From Darkness Won (76 page)

Kill him?

Try your best. Your father needs me. I shall return.

Averella ran to Khai’s body. The tanniyn had taken her sword, and Khai sat on his in such a way that she could not free it from its scabbard. She drew her boot knife and held it to his throat. Her hand shook so badly that the blade blurred, so she sheathed it and grabbed Khai’s boot.

She dragged him, one tug at a time, past Sir Caleb’s body, to the place where the tanniyn had broken the crenellation. She pushed until his leather armor scraped over the broken stone. His body slid away, but just before his head went over he caught himself on the sides of the wall.

Averella gasped. She peered over the edge and stomped on Khai’s gauntlets, but fiery green wind from his lips blew her back to the other side of the wall.

The green wind swirled around her like a cage, keeping her pinned, whistling, screaming. Averella watched, mortified, as Khai climbed back onto the sentry wall.

“I don’t care who wants you.” Khai stepped toward her and pulled off his gauntlet. “You’re far too daft to stay where you should. This is a war. Death happens. My prince will have to find another way to take Carm.”

He reached through the funnel of wind, grabbed her throat, and squeezed. His touch sent a fire down her throat that seemed to coat her insides in ash.

Arman, help me!
Lungs void of air, she choked. A plume of black smoke puffed from her lips. How? Drops of water fell on her head. Was it raining? She glanced up to see what seemed like a tree trunk of scales curling overhead.

The tanniyn had returned. It plucked up Khai in its maw and rose, taking him into the air like a morsel and pulling Khai’s grip from Averella’s neck. She fell to the sentry walk. The wind ceased. Averella panted in long breaths of moist air. Should she hide? Run? Would the tanniyn eat her next? If Khai was not controlling it, who was?

Khai’s scream drew her gaze skyward in time to see his feet vanish into the creature’s mouth. The beast lowered its head, and in an instant its long neck coiled around Averella, encircling her like yet another cage. The beast’s golden eyes stared into hers as if asking permission to eat her next.

“How do you fare, Vrell? Did he hurt you?”

The familiar voice came from just above the tanniyn’s head. Averella blinked. The darkness obscured her friend’s face but not his large body sitting atop the tanniyn’s neck as if riding a horse.

“Jax!”

He slid off the side of the tanniyn and jerked his head to the side, and the tanniyn slithered back over the crenellation.

Averella embraced him. “I thought you were dead. I thought—”

“Aw, it takes more than a fall to best Jax mi Katt.”

“But you said animals were not your strength.”

“Not
your father’s
strength. I can’t storm, but I have a way with water beasts.” He frowned over her shoulder. “Is that Sir Caleb?”

Averella turned and crouched at Sir Caleb’s side. “He is breathing, and I see no flesh wound, but he is obviously injured. Perhaps he hit his head or passed out from fright? He was fighting the tanniyn.”

“I hope his sleep is peaceful, then,” Jax said.

Averella glanced up to the watchtower. Achan had asked her to stay away. She must grant him that request, but what if he were hurt?
Your Highness? How do you fare?

She winced and waited for his reply.

The tanniyn had taken Sir Caleb. And Cortland had fallen. Achan turned from the hole in the tower wall and glanced down the stairs. At least six steps had been knocked away. Toros and the men stood at the lower part of the gap. Only he, Shung, and Bran were above the break.

Achan peeked through the gap. No sign of Cortland. His shield lay on the steps below. Pig snout. Achan picked up Ôwr. Well, he preferred a longsword, anyway. Hopefully he might find his own shield later. Behind him, Bran groaned. Shung crouched and helped him stand.

“Can you go on, Bran?” Achan asked.

“Of course,” Bran said. “Head stings a bit. I’ll be fine.”

“What is your order, Highness?” Toros asked.

“Take out as many of the enemy as you can.”

Toros grinned. “Arman be with you.”

“And you as well.” Achan started up the stairs, but Shung cut him off.

“Shung will lead. Boar will follow Cham.”

Bran’s eyebrows almost leaped off his face. “I’m a boar?”

Achan laughed and it lightened his mood. “Very well, Sir Shung. You may lead the way, but the entire source of this war awaits us on the tower roof. The task is left to us. Are we ready?”

“Shung is ready.”

“As am I, Your Highness,” Bran said.

Achan nodded to Shung. “Lead on, Sir Shung.”

They had barely climbed one rotation of the tower stairs when Sparrow spoke to him.

Your Highness? How do you fare?

Achan smiled. She seemed incapable of knowing what to call him since the problem with her memory. He wasn’t sure which he liked better, the exasperating, argumentative Sparrow or the respectful, polite Lady Averella.

I am well, though we have lost many. And you?

Alive. I wondered if I may be of service.

Achan stopped and held up a hand to Bran. Shung turned back and paused.
Aren’t you with Sir Eagan?

No. Khai took control of a tanniyn, but mother and Jax fixed them both. Is your squadron missing Sir Caleb?

Yes! Did he survive?
Achan rushed to the nearest arrow loop.

He is breathing but unconscious. There is nothing I can do but let him rest.

Achan looked down on the northeastern gate and sighed.
I cannot see you. This arrow loop points the wrong direction.

I do not mean to stall your mission. I only wanted to check—To see whether you need anything.

I need you.

You do?
There was a smile in her voice.

He needed her to live. He hated to ask anything of her, but she was too valuable an asset to ignore.
If you can get down, and if it’s safe, go to the base of the watchtower. See if you can help the injured. And look for Cortland. He fell.

Yes, Your Highness. I will go right away.

Achan winced.
Sparrow?

Yes, Your Highness?

From now on, call me “Achan,” please.

A long moment of silence stretched on.
We shall see.

He rolled his eyes and grinned at Shung and Bran. “Both Sparrow and Sir Caleb live. Let us finish this.”

36

Averella backtracked along the sentry walk with Jax until they found an abandoned ladder. They climbed to the back of the watchtower and ran around the side. Sounds of battle slowed their steps, and they found themselves behind a wall of shields where Achan’s bowmen were shooting through arrow loops in the wood. Between two shields she could see a ground battle raging in the distance. The archers were keeping the enemy back from the tower.

Behind the shields, a standard-bearer, who seemed quite young, waved the Armonguard flag back and forth. She spotted Sir Rigil beside the young man, pacing in front of the tower entrance.

She approached him. “Sir Rigil, I have come to aid the wounded. Do you have any?”

“My lady Averella! Jax! All my joy to see you well. Was Sir Eagan successful at taking the eastern gate?”

“He has taken the gate and holds it still,” Jax said.

“The prince asked me to check on his men. A man named Cortland, specifically,” Averella said.

Sir Rigil winced. “Last I saw, Cortland had passed out from the pain. I am no healer, but I fear his legs are broken.”

“Show me.”

Sir Rigil led her just past the doorway. A young man lay on his back, his right leg twisted at an odd angle. His left knee looked to be bent naturally, but the blood coating his trousers led her to believe there was a protruding bone. This would be tricky to set.

She took a deep breath and took in his appearance. Wild blond hair and a familiar chin. “My, he resembles a young Sir Caleb.”

“Cortland is Sir Caleb’s nephew,” Sir Rigil said.

She looked to the young man’s face again. “Oh dear. Jax, will you help me?”

“I’ll do all I can, Vrell.”

Shung slowed his steps on the tower stairs.
Doorway is around bend.

Duchess Amal?
Achan called.
Can you tell us who is atop the watchtower and where?

Certainly. Lord Nathak and Esek are looking over the edge of the tower. Sir Kenton is in the center on the roof, pacing about. And two guards stand by the doorway.

“Five against three,” Achan whispered to Shung and Bran. “Not my favorite odds.”

Five against five,
Duchess Amal said.
For you have me and Arman to help you.

Thank you, my lady.
“Duchess Amal says we are even when we count her and Arman.”

“She is a wise woman,” Bran said.

I sense a great and dark power in Lord Nathak
, the duchess said.
I confess, I do not know how to fight the keliy. I am at a loss, Your Highness.

Can you storm the guards?

I can do that easily.

Start there. Then go after Sir Kenton. I wager he is the best swordsman of the three. Let us know when you succeed.

Achan relayed the plan to Shung and Bran. He kept his gaze fixed on Shung’s face, which was focused up the stairwell.
Arman, help me know what to do.

A hot flash gripped Achan’s body. Arman did not speak, but his warmth instilled a confidence Achan had been lacking.
Thank You, Arman.

A sword clattered down the curved whitestone steps.
I have stormed the guards, Your Highness
, Duchess Amal said,
but Sir Kenton is protected by Lord Nathak’s dark magic. I know not how to help there. Arman be with you.

Then we will have to defeat him with steel. Thank you for trying, my lady.
Achan pushed against Shung’s shoulder. “Now.”

Shung ran up the final steps. Achan darted through the doorway behind Shung and out onto the circular whitestone roof. His legs quavered as the tower vibrated under his steps and he sensed how high up they were. A waist-high whitestone
p
arapet circled the edge. Icy wind whirled around him and seemed to slow all movement. It chilled the surface of his skin but did not penetrate, for Arman’s heat inside him acted as a shield. A tangle of gowzals swarmed overhead, squawking and flapping in the wind.