen if he ever ran out of new scars to talk about. For better or worse, though, that was not likely to happen for a long time yet.

Then Achan would dress himself in whatever clothing Matthias had laid out, an arrangement Achan liked better than having a child dress him. Matthias would return with breakfast. And, at some time while Achan was eating, Toros Ianjo would come with spiritual counsel.

Today was no different. Toros entered Achan’s tent just as he finished off his bread.

“Good day, Your Highness. I trust you slept well?”

“I did. Knowing my friends are alive and well gives me great comfort.”

“Ah, well. Comfort comes easiest when our soul is content. Alas, our soul is rarely content for long.” Toros pulled out the chair across from Achan and sat down.

“Why is that?” Achan asked. “Why does nothing in Er’Rets bring complete satisfaction?”

“Perhaps it is a gift from Arman.”

Achan met Toros’s gaze, drawn in by the dark brown depths of the priest’s eyes. “What do you mean? Why would that be a gift?”

The warrior-priest swept his hand around in the air. “Would you really want this broken, hurtful land to be the fulfillment of your every wish? Doesn’t it please you to know that something far superior awaits you?”

“Shamayim?”

“You will never want for anything once you are in Arman’s presence.”

Achan chuckled. “That’s the truth. When Arman speaks, I barely remember my name. Though he no longer speaks to me as much as he once did. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Do you speak to him?”

“Well, yes. To pray.”

“For what?”

Achan paused while Matthias took his trencher away. “You want to know my prayers?”

Toros urged Achan with a nod.

“Very well. I pray for help. For the war. For guidance.” For Sparrow to remember him, and to love him. To be safe.

“You pray for you.” Toros cocked his head. “Arman does long to hear your prayers, but He also deserves your praise and worship. Your allegiance.”

“I know. Why is it so difficult to remember that?”

“We are selfish creatures, even those of us who know Arman. We’re also creatures of habit. But we can be retrained. I suggest you try to form new habits.”

Toros’s visits never had the same effect on him. Some days, Toros would leave Achan feeling like Arman’s best friend. And some days, like today, Achan felt as though he fell short of Arman’s expectations.

Sir Caleb strode into Achan’s tent, cheeks flushed. “Your Highness. Sir Gavin just got word from Sundergow. Armonguard is taken! Esek’s black knights attacked the fortress at dawn. The road south is blocked by black knights. And the remaining enemy troops from Mahanaim followed us from the north. We are trapped.”

Trapped. Achan pushed back from the table. “How is this possible? Prince Oren had his own army
and
the Mârad. And who is Sundergow?”

“Prince Oren’s advisor.”

“Did he speak of Prince Oren’s state?”

“Stormed.”

“Stormed!” Achan jumped up and circled the table. Toros stood as well. “That can’t be. He was struck with the green fire. The same fire that took the top of my ear. How can he be stormed?”