From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  Achan jumped up in a crouch on his bed and waved to Matthias. “Reach under his pillow and take his knife.”

  Matthias hesitated, then padded to Shung’s pallet. Quiet as the mouse Shung had entitled him, he pilfered the knife and backed up against the wall, clutching the bone hilt to his chest with two hands, the shiny steel blade pointed down.

  Achan winked at the boy and bellowed a war cry.

  Shung sprang into a crouch on top of his straw mattress, arms tense and bulging, brown eyes wide and bleary. He wore black trousers and nothing else. Curly black hair covered his muscled chest.

  Achan pounced from his bed to Shung’s. They slammed into the door, slid along the wall, and tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Achan pinned Shung for two seconds before the hairy man flipped him onto his back and pressed his forearm over his throat. “You think you can beat Shung, Little Cham? Where you hide my knife?”

  Achan’s eyes rolled back to where Matthias stood.

  Shung looked up and laughed. He pushed off Achan and sat with an arm propped over one knee. “Mouse is your new ally, Shung sees.”

  Achan scowled. “The lad is hungry, Shung. How is he to eat with your bed in front of the door?”

  Shung fumbled along the side of his pallet until he found his shirt. “You must wait for Shung.”

  Winking again at Matthias, Achan said, “If I wait for you each morning, I’ll never eat breakfast again.”

  “A warrior must sleep.” Shung tugged a white shirt over his head and laced it up. “Sleep renews strength.”

  “Fine. But must you sleep in front of my door?”

  “Shung swore to protect the little cham. Promised—”

  The door opened against the pallet. “Your Highness? Are you well?” Sir Caleb’s voice.

  Achan bloodvoiced his answer. I am fine, Sir Caleb. Matthias and I were only trying to wake Shung.

  Shung stood, pulled on his black leather jerkin, and pushed his pallet away from the door.

  The door swung in, and Sir Caleb stepped inside, followed by Sir Eagan, Sir Gavin, Inko, and Kurtz.

  “What in flames is going on?” Sir Caleb asked. “We thought you were being attacked.”

  “Not him.” Shung walked to Matthias and snatched his knife away. He pointed the blade from Matthias to Achan. “They attack Shung.” He tucked the blade into the sheath on his boot.

  “The troops have arrived from Berland and Tsaftown,” Sir Caleb said. “Matthias, choose the prince’s best ensemble and see that he’s bathed and dressed. Once the soldiers from Zerah Rock arrive, the war council will meet one last time. During the meeting, pack the prince’s armor and clothes. We hope to leave this day.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Achan might have glared at Sir Caleb at the mention of the boy bathing and dressing him, but the idea of leaving Carmine banished the thought from his mind.

  “Until then, Your Highness, put on a shirt and get back in bed. The duchess wants to share her strategies for storming in the meeting and would like to give you a lesson before then so that you have at least experienced it.”

  But the duchess didn’t visit Achan’s chambers this time. He was sitting in bed eating breakfast when her knock came.

  Duchess Amal.

  Even her voice tangled his nerves. Yes, my lady?

  Good day, Your Highness. Since you will be leaving, I think it wise to begin our instructions in this method, as that is how we shall work together in the future.

  Whatever you think best, my lady.

  I understand you once stormed someone.

  Achan hadn’t thought her statement was a question, but when she didn’t speak, he fumbled for an answer. Yes, I stormed Sparrow. Uh, Vrell Sparrow, my lady. We were learning to shield our minds. Sparrow knocked without giving her name. Since I didn’t know who she was, I tried to… He searched for words to describe what he had done. Push her away.

  That is the basics of storming. You combine your push with the element of surprise. I gather Miss Sparrow was surprised when this happened?

  She fainted. Bloodvoicing sometimes makes Sparrow weak. Sir Gavin said that’s what saved her from the Veil that day.

  How fortunate for her.

  A silence stretched on. Achan shifted in his bed, wondering where Duchess Amal had gone. Matthias shuffled around the end of Achan’s room, stacking mounds of folded clothing into the clothes press Sir Caleb had brought up.

  Her voice came again, suddenly, as if she had never left. The trick to storming is to utilize the moment of surprise. First you must enter the Veil and approach the person you want to storm. Is someone there with you?

  Matthias is here. And Shung is on guard outside.

  Call another guard so Sir Shung may sit with you.

  Achan reached for Shung’s mind. I need you in here. Find someone else to guard the door and come in.

  Shung grunted, and the connection vanished. Shung was the only person Achan had met who grunted with his bloodvoice. The idea made him smile.

  His Shield entered the chamber and closed the door.

  “Pull up a chair, Shung. You’re to guard my body so no one kills me while I learn to storm.” Shung is here, my lady.

  Good. Your Highness, your responsibility whenever entering the Veil is to be wise. Overconfidence has killed more men than I dare recount. Do not ignore your man. He is there for your safety. Unless it is imperative, do not shut him out. If he is going to help you, he must hear you. Now, I am in my study. Do you remember where that is?

  I do, my lady.

  Come to me through the Veil. It may take you a while as this is your first attempt alone.

  What is the trick to moving faster?

  Concentration, mostly. And practice. I am going to sever my contact with you. When you find me, try and storm me.

  Isn’t that dangerous, my lady?

  I am prepared and fully trained.

  Achan’s nerves knotted in his chest. Very well.

  The duchess’s presence vanished from Achan’s mind. He glanced at Shung, who raised a bushy eyebrow.

  “Off I go, then.”

  Achan closed his eyes and pictured Duchess Amal’s study. He instantly saw the room from the door to the secret chambers. Straight ahead, Duchess Amal sat at her desk, writing on a scroll weighted with an iron figure of a puppy. Anillo stood at the wall behind her. Before Achan finished his thought of getting closer, he was looking over her shoulder.

  Lord Levy,

  Best wishes on your reassignment. I pray you will be a more hospitable neighbor than Lord Nathak, though I daresay if you are in league with this New Council I doubt your integrity grows stronger.

  Your offer to make Sitna the ruling city of Carm is ridiculous. Carmine has ruled Carm since its inception. I see no reason to change that for a usurper who will soon be defeated. I beg you reconsider where your loyalties lie, for soon the true Prince Gidon Hadar will sit on the throne in Armonguard. You would be wise to cast your support with his claim.

  “You are to storm me, Your Majesty, not read my correspondence,” Duchess Amal said aloud. She lifted the puppy, and the scroll coiled up on her desk.

  I thought maybe you’ d be writing to Lady Averella to tell her to come home and meet her intended.

  She chuckled.

  Her laugh filled him with such warmth that he wanted to make her laugh again. Instead, he asked, How did you know I was here?

  “I can sense when I am being watched. A lesson for another time. You arrived faster than I anticipated. I suspect you have been entering the Veil more than Sir Caleb is aware of.”

  Achan had no answer for this. He concentrated on Duchess Amal’s face, her flawless skin, her auburn hair. He rushed forward, hoping to knock her mind from her body like tackling Shung. He entered her head—

  And flew right through her. He’d glided halfway into the wall behind her desk before he could stop himself.

  “That will not do, Your Highness.”

  Her criticism fil
led him with heat. When I stormed Sparrow, she was trying to penetrate my mind. I sensed her, so I had a target. How can I find you if you’re not attacking?

  “If I’m not attacking you, where is my mind?”

  In your head. Which was why Achan had tried the tackle approach.

  She folded her hands on her desk. “Do not make this more complicated than need be. Seek my thoughts. Should my shields keep you from seeing them, you have my shields to focus on.”

  Of course. Achan sensed strong shields around her mind, yet he pushed past them with little effort.

  Her private thoughts filled his head. —is such a bright young man. I expect he shall have me stormed before I can—

  Achan flew against her voice. He made contact but this time took the duchess with him, through the wall and into the bright sunlight.

  Duchess Amal’s deep laughter filled his head. “Before I can finish my thought,” was what I had been thinking. Well done, Your Highness!

  Achan floated over the inner bailey in almost the same place he’d come up from the underground tunnel. He held Duchess Amal around her waist, his head tucked under her arm. He released her at once, cheeks burning. His body floated up and back from hers.

  And there you have stormed me. Duchess Amal shot up to Achan’s height. Though in battle, you would throw me up as far as possible. If you recall, the sky is disorienting in the Veil. If your target does not have a partner, it only takes seconds for them to forget and get lost.

  Duchess Amal vanished.

  Achan floated back through the castle wall and found her whole again, sitting at her desk.

  “That is enough lesson for today, Your Highness. This is how we shall practice from now on. Should you need me, message at any time. I am your servant.” She bowed her head.

  Dismissed, then. Thank you, my lady. Achan opened his eyes to the frescoed ceiling above his bed and smiled. He was getting faster at this. He raised up onto one elbow to see Shung slouched down in the chair beside his bed, eyes closed.

  “Are you sleeping?”

  Shung’s eyes flashed open. “Listening.”

  Achan narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to believe you were focused on nothing but Duchess Amal and my conversation? All this time?”

  His Shield’s dark eyebrows wrinkled low over his eyes.

  Achan continued to needle him. “That your thoughts never once drifted to a certain tall woman with dark hair and a cheerful smile?”

  Shung bared his yellow teeth in a wide smile. “Berland soldiers arrived this morning. Eager to see Lady Gali.”

  Achan sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Lady Gali travels with Sir Koyukuk’s army?”

  “In Berland, female warriors are not prohibited.”

  This did not surprise Achan. Lady Gali was as forbidding as Shung. “I’m glad Berland is on our side. For I would not wish Lady Gali’s wrath upon any of our men.”

  Shung banged his fist over his heart. “You honor Lady Gali to say so.”

  Achan bit back a smile. “You must go to her and give my greetings right away, Sir Shung Noatak.”

  Shung stood and stomped one foot. “As you wish, Little Cham.” He bounded to the door and opened it so fast he almost ripped it off its hinges.

  Kurtz, who’d been on guard in the hall, swung around to look inside the door, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He met Achan’s gaze through the open doorway. “Hello, Pacey.”

  Achan grinned at Kurtz’s use of the nickname he’d given him on their visit to a tavern in Tsaftown. They had pretended to be sailors just into port. Achan had been an oarsman. “Hello, Kurtz.”

  Shung darted past Kurtz. The floor shook lightly as his footsteps pounded down the hall at a run.

  Kurtz turned to watch Shung. “Where are you going, eh?”

  Achan stood and stretched. “I’ve sent him on an errand, Kurtz. I’m afraid you’ll have to guard the door a bit longer. For Lady Gali awaits.”

  10

  A whip cracked. A man screamed.

  “It weren’t me. I swear! Ask Murgon. Ask him, I say!”

  Vrell pushed her fingertips into her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands trembled, creating a hum that only agitated her distress. Closing her eyes could not stifle the stench of urine, dirt, and moldy bread.

  Reggio Levy had no right to put her here. A noblewoman should not be kept in a dungeon. Reggio’s audacity had always been borderline insane. But to take her from the Corner at Sitna Manor and throw her here? Had the man no sense of propriety? More importantly: did he really plan to give her to Esek? Could Esek truly be alive?

  The muted screaming stopped. Vrell released her ears and opened her eyes. The torchlight from the corridor painted stripes of light across the dirt floor of her cell. Her skirt had fallen to the ground again, and she wrapped the rough fabric around her knees as if bundling something precious. Or keeping something hideous out. That fear had kept her from sleep. Was it morning yet?

  Her cell was dark and, thankfully, vacant, though a cot, stool, or some kind of blanket would have been nice. The front of her cell consisted of a half wall of stone with iron bars running from the top of the wall to the ceiling. She sat against the stone, knees to her chest, just to the left of the barred door. Full walls of iron bars divided her cell from others. Hers looked to be in the middle of a dozen or more along this row, for she could see men at various distances on both sides, trapped behind the bars like the teeth on a comb.

  Vrell tried not to look at the back wall, but her gaze continually flitted to the iron rings hanging from the stone. She shuddered at the memory of Achan hanging from such rings in his cell in Mahanaim while Lord Nathak’s guard whipped him. She prayed she would not meet the same fate.

  If she had followed her own instincts instead of caving to Gren, she would be in Allowntown by now. But what was done was done, and fuming would not change her circumstances. She should contact Mother, she supposed.

  Mother would be furious.

  She prolonged the inevitable tongue-lashing by focusing on Bran’s mind instead. She found him in an even darker room than her dungeon cell. The hairs on Vrell’s arms tingled. Something was wrong.

  Bran’s wrists stung. What did Prince Oren say, Sir Jax?

  That he can do nothing for us at present. Jax’s voice boomed from the darkness on Bran’s left. Promised to inform Sir Caleb of our plight, but I told him I can manage that. He’s got enough to worry about.

  Quite right. Sir Rigil’s voice came from Bran’s right. Do take care, Jax. Lord Agros is Sir Caleb’s brother.

  I had forgotten, Jax said. Do you think I should message Sir Gavin instead?

  No, Sir Rigil said. Sir Caleb is Prince Achan’s closest advisor, and we were returning to Prince Oren on the prince’s orders. I’m afraid you must message Sir Caleb.

  Jax did not answer again, and Vrell suspected his message to Sir Caleb was being sent. What could have happened? Were they in a dungeon too?

  We were too lax, Sir Rigil said. I should have had Jax bloodvoice Lord Agros before we approached the gate.

  That conniving old blackguard! Bran’s slang shocked Vrell, for she had never heard him use such language. Does that mean this “New Council” has taken over?

  It appears so, Master Rennan.

  What do you suppose they’ve done with Lord Agros?

  I dare not say. It is clear he is not down here, unless he is too injured to speak.

  Bran shifted his hands. Scratchy rope bit into his wrists, bringing tears to Vrell’s eyes. Can you loose your bonds at all?Mine are cutting through the skin.

  As are mine. That old man is a smart devil. Even had his guards check my boots.

  Mine as well. If only you’ d taught me to hide a knife somewhere else.

  We must not give up hope. Arman will provide.

  Bran sighed. Unless He is ready to take us home.

  Do not get sentimental, boy. We may be here a long while. It would be better for Sir Caleb to leave us t
han risk men in a rescue attempt. I should have had Jax tell him so, though he will likely come to that conclusion on his own.

  At least by our capture the men will know not to bring Achan this way, Bran said.

  Good man, Rennan. That’s the way to look at it. See? Arman has already used us, and we almost missed it. But I’ve told you not to refer to the prince as “Achan.”

  Bran was about to respond, but Jax spoke.

  The army moves out today. Sir Caleb was grieved to hear about his brother but thankful to know of this trap.

  Vrell pulled away from the men, heart heavy. A trap in Allowntown? There was no time to waste. Mother? It is Averella. I have news.

  One moment, dearest.

  Vrell squeezed her hands while she waited. A prisoner in the cell on her left sang a slurred tune.

  What is it, Averella?

  I’m in Sitna. I thought I could catch up with Jax but—

  Mother sighed heavily. I am in a meeting, Averella. Unless you are in mortal danger, we shall speak of this later.

  I am in the dungeons. Reggio Levy had me arrested.

  A dungeon? Averella, why did you leave Carmine?

  Gren wanted to go home.

  The peasant widow? And you are her escort?

  Yes, Mother. I—

  Of all the ridiculous… Really, Averella. We are in a war for the throne of Er’Rets. I cannot be rescuing you every other day. For all that was sacrificed to see you safely home…

  I am sorry. This would not have happened if I had used my head. And gone on without Gren.

  That much is true. What did Lord Levy say to you?

  I have not seen him. Reggio put me here.

  Has anyone hurt you?

  No, but they put me in the dungeon, Mother! It’s horrible here.

  Averella, it is you who seem to want to be treated like one of the men. If you insist on this lifestyle, you should get used to dirt and manhandling. I love you and will do all I can to see you freed. Let me speak with your father.

  Mother, wait! Allowntown is a trap. Vrell explained what she had heard from Jax, Sir Rigil, and Bran.