Authors: Jill Williamson
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Christian
She wiped tears from her cheeks.
I am desperately sorry, Achan. I was scared. It was so dark and I did not know if you were safe. Please forgive me.
Silence stretched on for a long agonizing moment.
Just don't do it again.
* * *
Once Sir Gavin declared they had reached the old road north, they spurred the horses as fast as the beasts would go in the dark, which was not above a canter. Vrell cried most of the journey, both from pain and with grief for how she had angered Achan. She considered throwing herself from her horse, when it occurred to her that Darkness might be playing on her sorrow, not to mention how her month-blood always darkened her moods. She hummed praises to Arman and soon felt lighter.
They steered their horses across the wetlands of what Inko told her was Melas Marsh, sloshing water for hours. Sir Gavin had them stop on a small, dry knoll. He drove a torch into the ground and they made camp around it in silence. Either the men were exhausted or something truly horrible had taken place in Barth.
Vrell was thankful for her own bedroll. Lord Eli had provided that, at least, despite his trickery and betrayal. She laid it a few feet from the torch and sat cross-legged, watching the bugs flock to the light, waiting for someone to speak.
Clinking metal drew her attention to Achan. He carried a long length of chain looped over his arm that hung past his knees, jingling as he limped about. Why would no one talk of what had happened? How had they managed to free Achan?
Achan lay on his bedroll on the other side of the fire, chains scraping each time he shifted.
Sir Gavin handed out rations of bread and apples. He crouched at Vrell's feet and set her food on the end of the leather hide. "Would you mind looking at Achan's feet, Vrell? They might need care."
Before she could respond, Sir Gavin moved to Inko's bedroll. Achan looked to be sleeping now. She picked up her satchel and circled the torch by way of Sir Caleb. She could not suffer another verbal beating. If Achan was still cross, she would need reinforcements.
"Sir Caleb," Vrell said softly, "I am to check Achan's wounds. Would you mind holding the torch so I can see?"
"Of course." Sir Caleb jumped up and jerked the torch from the sand. Shadows danced as the only light for miles was moved. Vrell knelt at the foot of Achan's bedroll. Sir Caleb crouched beside her and held the torch low. Dirt caked footprints on the soles of Achan's bare feet. Vrell cringed at the blisters and streaks of dried blood that were nearly impossible to see against the dirt.
Sir Caleb laid his hand on Achan's bare shin. "Your Highness?"
Achan's breathing hitched, then fell back into a soft rhythm.
"Asleep already, poor lad. Can you imagine? A stray one day, a king the next. And in both lives, targets of wicked men's wrath."
Vrell's chest constricted. "No, I cannot."
"You think you can work on those feet a bit without waking him?"
"I shall do my best, sir." She hoped she had enough supplies.
Vrell used water from her jug and a strip of linen from her satchel to wipe Achan's feet as clean as she could without soaking them. Achan slept so soundly, he barely moved. She rubbed yarrow salve into the cuts and scrapes and used the rest of her linen to wrap his feet to keep out more dirt.
When she finished, she held the torch for Sir Caleb so he could pick the locks on Achan's shackles. Once those were removed, Vrell did what she could with her remaining supplies to nurse the lacerations on his hands and wrists.
She packed up her satchel, leaned over Achan, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."
* * *
The next morning--if a dark sky with no hope of light all day could be called morning--Sir Gavin made sure to greet each of them face to face, then they mounted and rode without a word.
Vrell's mind began to wander into a waking dream, scrambling reality with fear in a bizarre ongoing hallucination. If only she had brought along Achan's chains, she could punish herself by wearing them. How might they look with a wedding gown? Would Sir Gavin approve? Life would be blissful when she and Sir Gavin finally wed, but would their children have long white beards? Different colored eyes? And would Bran object? Would he challenge Sir Gavin?
She managed to break free from the chain of thoughts and center her mind on Arman, but each wild imagining left her shaken. Had Sir Caleb run out of lectures? Why did no one speak?
"No!"
Vrell jerked upright in her saddle. Her horse stopped and snorted. A horse ahead of hers whinnied and stomped, splashing the marshland water. A man grunted. Water splashed, followed by quick footsteps in the water. Who was running?
"Achan!" Sir Gavin cried out. "Stop!"
"Her child! He's dying!" Achan called from the darkness to Vrell's left. "I must go to her!"
"Who's dying?" Sir Caleb said from behind Vrell.
Leather slid against leather and boots splashed into the water at the front of the line.
A torchlight fizzed green behind Vrell, illuminating Sir Gavin's white hair, flying out behind him as he bounded through the marsh.
Sir Caleb dismounted and followed, taking the green light with him. "Light a torch so we can find our way back!"
Inko started to dig in his pack. Vrell clutched the reins and listened to Achan's screams in the distance. From the sounds of things, the men had caught him and he did not approve.
"What is he doing, do you think?" Vrell asked.
"Going mad, I'm guessing. It's being the way of Darkness to be calling to your fears."
Who did Achan think was dying? Vrell did not have to wonder long. Soon Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb dragged a sobbing, struggling Achan back to the horses.
"No!" Achan jerked against their hold, trying to get away. He plowed back and forth between them, causing all three men to stagger and slip in the ankle-deep water. "Let me go! Gren needs me. She's all alone. They killed him."
"Who did they kill?" Vrell asked.
Achan sobered and stopped struggling, eyes wide. He sniffled. "I must go. I must protect her from Esek. He intends to use her to get to me."
Vrell's face tingled as the blood drained away. She had thought Achan suffered from Darkness's hold, but this seemed all too real. "Who did Esek kill, Achan. Who?"
"Her baby!"
Baby? Vrell frowned. "Achan, Gren has only been married a short time. She could not have a child yet."
"He's dead, I say!" He glared up at Vrell. "You don't believe me? I don't care. I don't need any of you. I'll go alone. Let me go! I must go to Gren!"
Sir Gavin's voice swelled in Vrell's inner ear.
He's delusional, Vrell. Don't encourage this line of thought. Do you have something to help him sleep?
I have hops tea. But I will need hot water to prepare it and time for it to take effect.
"We'll rest here a moment." Sir Gavin spread his feet as Achan tried to pull away. "Inko, please help Vrell heat a bit of water to make Achan a drink."
Achan grunted with his effort to break free. "I don't need a drink. I need to get to Sitna. Let go!"
But the knights did not. They stood in the marsh with Achan and tried to distract him from his worry of Gren's dead baby. Inko lit a torch and helped Vrell heat enough water to drink in a small tin cup. She had to wear one of Inko's thick leather gloves to keep the little cup from burning her hands as the torchlight heated the water.
"I've grown lax." Sir Gavin's face had darkened with his effort to hold Achan. "I shouldn't have ordered everyone to stay silent. Losing Achan should've made me more careful, not less. We must continue to communicate, focus our minds."
Vrell added the herbs and the smell cleansed her sinuses and relaxed her nerves. When it had steeped, she poured it into a cool mug and brought it to Achan.
He shook his head. "You're trying to give me aleh. You want to silence my bloodvoice so I can't see Gren. Get away!"
Achan swiped at Vrell and nearly upset the cup. Sir Caleb grabbed his arms, but Achan fought him. They fell and rolled in the water until Inko and Sir Gavin managed to drag Achan off of Sir Caleb. Achan elbowed Sir Gavin and sprinted off again.
It took all three men to restrain him and a very long time for Vrell to get him to swallow the tea. Then they had to wait for it to put him to sleep. He fought it until he went limp. Sir Gavin tethered Achan's horse beside his own, the knights hoisted Achan up, tied him to the horse, and they moved on.
Vrell prayed for Achan and for her own sanity. The horses' hooves soon found the dry ground of the sandbar again. Vrell spotted light to the north. A single flame winking on the black horizon. Sir Caleb bloodvoiced techniques for fighting with a short sword, and before they could stop for their second meal, the whole horizon seemed to glow as if a fire ravaged the land.
Melas.
Part 3
Friends and Allies
17
Vrell nibbled a piece of dried fish and passed her gaze between the orange glow in the distance and Achan, curled up on a bedroll beside Sir Gavin. Achan had suffered so much. Would the people of Melas be kind? Depraved? Would they seek to exploit him? Kill him? Melas was the only place separating Southern Er'Rets from Northern Er'Rets this side of Mahanaim. It commanded the only way to cross the
Vrell could no longer stand the silence. "Will they let us enter through the gate?"
"My friend is expecting us." Sir Gavin took a swig from his water jug. "He'll meet us inside."
"Who is he?" Vrell asked.
"A former Kingsguard soldier turned priest."
Vrell hoped for a priest of the Way. It had been so long since she had heard Arman's word.
Though the lights of Melas seemed close, hours passed before they approached the narrow bridge that crossed the mouth of the inlet and led up to a solid cast iron gate. A massive stone wall stretched along the northern shore of
The hollow clunking of the horses hooves on the bridge rattled Vrell's nerves after hours of sandy terrain.
A voice called out from the gate: "Who comes this way?"
"Sir Gavin Lukos and company. We're here on business with Trajen Yorbride."
"Hold."
The horses stopped. Vrell's eyes adjusted to the torchlight on the curtain wall. Achan slumped over his horse. She hoped he would wake with no memory of his strange behavior.
"Stand back for the guard," the voice from the gatehouse said. "They will exit, count your party, then follow you inside. Then the gate will close again. Agreed?"
"Aye, we agree." Sir Gavin twisted around on his horse. "Steer your mounts to the right of the bridge to make way for the guards. Do what they say and don't argue."
Vrell guided her horse as close to the right railing as possible. Why so much security just to enter Melas? What would happen if Achan woke and had another fit? Would they arrest him? Kill him? Leave him outside the gate?
A boom shook the bridge. Vrell's horse jerked. Vrell patted the animal's neck as the clanking of chains echoed over the water. The gate slid left like a curtain, baring a sliver of orange light from within. When the gate was wide enough for one man on a horse to pass, the chains stopped rattling.
Hoofbeats
clomped nearer as the guards approached, single file.
Three rode past Vrell. They wore long dark capes over dark armor. Vrell tensed, remembering the black knights. When the
hoofbeats
stopped, she glanced back. The guardsmen had circled their mounts and now faced the gate.
One of the guards called out. "There are five in the party. Move forward!"
Sir Gavin rode through the gap in the gate, pulling Achan's horse behind. Vrell clicked her tongue and her horse followed. Two guards stood on either side of the gate, swords drawn. Vrell avoided eye contact as she passed under the gatehouse. She murmured a prayer over her uneasiness.