From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  “My lady, please!” Sir Rigil called through the window.

  Averella ran her fingers along the guard’s arm then tugged at the neckline of his tunic.

  He stared down on her, his expression befuddled. “Now, I’d be glad to spend time with yeh, m’lady, but not so—”

  In one motion, Averella executed a perfect leg sweep. Eyes bulging, the guard hit the floor hard. She stomped on his face, and he rolled away, groaning.

  She picked up his sword and snagged the keys off his belt. Her voice was calm, though her fingers trembled. “Noam, see that he stays down.”

  Noam regarded her as if she had just spoken Barthian. “Yes, my lady.”

  “The black key!” Sir Rigil yelled through the bars. “The one with three prongs.”

  Averella found the key and managed to twist it in the lock. The door swung open. Sir Rigil rushed out with Bran and two other men at his heels. Bran pushed Noam aside and dragged the dazed guard into the cell. Six more prisoners exited, including a giant with long braided hair, who had to hunch over to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.

  The giant’s big brown eyes stared down like overripe plums. He smiled, revealing two rotten bottom teeth. “How are you, Vrell?”

  A flood of memories burst through her mind at the sound of his voice. Him standing in Lord Orthrop’s study. Riding a horse behind his festrier. Averella perched in a tree while the giant wielded axes and fought off Eben giants. Him fastening a sword around her waist.

  “Jax! Your name is Jax! I remember!” She threw her arm around his waist in a side hug but gagged at his strong body odor. No baths in prison.

  “Well, I should hope so, my lady. I’d hate to hear you’d forgotten me so soon.”

  She pulled back from their embrace. “Oh, I’ve forgotten everything. Though some has come back in flashes.”

  Sir Rigil took the keys from Averella and locked the cell door. “My lady, we must go. Now. It will not be long before another guard patrols this corridor.” He handed the keys to another prisoner. “Boten, free as many as you can. Take care.”

  Bran glanced at Averella, then Gren, his face as red as ever. Averella knew it was not from sunburn this time.

  She cleared her throat and turned her focus to the other soldiers. “Prince Gidon’s army attacks even now, weakening the stronghold from the outside. If you can get weapons, you can cripple it from the inside. Arman be with you all.”

  Boten pulled keys off the ring and passed them to other soldiers. “Let’s do this as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  Averella handed the sword to Sir Rigil, whom she believed was the highest ranking soldier present. He accepted the weapon and grinned. “After you, my lady.”

  She lifted her skirt and ran back to the stairs. Halfway up, she met two guards coming down. Sir Rigil, Bran, and Jax surprised them and were able to take their weapons. They dragged the guards back to the third level and locked them in a cell. They took the stairs again, this time making it to the crack into the wall.

  Averella found her lantern where she left it. She moved slowly, for Jax had a difficult time squeezing through the tunnel. She reached the boat and waited, holding the lantern up so that everyone could see as well as possible.

  Gren reached her first, then Sir Rigil, who nodded to Gren. “Madam Hoff. Fancy meeting you in such a place.”

  She curtsied. “Good day, Sir Rigil.”

  Sir Rigil turned his gaze to Averella. “Master Rennan said you had two men with you. Where are they?”

  “Master Fox is there,” she nodded to Noam, “and the battle separated us from Master Poe.”

  “These are peasant men from Sitna, is that correct?”

  “We were forced to be creative with our recruitment process, were we not, Gren?”

  Gren mumbled, “Yes, my lady.”

  Jax finally ducked out of the tunnel. He walked to the boat and inspected it.

  “What I want to know,” Sir Rigil said, “is where in all Er’Rets you learned that move, my lady? When you took down that guard? It was very well done.”

  A thrill coursed through her veins at Sir Rigil’s praise. “I cannot be certain, but I believe the real Prince Gidon taught me.”

  Bran chuckled, his tone icy. “Well, that explains it. You always were an independent one. I’m not surprised you fell for a man who taught you to fight.”

  “Master Rennan!” Sir Rigil scolded.

  Fire kindled in Averella’s chest. “I do not know for certain that Prince Gidon taught me. I merely suspect he did. I cannot remember him, really. So I certainly have not fallen for him, as you accuse, Master Rennan.”

  “I’m sorry you don’t remember, my lady,” Bran said. “But it’s true.”

  She sputtered, angry that he was angry, but Sir Rigil took her arm and led her to the boat. “Lady Averella, you say the castle is under attack?”

  “It had only just started before we came underground.” She set the lantern on the ground and stepped into the boat, gripping Sir Rigil’s hand to keep steady. “Once we are on our way, I will see where Master Poe is.”

  “And where are we going?” Bran’s voice sent a chill over Averella as she settled onto the back bench. The familiarity of his tone both elated and angered her. She could not explain why.

  Her only defense was to give Sir Rigil her answer. “We had planned to travel to Armonguard. We have two horses in the stables but traded our wagon for the boat. I covet your wise council, Sir Rigil, as to what our next move should be.”

  “We’re better off in the boat,” Sir Rigil said, climbing into the craft. “Prince Oren says the road south is blocked.”

  “I did not know you could bloodvoice, Sir Rigil.”

  Sir Rigil sat on the bench beside Averella. “I cannot. But Prince Oren speaks with me when he has opportunity.”

  “But your brother has the gift,” Averella said, thinking of Sir Eagan.

  “Aye, but it came from Sir Eagan’s mother, Princess Alondria. My mother, Lady Zora, was from Jaelport.”

  Averella wrinkled her nose.

  Sir Rigil laughed. “I quite agree, my lady. But Lady Zora does not ascribe to the teachings of her mother and aunts. Since Lady Zora had no affinity for magic, her mother sent her to Nesos when she was a small girl. She was one of Queen Dara’s childhood companions.”

  “Was she?” Averella said, guessing she probably knew this already but had forgotten. “How interesting.”

  Bran helped Gren sit beside Averella, then climbed in himself and sat next to Noam on the center seat.

  Only Jax remained on the ledge. “If you will navigate, Master Fox, I will row. My arms are aching for exercise.”

  Noam nodded, and he and Bran moved to the front bench. Jax nearly capsized the craft when he climbed in, but soon had them sailing through the dark cavern with surprising speed.

  “Is there a way south by water?” Averella asked.

  “Aye,” Jax said. “Just get me out to the canals.”

  While Noam gave Jax directions, Averella bloodvoiced Harnu. Where are you now, Master Poe? Are you well?

  My lady, I’m fine. What of Gren?

  We are all well, Master Poe. Our only concern is you.

  I’m fighting with your sword, my lady. All my life I’ve created them, but never have I used one.

  It is a sad specimen. Tell me what is happening.

  The battle rages. Many have fallen. Old Kingsguards somehow got inside. I found a man who was killed and took his red cape so I wouldn’t get stabbed by the good side. And now I’m keeping pace with the Old Kingsguards. We’re trying to kill as many as we can, but there are beasts and sorcerers who shoot green fire. It’s like living a long tale.

  Averella’s heart smiled at Harnu’s excitement. We have freed the knights and are coming back toward the stables. I will let you know when we arrive.

  Thank you, my lady.

  Averella opened her eyes. Torchlight lit the surrounding canals and buildings in a dull glow. They were
back in the canals. A squawk turned her gaze up. A black bird soared along the path of the canal. She tracked its progress. It joined three other birds and passed over a building, out of sight.

  Jax turned the boat at the keep but paddled along the pier platform that ran under the courtyard above as if he had no intention of stopping.

  “We should dock here. The stables are up that staircase.” Averella pointed to the narrow steps that led to the courtyard.

  But Jax continued to row. “As Sir Rigil said, we’re safer in the boat. I won’t stop until we’re out of Mahanaim.”

  “But we have a man in the bailey,” Averella said.

  Sir Rigil took Averella’s elbow. “My lady, we must do what we can to see you safely out of—”

  “Master Poe risked his life for us, Sir Rigil. How dare you suggest I leave him behind? You feel his life is worth less than mine?”

  “That is not what I meant, my lady. I simply—”

  “And Kopay? My horse is in the stable. My horse!”

  “A fine animal,” Sir Rigil said, “but there will be other horses. And perhaps, after the war, he will still be there.”

  “You cannot possibly believe that, Sir Rigil. I know enough of pillaging to know that, with no lord ruling Mahanaim, there will be little left of— Wait.” Averella’s gaze tracked two more black birds. A memory flashed. A gowzal. A man in a tower. A dark voice. “Dock the boat, Jax. This instant! Stop, Jax!” Averella stood up. “I shall swim if I must.”

  Sir Rigil sighed. “Jax, do as she says.” He gripped her hand. “But sit, my lady, please. For I am told that swimming in the Mahanaim canal is a fate worse than death.”

  Since Jax was coasting to a stop along the platform, Averella sat. “I survived such a swim, did I not, Jax?” Her statement surprised her. But she had fallen into the canal. Jax had been there, but he had not rescued her. Achan had. She blushed at the instinctive way she was now thinking of the prince by his first name alone—and not even his given name, Gidon, but his familiar name.

  Mercy. Did she truly know him that well?

  Jax chuckled as he looped a rope over a peg to secure the boat. “That you did, my lady. Swam off with the prince.”

  Averella met Bran’s eyes across the boat.

  “Regardless, my lady, it’s best you do not swim again. Let me help you out.” Sir Rigil stood and offered his hand. “Now, where will we find this man of yours?”

  “We will find Harnu later. First we must kill a man.” Averella reached for Sir Rigil’s hand.

  “But you just said…” Sir Rigil withdrew his hand. “Kill who?”

  “I know not his name, but he is godless. His heart resembles that of his master, Gâzar. He is the one who controls those gowzals overhead. His goal is to take and kill and destroy. It is he who seeks to kill the real Prince Gidon and take control of Er’Rets.”

  “Averella, please,” Bran said from the back of the boat. “For once, simply let go of your plotting.”

  She scowled at Bran, searching for something witty and cutting to say. All that came out was, “I am not plotting.”

  “You know for certain he is here?” Sir Rigil asked.

  She poured her full attention on Sir Rigil. “Oh, yes. He is in the watchtower. Please. We must try.”

  He nodded. “Of course we will. Try and succeed.”

  “Sir Rigil. May I speak?” Bran asked.

  “Of course.”

  “We cannot take Lady Averella’s word alone on this matter or any other. Her personal agenda clouds her reason.”

  Averella sucked a breath between her clenched teeth. “My personal agenda was to find you, Master Rennan. And so I have done.”

  “Master Rennan,” Sir Rigil said. “I have known Lady Averella all her life. She is not a deceiver.”

  Bran barked out a coarse laugh. “Forgive me. But if you believe that, then you do not know her at all, sir.”

  “That is most unfair,” Averella said, tears choking her words. She glanced at Jax, who was staring into the sky, his eyes wide and glassy. “I know about the man in the tower because when I was stormed, a gowzal took me there. Only four days ago. The man wanted me to join with the bird and spy on Prince Gidon.”

  “Perhaps you were dreaming.”

  “I was not dreaming,” Averella yelled.

  “Hold!” Jax said, himself again. “Vrell speaks truth. Not only do I sense it, I have just now looked into the watchtower and have seen this man. He must be stopped.”

  “Very well.” Sir Rigil stepped over Jax’s bench and pushed down on Averella’s shoulder. “My lady, you and Madam Hoff stay here with…” He motioned back to Noam.

  “Absolutely not! We will not stay here.” Averella turned to climb out of the boat. It rocked under her feet.

  Sir Rigil gripped her arm. “You will, or we will forget the entire thing and paddle your scowling face out of here.”

  “How dare you speak to—”

  “You will not win this battle with sharp words. Sit, and let us take care of it, or we will leave. Your choice, my lady.”

  Averella’s cheeks burned. As if Sir Rigil had the right to scold her. As if she were a child. As if he had not just praised her for taking out the guard. She sat and folded her arms, frustrated she could not think of a thing to say.

  Sir Rigil climbed out of the boat, then Jax and Bran. The three men ran down the stone platform to the stairs.

  “We’ll return soon,” Sir Rigil called. “Stay put.”

  Averella propped her elbows on her knees and set her cheeks against her fists. Insufferable men!

  An idea came over her suddenly. She could watch them. She closed her eyes and peeked into Sir Rigil’s mind. He was at the top of the stairs. He turned and followed Jax into the courtyard. A battle raged before them.

  “This will take a while to get through,” Bran said.

  Averella’s head spun, and she returned to her own eyes. Watching made her weak. She had forgotten. She took a moment to catch her breath. Then she hung her satchel over her head and shoulder and climbed out of the boat.

  “My lady, what are you doing?” Noam asked.

  “We must follow the knights. Come.”

  “But Sir Rigil asked us to wait,” Noam said.

  “There is no time. Sir Rigil, Jax, and Bran are caught in a battle. We must kill the man in the tower ourselves.”

  Gren’s face tinged green. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “You may wait here then.” Averella stared down along the pier platform.

  “Wait!” Noam stepped out of the boat and turned to Gren. “I’m going with her.”

  “Fine! I’ll come too.” Gren climbed out, and she and Noam caught up.

  Averella took them the opposite direction the men had gone, to a flight of stairs that led to the gatehouse, which was now abandoned. She gazed at the oversized red front doors to the Mahanaim stronghold. Between the entrance and the gatehouse burning wagons and vendor stalls lit the courtyard. What had been deserted a short time ago was now filled with fighting men. Prince Gidon’s army had infiltrated. Red-cloaked men dotted the darkness like flower petals spinning in a pool of oil.

  She caught sight of Jax’s thick braids two heads above everyone else. He fought near the Temple Dâthos, which was nowhere near the castle’s entrance.

  “Come,” Averella linked arms with Gren. “You and I will run for those red doors. These men are so caught up in their battles they will not bother two women. Master Fox, stay close behind. Hopefully no one will see you. Once we are inside, we must climb to the roof before we can enter the watchtower.”

  But Averella had barely made five steps before a soft cry stole her attention. A set of watery blue eyes watched her from under a wagon. She crouched beside it, and when her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw a small girl looking back. Rivers of tears streaked the girl’s dirty cheeks.

  “Are you hurt, small one?” Averella asked.

  “Paw.” The girl glanced behind her.


  A man lay on the cobblestone, clutching his arm, eyelids fluttering. He was wounded! Averella waved the girl aside and crawled under.

  “My lady, what are you doing?” Gren’s voice followed Averella into the darkness of the wagon’s underbelly.

  What was she doing? She blinked at the blood oozing between the man’s fingers. She could not explain how, but she could help this man. More of Vrell Sparrow working her way back? She had just opened her satchel when Gren crawled under the wagon and knelt beside her. “I have to help him. He is cut.” Averella motioned to the blood that had seeped into the mortar cracks in the cobblestones. “To the bone, I suspect.”

  She bandaged the man’s arm as quickly as she could, in awe of her own ability and speed. When she finished, she cupped the child’s cheek. “Stay here until the fighting ends. Then be sure he drinks plenty of water. Change the bandage once a day with clean linen.”

  “I will.” The girl closed her eyes and bowed. “Thank you, Iamos.”

  Gren giggled. Averella rolled her eyes, wanting to correct the child. Iamos was the pagan goddess of healing. Averella did not believe in such things, but it did seem as though Arman had risen up inside her and performed a miracle, restoring this part of her memory.

  An explosion of rock distracted her thoughts. Averella peeked out from under the wagon to see part of the northeastern parapet crumble. Huge chunks of rock crashed on the cobblestone.

  “Come, my lady.” Noam extended a hand and helped Averella to her feet. He darted around two fallen men who lay head to toe and ran toward the keep. But Averella stopped at the men. The first man lay at her feet, his black cape draped over his face. Beside him, a red cape twisted around the torso of the second man.

  Averella knelt at the side of the man in black.

  “Please, my lady.” Noam ran back. “We do not have time to help the wounded. And that man is clearly dead.”

  “You didn’t bother to help the enemy before,” Gren said.

  Still Averella unlatched his black breastplate and lifted the top half off. Despite Noam’s pronouncement, the man’s chest moved. She found the wound in his chest, far too deep for her to be of any use.

  The man beside him in the red cape groaned. Averella looked him over and found him without a thumb. Blood glubbed from the laceration onto the cobblestone like a bottle of wine tipped on its side.