From Darkness Won (58 page)

“We ride south as fast as we can,” Sir Gavin said. “Esek’s southern army has almost reached Armonguard. With Prince Oren missing, I don’t doubt it will fall.”

A silence gripped the tent. If Armonguard fell before Achan and his army reached it, it would be all the more difficult to take it back.

“But tonight we celebrate,” Sir Gavin said. “We lost many today. Our men deserve to hear from us both.” He sent a pointed look at Achan. “So, Captain Demry, select a trusted guard for the women. Sir Caleb, figure out how they’ll travel so we can redistribute the wagons as should be. And, Toros, will you offer some sort of benediction for the men we lost today?”

Toros jerked his head in a quick nod. “Absolutely, Sir Gavin.”

“That’s all I have, then.” Sir Gavin turned to Achan, eyebrows raised.

“Dismissed,” Achan said, as if he had been leading this meeting.

When only Achan and Sir Gavin remained, the old knight turned his mismatched eyes to Achan and said, “I’m sorry none of us spoke to you about spirits, Your Highness. I assumed a man your age knew better than to indulge, but I don’t suppose you’ve had much drink in your life.”

“I’ve seen enough fuddled men to know better, Sir Gavin. I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.”

“Well, it’s a poison the king’s personal guard swears to abstain from. I gave it up years ago when I began working for King Paxton. Now, as for the girl—”

Achan thought of his father’s face on the gold coin in his pants pocket. “You needn’t fear. I’ll not make
that
mistake again.”

“Aye, that’s well and good, but Caleb said you were concerned about what Kurtz said about your father.”

The reality of it threatened to choke Achan all over again, like someone dunking his head underwater. “I was surprised. Angry, even. And then to learn that Lord Nathak had killed him and that…” Achan took a deep breath. “Did you know Lord Nathak was—”

“You father’s son? Your half-brother? Nay. There were rumors of other children. But there are rumors with any king.”

Children
, Sir Gavin had said. Achan shook that thought away. “And such rumors are there because all the Hadar kings—my father, my grandfather, my great grandfather, and so on—they all kept mistresses?”

Sir Gavin met Achan’s eyes and nodded. “Aye, though not Paxton, as far as I know, and I knew him well. But Paxton saw firsthand what Macoun went through, living in that castle as a baseborn son of a king. Paxton took care of Macoun for years, not that Macoun ever appreciated it. Paxton was fifteen when Johan was killed. Married a month later. Crowned on his sixteenth year of birth.”

Achan had not known that. “Who did he marry?”

“Fasina Levy, who later became Lord Levy’s aunt when her brother had children.” Sir Gavin chuckled. “Now there was a
m
atch. Fasina was but thirteen, a shy little thing. I don’t know that she and Paxton said three words to each other the first year of their marriage. But they worked things out eventually.”

Eventually. Would that be Achan’s lot? Three words said to Lady Gypsum in the course of a year? “Well, I’m glad to know the truth.” To know what he needed to guard against for himself, for he would not betray his wife, whoever she may be.

But Sir Gavin mistook Achan’s meaning. “As am I, lad. After thirteen years, it explains what bothered me most about your father’s death. Not who had killed him so much as why Axel would not tell me who’d done it.”

“He wanted to protect his son.”

“That he did. Even as he and his queen lay dying by his son’s hand.” Sir Gavin gripped Achan’s shoulder. There were tears in his eyes. “That is who I want you to remember, lad. The man so filled with Arman’s love that he could forgive his son for taking his life and the life of his bride.
That
is the man I knew. The king I served. Just you remember it.”

“But a man with many mistresses. A man who wouldn’t have had that problem if he’d—”

“Aye, he was no porcelain saint. He was mixed, torn, pulled by light and darkness, as is every follower of Arman. That is what it is to love Arman and yet still live in this world. Pity those who do not know Arman, because in them there is nothing at all pulling them toward light.”

Achan felt some of his anger at his father recede. That Sir Gavin could know about King Axel’s failings and yet still admire him as a follower of Arman gave Achan courage as he examined his own mistakes. “I will.”

• • •

After Toros’s brief service for the dead, and after Achan and Sir Gavin had encouraged the soldiers, Achan went to the tent where Sir Caleb had confined Kurtz. It was a narrow brown tent with two cots inside. He found Kurtz lying on one with his hands tucked behind his head. Cole was sitting cross-legged on the other.

When Cole saw Achan he jumped up. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Achan frowned at the boy. “Have you been in here the whole time, Cole?”

“No, Your Highness. I just came from the reveling. Didn’t feel much like celebrating, though.”

“Would you give me a moment to talk with Kurtz?”

“Sure I will.” Cole almost ran out the door.

Achan watched Cole dart between Shung and Manu and bit back his laughter. When he turned back to Kurtz he found the man standing, gaze trained on the grassy floor of the tent.

Achan took a quick breath, then said what he needed to say. “I was prepared to knight you after the recent battle. You saved my life. And Shung’s. But in light of what Sir Caleb has brought to my attention… I cannot.”

Kurtz’s eyes shifted, looking at everything but Achan. “Understood, Your Highness. I don’t need to be knighted, I don’t. Fancy titles don’t matter none to me, eh?”

“They matter to me, Kurtz. And I think you are worthy of such a title. It can still be in your future. Don’t sabotage your worth to my army by putting a wagon-full of wine and prostitutes higher than our cause.”

Kurtz said nothing, would not meet Achan’s eyes.

“Sir Caleb wants you arrested, and Sir Gavin is done bailing you out. But I am a man of second chances. I set the men
i
n the Prodotez free from their crimes. I do the same for you. But as I told them, ‘Just know, if you go back to your old ways, I’ll not be so forgiving next time.’ Is that clear?”

Kurtz’s face flushed, but he smiled. “Aye, Your Highness. Clear as sugar wine, it is.”

26

Is anyone hurt, Jax?
Averella asked.

No. The Ebens have not seen us. They are moving on. Put out your torch and come quietly.

We don’t have a torch.
Averella squeezed Bran’s hand and whispered, “Jax says to come quietly.”

“What is it?” he whispered back.

“Ebens. They’re moving on, though.”

Bran drew his sword silently and inched forward. Averella followed.

The mouth of the cave came into view, dimly lit from outside. Distant torches illuminated a thick forest. Over two dozen giants walked away from the cave in a line, threading through the trees. Jax, Sir Rigil, Noam, and Gren were standing along the wall of the cave, their own torches out.

What were they doing?
Averella asked Jax.

Hunting. I suspect the flock of gowzals
drew
their attention. Two came up to investigate, but turned back before they came inside.

What will we do?

I know not. Ebens have camps all over this area now. I heard them talking about it. I can’t lead us into the unknown.
We’
d be better off going back through the tunnel to Mahanaim, though that could be suicide also with Esek’s men in the city.

The word “tunnel” brought a man’s face to Averella’s mind.
Peripaso, Jax. Could you message him? He knows this area better than anyone. Maybe he could help us.

A wise idea, Vrell. I’ll message him right away.

The Eben torchlight had faded entirely now.

“Set up camp in the cave,” Averella whispered. “Back from the mouth. Sir Rigil, you stay here with Jax and keep watch. Bran and I will relieve you in a few hours.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Averella took Gren’s hand and reached for the tunnel wall. “Master Rennan and Noam, come with us. Master Rennan, once we turn the corner, would you light your torch?”

“Absolutely.”

Averella inched along until Bran’s torchlight lit their way. She found an area of ground that was somewhat smooth and claimed it for the camp. She set out her bedroll beside Gren’s and encouraged Noam to sit on it. They ate a meal of dried fish and apples and whispered to one another when they had to speak. But mostly they remained silent. Jax messaged her that Peripaso was on his way to help them.

Praise Arman.

After that the hours passed slowly. Eventually she and Bran took their watch at the mouth of the cave. It was very dark. Unless an animal snuck up on them, Averella figured they would see light from miles away. She could barely see Bran’s outline from the dim torchlight of the camp.

“I’m still hungry,” Bran said. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

Averella dug into her satchel and gave Bran some mentha leaves to chew on. “At least your mind will feel like it is getting something.”

“Thank you, Averella.”

She put her hands down and pushed back against some roots that wound in through the mouth of the cave. Here the ground was covered in dried grass and pine needles. She could smell the faint scent of pine over the rancid smell of Darkness. Darkness had not been here long enough to kill everything. She lay back, but no position was comfortable in plate armor.

She closed her eyes and tried to still her mind, but the clicking in the trees above magnified. She pictured a peaceful place, and into her mind came an image of a narrow castle built into the side of a cliff. It was covered in moss. A waterfall spilled down each side like flowing hair. The water pooled at the bottom of the falls and ran out across the bailey in a river that vanished through an iron grate in the sentry wall. Thick trees edged the far side of the pool and reflected on the water’s surface.

The scene shifted. Averella stood in the water behind a waterfall, shivering. Everything around her was white frothing liquid. Water trickled down her face and arms. She shifted and rubbed the tickle away, but found something firm there. She tried to flick it away, but it clung to her skin. She twisted her body to see it.

A leech.

She shuddered and pried the creature off with her fingernails, but there were more on her now. She was naked and the leeches covered her body like a slimy black gown. She screamed and dug at them.

Strong arms grabbed her. She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth. She squirmed, wanting nothing more than to get the leeches off her skin. She scratched her captor’s face and squealed.

“Vrella, please!” a soft voice whispered. “You must not make noise!”

She twisted her head and freed her mouth. “The leeches!”

His hand found her mouth again. “You are dreaming. There are no leeches here.”

She stilled, for that was Bran’s voice. She could see nothing, yet knew that he was the one holding her. Her head was cradled in his arm, his free hand cupped over her mouth.