From Darkness Won (27 page)

“What if Armonguard is lost before we can reach her?” Achan asked.

“Then we take her back.”

A silence descended over the table. The idea of such battles twisted Achan’s stomach. Duchess Amal’s voice distracted his dark thoughts.

“I received a letter from Lord Levy.” The duchess glanced around the table. “He informed me that the Hadad has made Sitna the ruling city of Carm Duchy until he appoints someone to replace me. I, of course, am not leaving.”

“What else does this Hadad say?” Altair asked. He was a man with a long neck and sunken eyes.

Duchess Amal’s expression sobered. “He placed Lord Levy to rule Sitna, Macoun Hadar over Allowntown, Dovev Falkson over Barth, and Rapha Gibbor to rule the giants and Nahar. Esek is set to rule Armonguard.”

Esek was alive. Truly? Achan couldn’t believe it.

“Who is the Hadad, anyway?” Sir Eric, Duchess Amal’s nephew and Lord of Tsaftown, was dressed in black that matched his trim black hair and beard. “I thought at first you’d meant to say
Hadar,
our line of kings.”

The door opened and Anillo entered with a pot of tea. He carried it to Achan’s end of the table, and poured a steaming mug.

“No,” Duchess Amal said, “the two are quite different.
Hadar,
as you say, is the family name of the line of rightful kings in Er’Rets. The prince’s true name is Gidon Hadar, for instance. But the Hadad is something supernatural. Something evil.” She looked like she didn’t want to say more but lifted her chin and continued. “There is a dark legend of a creature that feeds off men. Just as our service to Arman gives us the strength of His light, men who serve this creature are strengthened by its darkness. It is called the
keliy.
”

Sir Gavin cast a knowing gaze at Sir Eagan.

“Unlike its master, Gâzar, who abides in the Lowerworld, the keliy lives among men,” Duchess Amal said. “Its purpose is to influence events through one man at a time. The keliy has always chosen its host, and that person, that host, takes the title
the
Hadad
and sets out upon a life of utter destruction,
d
epravity, and evil. I believe this name, so similar to that of our kingship Hadar, was chosen to confuse, mock, and steal loyalty away from the throne.”

Achan realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it. The Hadad had done just that to him. Confused him with a name being so similar to Hadar.

Duchess Amal continued, “The last suspected keliy was a man named Jibhal Hamartano. He ruled Jaelport with his wife, Katine, during the reign of King Johan. It was suspected that Jibhal murdered King Johan. I believe that this act of evil was what drew the attention of the keliy.”

Sir Eric cast a stricken look to his aunt. “Surely not. Jibhal Hamartano died young. And Lady Katine lived in Tsaftown for years, a lonely old widow. She was mad. Crazy Katine, the people called her.”

“She was not crazy, Eric,” Duchess Amal said in a firm voice. “Once Jibhal killed King Johan, he banished Lady Katine and relocated to Land’s End, where he began training young men in dark magic. We now know them as black knights. Years later, Jibhal, host of the keliy, took an apprentice: a young boy cast off for his illegitimacy. Macoun Hadar, whom I have recently discovered was King Johan and Katine’s son.”

Sir Eagan’s complexion paled.

The duchess continued, her piercing green eyes fixed on Achan. “Lady Katine was not mad. She was telling the truth about the creature who stole her husband and murdered the king. It took a while to uncover this mystery, Your Highness, but I believe it is the truth.”

Achan let out an audible moan. His great, great grandfather murdered for taking another man’s wife? How long did men in his family usually live? Had every king been murdered? He looked around the assembly room as if an assassin might’ve appeared from the shadows.

“I am believing it,” Inko said. “When I was serving Macoun Hadar in my youth, I always was knowing that he was serving someone who was being even more powerful.”

Achan shook off the shock of the story. “How does knowing any of this matter?”

“Because it always helps to know your enemy’s past.” Duchess Amal’s eyes lost focus, and she pursed her lips.

“We now know we face an enemy greater than Esek and Lord Nathak. And I do not speak merely of numbers of men in our armies.” Sir Gavin’s moustache arched into a frown. “The keliy is an enemy of Arman himself. So, Your Highness, just as you are Arman’s chosen, the keliy—and its human host of the hour—is Gâzar’s chosen.”

That statement so took Achan off guard he couldn’t form a reply. So now, not only must he push back darkness, he must fight one of Gâzar’s supernatural creatures?

“Surely Jibhal Hamartano can’t still be living,” Captain Loam said. “He’d be over a hundred years old.”

Inko turned his grey, pockmarked face toward the captain. “If he has been practicing dark magic all these years, he could easily be prolonging his life.”

Duchess Amal stood. “Please excuse me a moment.” She strode from the room, Anillo at her heels.

Achan watched her go, curious at her departure.

“Jibhal Hamartano would only be one hundred twenty
some years old, Tristan,” Sir Eagan said to Captain Loam. “Dark magic could have kept him alive this long.”

“He uses gowzals,” Achan said.

Altair looked at him, confused. “What are gowzals?”

“A cross between ravens and bats,” Sir Gavin said. “Weak
minded creatures that black knights use to wield their magic.”

“Berland will help destroy these creatures, we will,” Koyukuk said. “Fowl is best roasted on a spit.”

Achan fought a smile. “You honor us with your offer, Sir Koyukuk.” Yet even Koyukuk’s eagerness to roast gowzals did not keep the Hadad—whoever was the current Hadad for the keliy—from coming back to his thoughts. The man— creature?—had killed his great, great grandfather, and perhaps Achan’s parents. “What if the Hadad is watching through me right now? Shadowing me with his bloodvoice?”

Sir Eagan’s keen blue eyes locked with Achan’s. “Do not give in to paranoia, Your Highness. You are wise to be concerned and on guard, but no one can watch through you when your shields are up. None can hear your thoughts.”

“But it’s been weeks since he spoke to me, and I’ve lowered my shields at least once during that time. If he’s not trying to see through me now, why did he stop trying?”

“He has not spoken to you since you swore fealty to Arman,” Sir Caleb said. “Is that correct?”

“Aye, right.” Arman was with him now. How could Achan have missed that vital difference?
Arman, help me withstand this foe.

A flash of heat welled up in the pit of Achan’s stomach.

F
EAR NOT
,
FOR
I
AM WITH YOU
. T
HE ENEMY SHALL COME IN LIKE A FLOOD
,
BUT
I
SHALL LIFT UP A STANDARD AGAINST HIM
.

Relief chased after the heat, bringing a peace over Achan.
Thank You, Arman. Thank You.

The door opened, and Duchess Amal returned to her seat at the foot of the table. Was it Achan’s imagination or did her eyes look red?

They discussed the plans to depart. Sir Eric mentioned that his brother, Captain Chantry Livna, was bringing a fleet of battleships to Armonguard, but they had not passed Zerah Rock yet. The army would have to march south without their aid and face whatever enemy it met along the way.

When no one had further business to discuss, Achan adjourned the meeting.

He was in his chambers, making sure all of his things had been gathered, when Sir Eagan entered.

“Your Highness, Duchess Amal is in need of your immediate assistance.”

Achan glanced past Sir Eagan and out the open door. He could see the emerald sleeve of Duchess Amal’s gown in the corridor. “Certainly.”

Sir Eagan opened the door fully, and the duchess strode to the chair beside Achan’s bed and sat down. She held her own hands, fidgeting. “Your Highness, please sit a moment.”

Achan sat on the edge of his bed. “My lady, are you well?”

“I bring sad news. It has come to my attention that your friend, Miss Sparrow, has found herself in an unfortunate situation.”

Achan’s stomach seemed to slide into his boots. “What has happened?”

“She was captured and imprisoned in Sitna. Lord Levy holds her there for Esek Nathak’s bidding.”

“So Esek really is alive?”

“According to Vrell,” Sir Eagan said.

“She contacted you, Sir Eagan?” Achan felt passed over by Sparrow. But after all, Sir Eagan had helped her before.

“Regardless,” Duchess Amal said, “neither of us are able to contact her now.”

Achan reached out for Sparrow and found no sense of her. He forced himself to ask. “You think she’s dead?”

“I know not.” Duchess Amal’s voice was barely a whisper. “I hoped to discover whether you had ever been in the dungeons of Sitna Manor. I have not, nor has Sir Eagan, so neither of us can look for her… body.”

“I-I have.” Achan shuddered at the memory of Myet, Lord Nathak’s head torturer, flogging Achan in the darkness under the Sitna Manor keep.

“Will you look for her there?” Duchess Amal asked. “Tell me what you see, and I shall watch your body.”

“Of course, my lady.” He scooted back on his bed and lay down, eyes closed, unhinged that he had been hoping to seek out Sparrow in such a way, though under vastly different circumstances.

Arman, please let me find her. Please let her be safe.

Achan found himself in an open space at the foot of a stairwell that led up the southeast tower of the Sitna keep. Barred cells ran along every wall except the eastern one, which was solid stone and covered with various saws, knives, pikes, iron spiders, whips, cat tails, racks, and other torture devices. How he knew this place. Thankfully, Myet was absent. Achan did not want to see him again.

Achan drifted to the right, down the path on the southern wall. The thick smells of mildew, urine, and body odor made him gag. He passed a cell where a man keened, rocking back and forth, clutching his side. In the next cell a man slept. In another a man sang to himself, scratching his finger in the dirt floor. Achan drifted, scanning the ground for Sparrow. A large rat chased a smaller one across the corridor.

Achan reached the end of the row and circled down the next. Two men stood in the aisle halfway down where a cell door hung open. Achan drifted closer, concentrating on the men’s soft voices.

“Well, they’re diseased, aren’t they?”

“Even so, Reggio, she wouldn’t pass out instantly if a rat bit her. There is something about this I don’t understand.”

“Black knights?”

“Perhaps, though I would expect to be informed before they used their magic on my prisoner. Where are those blasted men with the litter?”

“Probably stopped to drool over some woman. I declare, Father. The peasants of Sitna Manor are the most wayward bunch. You should have seen them reveling last night. You should put a stop to it at once.”

Achan slowed his approach beside Lord Levy and his son, Reggio. Lord Levy was a man of medium height with small, brown eyes. He had short, white hair and a matching beard that he’d oiled into a point. Reggio, Levy’s son, hadn’t grown an inch since Achan had last seen him. Scrawny, brown-haired, and no older than thirteen years, the boy acted as if all Er’Rets was his to command.