From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  “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 she 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 glan
ced 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 patted Dove and kept his eyes on the tail of Manu’s horse before him, hoping Manu was doing the same.

  The trail grew steep and narrow, forcing Shung to move behind Achan. Dove’s hooves clattered over rocky terrain, joining the sound of the hooves from the other horses and creating a rain-like clatter. The sound suddenly increased, sounding louder and hollow, like they had moved underground. Then the sound returned to normal. A tunnel, perhaps?

  The army passed through three more such tunnels, wound around steep corners, zigzagging up an incline. The fog came and went, as if they were walking among actual clouds at night—and if they were truly climbing a mountain, perhaps they were.

  The trail widened again and the ground became soft.

  Shung rode up beside Achan. “Shung sees nothing.”

  Cortland’s voice came from behind them. “Keep your eyes on the horse in front of you.”

  Achan glanced over his shoulder. “Have you been here before, Cortland?”

  “Aye, with my father. Many noblemen make the trek to Noiz to visit the tombs of the kings.”

  Achan frowned. “Are there many?”

  “Aye. Most of the kings are buried here.”

  A shiver crawled over Achan’s arms. Most of the kings. Most of his ancestors. Buried here. Perhaps he would be buried here someday as well.

  The thought did not bother him as much as it should. But he had seen the gate to Shamayim. That was where he would someday reside, even if his body remained in this dreary land of fog. He wondered how many of his ancestors dwelled inside Shamayim’s pearly gates.

  “Lead the way, then, Cortland.” Achan led Dove aside enough to let Cortland pass. “Dove is so tall I cannot see the ground through this fog.”

  “They are clouds, Your Highness.” Cortland’s voice moved with his torch as he rode his horse before them. “It is a shame that Darkness has shrouded the view, for Noiz is a breathtaking site. We stand in a small valley with mountains on all sides but the west, where the Gadowl Wall begins. There are two waterfalls to the north. Their waters run together in the center of this valley and form a small lake before branching out into various streams that take different courses down the mountains. The fortress hangs on the mountain cliffs above the village of Noiz.”

  “Like Mitspah?”

  “Somewhat, though the waterfalls are not near the fortress. On most days, the villagers look up to find the fortress hidden by clouds. We will take another steep trail up the rocky mountain before we arrive. Are you ready?”

  “Aye. Lead on, Cortland.”

  Achan, Shung, and Manu followed Cortland through the village and up another rocky trail. The smell of pine was thick here. Darkness might now cover this land, but it had not yet sucked out all its life.

  Achan’s backside was sore from riding. He longed for days spent in a home with a kitchen and chairs. Would Armonguard truly become that home? Or would Esek ruin it before giving it up?

  After several hours, Cortland eventually stopped on rocky ground. “We have arrived, Your Highness. You may dismount.”

  Achan slid off Dove’s back. His boots smacked against cobblestone, and the balls of his feet smarted.

  Cole appeared out of the fog, took Dove’s reins, and tugged the animal away, new sword swinging at his side.

  Achan called after his squire, “Thank you, Cole.”

  Cole turned and bowed. “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

  Achan looked around, but could still see nothing but golden fog lit from invisible torches. He followed Cortland into the unknown.

  “Watch your step, Your Highness,” Cortland said. “We’re going up.”

  Achan slowed until he saw a wide set of stairs carved into rock. He moved slowly, one arm outstretched before him, hoping he would not collide with anyone or anything.

  Achan’s thighs ached from the climb. On and on they went. Just when he began hoping Cortland would suggest a brief rest, the rocky ground flattened and an entrance materialized out of the fog.

  Two brick red doors were propped open. The walls around them were white, trimmed in wood painted red to match the doors. Achan passed inside, and the fog vanished.

  He stood in a long corridor at the foot of yet another staircase. This one was grand, however. A red carpet tucked along the center of a wide staircase that stretched the length of the room. An iron banister ran along both sides of the red carpet, dividing the stairs into three rows. There must have been another thirty steps to the top. A high ceiling vaulted over the foyer, stairs, and whatever was at the top.

  “The great hall is up there,” Cortland said. “Come on.”

  Achan took a deep breath, squeezed his thigh muscles in a brief stretch, and started up the red carpet. Being able to see made time move faster. As soon as Achan’s line of sight rose above the top stair, he could see the great hall.

  It was not so great. In size, anyway. The room was as wide as the stairs and only as deep as two tables and the benches around them. To the far left, a short head table on a dais ran the opposite direction. On the far right, a narrow stairs ran up the wall and passed through a dark archway. Halfway up the stairs, a man and woman were tangled in an embrace, kissing as if it were the only way to breathe.

  Achan’s gaze stopped on the couple and he grinned. Sir Caleb, is it proper to kiss a woman in such a way in public? What will people think?

  Whatever pleases them. I’ve not seen my wife in over a year. Go bother someone else, Your Highness.

  Achan laughed and pointed out Sir Caleb to Shung, who raised a dark eyebrow.

  Inko stood in a cluster of people at the foot of the stairs. He squatted and lifted a small girl into his arms. She kissed his cheek. “Your Highness!” Inko waved them over. “Be coming and meeting my family!”

  Achan and Shung made their way to the stairs. Inko introduced them to his son, Bodwin, a tall Barthian man with a shaved head and a cropped grey beard. Bodwin’s wife, Zoral, was a plump woman wearing a blue dress with
a wimple that bared only her grey-skinned face. A skinny boy stood beside her, his curly grey hair sitting like a cloud on his head. The girl in Inko’s arms had grey hair too, only hers was braided along her head in dozens of tiny braids.

  Sir Caleb and his wife made their way downstairs, hand in hand. Esper looked younger than Sir Caleb by at least ten years. She had grey skin as well, but her hair was black and hung down her back in a long, silky drape.

  “Esper, this is Prince Gidon Hadar, also known as Prince Achan.”

  She curtsied and spoke in a low voice. “How do you fare, Your Majesty?”

  “I am well, my lady, and pleased to know you.”

  She chuckled. “You are too polite, Your Majesty. I hope my husband has not made himself a nuisance.”

  Achan smiled. “Only a little, my lady.”

  She shot Sir Caleb a knowing look.

  Sir Caleb looked surprised. “The king must have manners, my dear.”

  “Are you hungry?” Esper asked Achan.

  “Very much. It has been days of eating dried food. I long for something different.”

  “Then you shall have it.”

  “It’s being in the middle of the night, Your Highness,” Bodwin said. “But I’m having wakened enough servants to be seeing that you’re being fed.”

  “Oh. I thank you, but I can make do until breakfast.”

  “Be thinking nothing of it, Your Highness. My servants were being here long before I. They have been waiting many years to be serving their king again. It’s being an honor they have been waiting years for.”

  “I see. I hope I will meet their expectations, then.”

  Bodwin bowed. “I’m being sure you shall.”

  “Has Sir Eagan arrived?” Achan asked. “I was told he was on his way here with his own party.”

  “We’ve not been hearing a word from him. No one was telling us he was coming, either.”

  Achan would have to bloodvoice him the moment he sat down. “He’s expected any moment, I am sure. I hope he’ll have no trouble at the gate.”

  “I’ll be letting my men know to be watching for him.”