To Darkness Fled (3 page)

He trudged on, each step a battle between the muck gripping his boots and the branches snagging his clothes, as if walking in a lightless void weren't awkward enough. Sparrow had better hold on, because he made no guarantee he could keep this up for long. Slowly, the water level dropped away. When it lapped around Achan's thighs, he set Sparrow on his feet.

Achan waded, rope tugging him along, body lurching through the sludge under his boots. Sound, smell, the cold...it all seemed to magnify without light. The water gurgled and splashed from the party's movement. But there were other sounds--a hiss, a rattle, a pecking--from overhead. The land smelled sour, like turned pudding.

"There's a cluster of trees here," Sir Gavin called from the front of the line. "Careful not to hurt yourselves."

The water sloshed around Achan's boots now. He held a hand out in front to feel for the trees. Pulled along by Sir Gavin's tether, Achan's hand smacked against slimy bark, and his body slid between several tree trunks, feet stumbling over the gnarled roots. He didn't want to know what made the trees slimy, especially considering the putrid smell.

Finally they stepped onto dry ground. Achan took his belt and sword off his neck and hooked it around his waist where it belonged. A chill snaked over him. His wet clothes clung to his body; his toes squished in his boots.

"I'm going to light a small torch," Sir Gavin sniffed in a strong breath, "just 'til we find a place to camp. I won't burn it long. Any light is a beacon to every living thing."

Achan bumped into Sir Caleb's back. Sparrow ran into his. Apparently they were stopping. Achan focused on the sounds of Sir Gavin digging through his pack but pecking distracted him. Could it be a woodpecker? Some kind of cricket?

A torch hissed into a green flame. Achan's eyes widened at the brightness. Spots flooded his vision until he blinked them away. In the green glow, Sir Gavin's wrinkled face resembled a dried pear. His hair and frizzy braided beard looked like freshly shorn wool that needed washing. And his eyes--one blue, one brown--shone like emerald and bronze. Achan scanned the charcoal surroundings. Spindly trees rose around them, a forest of gnarled branches that appeared burned, like the dead side of the memorial tree in Allowntown.

"How is it your torch is dry?" Sparrow asked.

"It's not," Sir Gavin said. "I've a few torchlights made from sulfur and lime. Bought them from a Jaelportian vendor at the market in Mahanaim. They burn even when doused in water. Different colors too." He pointed left. "In the forest will be best."

The knight moved away, and the rope pulled the group along single file. Achan followed Sir Caleb, eyes fixed on the allown tree painted on the shield draped over Sir Caleb's back.

Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb were the only two who carried shields. Achan's sword,
Eagan
's Elk, was long enough to be wielded two-handed, like the longsword Inko carried. Inko also had a bow. Sparrow had a dinky little arming sword. More like a long dagger.

An occasional black shadow scurried up the twisted trunks. What kind of creatures lived in such a place? Achan used to believe nothing could live here until, at the recent tournament, he'd met people who'd come from cities in Darkness.

A prickle on his torso reminded him of Sir Caleb's leeches. Heat flashed over him. He pressed his fingers to his side and felt a hard lump beneath his clothing. His limbs twitched. Heart stampeding, he released the rope and pulled up his jerkin and shirt. The rope slid past his thigh. Sparrow knocked into his back and yelped.

Achan scratched off the slug-like attachment and flung it away. Squirming, he drew his fingers across his stomach and found another hard lump.

Pig snout.

"What are you doing?" Sparrow asked.

"Leeches. There are leeches all over me." Achan plucked the second one off and found another on his chest. "Ahh!"

Sparrow cried out. Achan turned to find the boy patting his legs through his trousers. His eyes widened in the green light as they met Achan's chest.

"You see another?" Achan asked.

Sparrow pointed a shaking finger at Achan's armpit. Achan lifted his arm, but a hand on his back stopped him.

"Leave them for now, Achan," Sir Caleb said, his voice commanding. "Don't pull them off like a madman, lest they leave their teeth in you."

Achan froze, hands above his head, and took a deep breath. His clothing shifted, then dropped back into place. He swallowed and faced Sir Caleb. "Leave them?"

"They'll do no harm. We'll get them off when we stop, if any are still there."

Sir Gavin's moustache arched into a frown. "Just a few more moments, I promise you."

Achan nodded, still panicked at the idea of the creatures sucking his blood, even more alarmed that those he'd removed might have left their teeth in his skin.

"They do not leave teeth in you." Sparrow's shaky voice came soft behind him. "But if you pull them too fast, they tend to retch. It's the excess saliva under your skin that leaves a rash or swells--" Sparrow squealed and plowed into Achan's back again.

A creature fluttered past Achan's ear, brushing his hair with its wing. Achan ducked, pulse racing. A moth the size of a pigeon flapped wildly in the green glow.

"That is disgusting." Sparrow's voice cracked. "I hate this place. I hate it!"

Achan had to agree. He gripped the rope and straightened, keeping his eyes on the overgrown insect. The rope inched forward. So did Achan. They approached a grove of trees. The crooked branches above twisted together, forming a tunnel and forcing the moth to fly above the briary canopy.

Good riddance.

The trees grew thick and tangled, like a gnarled cage. Achan squinted at the smooth clay beneath his feet. They seemed to be on a game trail. As long as no one was hunting them now...

Sir Gavin ducked under low branches and crept on, tugging the rope along. Achan squeezed between slippery branches. His hair snagged on stiff twigs, ripping out wisps and leaving drips of slime running down his forehead. He wiped the gunk away with his free hand and found it sticky, like pitch.

Sir Gavin stopped suddenly and drove the torchlight into the ground. They were in a clearing the size of two small cottages. The ground was carpeted in soppy, grey moss. The tree branches were tight overhead, almost like a thatched roof.

Sir Gavin shrugged off his pack and shield, catching them before they hit the ground. "I sense humans to the west, which is in the direction of Mirrorstone. We must get there as soon as possible, but it's still a two-day journey on foot."

He propped his pack and shield in the branches of a tree on the perimeter. "We've only four bedrolls, so we'll take turns on watch using our ears, noses, and minds." He pointed behind Sparrow. "Privy is on that end, dinner and sleep is down here by me. Put your packs in the trees to let them dry. Be quick about it. The sooner this torch is out, the better."

Achan had no pack, only
Eagan
's Elk. His change of clothes was in Sir Caleb's pack. "Do you think the water damaged my sword?"

"Not in that short time," Sir Caleb said. "When did you last oil the blade?"

Achan's mouth hung open a moment, his vision flicking to Sir Gavin. "I've never done so."

Sir Caleb stared at Sir Gavin's back. "Were you not taught?"

Achan swallowed. "I--"

Sir Gavin sighed and answered while
rummaging through his pack
. "There was no time, Caleb. Nathak banished me the day I gave Achan the blade. Besides, you know I'm no teacher. I've done the best I could. But now that he has you, I freely relinquish the honor of his weapons training."

Achan was thankful for Sir Gavin's instruction. But could Sir Caleb teach him more? Teach him better?

Sir Caleb glared long and hard at Sir Gavin, as if the crime of not oiling a blade deserved years in
Ice
Island
. Finally he turned to Achan. "I have oil in my pack, Your Highness. For now, remove the blade from the scabbard to give both time to dry. A wet scabbard can rust steel."

Achan lifted the hem of his shirt to dry
Eagan
's Elk. A black mark on his side caught his eye and it all came rushing back. "Can we get these leeches off now?"

"Yes." Sir Caleb unfastened his jerkin and shrugged it off. "Best take off all your clothes to make sure we don't miss any."

Achan set
Eagan
's Elk in a nearby tree and stripped down to his undershorts. He stacked his clothing carefully on the branch to avoid having it touch too much slime.

At least a dozen leeches spotted Sir Caleb's pale and wiry torso. "And that's why you don't rip them off. See how much you're bleeding?"

Achan looked down. Tiny streams of blood ran down his chest like water after a bath.

"Slide your fingernails under to wedge them off."

Achan mirrored Sir Caleb, plucking the parasites away.

"Be tossing them aside after." Inko draped his cape in a tree, his grey skin and pockmarked face like a potato full of eyes. "I'm not wanting them crawling on me in my sleep."

The men paired up to check each other's backs, Achan with Sir Caleb and Inko with Sir Gavin. Then they checked their own undershorts.

"I'm clean." Achan pitched the last leech into the trees.

A voice in the woods cried out.

Achan froze. "What was that?"

Sir Caleb wrenched his sword from the branches and advanced on the trees, weapon raised. "In the name of Caan, come out. We mean you no harm."

3

Vrell clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle another sob and wiped tears from her cheeks.

"Come out, now, or I'll come in after you," Sir Caleb said.

Vrell yanked up her trousers and tied her belt with shaking fingers. "It is only me." Her voice betrayed her, coming out soft, like a kitten's mew, expressing her true emotions. She inched toward the flickering light, thankful her entire body hadn't been underwater.

All four men stood in their undershorts staring at her, eyes wide. Trickles of blood were smeared across Achan's chest. The white bandage she had tied around his head had been knocked askew. She cast her gaze to the ground and casually drew her fingers along her thigh where a tickle spasmed. Could she have missed a leech? She had checked herself thoroughly but had hardly been able to see what she was doing.

Sir Caleb still held his sword ready. "What in flames were you doing in there, boy?"

Vrell stared at the sleek blade. "I...I had to..."

Achan's lips curved into a lopsided grin that faltered as quickly as it came. "Didn't realize you were gone." He winced, evidence that his cheeks still pained him. "Did my leech hit you?"

"Nearly." Vrell meandered to the edge of the clearing where Sir Gavin had promised food. She turned her back to the tree holding Sir Gavin's pack and folded her arms, still trembling at the memory of leeches attached to her legs. Achan spoke to Sir Caleb, his scarred back facing her. Pity doused her bad attitude. At least no one had ever whipped her.

Achan walked to Vrell's tree. He peeled his shirt off a branch as if thick cobwebs held it there.

"Wait." Vrell dug out a scrap of linen from her satchel and handed it to Achan. "Use this to stop the bleeding. You should let me rinse those wounds out as well."

"I'm fine." He wadded the linen in one hand and wiped the trails of blood away. He pushed the hair from his eyes as he worked. A thick strand stuck to his forehead, held there by a trail of slime. "Get your leeches off?"

Vrell stared at the moss beneath her feet. "I-I think so."

"Strip down and I'll check."

Vrell's eyes swelled. "I-I am fine. I am not...feeling well." She backed into the thicket of prickly trees, keeping an eye on Achan. A sharp branch dug into her shoulder. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The trees were so close together it was difficult to get through.

Achan's gaze followed her. "What are you doing?"

She slid behind a thick trunk and held her breath, praying someone would distract Achan from his quest to be helpful.

But Achan called again, "Sparrow?"

"Leave him." Sir Caleb's low and commanding voice soothed Vrell's nerves. "He'll ask for help if he needs it."

"But how can he stand it?" Achan asked. "I didn't want the little beasts on my skin any longer than they had been."

"Worry about yourself. Get your sword and sit. Then I'll show you how to oil your blade and rub down your scabbard."

Vrell sank against the tree, stopping herself before she sat on the moist ground. She squatted, wrapping her arms around her knees. Now seemed a good time to try and contact Mother again, but she hated the idea of blacking out on this sodden ground. That would not matter if Mother did not answer.

Vrell concentrated on her mother's face and sent a knock.

She waited, listening, but heard only the men shuffling in the clearing, the crackling of the torch, the occasional click and
hiss from above. She took a deep breath--gagged at the bitter smell of the forest--and knocked again.

"Vrell?" Sir Gavin called out. "Come back, lad. I've got to put out the torch."

Vrell forced tears away and stood. She paused to let a bout of dizziness fade from standing too fast and crept back to the clearing. Four bedrolls had been laid out around the torch. A moth the size of Vrell's hand fluttered around the flame. Achan, Inko, and Sir Caleb had each claimed a bed. Sir Gavin's pack sat on the last bedroll. The knight crouched beside the torch. Where would Vrell sleep? Surely they would not expect her to share one of those skinny little flaps of leather?

"Get yourself some meat, Vrell, and sit." Sir Gavin motioned to the bedroll with his pack.

An open burlap sack protruded from the top of Sir Gavin's pack. Vrell knelt on Sir Gavin's bedroll and took the top chunk of dried meat from the sack.

"Couldn't you be waiting until we're offering our thanks?" Inko's gaze locked on Achan, who had eaten half his meat.

Achan shot a questioning glance at Vrell. She pressed her hands together in a position of prayer. His head tipped back and he pursed his lips.

Vrell knew little of what Achan believed about Arman, but she knew he didn't follow the Way like she and the knights did. Likely, Achan held beliefs similar to the rest of Er'Rets' general populace, who believed in a host of gods for any and every superstition. The remnant who knew the truth--who followed the Way, believing in Arman, the Father God, as the one and only god--was a small group indeed.

"But why thank Arman for food?" Achan asked.

Vrell coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. How rude to question Arman--or one's elders--in such a way.

But Achan charged on, clearly unfazed by his impropriety, chewing while he spoke. "I mean, if you thank him for food, why not thank him for everything? Clothes, companions, being alive, leeches...I don't see what good it does, why it matters."

A long silence passed, then the knights all spoke at once, as if eager to provide their future king with answers.

Sir Gavin tugged his beard braid. "It matters to Arman."

"Because it's showing thankfulness, respect," Inko said. "Without Arman's provisions, we wouldn't be having life."

"I thank him for all those things," Sir Caleb said.

Achan blew out a winded laugh. "Even leeches?"

"Leeches have their place in the world."

"Well, someone had better thank him for the meat, then, 'cause I'm starving."

Vrell hid a smile. How could Achan go from rudeness to acquiescence in a heartbeat and make it all harmless fun? She would never dare such boldness. And Achan had behaved that way as a stray. His nature had shocked her at first, but if she had been forced to serve Esek, she might have lost her patience quickly too.

Inko claimed the prayer. "Arman, we're thanking you for our lives, for safely delivering us from Esek's men, and for having given us this meat. Be helping us to be finding a way across the lake. In the name of your son,
Caan
, may it be so."

"So be it." Vrell lifted the greasy meat to her teeth and tore off an oily chunk. Her mouth watered at the smoky flavor. She stole a glance at Achan, and found his brow furrowed again. What was he thinking now? She dared not peek into his head. He would not be happy to find her there.

She studied the men around the torchlight.
The dull green flame cast a pea soup fog over everyone, bringing out the worst in the Old Kingsguard knights. The flame glittered in Inko's pale eyes. With his grey, pockmarked skin and white hedge of hair, he looked dead. The green glow deepened Sir Gavin's wrinkles and grayed his white hair and braided beard. Even Sir Caleb, the youngest of the knights, in his mid-fifties, looked to have aged without the sun.

Only Achan's appearance benefited. Darkness shadowed his boyish features, straightened his posture, and broadened his shoulders. The torch cast a bronze glow over his brown skin and made his greasy black hair look silky. How could she have spent weeks healing his wounds and missed how much he resembled the Hadar family? But who would have thought a stray anything other than what he appeared to be? Vrell hoped the men would assume the same about her.

Sir Gavin jerked the torch from the ground and carried it to his bedroll. "Time to douse the lights. Everyone settled?"

No one complained, so Sir Gavin smothered the flame under the corner of the leather. Vrell edged back. The sudden darkness sent a prickle up her spine. She blinked, trying to see the men where she knew they were.

Sounds magnified in the dark. Fluttering. Clicking overhead. Steps across spongy ground. Sir Gavin, likely. Vrell hugged her knees to her chest. Would he sit with her?

Achan's voice rose above the subtle noises. "How long will we stay at Mirrorstone?"

"As little as possible without being rude." Sir Gavin's voice came from Vrell's left, where Sir Caleb's bedroll had been.

Good. She pressed her hands on the grimy leather and stretched out her legs. "And from there?"

"We look for a way to cross to the north shore. We'll fare best at Melas, rather than trying another boat."

"How far is that?" Achan asked.

"Another three days on foot. Two, if we can get horses."

Joyful heart! Horses would be merciful. Vrell still felt slimy from that water. She abhorred the stench of this place. She lifted her satchel off her neck and shoulder and opened it, looking for something pleasant to smell. Did herbs grow fresh in Darkness? Where would she find supplies for her healing kit if they didn't?

"You think Lord Eli will give us aid?" Achan asked.

"He has nothing to gain by refusing us," Sir Gavin said. "Either he'll arrest us and turn us over to Esek or he'll help us. He won't send us away."

Vrell sniffed a small bundle from her bag. Mentha. Mmm.

The mossy ground squished on her right. "Then we're risking everything to be going to him."

"We have no choice, Inko," Sir Caleb nearly yelled. "Surely you can see that much?"

"We should've been doubling back to Allowntown."

Sir Gavin sniffed in a long breath, as if to calm himself. "Esek will have men posted all along the Evenwall. We stand our best chance in Darkness."

Vrell inhaled another fresh breath of mentha. "How will we know we're not walking into a trap at Mirrorstone?" She still had not told anyone about the bounties Esek had offered for her and Achan's capture. She hated keeping secrets and not having a plan. If only she could speak with her mother.

"We won't," Sir Gavin said. "But I'll know his intentions as soon as I lay eyes on him."

"Can you teach me that?" Achan's mumble brought his injured cheeks to Vrell's mind. "I've always sensed emotions. Lord Nathak's tonic never doused my intuition. But I want to learn more. Sparrow showed me a few tricks, and--"

"I know little." Vrell's heart lifted at the idea of learning bloodvoicing from good men, not her maniacal old master, Macoun Hadar. "I should like to learn more, as well." Like how she could watch longer without blacking out and how to peek into gifted minds without being seen. Achan's mind.

"Think of your body as a fortress and yourself as its guard." Sir Caleb's voice drifted from Vrell's left. "Your duty is twofold. You must guard the fortress, allowing entry only to those you permit. Then, when you invite someone in, you must also guard the treasure, which is your mind. If you do this correctly, your guest may see only what you offer."

Vrell could do this already. She had a different way of accomplishing the same feat. She thought of her mind as a house and created a foyer in her mind where she let people in but kept them separated from her different rooms of thought.

"How do you do everything at once?" Achan asked. "When my mind is open, so many come at me. I can't keep them out and I'm tired of shielding all the time."

"You can and you must, Your Highness." Sir Caleb sounded nobler when giving orders. "No one can guard your mind for you. Either you learn to do this or you'll have to stay guarded always, never experiencing the fullness of your gift."

Vrell wished she could help Achan practice, but the knights had ordered him to keep his mind closed, for
Achan's untrained bloodvoice rang like a beacon to anyone with the ability. Surely Esek had bloodvoicers monitoring for Achan's presence.
Plus, unguarded, Achan's mind released a pressure that brought Vrell to her knees. She didn't miss the pain, but she did miss his sarcastic companionship.

A screech split the night. Vrell hugged her arms close. A mosquito buzzed nearby. She disliked the dark. "Sir Gavin?" She lifted her head. "We have been in Darkness for many hours and I entered the Evenwall the day Achan fought the Poroo. I feel fine, except for these accursed mosquitoes. So why do people say Darkness drives one insane?"

"That's the subtlety of it, Vrell. If your mind is focused or distracted, 'tis easy to ignore the seduction of Darkness. When you were alone in the Evenwall, you had a task to perform. Now we're conversing steadily. This keeps our minds from wandering. But as we journey through this place, we must stay together and we must have conversation. No one will keep watch alone. See that no one is silent too long. Darkness has a way of sneaking up and blinding you to your own conscience."

"What about when we sleep?" Achan asked.