From Darkness Won

by Jill Williamson

  Bodwin led Achan and the others up the narrow staircase. They exited onto an outdoor path that passed several structures built into the wall of the mountain. The exterior walls were rock and masonry. Stone pathways branched off here and there, leading up to other dwellings.

  Achan followed Bodwin up another stairway, this one chiseled out of the rock. At the top they turned left, wove around another rocky corridor, then walked up another short flight of stairs to a red door in a wall of masonry that curved outward in a half circle.

  “This is being your chambers, Your Highness. And a very lucky place to be laying your head. For on a clear day, one can be seeing Mount Bamah.”

  “I am sure once Darkness is vanquished, the view will be immaculate.”

  Bodwin shifted his feet. “Yes, well… I’ll be having some food brought up right away.”

  “Thank you, Bodwin.”

  Inside, the circular room was made from masonry on one side and carved rock on the other. A large bed sat in the center of the room, covered in white furs. It had no headboard or canopy. There seemed no way to know which side was the head.

  Matthias was already present and had hung several of Achan’s shirts up on a rack.

  “I see you’ve wasted no time, Matthias.”

  “Your clothing got wrinkled in the saddlebags, sir. The trunks kept everything nicer.”

  “Why bring all the clothing, then? One or two outfits would be plenty.”

  “Oh, Sir Caleb insisted I not leave any behind, sir.”

  “That’s not surprising. Come help me out of this armor.”

  Matthias came running. Shung still needed to assist with the points, but Matthias was becoming quite adept at his job. When all the armor was removed, Achan felt light and free.

  Matthias went to lay out the chain hauberk, so Achan pulled off the gambeson, tossed it aside, and fell back onto the bed with his feet still flat on the floor. The furs felt soft against his bare skin. Matthias returned and tugged off Achan’s boots. Achan sent a knock to Sir Eagan.

  Sir Eagan replied right away. Yes, Your Highness? How do you fare?

  We have arrived in Noiz. Sir Gavin told me you were coming here. Are you close?

  We are but a day away.

  Excellent. I look forward to seeing you all.

  Thank you, Your Highness.

  Achan closed his eyes, starting to drift off almost instantly. He distinctly remembered someone grabbing his legs and twisting the rest of his body up onto the bed. But he didn’t wake. He willingly let sleep take him captive.

  32

  “I need to stop.” Gren stumbled in front of Averella and lowered her pack to the ground. “I can’t carry this anymore.”

  “We mustn’t stop,” Peripaso said. “That’ll give the wolves a chance to surround us.”

  As if in answer, a wolf howled somewhere ahead. Trees towered above both sides of the trail like sentry walls, though they were not solid. Wolves could easily dart between their narrow trunks and onto the path.

  “Jax and I are taking turns watching for them,” Sir Eagan said, “though animals were never my strength. Sir Gavin is the Great Whitewolf, not I.”

  “I sense there are two ahead on the trail,” Jax said.

  “Can you storm them?” Averella asked, thinking of her mother.

  Jax shook his head. “I’m not trained to storm.”

  “I could try, but not until we stop somewhere safe,” Sir Eagan said. “I cannot see, and it will take some time for me to locate them in the forest.”

  Noam stopped on the trail beside Gren. “If the wolf is ahead of us, should we leave the trail?”

  “That would seal our deaths,” Peripaso said. “Wolves like to send their prey in circles until they tire.”

  “But we’re already tired!” Gren said.

  “That’s why we must press on,” Peripaso said. “The sooner we reach Noiz, the better.”

  Noam put his arm around Gren and gave her a side hug. “What is Noiz, anyway? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Noiz is a sanctuary for the royal family,” Sir Eagan said. “The king retreats there for leisure or refuge.”

  “Won’t the wolves follow us there?” Gren asked.

  “Wolves avoid crowds,” Peripaso said. “Once we reach the settlement, we’ll be safe.”

  “But can’t we rest a bit?” Gren asked.

  “Allow me, Madam.” Bran stepped forward and hoisted Gren’s pack over his good arm.

  Gren wilted with relief. “Oh, thank you, Bran.”

  Averella’s heart warmed to see Bran step in to help Gren. Her gaze met Gren’s, and Gren looked away. Averella knew not how to behave around Gren in light of Bran Rennan’s presence, knowing his true feelings for them both.

  They continued on. Wolves howled around them. Sometimes far away. Sometimes so close the hair on Averella’s arms bristled. The forest path became rocky and mountainous. Sir Rigil took Gren’s pack from Bran. Not even Jax could keep up Peripaso’s pace.

  They came upon a deep cave in a rocky cliff. After a thorough search, Jax pronounced it safe, and they made camp inside. Though all were exhausted, the men devised a schedule for watch, and everyone else went to sleep.

  Averella woke from a nightmare of Esek striking her. Had that been dream or memory? It was difficult to tell with the tricks of Darkness and the horrors she had apparently been through this last year. She lay awake, sorting recent thoughts.

  Achan had rescued her from drowning in the Mahanaim canals. Jax had confirmed that. She also recalled Achan carrying her on his back to keep her out of the dark waters of Arok Lake. There had been leeches in the water. Horrible little slugs that drank blood.

  She shivered. Maybe that had been a nightmare.

  Mother told her that some man had discovered she was a woman and had attacked her. So her dream of the man called Polk must have been true. Or was that the attack by the man called Khai? In any case, Achan had used his mind to control some man and stop him from going too far.

  And Achan had also rescued her from Esek’s tent. Mother confirmed the truth of this. But Averella had also dreamed about Achan carrying her, lifting her onto Dove’s back.

  Dove? Oh, it was a horse. Who did Dove belong to?

  That mattered little. The point was that Achan had rescued Averella again and again. Put himself in danger for her sake. Why had she run from such loyalty? Who would not want to marry such a man—especially since he was to be king?

  She rolled over. Jax, Bran, and Sir Eagan lay sleeping around the fire pit. Two moths fluttered above the campfire, casting their shadows on the rocky ceiling of the cavern.

  Sir Rigil sat staring into the flames, arms propped on his knees. For being one of the best groomed knights in Er’Rets, he was a mess, even after a swim in the plunge pool. A smudge of dirt darkened one cheek. His bangs hung in greasy strands, curling around his ears. He had grown a short beard too. It made him look older. Tired.

  “Why so glum, Sir Rigil?” Averella whispered, propping her head on one hand. “We are almost to our destination.”

  He turned his blue-eyed gaze to her and held up the sword Averella had taken from the Mahanaim guard. “My sword. It is lost. I’ve had it since my manhood ceremony. It was taken in Allowntown.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He winced. “I know it’s only a hunk of steel and wood. Still… Keseel felt like a friend.”

  “I can imagine the bond a man must have with his weapon, especially when it has served faithfully for so long.”

  He smiled, still handsome even in filth. “That’s it exactly, my lady. You don’t think me petty?”

  “Of course not. I had to leave Kopay, my horse. It is natural to cling to what is familiar.”

  “Which is why so many marry a friend.” He gazed into the flames again. “Ah, if only I could wed my sword. Keseel and I would make a fierce pair. No one could cross us.”

  Gren giggled, startling Averella, for she thought only she and Sir Rigil had been a
wake.

  Sir Rigil groaned. “Now you too will think I’m petty, Madam Hoff. Or odd, at least.”

  Gren lay just behind Averella. “Do you mind my asking, sir? Bran and I have not been friends long. Do you think that would make us a poor match?”

  A crooked grin stretched across his grubby face. “Not because of your friendship or lack thereof. I’ve other reasons for thinking you and Master Rennan are a poor match.”

  “Because I’m a peasant and a widow and pregnant with another man’s child, and he—”

  “No.” Sir Rigil raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the most argumentative woman I’ve ever known. More so than even Lady Averella, and you see what happened with her and Master Rennan.”

  Gren frowned at Averella. “What’s wrong with a woman who speaks her mind? That’s not argumentative. Just honest.”

  Sir Rigil merely raised an eyebrow.

  “And I didn’t see what happened with Lady Averella and Master Rennan.”

  Averella sighed, glancing to where Bran lay sleeping on the other side of the campfire, his bandaged arm resting on his chest. “I hardly know that myself, and I supposedly lived it.”

  Sir Rigil cocked his eyebrow Averella’s way. “I’ll tell you what happened, my lady. The two of you fought yourselves right out of love with one another. Both so bossy the other couldn’t stand it.”

  Averella clicked her tongue. “Really, Sir Rigil.”

  He batted a moth away from his face. “’Tis true. I swear it upon my good name.”

  Gren sat up, scowling at Sir Rigil. “Master Rennan has never bossed me.”

  Sir Rigil laughed. “Only because the two of you have done nothing but walk in circles. He was on duty, Madam Hoff. To keep you safe, not to debate life, not to court you.”

  “But he said he cares for me.”

  “I’m sure he does. But Rennan is too wise to pledge his heart to a woman he barely knows.”

  Gren turned red and opened her mouth to retort.

  But Sir Rigil held up his hands, which the campfire shadowed on the cave wall behind him. “Peace! I will tell you what you must know. When his betrothal to Lady Averella ended, he asked me about you, Madam Hoff. To see if I thought you a wise choice to pursue. So take heart that he does have interest to see whether you and he are compatible. After the war. That is not a proposal, Madam, so do not mistake it as such. It is merely a statement that a good man wishes to know you better.”

  “And you told him I’m a poor choice?”

  Sir Rigil sighed, met Averella’s gaze, and grinned. “Madam Hoff, I have already given my answer. You need a man you can have charge of. A man with little will of his own. And take it from me as Bran Rennan’s master these past seventeen years, he does not like to be yoked.”

  For reasons Averella could not explain, this brought a smile to her lips.

  Not so with Gren. “How dare you say such things! That I would yoke my husband to my side like a mule. Even if you are highborn, and I’m only a—”

  “Shh, woman!” Sir Rigil waved. “You will wake the whole camp and call the wolves with your wailing.”

  Averella met Gren’s scowling expression. “Do not let Sir Rigil bore under your skin, Gren. He thinks himself a shrewd elder, though he is only thirty-two years.”

  Sir Rigil faked a wounded gasp. “Wicked lady! Leave it to you to proclaim my age to all who may hear. If only that were part of what you had forgotten.”

  “Oh, yes.” Averella smiled. “The wolves are taking note of your age, I am certain. The real question, Sir Rigil, is whether or not you like to be yoked.”

  Sir Rigil raised a finger. “To a cart, never, but if the lady were pretty enough—and sincere, mind you—I would climb Mount Bamah for lava rock, fetch a snowball from the roof of Ice Island, and swim around the Shelosh Islands—despite the tanniyn that live there—all because she asked me to.”

  “To prove your love?” Averella asked, amused.

  “Nay. My word is enough to prove my love. I would do these things just to please her.”

  Averella laughed and rolled onto her stomach. She crossed her arms on the ground and set her chin on them. “I have never seen any woman pretty enough to keep your head turned, Sir Rigil. I do not think this ‘perfectly sincere’ woman exists in all Er’Rets.”

  “Oh, she exists, my lady. And I will find her. Minstrels will sing of our love for years to come.”

  “Mercy. To think that I once wished to marry you.”

  This silenced Sir Rigil. He stared at Averella, his eyes wide and pondering. The fire crackled, painting shadow and light across his face. “Did you? Now that would have been a happy match. If only I had not lost you to the boy.”

  “If only you were not my uncle.”

  “Hmm. That too. Strange, that.”

  “Achan is not a boy,” Gren said.

  “Barely,” Sir Rigil said. “Do not mistake me, the prince is a fine fellow, smart and brave. And you can trust him, which I feel is the kind of man you need most, my lady. But I’ve always felt a woman would be wise to marry an older man. For we have lived long enough to figure you women out. Years will pass before our steadfast young prince will know what to make of you, Lady Averella.”

  Heat flashed up Averella’s spine. “And what of Lady Tara? Is her husband old enough to meet your approval?”

  “Unfortunate situation, that. But Carmack will redeem her broken heart one day, for sturdy though he is, even Old Lord Gershom will one day perish.”

  Averella’s mouth gaped at this statement. “You insinuate that Carmack Demry cares for Tara?”

  “Oh, yes. He has loved her ever since he was placed on her guard. He was the only man I know who was disappointed to be promoted to his brother’s Fighting Fifteen. For it meant he would no longer see Tara as much.”

  Averella sighed, stunned by this secret morsel. “So goes yet another tale of thwarted love.”

  “Always you focus on the dark side of things, my lady. You must focus on the light, for there is much joy to be had in this world. Open your eyes, and you will see it. And in time, all will be well—for all of us.”

  “You sound as if you truly believe that it will.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? For Arman has given us the end of the story, has he not? Shamayim will be a wonderful home, even if this one remains dark. So fear not, and get some sleep. Tomorrow you shall see your young prince. And when you look into his eyes, just you see if you do not remember your true feelings.”

  Averella rolled her eyes at Sir Rigil, earning one more deep, hearty laugh from the knight. Then she settled back onto the hard ground. She focused on Gren’s thoughts, curious what she was thinking after Sir Rigil’s honest words.

  Heavy sorrow pierced Averella’s heart, bringing forth tears. She closed her eyes and looked through Gren’s. She found herself staring at Bran’s face, barely visible on the other side of the fire. Flame and shadow flickered over his skin. He was handsome. But Averella knew now for certain that she did not love him as a woman loves a man.

  Tears stung her eyes, but they were Gren’s. Then came Gren’s thoughts.

  Cetheria, why did you allow Bran to protect me if nothing was to come of it? If he doesn’t love me, what will become of me and my baby?

  Gren? Averella said.

  Gren gasped and lifted her head, meeting Averella’s eyes. Do not do that without warning. It frightens me.

  I am sorry. I only wanted to say, take heart that Sir Rigil does not make Bran’s decisions.

  What he said made sense, though. I can see that Bran is still in love with you. What if he decides I would not be a good secondary match?

  Why would you want to be anyone’s secondary match? If he does not love you, then he is not the man for you, and you will find another—the right one.

  Who else would possibly want me, a widow with child? I have no assets.

  Why not Master Poe?

  Harnu?

  I think him quite charming. Once she’d gotten to kn
ow him better.

  You think I should sacrifice a chance at happiness to marry someone practical, like Harnu?

  I am only suggesting you consider it.

  I will, if you consider Achan.

  That is different.

  Gren huffed a sigh and lay back down. Why must everyone but you make sacrifices, my lady? Why can everyone be willing to love beyond rank except you? In cases of true love, station shouldn’t matter. If it does, then the woman loves something else more than her suitor.

  This comment left Averella speechless. For if she loved Achan more than Bran, what did she love more than Achan?

  A chorus of howls woke Averella. The chilled air clamped around her body, making her skin feel like that of a plucked bird. She pushed herself up to a sitting position.

  The men stood shoulder to shoulder across the cave’s entrance. Between the wide stance of Jax’s legs, Averella could see a black wolf pacing outside.

  She jumped to her feet and crept forward to peek over Sir Eagan’s shoulder. Six wolves were outside the cave. Two paced back and forth. The others sat watching.

  Averella’s stomach boiled with the threat awaiting them. She whispered in her father’s ear. “What will we do?”

  His head turned a fraction until his eyes met hers. Warmth and assurance pushed aside her fear.

  Thank you, Father.

  He smiled. That is the first time you called me Father.

  Is it really? Ever? Not even before my memory was lost?

  The truth shocked you greatly.

  Still, it seems I did not conduct myself in a manner befitting a noblewoman these past months. Forgive my coldness.

  He took hold of her hand. Of course I forgive, my dear. And I am sure you did your best.

  She winced, feeling undeserving of his kind words. Are you? Memories have been coming to me these past days, and I am not convinced.

  I am sorry your mother chose to keep the truth from you.

  Mother keeps many secrets. Part of being a duchess, I suppose. Perhaps watching her politics influenced my own.

  Sir Eagan cocked his head. How do you mean?

  From what I can piece together, the lie became so big that to cover it I had to lie again and again, until the truth was so far away it now seems impossible to find it at all, as if it too has gotten lost in the Veil.