From Darkness Won (32 page)

Achan sat on the bed inside his tent, which was round and held up in the center by a single pole with dozens of spokes jutting out like a wheel. Solid brown on the outside so it would not appear special, the inside walls were covered in thick tapestries depicting vineyards and forests. It reminded him of Esek’s tent. The tent where Achan had found Sparrow unconscious and bruised, lying on Esek’s bed, dressed in that ridiculous gown. Achan’s tent had no hole in the center roof for the smoke of a fire, but it was big enough to hold a large bed on one side of the pole and a round table, three chairs, and all his new trunks on the other.

Esek’s tent. Just what had Esek been planning for Sparrow if Achan had not gotten there in time?

A darker idea crossed his mind. What if Esek had already done something vile to Sparrow before Achan had arrived? Esek had struck her, but Achan had not thought to inquire as to anything else. He hung his head. No wonder Sparrow had left. What woman would want a man who forgot to ask of her well-being after she had been kidnapped by a maniac? What woman would want a man who thought of taking her as a mistress along with his wife?

He was an insensitive fool.

A fool who would marry Lady Averella. Achan hoped to find her as agreeable as her mother, for that would be good fortune indeed. Perhaps Sir Eagan was right about the desires of his heart. Perhaps in time Lady Averella would become just that.

Achan walked to the entrance of his tent and lifted the flap.

Shung and Kurtz stood under a square valance that covered the entrance. They turned toward him.

“I feel like a bird in a cage,” Achan said.

“Come out then, Pacey,” Kurtz said, “so long as you don’t mind two extra shadows trailing after you, eh?”

Achan mumbled, “I suspect I’ll have extra shadows trailing me for the rest of my life.”

“Is that so bad?” Kurtz threw an arm around Achan’s shoulders. “Some of the men are reveling, they are. Shall we join them?”

The weight of Kurtz’s arm on Achan’s shoulder shocked his cham wounds. “I don’t feel like reveling. There is much on my mind.”

“And reveling will help you forget it for a few hours. What could be better, eh? Come on.”

Kurtz led Achan around a large double pole pavilion, past a series of triangular tents, around a round tent with a domelike roof, and past three tents that looked like tiny cabins. All were dark, solid colors—maroon, navy, emerald, brown—not striped or bright like the tents Achan had seen at the tournament in Sitna. Armonguard flags flapped in the wind atop each tent they passed. The image reminded Achan of his new shield. His inheritance. His future.

What would it bring? If they succeeded, if he lived, what kind of legacy might he leave? Could he truly be responsible,
s
teadfast, reverent, and brave at all times? Could anyone? He stumbled over a guy line anchoring a green tent.

Kurtz gripped his arm to steady him. “Easy, there, Pacey.”

The raised voices of dozens of men, a lute, and laughter drifted on the cool night breeze. As did the smell of something meaty. They skirted the edge of a bronze tent and entered a clearing.

A tide of negative emotions crashed into Achan. Something he would have to get used to, he supposed. Men sat on the ground in circles, stood in clumps, a few danced by a bonfire. One sat on a barrel, playing the lute. Several faces turned toward him, though most the men chattered on. The scene took him back to the night Esek had demanded he fetch a jug of water and Silvo Hamartano had attacked him.

A length of glossy black hair drew his gaze to the bonfire where the men were dancing. He squinted, looking closer. “There are women here?”

“Aye, from Berland. They train women soldiers there. Berland women are more brawn than I like, eh, Pacey? But if you want to meet them—”

“Lady Gali has come then?” Achan asked Shung.

Shung nodded. “Aye. She travels with Sir Koyukuk’s army.”

“And how did Lady Gali find Sir Shung Noatak when you saw her?”

Shung’s grin filled his face. “She found honor in Shung’s new title.”

Achan slapped Shung’s back. “As well she should.” But would her father find enough honor to give up his youngest daughter?

“You hungry, Pacey?” Kurtz asked. “I can get you some stew, I can. Sir Gavin won’t allow us anything but watered
down wine whilst we’re on the verge of battle.” Kurtz leaned close. “Though I’ve a bit of my own I could share if you need a nip, eh?”

Achan’s gaze locked with Toros Ianjo. The priest sat with a soldier on the back of one of the wagons that edged the perimeter. Achan started to cross toward Toros, but a soldier bowed before him and held out a steaming drumstick.

“Like something to eat, Your Highness? We’ve also got stew, if you’d rather.”

“Thank you, no. I’ve eaten already.”

Three more soldiers bowed, which sent a ripple of movement through the crowd. Positive emotions swelled over the negative ones. Men hailed him, some cheered, and all seemed to stare. He should probably say something.

He swallowed and spoke as loudly as he could. “That you’ve all joined me on this journey honors me more than I can express. I pray each night would be spent like this, reveling in each other’s good company. But at some point we will take up swords against this enemy that has controlled Er’Rets for far too long. When that day comes, may Arman shield each of you so that we may all join together in a victory celebration in Armonguard.”

The men cheered. Achan tried to move in Toros’s direction again, but soldiers closed in to greet him. Shung and Kurtz kept the men back to a certain degree. For the first time in his life, Achan understood why powerful men summoned people to come to them. They would never get anything done if they always went out in public like this.

Achan shook many hands, remembered no names, and wondered how many of these men would die before their objective was completed.

A man with the lute played a song called, “The Pawn Our King,” which told the tale of Achan growing up in Sitna under the thumb of Lord Nathak. That anyone had written a song about him seemed more unreal than his being prince.

Then Lady Gali stepped before him and curtsied awkwardly. The woman who held Shung’s heart stood a few inches taller than Achan. Her features were sharp as if Sir Gavin had chiseled her out of wood. She wore a sleeveless tunic of short fur and black trousers. As always, bone bangles circled her bare arms and neck, which made her seem even taller somehow.

Achan bowed to her. “Lady Gali. You honor me with your presence and the pledge of your sword.”

“And you honor all of Berland by knighting one of our own.” Her dark gaze flicked to Shung, and she pushed one of her dark braids over her shoulder.

Achan held out his hand before them. “Would you join us? I’m sure Shung had left many details out as to how he helped me defeat the mighty cham.”

So Achan boasted of Shung’s prowess as he worked his way across the clearing. Shung seemed a bit embarrassed at Achan’s version of the event, but from the wide-eyed glances Lady Gali was sending Shung’s way, the man would thank Achan later.

By the time Achan reached the wagon, Toros was on his feet. “How can I serve you this evening, Highness?”

“Are you busy?”

“Just visiting with old friends. This is
Rosef
. He and I fought together at the Battle of Gadow Wall.”

Achan searched his memory. “I don’t recall that battle.”

“Happened over a decade before you were born, Highness,” Toros said. “Another Zona Fight.”

“A Zona Fight?”

“Zona was the woman King Justos took from Sar Orind during the Great War. The reason for the continued strife between Magos and Cherem. You should learn the history, as it will soon become a part of your daily life.”

“I’m sure Sir Caleb would love to teach it to me.”

“Well, the Battle of Gadow Wall started when one soldier bet another he could rekindle the war between Cherem and Magos. He started a rumor in Cherem. Claimed one of Zona’s descendants was King Axel’s mistress and that a child had been born. Cherem saw such a child as an heir to the throne and a chance to take control of Er’Rets.”

“That’s pretty bold, isn’t it?” Achan asked. “To start a war based on rumor?”

“It was. Though several servants concurred that a babe had been in the palace.”

“Bah,” Kurtz said. “Could’ve been any servant’s babe.”

Achan doubted his father had taken any mistress, for Sir Gavin had spoken of how much his father had loved his mother. “Could it have been me?”

“No, Highness. This was the year 551.”

According to Sir Caleb, Achan’s true day of birth happened on spring second of the year 569. So this mythical child would have been eighteen years Achan’s senior.

Toros continued. “Cherem attacked Gadowl Wall with plans to take Armonguard. But they never made it past the wall. King Axel could command an army better than anyone I’ve ever known. It was over in a few hours. Anyway, did you need my service, Highness?”

The question caught Achan off guard until he remembered that he had asked Toros if he were busy. “Yes, I had some
q
uestions. Might you be willing to come to my tent sometime to discuss them?”

“I shall come with you now.”

“Thank you,” Achan said.

It seemed to take hours to weave their way back through the men. Inside Achan’s tent, he bid Toros sit across from him at the round table.

“What’s on your mind, Highness?” Toros asked.

“The Veil.”

Toros watched him closely. “What about it?”

“If Arman created everything, and everything He created is good, how is it that the Veil exists and that a person can get lost in it?”

“You imply that the Veil is not good.”

“It doesn’t seem to be.”

“Why not?” His tone insinuated that Achan was wrong.

“I don’t know. It’s scary there. People die.”

“It’s scary in Er’Rets too. People die here.” Toros grinned. “The Veil was not designed for man to roam. It is a road that takes a man to his eternal home.”

“But it isn’t a road at all. It’s Er’Rets but not Er’Rets.”

Toros raised an eyebrow. “You’ve entered the Veil?”

Achan nodded. “And I felt the pull—of Shamayim, I hope. Why would Arman allow someone to be lost before their time?”

“I do not believe He would.”

“What do you mean?”

“Many have entered the Veil as a result of man’s will. A bloodvoicer’s force. But I don’t believe Arman would accept them home if it was not His will at that time.”

“So you think Arman wants those people to die?”

Toros chuckled. “I will not speak for Arman. But He is good. He is in control. And His plans are always best, even though it may not seem that way to you or me.”

“If someone kills a man, you believe it’s Arman’s will?”

“Again, Your Highness, I’ll not speak for Arman. But if Arman had purpose for the man to live, the man would live.” Toros leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Most people focus too much on things that are of no real concern. The real question is, do you trust Arman or not? If you trust Him, none of this matters.”

“But my friend is lost in the Veil. I want to know—”