Jill Williamson: To Darkness Fled

"How should I know? He's from Carmine."

"Then his father is no one of importance," Sir Caleb said.

"And why should that matter?" Sparrow's bossy voice spiked above the others.

Achan had thought the boy asleep. He shivered. His pants were still damp. He hoped it wouldn't get too cold tonight. The moisture from the ground seemed to rise into the rank air.

Sir Gavin rebuked Sparrow's concern. "Nitsa can't let her heir marry the first young buck she lays her eyes on."

Sparrow huffed. "Well, maybe the duchess wishes her daughter would marry for love."

A brief silence settled over the group, then deep laughter burst out from Sir Caleb. Achan didn't find it humorous. He had lost Gren to an arranged marriage.

"Don't be too skeptical." Sir Gavin's voice cut through the chuckles. "I don't doubt Nitsa capable of such mercy."

Pecking trilled above from two places. Achan pushed the surrounding fear from his mind, wanting to get back to the subject. "So you think Lord Nathak and Esek were plotting for Carmine, each trying to marry their way into controlling it?"

"So it would seem," Sir Gavin said. "But Nitsa is smarter than Nathak. Unfortunately, the rest of Er'Rets bought into his treason. After King Axel's death, we gave testimony before the Council. Kenton and his men had set up two of my men, my generals, claiming they were the assassins or had at least been involved with the stray who did kill them. I fought all I could for them, but no one would hear me. The evidence pointed to them and they were convicted."

"Your friends on Ice Island." Sparrow's raspy voice always sounded like he had a cold.

Achan considered the purpose of their journey into Darkness. "And we're going to free them?"

"That and more. There are over two hundred and forty Old Kingsguard soldiers on Ice Island. All my men, all falsely imprisoned over the years, most for being a stray at the time of King Axel's murder. They will be the start of your army, Achan. And we need an army if we're to turn this kingdom back into Arman's hands before it's too late."

"Before Esek becomes king," Sparrow said.

Two hundred and forty men didn't sound like much of an army to Achan, but it was better than just these three knights, he supposed.

Sir Gavin snorted. "Esek is the least of our concerns. The more Er'Rets turns from Arman and worships the false gods of fables, the more people kill and murder and hate and serve themselves, the more Darkness will consume this land. It grew at King Axel's death and it grows still. When I stood in the western watchtower in the Mahanaim stronghold five months ago, the Evenwall reached the sixth buttress. Yesterday, the mist had drifted within feet of the tower itself, five buttresses closer. 'Tis moving two hands' breadths a month."

Darkness was growing? Achan felt the blood draining from his face. "Can it be stopped?"

"Only one man can push back Darkness, Achan. Arman called him to this divine purpose. Darkness has spread these past years because the truth was hidden from Arman's chosen. But I knew he lived. For if he had truly died, Prince Oren-being next in line for king-would have begun to hear Arman's voice. But Arman did not speak to Prince Oren. He spoke to you."

Sir Gavin's words knotted Achan's stomach. "So it's be king and everything is great, or don't be king and the world is consumed by Darkness forever? Nice choice."

"Darkness will continue to grow no matter what you decide. Only when the Light grows stronger than the Dark will Darkness retreat. You must rally the people. Remind them who created them and why. Take them back to truth. Others are ready and willing to step in as king, should you refuse. Esek. Lord Nathak. Though they will not push back Darkness. The choice falls to you. Will you lead us?"

A silence descended upon the camp the darkness seemed to magnify. Achan didn't respond. He couldn't. The idea was so farfetched. First, that there might be only one god, and second, that this God had chosen Achan to push back Darkness, the magnificent curse of Er'Rets. Him. Achan. Barely a man himself.

He spoke in a whisper. "Why didn't Lord Nathak kill me when he had the chance?"

"I know not, lad," Sir Gavin said. "I can only guess he was afraid to, knowing who you truly are."

Achan recalled odd encounters with Lord Nathak: times when he'd sensed fear, how Lord Nathak had ordered the guards and Esek to go easy, to not kill him. "He's afraid of me."

"Perhaps he feared the gods would smite him if he destroyed you," Sir Caleb said, a lilt to his voice.

"That is what I'd be fearing if I was being him," Inko said.

Achan didn't doubt that.

"He had to," Sir Caleb said soberly. "If the true heir died, the gift would pass to Prince Oren, revealing Esek as a fake. His plan would work only while Achan still lived."

"Perhaps," Sir Gavin said. "Or perhaps he served a darker master who wanted you alive for some evil purpose." His comment brought a moment of silence over the camp.

Achan's mind reeled. Who might this mysterious bloodvoicer be? Someone strong. Stronger and viler than Nathak. Could it be Macoun Hadar, the old wizard who had tried to use Sparrow? Or someone worse than him? Achan wriggled around, pulling off his doublet. He settled back onto the bedroll and draped the heavy leather over his head, hoping it would keep the mosquitoes off his face.

He lay still, breathing deeply, telling himself the stench wasn't so bad. A vision grew in his mind. He was flying, riding a giant moth over the treetops. The moth arched into a sudden dive. Achan squeezed with his knees and grabbed for the saddle horn. No saddle! Only tufts of coarse hair. He grappled, lost his balance, and fell.

He sat up, pulse drumming in his head. His doublet slid into his lap. Had that been Darkness pulling at his mind? It had seemed so real.

Achan lay down and tried to focus his thoughts, not wanting that to happen again. Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb whispered to his left. If only Achan could use his supposed great power he could see into Lord Nathak's and Sir Kenton's minds and learn the truth of the past. He could find out who this mysterious chief bloodvoicer was who sought to divide Er'Rets.

Currently, all he could do with his bloodvoice was shield his mind. He wanted to practice, but not what Sir Caleb had suggested, letting one person into his mind at a time. He wanted to practice reaching into the minds of others. He had done it by accident several times. But only when someone else had initiated conversation. So how did one initiate? And if Achan went wandering into someone else's mind, who would guard his?

He tuned in to the sounds of the forest. The pecking, the occasional hiss, a rattling, the buzzing of hundreds of mosquitoes. Achan closed his eyes and pictured himself standing guard over his mind. If he couldn't leave his guard post, perhaps he could at least open the door and peek out. He imagined himself doing just that. He opened a steel door in his mind but stood on the threshold, should anyone try to enter.

The results were instant. Hundreds of voices spoke, many in foreign tongues. He could hear Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb, and when he tuned in on their conversation, their voices magnified. He shifted his concentration to Inko, who dwelled over how they'd manage to go north. Achan smiled. The knights did not seem to sense him.

A small thought distracted him from the knights. Hunger. A bird. It glided through the dark sky, over the shadowed outlines of trees, scanning the ground for its master, for it had news and wanted its reward. What news? Who was its master?

These thoughts faded when Achan realized something else: even in the Darkness this bird could see! Incredible.

A sniffle perked Achan's senses. He focused on the sorrowful sound. Crying. Alone. Muffled. Not wanting to be heard. Was someone hurt? In danger? Lost?