From Darkness Won (57 page)

Another ball of fire formed on Lord Nathak’s palm. He flung his hand backward as if to throw it, but the green fire flew off his hand and struck a tree behind him.

His eyes widened. Achan looked up.

High above their heads, the tree trunk severed. The top cracked as it broke away and fell. Lord Nathak leaped back just before the tree trunk stabbed into the mossy ground.

Achan stumbled back over the squishy terrain. The leafy treetop tipped toward him. He dived out of the way just as the branches slapped against the road, leaves rustling. A few whipped his back.

When Achan got back to his feet, the fire had jumped from the wagon to the tree, but the leaves and branches sizzled and smoked, too green to burn well.

“This isn’t over, brother!” Lord Nathak yelled.

Achan peered through branches. Lord Nathak had mounted his horse. “Now that I am the Hadad, you would be wise to give up your claim to the throne and serve me.”

As if Achan would give up now. “That’s never going to happen!”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to kill yet another family member.” He turned his horse and rode off through the forest.

Achan backed out of the branches and sat down on the fat end of the tree trunk. It smelled fresh and sharp, a pleasant change from the thick smoke of the fire. A misty green cloud swarmed with the black smoke and hung over the wreckage. Orange flames licked the sky over the remains of his wagon. He wiped the sweat off his face, then wiped his hands on his trousers. His arms were trembling.

“Are you well, Your Highness?” Sir Caleb stepped off the road. He sank in the moss, nearly up to his knees.

“I dropped Ôwr under the tree.”

“I’ll get someone to look for it.”

“I don’t understand it,” Achan said, shaking his head. “What came over him? He got so powerful all of a sudden. And then that last green magic ball… it looked like it fell off his hand, like he meant to hit me with it but dropped it.”

Sir Caleb stood. “The ways of sorcerers are beyond me. Perhaps they make mistakes as well.” He looked around at the carnage, then back at Achan. “Why don’t you rest here while I fetch another wagon? It may be a while. I’ll have Shung and Kurtz come sit with you.”

“See to those burned men.” Achan wanted nothing more than rest at the moment. His mind was too full to think or logically discuss matters.

A knock rattled the shields around Achan’s mind, mincing his already sore head.
Duchess Amal.

Achan didn’t know when he’d closed his mind to the duchess.
Yes, my lady?

How do you fare?

As if he could put such a thing into words. Lord Nathak had just admitted to having killed his parents. The keliy had come to him, healed him before Achan’s eyes. His men had been burned alive. And Prince Oren had been stormed.
I am yet living, my lady.

Do not be glum. Look around you. We have done what we set out to do. Your army has crossed over into southern Er’Rets. Tonight
,
you and your men will rejoice in a job well done.

If I had been better trained I would not have made such terrible mistakes, and Prince Oren might still be here. I am no
Veil
warrior.

None of that now. Prince Oren knew the risks. We all did. Any one of us could have perished.

But only Prince Oren had.

Achan cried out to Arman.
Let it not be so, I beg You, Arman. Spare his life. Spare my family.
But that prayer only made him think of Lord Nathak—another member of Achan’s family.
You know who I mean, Arman. Spare Prince Oren.

Achan’s ear smarted like a dozen bees had stung it. He reached a hand up and found his head bandaged. Right. The green fire had struck him. Barely.

What, then, had it done to Prince Oren?

That evening, Achan sat at the head of the table in the meeting tent. Also present were Sir Gavin, Sir Caleb, Captain Demry, Toros, and Shung, who stood just inside the entrance.

Sir Caleb unwound the linen from Achan’s head, while Achan held his breath at the way the flesh burned. How had Shung ever survived the horrible burn to his hand and arm?

“This should not have been bandaged,” Sir Caleb said.

“Shung said it was bleeding,” Achan said. “And I had to go back to the Veil.”

“But it’s a burn,” Sir Caleb said. “I’m not as good a healer as Eagan, but I do know that burns should be left to air out.”

The last of the linen fell away. The cool air soothed Achan’s ear, but the men’s stares made him feel uncomfortable. “What? Is it that bad?”

Sir Caleb’s fingers brushed the hair above Achan’s ear. It sounded coarse, like a beard. “You’ll need a haircut.”

Achan tugged out the thong holding his hair in a tail. A handful of hair came with it. Long strands. A lot of them. He groaned and set his forehead against the table.

“Has Sir Eagan still not returned?” Captain Demry asked. “I can call one of the other healers.”

“Sir Shung can send Matthias,” Sir Caleb said.

Achan lifted his head to see Shung dart out the door.

“Sir Eagan has not returned,” Sir Gavin said. “Esek’s northern army blocks the King’s Road, so Sir Eagan is taking an alternate route. He has killed the Hadad, who was Macoun Hadar. When that happened, the keliy must have passed to Lord Nathak.”

This statement made Achan shiver as he recalled Lord Nathak’s transformation. He rubbed his arms. “We’ll have to face him at some point, right?”

“I fear that’s always been the case, Achan. Not that you face Lord Nathak, necessarily, or even Esek, but that you face the keliy.”

Achan winced at a throb in his head. “But how can I stand against such power? Such evil?”

“You can’t. But Arman can and will.”

Achan swallowed an angry retort. People threw that phase around as if it were nothing more than a greeting. Arman will do this. Arman will do that. Trust Arman. But Achan was the one prophesied to push back Darkness. He did not doubt Arman would help him, but he still felt overwhelmed, insignificant, and clueless as to what he would need to do.

Just don’t forget to let me in on the plan, Arman.

“What will you do with the black knights who survived the attack?” Captain Demry asked.

Sir Gavin tugged on his beard braid. “Keep them bound and full of âleh as long as we can. Then throw them in the dungeon at Armonguard. Maybe execute them. That will be your choice, Your Highness.”

His choice. A shudder coursed through him. Lord Nathak’s story… his whole life. What a waste. How could Queen Dara have been so cruel? And why had the king done such a thing in the first place? Sir Gavin had said King Axel loved his wife. What had gone wrong? The question brought his thoughts back to his own blunder with Challa.

“And what about Kurtz?” Toros Ianjo, the warrior-priest of Arman, directed his question to Sir Gavin. “Will you arrest him as well?”

Achan perked up. “Arrest Kurtz? For what? He saved my life and Shung’s. I should knight him.”

“I’m afraid there is more to it than that, Your Highness.” Sir Caleb swallowed, as if he’d rather not admit what he had to say. “When I went to claim a new wagon for you to travel in, I found them all at the back of the procession. The prostitutes Kurtz hired were living in them. Kurtz and his comrades had shifted the supplies to carts and such to make room.

“The women have been traveling at the back of the procession so that the officers would not notice them. But the wagons were designed specifically to hide you. That’s why they all looked alike. And they were to be spaced evenly throughout the procession. Kurtz’s decision made it obvious to the black knights which wagon was yours. One of the black knights confessed as much. I don’t know what in flames Kurtz was thinking.”

“Kurtz has a tendency to disregard rules. It’s the primary reason he was never knighted.” Sir Gavin sniffed in a long,
t
houghtful breath. “I feel I owe you all an explanation about Kurtz Chazir.” He turned to Achan, wincing as if remembering something painful. “If you would like to know why I put up with him, Your Highness.”

What did
that
mean? “Of course.”

“My mother had a baby sister she cared for along with me. That girl—my aunt—was named Melena. She was but four years old when my mother died. I was eleven.
Melena was like a sister to me. When she grew up, she wanted her own family more than anything. Went through men like a loaf of bread. Miscarried six times that I know of. I didn’t know what to do with the woman.

“When I was promoted to the Kingsguard, she ran off with a trader from Berland. I didn’t hear from her for almost twenty years. Then one day I got a message from her husband—a Berland soldier. She had died in childbirth, and her husband said she’d wanted me to know her son.

“Kurtz is her son?”

“Aye. I visited him over the years. He only ever wanted to be a soldier like his father. Grew up in the barracks like I did. Had no woman around to teach him manners or compassion. All that to say, if he wasn’t my cousin, I’d have discharged him long ago.”

Achan couldn’t help but think if it weren’t for Gren, he might have turned out the same as Kurtz.

“It’s just that he thinks himself invincible,” Sir Caleb said. “That his actions have no consequences.”

“Probably my fault as well for cleaning up so many of his messes. Likely he expects I will again.” Sir Gavin pounded a fist on the table. “But not this time.”

“What shall we do with the women?” Sir Caleb asked. “They’re nothing but a distraction to our men. They must be sent back.”

“Not without an escort,” Toros said. “And they know too much about us, enough to hurt us if they wanted to. The prince, especially.”

“Hurt me how?” Achan asked.

Sir Gavin’s mustache twitched. “Do not fret. I see no way for the women to do you harm.”

“It was only a kiss,” Sir Caleb said to everyone at the table, as if clarifying a highly disputed fact. “If any of the men ask, make that clear.”

Achan stared at a knot in the wood of the table, wanting to change the subject. Wanting to sleep a very long time.

“A kiss and a scratch,” Captain Demry said with a wink. “Your boy is bragging about how his master was attacked by a chatul cat and has the wound to prove it.”

The men laughed.

Pig snout. Now Achan would have to speak to Matthias. Come to think of it, he should speak with Cole as well, for the lad spent far too much time in Kurtz’s company. Achan tapped his finger on the tabletop. What to do about Kurtz?

“Enough talk of this,” Sir Gavin said. “So the women will come along? What do you suggest, Toros?”

Toros leaned back in his chair, revealing the embroidered interlocking red circles on the front of his dingy white surcoat. “Choose a guard of trusted, honorable men, and put the women to work. Laundry, mending, cooking. Perhaps some can make arrows. Reformation at its best.”

“That will not make Challa happy,” Achan said.

“We do not exist to make Challa happy, Your Highness, nor do you.”

Her happiness hadn’t been Achan’s concern. “I simply meant that she will likely be difficult.”

Captain Demry scanned the table, his brow furrowed into a thick line. “What is our next move then? Have the scouts reported anything?”