From Darkness Won (50 page)

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
b
attles 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
n
ot 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.