To Darkness Fled (5 page)

"Perhaps he feared
the gods
would smite him if he destroyed you," Sir Caleb said, a lilt to his voice.

"That is what I'd be fearing if I was being him," Inko said.

Achan didn't doubt that.

"He had to," Sir Caleb said soberly. "If the true heir died, the gift would pass to Prince Oren, revealing Esek as a fake. His plan would work only while Achan still lived."

"Perhaps," Sir Gavin said. "Or perhaps he served a darker master who wanted you alive for some evil purpose." His comment brought a moment of silence over the camp.

Achan's mind reeled. Who might this mysterious bloodvoicer be? Someone strong. Stronger and viler than Nathak. Could it be Macoun Hadar, the old wizard who had tried to use Sparrow? Or someone worse than him? Achan wriggled around, pulling off his doublet. He settled back onto the bedroll and draped the heavy leather over his head, hoping it would keep the mosquitoes off his face.

He lay still, breathing deeply, telling himself the stench wasn't so bad. A vision grew in his mind. He was flying, riding a giant moth over the treetops. The moth arched into a sudden dive. Achan squeezed with his knees and grabbed for the saddle horn. No saddle! Only tufts of coarse hair. He grappled, lost his balance, and fell.

He sat up, pulse drumming in his head. His doublet slid into his lap. Had that been Darkness pulling at his mind? It had seemed so real.

Achan lay down and tried to focus his thoughts, not wanting that to happen again. Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb whispered to his left. If only Achan could use his supposed great power he could see into Lord Nathak's and Sir Kenton's minds and learn the truth of the past. He could find out who this mysterious chief bloodvoicer was who sought to divide Er'Rets.

Currently, all he could do with his bloodvoice was shield his mind. He wanted to practice, but not what Sir Caleb had suggested, letting one person into his mind at a time. He wanted to practice reaching into the minds of others. He had done it by accident several times. But only when someone else had initiated conversation. So how did one initiate? And if Achan went wandering into someone else's mind, who would guard his?

He tuned in to the sounds of the forest. The pecking, the occasional hiss, a rattling, the buzzing of hundreds of mosquitoes. Achan closed his eyes and pictured himself standing guard over his mind. If he couldn't leave his guard post, perhaps he could at least open the door and peek out. He imagined himself doing just that. He opened a steel door in his mind but stood on the threshold, should anyone try to enter.

The results were instant. Hundreds of voices spoke, many in foreign tongues. He could hear Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb, and when he tuned in on their conversation, their voices magnified. He shifted his concentration to Inko, who dwelled over how they'd manage to go north. Achan smiled. The knights did not seem to sense him.

A small thought distracted him from the knights. Hunger. A bird. It glided through the dark sky, over the shadowed outlines of trees, scanning the ground for its master, for it had news and wanted its reward. What news? Who was its master?

These thoughts faded when Achan realized something else: even in the Darkness this bird could see! Incredible.

A sniffle perked Achan's senses. He focused on the sorrowful sound. Crying. Alone. Muffled. Not wanting to be heard. Was someone hurt? In danger? Lost?

I cannot do this anymore.
The voice belonged to Sparrow.
I do not know why you have allowed this to go on. The task is too difficult. I want to go home. I miss my family. Please, Arman, help me get home.

Achan withdrew and rolled over, peering through the dark in Sparrow's direction, ashamed for intruding on the boy's mind. But Sparrow's words confused him. Sparrow was a stray. Strays were orphans. What family could he possibly miss? And why had he come along if he hadn't wanted to? Had someone forced him? Achan's stomach began to boil, slowly at first, then violently. He pulled his fingers into fists and squeezed.

If that little fox was still working for Macoun Hadar...

5

Achan awoke choking. Someone was dragging him by the neck of his tunic, off his bedroll and onto the moist ground. The wet soil seeped into his britches. He gasped for air. Sparrow. Macoun Hadar had sent the lad to kill him. The traitor! Achan grasped the spongy moss, searching for his sword.

Pig snout! He'd left it drying in the tree.

His fingers found the hand on his tunic. He pried--

"Your Highness!" Sir Caleb released Achan's shirt and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Get your sword. Quick."

Achan paused to catch his breath, surveying where he'd last seen Sparrow. The boy pressed against a shadowy tree trunk, his already pale face ghostly in the dim light.

Heart pounding, Achan watched the knights scrambled about, packing up gear. "What's wrong?"

"Do as I ask," Sir Caleb said. "Quickly please."

Achan clambered to his feet and the tree that held Eagan's Elk and its scabbard. He pulled the belt around his waist then froze.

He could see, albeit dimly, yet no torch burned in their camp. He whipped around. Three balls of flame danced on the dark horizon, obscured by gnarled trees, drawing nearer as if someone were carrying them up the game trail.

Achan latched his belt around his waist. "Who is it?"

"Ebens." Inko strapped on his sword, leaving his bow in the tree.

Achan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What are--"

"Giants," Sparrow said.

Giants. The word winded him. In the past few months, so much myth had been confirmed reality: the existence of Owr, the
Kingsword
, bloodvoices. And now giants.

Maybe Arman was the one God after all.

The knights stowed the packs in the branches and stood, swords drawn, facing the game trail. Surely they weren't going to fight? Achan considered himself brave enough but saw no reason to take on one giant, let alone three. "Uh...shouldn't we leave? Escape or something?"

"No point with Ebens on our tail, and we can't have them telling others they've seen us." A vein pulsed in Sir Gavin's forehead. "Besides, there are only three."

Achan focused on the line of torches, which now seemed but a breath away. "But...three giants."

"Correct." Sir Caleb threaded his arm through his shield. "Mercenaries. Sent to kill you."

Fitting. People had been trying to kill Achan for the past few weeks. Now that his true identity had been revealed, he'd best get used to it. But how had they found their camp?

And just how
giant
were giants, anyway?

"They'll likely try to burn us out." Sir Caleb lifted his sword to the edge of his shield. "Watch for fire and be ready."

Achan drew Eagan's Elk. Sparrow gripped his little sword, fingers interlaced as if to pray, and held it straight out in front, as if he were stretching to see how far he could reach.

Achan sidestepped to the boy. "Ever held a sword?"

Sparrow's wide eyes darted to Achan's. He took a breath as if to argue, then deflated and shook his head.

Great. "Best stay back, then."

"Look sharp!"

Achan crouched at Sir Gavin's warning. A single flame fell through the air, partially obscured by the twisted branches. It landed in the canopy above and smoldered.

"What now?" They'd lost their chance to flee undetected.

"Hold your position," Sir Gavin said.

Sir Caleb glanced at the smoking branches. "I doubt the trees will burn. They're too damp."

A reason to thank Arman for the slime. Then two more burning arrows struck the canopy, producing thick, putrid smoke that coiled around them. Achan tugged his tunic over his nose, but the smoke clouded his vision, diminishing the glow from the giant's torches. His eyes watered.

"Be staying low." Inko gripped his longsword with both hands. "It's not being so smoky near the ground."

Smoke furled around Achan until he couldn't see. He coughed, the rank fumes invading his senses. He sank to his haunches and found clear air near the ground. Three sets of boots stood before him, lit by a pale yellow glow from ahead.

Sir Gavin's voice burst in Achan's mind.
Stay back, lad.

Madness! How could they fight giants blindly?

Wood splintered. A tree, trunk and all, slapped into the soppy soil to Achan's left. He gripped Eagan's Elk tighter and peered under the golden, swarming haze. Sparrow cowered behind a stump to his right, the knights stood straight ahead, and--Achan squinted and leaned forward--something moved beyond the knights. Side to side. Swinging.

The knights held their position. Squishing footsteps set Achan's arm hair dancing. He hopped backward, lost his balance, and put a hand on the moist ground to steady himself. More steps squished from the direction of the swinging...

Club.

Two sets of thick, pale legs stepped into view, bare and tattooed but not much bigger than a man's. Where was the third giant? Surely the giants couldn't see through the smoke. The knights crouched. Achan inched back a step. A sharp branch poked into his thigh. He stifled a cry just as a high-pitched battle song rose above it.

"Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!"

Mother!
Sparrow's voice surged in Achan's mind.
Where have you been? Are you well? We are being attacked by giants!

Achan spun around, looking for the boy. He no longer hid behind the stump.

A woman's voice, kind and oddly familiar answered.
Where are you, dearest? Are giants in the Council chambers?

What in blazes? Sparrow had told Achan his parents were dead. So who was he calling Mother?

A guttural scream tore Achan away from Sparrow's curious exchange. The pale legs charged. The knights answered with a war cry. All three struck low, from back guard, slicing their swords through the giants' legs like scythes harvesting wheat. Achan cringed as horrifying screams ripped though the air.

The giants fell like the trees, their pale, hulking bodies slamming into the soggy moss.

That was it? If these three could defeat giants so easily, perhaps two hundred and forty more like them really would be a formidable army.

The giants' torches lay spluttering but for one distant flame. Achan strained to see under the smoke. Past the fallen giants, across the clearing, a white-haired, cornstalk of a man squatted, all limbs. Pelts covered little of his body. His milky white skin glowed as if his blood was made of moonbeams. He held a spear in one hand, a torch in the other. He stabbed the torch into the moss and withdrew an axe from a sheath on his leg.

It wasn't over.

Sir Gavin! I see the third one.

Aye, lad. We're watching him.

The giant tipped back his head and yelled another trilling battle cry. "Lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee-lee!" He sprang off the ground, taking long leaps into the clearing, the wet moss squishing with each step of his fearless charge.

A grunt and the clash of metal made Achan jump. He stared into the haze backlit by the distant torch. The silhouettes of four men fought, three against one much taller. The foggy shape of Sir Gavin's long hair and beard flew about. The lanky shadow parried each blow with the crook of his axe and kicked out a long leg that sent Inko's figure flying.

Sir Caleb yelled, drawing Achan's gaze to the shadow whose hair sprung atop his head like a tuft of grass. The giant met Sir Caleb's blows with his spear.

The knights attacked ruthlessly. Achan couldn't help but admire the giant's speed. For being so tall, Achan imagined he'd move slower.

The giant's spear suddenly cracked under Sir Caleb's blow. Seconds later the giant howled. He crumpled to reveal the shadow of Inko, cylindrical hair shaped like a wooden drum.

"Who sent you?" Sir Gavin yelled.

The raspy breathing of a dying
eben
was the only answer. Achan inched over the lichen until the men came into view. Sir Gavin crouched on the giant's right, blade held to the pale throat. Sir Caleb and Inko stood panting on the giant's left side.

Sir Gavin pressed a knee on the giant's chest. "Who?"

The giant's ragged breath seemed to consume all his effort, but he blinked slowly and turned his dark eyes to Achan, his voice a raspy growl. "Tee
saplaway
sen
katla
sar
."

The intensity in that gaze shook Achan's knees. The man had a black insignia inked onto his forehead, three lines, each thicker than the first.

"I
know
why you've come," Sir Gavin said. "I want to know who sent you."

"
Faluk
san."

Suddenly, all was still.

"Achan?" Sir Gavin stood. "Answer me, lad."

"I'm here." Sir Gavin turned around and Achan asked, "Lord Falkson? Is that who he means?"

"Falkson is Lord of Barth. You've seen him at Council."

Achan remembered the stoic, grey-skinned man. "He is working for Esek?"

"So it would seem."

Achan motioned to the other giants, trying not to look at their severed legs, though his eyes kept focusing there. "Was that your idea?"

Sir Gavin's white hair and beard still blended in with the smoky haze. "Strategy worked well, if you ask me."

"Too well." Sir Caleb's voice came from the smoke cloud on Achan's other side. "It was a slaughter and ignoble."

Sir Gavin puffed a short breath out his nose. "And attempting to burn us alive is good form?"

Sir Caleb didn't answer. His body came into view as he stepped closer. "Boy, where is your sword?"

Achan wheeled around to meet Sparrow's pale face.

"Uh..." Sparrow turned to look back through the smoke. Sir Caleb gripped the boy's arm and walked where Sparrow had glanced, their steps squishing into the soil as they vanished in the haze. Achan could hear Sir Caleb's lecture.

"Never drop your weapon. I don't care how scared you are. Never leave yourself unguarded or treat your blade with such disrespect."

Inko cleaned his sword in the turf and sheathed it. "I am not understanding how they are finding us. Perhaps it is not only our wolf who is using his nose?"

Achan thought of the bird whose eyes he'd seen through. It had been bringing a message to its master. Had the bird been a spy for the giants? He scanned the smoldering canopy overhead but could see nothing else. He decided to keep the thought to himself for now.

The knights piled the three Eben bodies atop one another and set their clothes aflame.

"We need to move. Get your things." Sir Gavin lifted the torch the giant had left burning in the ground and held it high. Orange light spilled over the smoky clearing. Caleb and Inko grabbed the other torches. The orange flames lit their faces in a more normal light than the green sulfur one from before.

With nothing to carry, Achan stayed put, awed and slightly horrified at the Great Whitewolf. Sparrow sidled over, small knapsack slung across his pudgy chest so it settled over his left hip. Face ashen, bleary eyes wide, he stared at the slain giants.

"You all right?" Achan asked.

Sparrow nodded and said in a watery voice, "Your speech has improved. How do your cheeks feel?"

"Better."

"You should not have taken off your bandages yet."

Achan stiffened, not wanting a lecture from a baby who still cried to his mother. A mother he wasn't supposed to have.

Sir Caleb handed the rope to Achan. "Hold on to this in case we need to put out the torches."

Achan looped the end through his belt and handed it to Sparrow. Sir Gavin led them down the game trail into clear air.

"Sparrow? Who were you talking to when the giants attacked?" Achan kept his voice low but didn't care who heard. If Sparrow was a traitor, the sooner they discovered it, the better. He glanced over his shoulder. "You said your parents were dead."

The boy's eyes bulged. "You read my thoughts?"