From Darkness Won (52 page)

No, Your Highness!
Duchess Amal said.

Now those soldiers on the bridge
, the man said.
They are Esek’s men sent to kill your generals in their beds tonight if you do not stop them now.

Traitors!

But before Achan could react, something slammed against his mind. His soul flew out of the black knight and into the sky. Cold panic gripped him. He was being stormed. He could not even move his limbs. They were stuck to his sides.
Arman!

Achan lay on his back on his couch. The wagon shifted under him. Moving. About to cross the bridge, or maybe it already had.

Shung sat beside him, looking down. “The little cham was in trouble.”

Relief washed over Achan like a warm breeze. “Thank you, Shung.”

Your Highness?
Duchess Amal asked.
Are you well?

Shung woke me. I’m in my wagon. What happened?

The fire had possessed you. I had no choice but to take you from that black knight by force.

No, my lady. I was not possessed.
Though even as he said this he knew it was a lie. That green light, that fire, that power. It had gripped him entirely, more so than any of Challa’s kisses. He had wanted it, yet there had been a hint of wrongness. Some small thing that had nagged at him.

—you hear me?

I’m sorry? Did you say something, my lady?

You must focus to break free from its hold.

The power is gone. I was only remembering it.

Look into the Veil. Now. I am in your wagon
.

Achan met Shung’s eyes. Shung nodded, and Achan pushed himself up to sitting in the Veil.

Duchess Amal was standing beside his couch. She took hold of his chin.
Remembering it is a way to bring it back. Promise me you will guard yourself against such temptation.

I promise.
The words came too easily, though. They felt hollow somehow.

Look at me, Your Highness. Look into my eyes and promise me.

He obeyed. Her eyes were green, like Sparrow’s. The thought brought a gasp to his lips, as if she could read his mind.
Forgive me, my lady. You spoke wisdom, and I did not heed it. I promise you, I shall flee from that kind of power if ever I feel its presence again.

And you will never again possess any man.

I possessed a man?
The black knight. When he’d entered that black knight’s mind, he’d been filled with anger because of—
Prince Oren! What happened to him?

Promise me, Your Highness.

I promise, my lady. Never again will I possess another.

She released him.
Prince Oren stepped in front of the blow meant for you. I did not see where the orb struck him. We can only pray he survived.

Blood drained from Achan’s face so fast his head lolled backward.
How will we know? Who stood guard over his body while he went into the Veil?

I did not ask. I suspect Sir Gavin will know. Now, Your Highness, stop and—

A sudden impact jerked the wagon up on two wheels. Achan fell back into his mind just as his head slid against the wall. Shung set his hand on the wall to keep from falling on Achan. The wagon slammed back to all four wheels, and Achan slid off the couch to the floor. Outside, horses squealed and men shouted. Smoke drifted on the air.

Stay in the wagon, Your Highness,
Duchess Amal said.
You and Shung must exit when I say. Armed to fight.

A softer blow rattled the wall. A gust of green light blew the door drape inward and set it aflame. Achan crawled to where his belt and sword had fallen off the table. He drew Ôwr from its scabbard and picked up his shield. Smoke curled down from the ceiling. “Get your sword and shield, Shung. We await Duchess Amal’s word.”

Shung crouched and retrieved his weapons. “Black knights?”

Now, Your Highness
, Duchess Amal said.

“Now, Shung! Go!

Shung held the smoldering curtain aside and ducked out the doorway. Achan hefted his shield over his head and followed.

They had stopped in a forest with trees so high Achan couldn’t see the tops. The wagon’s tongue had been severed, and the horses were gone. The driver lay on the ground, dead. Gowzals circled overhead.

Black knights were spaced around the wagon. Achan could hear their low chanting of
râbab yârad
and so on
.
Three wielded a wall of apparitions to the north that held off Achan’s soldiers. Three looked south doing the same. The green glows of fake knights arched into the trees, creating a boundary around the wagon’s side. The last two black knights faced the wagon. One was locked in a swordfight with Kurtz. The other stood behind Kurtz, lobbing balls of fire at an invisible foe.

Duchess Amal, no doubt.

“Shung, take those three.” Achan gestured north with his sword, then ran south. The three flesh-and-blood enemies had their backs to Achan, focused on their magic. The nearest one
h
ad a puff of grey hair that betrayed his identity. Sir Nongo. Did that mean Silvo was here too?

Beyond the wielders and their puppets, Achan could see Sir Caleb and Toros at the front of the line fighting apparitions as if they were real men. Achan kicked Sir Nongo in the back of the knees. The man stumbled and lost his wooden mask, and his apparitions faded. Toros darted through the gap, but one of the other wielders produced a new foe that pushed the warrior priest back again.

Sir Nongo turned and drew his sword, holding it two handed.

“Come to try and sacrifice me to Barthos again?” Achan hefted his shield into place and set Ôwr’s flat against the edge. “Didn’t you learn anything the last time?”

“I learned to be killing you quickly this time.” Sir Nongo’s black blade snapped forward like a whip. Achan parried it with his shield, caught off guard by the strength of Sir Nongo’s arm. Achan had forgotten. But he’d learned much since that night in Esek’s camp, and he sent a strong cut back to Sir Nongo’s waist.

Sir Nongo caught the cut with his flat and threw off Ôwr’s blade. He stepped in close and followed with a series of one-handed blows that didn’t give Achan a chance to counter, as if he were trying to cleave Achan’s shield in two.

Achan twisted Ôwr out, wrapping the blade around Sir Nongo to strike the back of his shoulder. Sir Nongo’s steps faltered long enough for Achan to throw out his shield against Sir Nongo’s empty arm. The shield’s edge rooted Sir Nongo in place, and they sparred in a one-handed duel, their blades clashing a rapid tempo.

Sir Nongo’s speed kept all coherent thought at bay. Dozens of swords clanked around them. Men uttered battle cries. Boots shuffled over the dirt road. The wagon fire crackled.

Kurtz had pushed his opponent near Shung and the mages facing north. A rock struck Achan’s shoulder. The mage Duchess Amal had been fighting was now free, using his magic to throw rocks.

Duchess? Are you well?

I fight Macoun Hadar in the Veil.

Pig snout.

Sir Nongo cleaved one last strike and darted back, freeing himself from Achan’s shield. Something popped in the wagon fire, sending a splash of sparks over Sir Nongo’s head. Sir Nongo circled away from the fire. Achan moved with him. Heat seared his side. The wagon was blazing now.

Sir Nongo stabbed. Achan deflected with his shield and cut from side guard. To Achan’s left, Shung fell beside a rock the size of a head of cabbage. Shung’s opponent raised his blade to finish Shung off.

“No!” Achan deflected a cut from Sir Nongo, unable to do anything for his friend. But Kurtz stepped in and cut the man down.

Praise Arma—

Achan’s sword flew out of his hand. He returned his full focus to Sir Nongo, but it was a moment too late. The black knight swept Achan’s legs out from under him.

Achan fell on his backside. Sir Nongo’s black gauntlet gripped the top of Achan’s shield and pulled. Achan grabbed the straps with both hands, fighting to keep hold.

A figure leapt over Achan and bashed against Sir Nongo like a battering ram, knocking the man into the wagon, which
w
as now a raging bonfire. Sir Nongo screamed. His hair caught fire, making him look like a living torch.

Kurtz finished Sir Nongo with a quick stab, then turned to offer Achan a hand up. Before Achan could reach out, Kurtz turned to deflect a blow from the rock-wielding mage who had let down his magic and raised a sword.

Achan pushed to his feet and scanned the ground for Ôwr.

“Looking for this?” a lofty voice said from behind Achan.

He turned to see Silvo Hamartano holding Ôwr in one hand and his own blade in the other. The man was no older than Achan, thin with oily black hair.

Oh, horror.

Achan gripped his shield in both hands and held it in front of him. Silvo wasted no time in his attack. He swung both swords at Achan as if they were hammers.

It crossed Achan’s mind to simply turn and run, but just as he contemplated it, he tripped over Shung’s body. His elbows hit the ground first. The force stunned him long enough for Silvo to kick his shield aside and pounce on Achan’s chest.

Silvo’s weight stole Achan’s breath. He put a hand on the ground to push himself into a roll, but the edge of Silvo’s sword pressed against his throat like a taut, cold thread.

Silvo’s thin lips parted in a smile. “This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Your Highness!” Sir Caleb ran toward them, sword in hand, Toros at his side.

“Stay back!” Silvo said, throwing Ôwr down and gripping his hilt with two hands. “I’ll kill him!”

Sir Caleb stopped beside the wagon driver’s body. “If you do, you’ll die.”

Achan reached out for Duchess Amal.
My lady, where are you?

He is keeping me from you, Your Highness. Is it over?

Achan glanced into Silvo’s dark eyes.
Not quite.

“My master will resurrect me,” Silvo said with as much confidence as Sir Gavin had shown when he’d spoken before the Council of Seven months ago. But the blade quivered against Achan’s neck. Silvo was scared.

“Are you certain?” Sir Caleb asked.

“Even if he doesn’t, I will die a hero.”

Arman?
Achan called.
You want to come and help me out of—

“Hear me!” Silvo yelled. “You are all traitors to this land. The Council voted that Esek Nathak rule Er’Rets. The Hadar line ends here.” Silvo’s oration seemed to bolster his courage. He pressed the blade firmly against Achan’s throat.

The sword’s edge was so thin and sharp, Achan could almost convince himself that something so fine could do no real damage. He searched the ground for a rock, a branch, anything he might use to strike Silvo.

Your Highness, don’t do anything rash,
Sir Caleb said.