Jill Williamson: By Darkness Hid

Achan. Vrell’s head fell forward, eyes closed. You must flee. Now!

*

Sparrow? Sparrow!

Achan’s sense of the boy vanished. He inched along the wall of the audience chamber behind Sir Gavin, heading toward the exit. Now was not the time to speak.

“Chairman Levy,” Lord Nathak said at the high table. “What shall become of Achan? Of Gidon Hadar?”

Achan kept moving, but listened for the answer with trembling steps.

“I imagine he shall go to Armonguard and serve however our new king sees fit,” the chairman said. “He is now second in line to the throne and must be available should anything—”

“You cannot suggest these two serve side by side?” Lord Nathak snapped. “It would be an assassination waiting to happen!”

Which was why Achan was enacting the exit-and-flee plan.

“The Council leaves that to the king and his many advisors. I trust it will not be long before Esek takes the throne.”

Esek?

Sir Caleb reached the door first and pushed it open. It squeaked horribly. A guard outside the door raised his eyebrows.

“Sir Gavin leaves!” someone shouted from the stands.

Sir Caleb drew his sword. “Let’s be quick about this, shall we?”

Inko and Sir Gavin ran past Sir Caleb, who knocked out the guard with the pommel of his sword. Achan quickly passed the old knights, mainly because their running was more like jogging. The group fled through the massive foyer, dodging around the yellow pillars, but New Kingsguard knights swarmed the entrance to the stronghold.

Sir Gavin and Inko drew their swords. Sir Gavin looked back, his gaze focused over Achan’s shoulder. Achan turned to see Sir Caleb shove a display sword — ribbons and all — through the Council Chamber’s door handles, locking it from the outside.

“Caleb,” Sir Gavin said, “take Achan out the back. Hurry! We’ll meet you there.”

Sir Caleb sprinted deeper into the stronghold, dodging around pillars that reached above like redpines. He yelled over his shoulder, “Try to keep up, Your Highness.”

Achan flinched at the title and ran after the knight. “Where are we going?”

Downstairs, Sir Caleb said to Achan’s mind. Sir Gavin will meet us with the boat.

Achan concentrated on Sir Caleb’s back, his blond hair, his wild eyes. The dungeons, then?

Sir Caleb slowed and grabbed Achan’s shoulder. “My apologies, Your Highness. But no bloodvoicing for you until you are better trained. You’ve just announced our plans to anyone who can hear.”

The blood drained from Achan’s face.

“’Twas my fault. Best hurry, then.” Sir Caleb sprinted around the rest of the pillars toward the grand staircase. He ran around to the back and started downstairs. Two flights down, he stopped on the landing and turned. “Change of plans. Back up the stairs. Quickly!”

Achan could see black Kingsguard cloaks approaching from the lower levels. He swiveled around and ran up the stairs and back into the foyer. Three Kingsguards approached from the entrance.

“This way.” Sir Caleb ran to the far left of the foyer and sprinted into a corridor that stretched the length of the stronghold.

They made it halfway down before two Kingsguard knights stepped into the hallway from the other end. Sir Caleb spun and darted back to the foyer. Six guards spread out in an arc, inching toward them. Four more guards descended the stairs, boots pattering like rainfall as they spilled out onto the mosaic tile floor.

Sir Caleb pointed at Eagan’s Elk. “Know how to use that?”

Achan drew the weapon, his hands trembling. “Aye.”

Sir Caleb drew his own sword. Back to back, they inched into the center of the foyer as the black-cloaked Kingsguards circled around. The pillars acted as bars, further hemming them in. This didn’t look like a battle they could win.

“Think positive, Your Highness,” Sir Caleb muttered. “And please close your mind.”

“Seize them!” Esek’s voice rang out across the vast foyer.

Achan took quick, short breaths. Close his mind. Fight a battle of two against twenty. Answer to Your Highness. He’d had quite enough of this day. Regardless, he concentrated on the allown tree and raised his weapon to middle guard.

Behind him, someone clashed swords with Sir Caleb. Before Achan could turn to offer aid, a Kingsguard swung at him.

Achan stifled the blow with the flat of his blade and pushed off. Another guard struck. Achan ducked, and the guard’s sword cracked against a pillar, sending bits of plaster over Achan’s hair. He kicked the guard’s knee in, and the man went down howling.

Achan sprinted left, desperately needing more space to work with. He turned abruptly, swinging Eagan’s Elk at the soldier on his heels. His blade cut into the man’s arm.

Achan winced but didn’t have time to feel sorry. He jerked his blade free in time to parry a strike from another guard. Sir Caleb’s shaggy blond mane twirled in his peripheral vision, then the knight collapsed. Achan screamed, but didn’t have time to stop as he deflected blow after blow.

A shrill, familiar voice screamed, “Guards! Back away from the stray.”

Achan’s opponents drew back. Achan lowered his weapon and panted. He scanned the floor. Sir Caleb lay on his stomach, pinned by two guards, his face maroon with fury. Achan breathed a relieved sigh to find him alive. He quickly counted six bodies on the floor that were not.

Esek, the former Prince Gidon, raised a hand above his head and snapped. “Sir Kenton.”

The Shield advanced from behind a pillar, gripping a thick sword in his hand. His steps on the mosaic tile were like the chop of an axe.

Achan lifted Eagan’s Elk with his weary arms.

Forget his size and identity, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said to his mind. He is just a man. Hold on until Sir Gavin and Inko get here. They are coming. Just hold on.

Sir Kenton raised his weapon and paused.

Achan coached himself. If he could beat this man, he could go free. One man. That was all. One more win. Just one. And he didn’t even have to beat him. He only needed to stall long enough until help arrived.

Sir Kenton finally lunged forward and swung for Achan’s head. Achan waited, hands shaking, ready to block, and sure enough, Sir Kenton arched his sword the other way toward Achan’s legs. Achan stepped back and parried.

Sir Kenton quickly worked Achan back against the wall. Achan barely managed to block the forceful cuts Sir Kenton delivered and, with each near miss, grew more uncertain of his ability to win. He didn’t want to die, but how could he possibly defeat this adversary?

Where was his help? Achan opened his mind. Sir Gavin?

Hundreds of voices flooded into his mind at once. He quickly fortified his mind, but there were still so many voices. He turned to parry a strike and saw why.

A crowd had formed. The audience was pouring through the golden doors that led to the auditorium. Help was coming. Many of these people had cheered for him before. Surely someone in the crowd would step in. But the Kingsguard soldiers formed a wall, pushing the crowd back from where Achan and Sir Kenton fought until Achan could no longer see them.

Sir Kenton drove Achan back behind the staircase to the corridor. The Shield swung for Achan’s neck. Achan blocked it, and the knight reversed his swing. Achan jumped back. He met the strike to his legs, but his sword slipped in his weakening hands. He fumbled for the briefest moment, and Sir Kenton batted it to the ground.

Achan slid back against the wall, his eyes glued to Sir Kenton’s.

Esek clapped. “Well done, Sir Kenton, well done.”

The knight lifted his sword to Achan’s chest, then seized Achan’s throat in his massive hand and squeezed.