From Darkness Won (64 page)

“We can’t stay here without dry clothing,” Gren said, “we’ll f-freeze.”

“We’re not staying here.” Peripaso walked to a dark opening in the wall. “The tunnel continues on—”

“Ohh, no!” Gren wailed. “I don’t want to go again.”

Averella put her arm around Gren’s shoulders and pulled her close. “It will be all right. Let us at least hear the plan before we refuse.”

Gren frowned and laid her head on Averella’s shoulder.

“The tunnel’s only coated with ice about halfway,” Peripaso said. “There’s a river overhead. We’ll slide down, as we did before, and meet the stream, which will carry us the rest of the way. We’ll pass through several sprays of water, until at last, we come out at Mowtsa Falls and into the plunge pool.”

“Is it snowmelt?” Sir Rigil’s usually perfect hair looked painted over his scalp. His lips were blue.

Peripaso’s tunic clung to his skeletal, hunched form. “Some is. But some is from the Mowtsa River, which wends its way from Mount Bamah. And some is from the hot springs. So it’ll feel warmer.”

“Is it deep?” Gren asked.

“Aye, but we’ll be there to catch you again. In fact, Jax, why don’t you go after Sir Eagan so there’ll be three of us to tow people to shore.”

“I can do that,” Jax said.

“And I think those of you wearing armor should take it off and hold it, just so it won’t pull you to the bottom. The plunge pool is a ways deeper than this one.”

“How did you keep the furs dry?” Averella asked. “And the torch?”

“I bundled them around the torch before sliding down and held them above my head.”

Averella turned to Gren. “Help me untie my armor. You can hold the back half over you to keep the water off as you go down.”

“Thank you.” Gren and Averella worked at the points until the armor separated. Bran did the same with his armor and gave the backplate to Noam.

“Let us not tarry then.” Peripaso took the furs from Jax and Sir Rigil. He laid the first one out, fur side up, then spread the other on top. “All of you line up against the wall. Sir Rigil, you go last this time and make sure everyone comes down. And everyone, wait for Sir Eagan’s word before you slide.”

When everyone had lined up along the wall, Peripaso picked up the torch and smothered it with his bundle.

Darkness clamped upon them once more.

When Averella’s turn came again, she resituated her pack in front and gripped the breastplate over it. She shivered and scooted toward the edge, not as frightened this time, though she would still rather be elsewhere. When Sir Eagan messaged her, she merely said, “I am going, Gren. See you at the bottom.”

She pushed off and lay back, clutching the front section of the breastplate over herself and her pack. She flew down the chute. Her heart, lungs, and stomach ran wild again. The mysterious organ lodged itself back at the base of her throat. But after a few twists and turns, she calmed. In summer, such an experience might be fun. If she could see.

A spray of icy water hit her face. She gasped and twisted her head to the side, pulling the breastplate higher. The next time
s
he passed under water, it drummed against the bronze armor. A small victory.

This tunnel ran longer than the previous one. She suddenly realized there was no more ice beneath her. She was moving slower, washing along on a few inches of cold water.

The floor gave way in the same moment as fists of water pounded on her breastplate and face. She screamed this time, for she could see nothing as she fell. Just as she wondered if this fall might not end, she splashed into water. It seemed every bit as cold as before. A hand grabbed at her shoulder and missed. She kicked and held tight to the breastplate, not wanting to lose it. Her head burst through the water’s surface.

“There she is!” Sir Eagan yelled.

Jax’s voice came from behind. “How’d she get over there?”

Averella twisted around in the water. A burning torch had been driven into the dirt on the shore. It lit the surrounding cove like a yellow moon and reflected off the water like flakes of gold. Thick trees and a mossy ledge edged both sides of the plunge pool. The Mowtsa River cut a line through the forest, heading south. Overhead, the waterfall splashed from at least three levels high. The sparkling cascade stole her breath.

“How beautiful!”

Jax swam toward her, a shadowy form on the glistening water. When he reached her, he took the breastplate and pitched it onto the shore. He grabbed her arm.

“Oh, I can swim fine, Jax. Go wait for Gren.”

“Fine. But do not tarry, Vrell.”

Averella slowly made her way to the shore. The water did not stab like the water in the frozen cavern had. She felt as if it were thawing her very bones. Was that another trick of the water?

A scream rang out. Averella looked up in time to see Gren shoot out of the middle of the waterfall. The other half of Averella’s breastplate went spinning off to the side. Averella swam after it. Thankfully it floated a moment like the hull of a boat before being pulled under by its weight and the water pouring into it. She marked its shiny surface reflecting the torchlight as it sank below the water. She dove after it, then swam to shore.

She used some low tree branches to heave herself onto the mossy bank. The air gripped her wet body, but felt warmer than expected. Her soggy boots squished as she walked over the spongy moss. She fetched the front of her breastplate and propped them both against a birch tree, pausing to marvel that the tree that was not slimy and black yet.

How long until Darkness changed it?

Gren slogged up to her. “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“It was not so bad, looking back.”

“Are you mad? It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Averella wanted to ask if it were truly worse than marrying that Riga fellow, but she held her tongue.

She and Gren found a space between four trees and started to set up a camp. They shook out Peripaso’s bundle and hung the furs in the tree to air. No one seemed to want them once they were fished out of the plunge pool.

Jax hoisted Bran onto the shore. He rolled on the moss and got to his feet, clutching his forearm, which was coated in blood.

Averella ran toward him, opening her satchel on the way. “What happened?”

Bran sucked a breath between his teeth. “My breastplate caught on something in that last tunnel. It twisted, hit the wall, and sliced into my arm. Perhaps it would have been better to nearly drown.”

Averella sank to her knees on the mossy ground. “It’s deep.” She rinsed the wound, added some salve, and bandaged it. Then she strapped his arm across his chest in a sling so that his hand rested over his heart. “Make sure your hand stays up here. You need to keep your arm elevated until the wound stops bleeding.”

Bran paid her with a wide smile. “Thank you, Vrella. I’m sure it will heal.”

When everyone was accounted for, Averella led Gren into the trees to a place lit enough to see in the torchlight but concealed enough from the men to remove their clothing. They stripped out of their heavy dresses, wrung them out, and reluctantly put them back on. Then they returned to the shore and sat with the men, nibbling reekat meat.

Gren rocked back and forth, holding her knees. “Are we safe now?”

But before anyone could answer, a wolf’s howl rang out from the north. Distant, but close enough to raise the hairs on Averella’s arms.

A second wolf answered, this one from the south and very close. Averella twisted around to see a black shadow standing on the opposite bank of the plunge pool, watching them with glittering eyes.

31

Achan lay on his bedroll that night in his tent, humming Yumikak’s song. He could hear the men singing in the distance, a chorus of voices attempting to block the tricks of Darkness. The familiar clicking of wood over his tent sent a chill up his arms. Darkness called to his worst imaginings.

One more day of travel, and they would reach Edom Gate. Then another day to Noiz and the high ground there. But how many days until the battle would begin?

A man screamed. The side of Achan’s tent shook. Achan sat up, and Shung scrambled to his side, dagger drawn. Manu ran out the door.

Moments later, Sir Caleb entered with a lantern. “It’s all right. Manu got him under control.”

“Got who?” Achan asked.

“Just a soldier who thought Esek slept in here. I suspect Darkness is taking its toll on the men.”

Which was why Achan had been keeping his mind filled with Sparrow’s song.

The next day, if a black sky could be called
day,
they rode through the trees until Achan lost the feeling in his backside. They came upon Edom Gate suddenly. One moment Achan was slapped in the face by another scratchy branch, the next Dove had carried him into a clearing. The torchlight from the procession lit up their path. They traveled a road that twisted along a narrow gorge. Mountain cliffs rose on both sides like the walls of an outdoor corridor.

Ahead, an iron gate stood ten levels high and was built into the cliffs on both sides. The soldiers in front of Achan trickled through a smaller gate within the massive one. Soldiers stood at the gate, watching with bored eyes. They wore grey and black uniforms with a crest emblazoned on their chests: a wall before a setting sun.

Inside, the procession led Achan into a clearing, a pass between the mountain cliffs on either side. Hundreds of tents were already set up. Men and giants stood along the road, cheering their arrival. The Mârad army, no doubt. Achan nodded to the men and glanced up to the steep mountain walls enclosing the clearing. He could see that about two dozen stone structures had been built into the rock wall. No fortress at all. Achan followed his guards to a place where some men were erecting his tent.

Sir Caleb was there already. “One more day, Your Highness, and you will have the comfort of a bed again.”

“I have the comfort of a bed each night, Sir Caleb.”

“Well, a roof overhead, then. And not a canvas one.”

“I expected more here. I thought your wife—”

“She is at Noiz with Bodwin and his family. This is only Edom’s Gate. Bodwin is Inko’s son and the warden of Edom’s Gate, though he resides at Noiz. The men at the gate are his men.”

“And they were expecting us.”

“Aye. Inko’s son can bloodvoice and informed them of our arrival.”

“How many men work this gate? It seems so small.”

“About a hundred. They bunk in the cave dwellings. As you can see, the gate is formidable. There’s no way to breach it without having someone on the inside. That’s why it was built. To be a sanctuary for the king.”

“Noiz, you mean?”

“Noiz is the sanctuary. Edom’s Gate is the door. A door that is always kept locked. Tomorrow, you and the generals will march on up to Noiz and plan our next move. The rest of the army will camp here with the Mârad until we give further orders.”

That day and night passed slowly, as did the next day. The gorge road snaked along the Darkness through the hazy glow of a thick fog lit from the soldiers’ torches. The narrow road forced the army to travel two horses abreast. Achan stayed beside Shung.

A stale wind blasted Achan, nearly knocking him from Dove’s back. He hunkered down, thankful for the fur cape Shung had made from the cham Achan had killed. He squinted up at the rock walls and found he could no longer see them through the smoky glow the torchlight gave to the fog. Was the fog hiding the cliffs or had the gorge widened? He faced forward and found the land ahead a gleam of fog as well. He
p
atted Dove and kept his eyes on the tail of Manu’s horse before him, hoping Manu was doing the same.